A little girl in old Boston

A/A AN DA

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

GIFT OF

MABEL R. GILLIS

BY

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS

AUTHOR OF "A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK,"

"SHERBURNE STORIES," ETC.

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1898,

BY
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.

THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
RAHWAY, N. J.

SALLIE BUFFUM:

To you, who have been a little girl in later Boston,
I inscribe this story of another little girl who lived
almost a hundred years ago, and found life busy and
pleasant and full of affection, as I hope it will prove

to you.

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS.

NEWARK, N. J., 1898.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER FAQS

I. DORIS, |

II. IN A NEW HOME, 15

III. AUNT PRISCILLA, 29

IV. OUT TO TEA, . . .... . 42

V. A MORNING AT SCHOOL, . . ,. . . .57

VI. A BIRTHDAY PARTY, ... . . . 73

VII. ABOUT A GOWN, . . . . . .89

VIII. SINFUL OR NOT ? . . . . . . . . 106

IX. WHAT WINTER BROUGHT, . . . . .121

X. CONCERNING MANY THINGS, , * . 145

XI. A LITTLE CHRISTMAS 161

XII. A CHILDREN'S PARTY, . . , . . 178

XIII. VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIXLS, . . . 196

XIV. IN THE SPRING 213

XV. A FREEDOM SUIT, ....... 226

XVI. A SUMMER IN BOSTON, . ... . 243

XVII. ANOTHER GIRL, . . . ... . 262

XVIII. WINTER AND SORROW, . . . . . . 276

XIX. THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH, . . . . 291

XX. A VISITOR FOR DORIS, ... . . . 306

XXI. ELIZABETH AND — PEACE, . , ., . » • . 324

XXII. GARY ADAMS, . . , . . . 34c

XXIII. THE COST OF WOMANHOOD, . . . . . 35*

XXIV. THK BLOOM OF LIFE — Lov«, .... 367

"» c. ':

A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

CHAPTER I.

DORIS.

" T DO suppose she is a Papist! The French generally

are," said Aunt Priscilla, drawing her brows in a

delicate sort of frown, and sipping her tea with a spoon

that had the London crown mark, and had been buried

early in revolutionary times.

" Why, there were all the Huguenots who emigrated
from France for the sake of worshiping God in their
own way rather than that of the Pope. We Puritans did
not take all the free-will," declared Betty spiritedly.

" You are too flippant, Betty," returned Aunt Priscilla
severely. " And I doubt if her father's people had much
experimental religion. Then, she has been living in a
very hot-bed of superstition ! "

"The cold, dreary Lincolnshire coast! I think it
would take a good deal of zeal to warm me, even if it was
superstition."

"And she was in a convent after her mother died!
Yes, she is pretty sure to be a Papist. It seems rather
queer that second-cousin Charles should have remem
bered her in his will."

" But Charles was his namesake and nephew, the child
of his favorite sister," interposed Mrs. Leverett, glancing
deprecatingly at Betty, pleading with the most beseech-

2 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ing eyes that she should not ruffle Aunt Priscilla up the
wrong way.

" But what is that old ma'shland good for, anyway? "
asked Aunt Priscilla.

"Why they are filling in and building docks," said
Betty the irrepressible. " Father thinks by the time she
is grown it will be a handsome fortune."

Aunt Priscilla gave a queer sound that was not a sniff,
but had a downward tendency, as if it was formed of in
harmonious consonants. It expressed both doubt and
disapproval.

" But think of the expense and the taxes! You can't
put a bit of improvement on anything but the taxes eat
it up. I want my hall door painted, and the cornishes,"
— Aunt Priscilla always would pronounce it that way, —
" but I mean to wait until the assessor has been round.
It's the best time to paint in cool weather, too. I can't
afford to pay a man for painting and then pay the city
for the privilege."

No one controverted Mrs. Perkins. She broke off
her bread in bits and sipped her tea.

" Why didn't they give her some kind of a Christian
name? " she began suddenly. " Don't you suppose it
is French for the plain, old-fashioned, sensible name of
Dorothy? "

Betty laughed. " Oh, Aunt Priscilla, it's pure Greek.
Doris and Phyllis and Chloe "

" Phyllis and Chloe are regular nigger names," with
the utmost disdain.

" But Greek, all the same. Ask Uncle Winthrop."

"Well, I shall call her Dorothy. I'm neither Greek
nor Latin nor a college professor. There's no law
against my being sensible, fursisee " — which really
meant " far as I see." " And the idea of appointing
Winthrop Adams her guardian! I did think second-

DORIS. 3

cousin Charles had more sense. Winthrop thinks of
nothing but books and going back to the Creation of the
World, just as if the Lord couldn't have made things
straight in the beginning without his help. I dare say
he will find out what language they talked before the
dispersion of Babel. People are growing so wise now
adays, turning the Bible inside out! " and she gave her
characteristic sniff. " I'll have another cup of tea, Eliza
beth. Now that we're through with the war, and settled
solid-like with a President at the helm, we can look
forward to something permanent, and comfort ourselves
that it was worth trying for. Still, I've often thought of
that awful waste of tea in Boston harbor. Seems as
though they might have done something else with it.
Tea will keep a good long while. And all that wretched
ptuff we used to drink and call it Liberty tea! "

" I don't know as we regret many of the sacrifices,
though it came harder on the older people. We have a
good deal to be proud of," said Mrs. Leverett.

" And a grandfather who was at Bunker Hill," ap
pended Betty.

Aunt Priscilla never quite knew where she belonged.
She had come over with the Puritans, at least her ances
tors had, but then there had been a title in the English
branch; and though she scoffed a little, she had great
respect for royalty, and secretly regretted they had not
called the head of the government by a more dignified
appellation than President. Her mother had been a
Church of England member, but rather austere Mr.
Adams believed that wives were to submit themselves
to their husbands in matters of belief as well as aught
else. Then Priscilla Adams, at the age of nineteen, had
wedded the man of her father's choice, Hatfield Perkins,
who was a stanch upholder of the Puritan faith. Pris
cilla would have enjoyed a little foolish love-making, and

4 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

she had a carnal hankering for fine gowns; and, oh, how
she did long to dance in her youth, when she was slim
and light-footed!

In spite of all, she had been a true Puritan outwardly,
and had a little misgiving that the prayers of the Church
were vain repetitions, the organ wickedly frivolous, and
the ringing of bells suggestive of popery. There had
been no children, and a bad fall had lamed her husband
so that volunteering for a soldier was out of the ques
tion, but he had assisted with his means ; and some twelve
years before this left his widow in comfortable circum
stances for the times.

She kept to her plain dress, although it was rich; and
her housemaid was an elderly black woman who had
been a slave in her childhood. She devoted a good deal
of thought as to who should inherit her property when
she was done with it. For those she held in the highest
esteem were elderly like herself, and the young people
were flighty and extravagant and despised the good old
ways of prudence and thrift.

They were having early tea at Mrs. Leverett's. Aunt
Priscilla's mother had been half-sister to Mrs. Leverett's
mother. In the old days of large families nearly every
one came to be related. It was always very cozy in
Sudbury Street, and Foster Leverett was in the ship
chandlery trade. Aunt Priscilla did love a good cup of
tea. Whether the quality was finer, or there was some
peculiar art in brewing it, she could never quite decide;
or whether the social cream of gentle Elizabeth Leverett,
and the spice of Betty, added to the taste and heightened
the flavor beyond her solitary cup.

Early October had already brought chilling airs when
evening set in. A century or so ago autumn had the
sharpness of coming winter in the early morning and
after sundown. There was a cheerful wood fire on the

DORIS. 5

hearth, and its blaze lighted the room sufficiently, as the
red light of the sunset poured through a large double
window.

The house had a wide hall through the center that
was really the keeping-room. The chimney stood about
halfway down, a great stone affair built out in the room,
tiled about with Scriptural scenes, with two tiers of
shelves above, whereon were ranged the family heir
looms — so high, indeed, that a stool had to be used to
stand on when they were dusted. Just below this began
a winding staircase with carved spindles and a mahogany
rail and newel, considered quite an extravagance in that
day.

This lower end was the living part. In one of the
corners was built the buffet, while a door opposite led
into the wide kitchen. Across the back was a porch
where shutters were hung in the winter to keep out the
cold.

The great dining table was pushed up against the wall.
The round tea table was set out and the three ladies were
having their tea, quite a common custom when there was
a visitor, as the men folk were late coming in and a little
uncertain.

On one side the hall opened in two large, well-
appointed rooms. On the other were the kitchen and
" mother's room," where, when the children were little,
there had been a cradle and a trundle bed. But one son
and two daughters were married; one son was in his
father's warehouse, and was now about twenty; the next
baby boy had died; and Betty, the youngest, was sixteen,
pretty, and a little spoiled, of course. Yet Aunt Priscilla
had a curious fondness for her, which she insisted to her
self was very reprehensible, since Betty was such a
feather-brained girl.

" It is to be hoped the ship did get in to-day," Aunt

6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Priscilla began presently. " If there's anything I hate,
it's being on tenterhooks."

" She was spoken this morning. There's always more
or less delay with pilots and tides and what not," replied
Mrs. Leverett.

"The idea of sending a child like that alone! The
weather has been fine, but we don't know how it was on
the ocean."

" Captain Grier is a friend of Uncle Win's, you know,"
appended Betty.

" Betty, do try and call your relatives by their proper
names. An elderly man, too! It does sound so disre
spectful ! Young folks of to-day seem to have no regard
for what is due other people. Oh "

There was a kind of stamping and shuffling on the
porch, and the door was flung open, letting in a gust of
autumnal air full of spicy odors from the trees and vines
outside. Betty sprang up, while her mother followed
more slowly. There were her father and her brother
Warren, and the latter had by the hand the little
girl who had crossed the ocean to come to the famous
city of the New World, Boston. Almost two hun
dred years before an ancestor had crossed from old
Boston, in the ship Arabella, and settled here, taking
his share of pilgrim hardships. Doris' father, when a
boy, had been sent back to England to be adopted as
the heir of a long line. But the old relative married
and had two sons of his own, though he did well by the
boy, who went to France and married a pretty French
girl. After seven years of unbroken happiness the
sweet young wife had died. Then little Doris, six years
of age, had spent two years in a convent. From there
her father had taken her to Lincolnshire and placed
her with two elderly relatives, while he was planning and
arranging his affairs to come back to America with his

DORIS. 7

little daughter. But one night, being out with a sailing
party, a sudden storm had caught them and swept them
out of life in an instant.

Second-cousin Charles Adams had been in corre
spondence with him, and advised him to return. Being
in feeble health, he had included him and his heirs in his
will, appointing his nephew Winthrop Adams executor,
and died before the news of the death of his distant rela
tive had reached him. The Lincolnshire ladies were too
old to have the care and rearing of a child, so Mr. Win
throp Adams had sent by Captain Grier to bring over the
little girl. Her father's estate, not very large, was in
money and easily managed. And now little Doris was
nearing ten.

" Oh! " cried Betty, hugging the slim figure in the red
camlet cloak, and peering into the queer big hat tied
down over her ears with broad ribbons that, what with
the big bow and the wide rim, almost hid her face; but
she saw two soft lovely eyes and cherry-red lips that she
kissed at once, though kissing had not come in fashion
to any great extent, and was still considered by many
people rather dubious if not positively sinful.

" Oh, little Doris, welcome to Boston and the United
Colonies and the whole of America! Let me see how
you look," and she untied the wide strings.

The head that emerged was covered with fair curling
hair; the complexion was clear, but a little wind-burned
from her long trip; the eyes were very dark, but of the
deepest, softest blue, that suggested twilight. There was
a dimple in the dainty chin, and the mouth had a half-
frightened, half-wistful smile.

" Captain Grier will send up her boxes to-morrow.
They got aground and were delayed. I began to think
they would have to stay out all night. The captain
will bring up a lot of papers for Winthrop, and every-

8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

thing," explained Mr. Leverett. " Are you cold, little
one?"

Doris gave a great shiver as her cloak was taken off,
but it was more nervousness than cold, and the glances
of the strange faces. Then she walked straight to the
fireplace.

" Oh, what a beautiful fire ! " she exclaimed. " No, I
am not cold " — and the wistful expression wandered
from one to the other.

" This is my daughter Betty, and this is — why, you
may as well begin by saying Aunt Elizabeth at once.
How are you, Aunt Priscilla? This is our little French-
English girl, but I hope she will turn into a stanch Bos
ton girl. Now, mother, let's have a good supper. I'm
hungry as a wolf."

Doris caught Betty's hand again and pressed it to her
cheek. The smiling face won her at once.

" Did you have a pleasant voyage? " asked Mrs.
Leverett, as she was piling up the cups and saucers, and
paused to smile at the little stranger.

" There were some storms, and I was afraid then. It
made me think of papa. But there was a good deal of
sunshine. And I was quite ill at first, but the captain
was very nice, and Mrs. Jewett had two little girls, so
after a while we played together. And then I think we
forgot all about being at sea — it was so like a house,
except there were no gardens or fields and trees."

Mrs. Leverett went out to the kitchen, and soon there
was the savory smell of frying sausage. Betty placed
Doris in a chair by the chimney corner and began to re
arrange the table. Warren went out to the kitchen and,
as by the farthest window there was a sort of high bench
with a tin basin, a pail of water, and a long roller towel,
he began to wash his face and hands, telling his mother
meanwhile the occurrences of the last two or three hours.

DORIS. 9

Aunt Priscilla drew up her chair and surveyed the
little traveler with some curiosity. She was rather
shocked that the child was not dressed in mourning, and
now she discovered that her little gown was of brocaded
silk and much furbelowed, at which she frowned severely.

True, her father had been dead more than a year; but
her being an orphan made it seem as if she should still
be in the depths of woe. And she had earrings and a
brooch in the lace tucker. She gave her sniff — it was
very wintry and contemptuous.

" I suppose that's the latest French fashion," she said
sharply. " If I lived in England I should just despise
French clothes."

"Oh," said Doris, "do you mean my gown? Miss
Arabella made it for me. When she was a young lady
she went up to London to see the king crowned, and they
had a grand ball, and this was one of the gowns she had —
not the ball dress, for that was white satin with roses
sprinkled over it. She's very old now, and she gave that
to her cousin for a wedding dress. And she made this
over for me. I got some tar on my blue stuff gown
yesterday, and the others were so thin Mrs. Jewett
thought I had better put on this, but it is my very best
gown."

The artless sincerity and the soft sweet voice quite
nonplused Aunt Priscilla. Then Warren returned and
dropped on a three-cornered stool standing there, and
almost tilted over.

" Now, if I had gone into the fire, like any other green
log, how I should have sizzled! " he said laughingly.

" Oh, I am so glad you didn't! " exclaimed Doris in
affright. Then she smiled softly.

" Does it seem queer to be on land again? "

" Yes. I want to rock to and fro." She made a pretty
movement with her slender body, and nodded her head.

io A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Are you very tired? "

" Oh, no."

" You were out five weeks."

" Is that a long while? I was homesick at first. I
wanted to see Miss Arabella and Barby. Miss Henrietta
is — is — not right in her mind, if you can understand.
And she is very old. She just sits in her chair all day
and mumbles. She was named for a queen — Henrietta
Maria."

Aunt Priscilla gave a disapproving sniff.

" Supper's ready," said Mr. Leverett. " Come."

Warren took the small stranger by the hand, and she
made a little courtesy, quite as if she were a grown lady.

" What an airy little piece of vanity! " thought Aunt
Priscilla. " And whatever will Winthrop Adams do with
her, and no woman about the house to train her! "

Betty came and poured tea for her father and War
ren. Mr. Leverett piled up her plate, but, although the
viands had an appetizing fragrance, Doris was not hun
gry. Everything was so new and strange, and she could
not get the motion of the ship out of her head. But the
pumpkin pie was delicious. She had never tasted any
thing like it.

" You'll soon be a genuine Yankee girl," declared
Warren. " Pumpkin pie is the test."

Mr. Leverett and his son did full justice to the supper.
Then he had to go out to a meeting. There were some
clouds drifting over the skies of the new country, and
many discussions as to future policy.

"So, Aunt Priscilla, I'll beau you home," said he;
" unless you have a mind to stay all night, or want a
young fellow like Warren."

" You're plenty old enough to be sensible, Foster
Leverett," she returned sharply. She would have en
joyed a longer stay and was curious about the newcomer,

DORIS. ii

but when Betty brought her hat and shawl she said a
stiff good-night to everybody and went out with her
escort.

Betty cleared away the tea things, wiped the dishes
for her mother and then took a place beside Warren, who
was very much interested in hearing the little girl talk.
There was a good deal of going back and forth to Eng
land although the journey seemed so long, but it was
startling to have a child sitting by the fireside, here in his
father's house, who had lived in both France and England.
She had an odd little accent, too, but it gave her an added
daintiness. She remembered her convent life very well,
and her stay in Paris with her father. It seemed strange
to him that she could talk so tranquilly about her
parents, but there had been so many changes in her short
life, and her father had been away from her so much!

" It always seemed to me as if he must come back
again," she said with a serious little sigh, " as if he was
over in France or down in London. It is so strange to
have anyone go away forever that I think you can't take
it in somehow. And Miss Arabella was always so good.
She said if she had been younger she should never have
agreed to my coming. And all papa's relatives were
here, and someone who wrote to her and settled about
the journey."

She glanced up inquiringly.

" Yes. That's Uncle Winthrop Adams. He isn't an
own uncle, but it seems somehow more respectful to call
him uncle. Mr. Adams would sound queer. And he
will be your guardian."

" A — guardian? "

" Well, he has the care of the property left to your
father. There is a house that is rented, and a great plot
of ground. Cousin Charles owned so much land, and
he never was married, so it had to go round to the

iz A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

cousins. He was very fond of your father as a little boy.
And Uncle Winthrop seems the proper person to take
charge of you."

Doris sighed. She seemed always being handed from
one to another.

She was sitting on the stool now, and when Betty
slipped into the vacant chair she put her arm over the
child's shoulder in a caressing manner.

" Do you mean — that I would have to go and live
with him?" she asked slowly.

Warren laughed. " I declare I don't know what
Uncle Win would do with a little girl! Miss Recom
pense Gardiner keeps the house, and she's as prim as
the crimped edge of an apple pie. And there is only
Gary."

" Gary is at Harvard — at college," explained Betty.
" And, then, he is going to Europe for a tour. Uncle
Win teaches some classes, and is a great Greek and Latin
scholar, and translates from the poets, and reads and
studies — is a regular bookworm. His wife has been
dead ever since Gary was a baby."

" I wish I could stay here," said Doris, and, reaching
up, she clasped her arms around Betty's neck. " I like
your father, and your mother has such a sweet voice,
and you — and him," nodding her head over to Warren.
" And since that — the other lady — doesn't live here "

" Aunt Priscilla," laughed Betty. " I think she im
proves on acquaintance. Her bark is worse than her
bite. When I was a little girl I thought her just awful,
and never wanted to go there. Now I quite like it. I
spend whole days with her. But I shouldn't spend a
night in praying that Providence would send her to live
with us. I'd fifty times rather have you, you dear little
midget. And, when everything is settled, I am of the
opinion you will live with us, for a while at least."

DORIS. 13

" I shall be so glad," in a joyous, relieved tone.

" Then if Uncle Win should ask you, don't be afraid
of anybody, but just say you want to stay here. That
will settle it unless he thinks you ought to go to school.
But there are nice enough schools in Boston. And I
am glad you want to stay. I've wished a great many
times that I had a little sister. I have two, married.
One lives over at Salem and one ever so far away at
Hartford. And I am Aunt Betty. I have five nephews
and four nieces. And you never can have any, you soli
tary little girl ! "

" I think I don't mind if I can have you."

" This is love at first sight. I've never been in love
before, though I have some girl friends. And being in
love means living with someone and wanting them all
the time, and a lot of sweet, foolish stuff. What a silly
girl I am! Well — you are to be my little sister."

Oh, how sweet it was to find home and affection and
welcome! Doris had not thought much about it, but
now she was suddenly, unreasonably glad. She laid her
head down on Betty's knee and looked at the dancing
flames, the purples and misty grays, the scarlets and
blues and greens, all mingling, then sending long arrowy
darts that ran back and hid behind the logs before you
could think.

Mrs. Leverett kneaded her bread and stirred up her
griddle cakes for morning. It was early in the season to
start with them, but with the first cold whiff Mr. Leverett
began to beg for them. Then she fixed her fire, turned
down her sleeves, took off the big apron that covered all
her skirt, and rejoined the three by the fireside.

" That child has gone fast asleep," she exclaimed, look
ing at her. " Poor thing, I dare say she is all tired out!
And, man-like, your father never thought of her night
gown or anything to put on in the morning, and that

14 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

silk is nothing for a child to wear. I saw that it shocked
Aunt Priscilla."

" And she told the story of it so prettily. It is a lovely
thing — and to think it has been to London to see the
king!"

" You must take her in your bed, Betty."

" Oh, of course. Mother, don't you suppose Uncle
Win will consent to her staying here? I want her."

" It would be a good thing for you to have someone
to look after, Betty. It would help steady you and give
you some sense of responsibility. The youngest child
always gets spoiled. Your father was speaking of it. I
can't imagine a child in Uncle Winthrop's household."

Betty laughed. " Nor in Aunt Priscilla's," she ap
pended.

" Poor little thing! How pretty she is. And what a
long journey to take — and to come among strangers!
Yes, she must go to bed at once."

" I'll carry her upstairs," said Warren.

" Nonsense ! " protested his mother.

But he did for all that, and when he laid her on Betty's
cold bed she roused and smiled, and suffered herself to
be made ready for slumber. Then she slipped down on
her knees, and said " Our Father in Heaven " in soft,
sleepy French. Her mother had taught her that. And
in English she repeated:

" Now I lay me down to sleep," in remembrance of her
father, and kissed Betty. But she had hardly touched
the pillow when she was asleep again in her new home,
Boston.

IN A NEW HOME. 15

CHAPTER II.

IN A NEW HOME.

HP HE sun was shining when Doris opened her eyes,
and she rubbed them to make sure she was not
dreaming. There was no motion, and her bed was so
soft and wide. She sat up straight, half-startled, and
she seemed in a well of fluffy feathers. There were two
white curtained windows and a straight splint chair at
each one, with a queer little knob on the top of the post
that suggested a sprite from some of the old legends she
had been used to hearing.

What enchantment had transported her thither? Oh,
yes — she had been brought to Cousin Leverett's, she
remembered now; and, oh, how sleepy she had been last
night as she sat by the warm, crackling fire!

"Well, little Doris!" exclaimed a fresh, wholesome
voice, with a laughing sound back of it.

" Oh, you are Betty! It is like a dream. I could not
think where I was at first. And this bed is so high. It's
like Miss Arabella's with the curtains around it. And
at home I had a little pallet — just a low, straight bed al
most like a bench, with no curtains. You slept here with
me?"

" Yes. It is my bed and my room. And it was de
lightful to have you last night. I think you never
stirred. My niece Elizabeth was here in the summer
from Salem, and after two nights I turned her out — she
kicked unmercifully, and I couldn't endure it. Now, do
you want to get up? "

" Oh, yes. Must I jump out or just slip."

" Here is a stool."

But Doris had slipped and come down on a rug of

16 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

woven rags almost as soft as Persian pile. Her night
dress fell about her in a train; it was Betty's, and she
looked like a slim white wraith.

" Now I will help you dress. Here is a gown of mine
that I outgrew when I was a little girl, and it was so nice
mother said it should be saved for Elizabeth. We call
her that because my other sister Electa has a daughter
she calls Bessy. They are both named after mother.
And so am I, but I have always been called Betty. So
many of one name are confusing. But yours is so pretty
and odd. I never knew a girl called Doris."

" I am glad you like it," said Doris simply. " It was
papa's choice. My mother's name was Jacqueline."

" That is very French."

" And that is my name, too. But Doris is easier to
say."

Betty had been helping her dress. The blue woolen
gown was not any too long, but, oh, it was worlds too
wide! They both laughed.

" I wasn't such a slim little thing. See here, I will
pin a plait over in front, and that will help it. Now that
does nicely. And you must be choice of that beautiful
brocade. What a pity that you will outgrow it! It
would make such a splendid gown when you go
to parties. I've never had a silk gown," and Betty
sighed.

They went downstairs. It would seem queer enough
now to attend to one's toilet in the corner of the
kitchen, but it was quite customary then. In Mrs. Lev-
erett's room there were a washing stand with a white
cloth, and a china bowl and ewer in dark blue flowers on a
white ground, picked out with gilt edges. The bowl had
scallops around the edge, and the ewer was tall and slim.
There were a soap dish and a small pitcher, and they
looked beautiful on the thick white cloth, that was fringed

IN A NEW HOME. 17

all around. It had been brought over from England by
Mrs. Leverett's grandmother, and was esteemed very
highly, and had been promised to Betty for her name.
But Mrs. Leverett would have considered it sacrilege to
use it.

It is true, many houses now began to have wash
rooms, which were very nice in summer, but of small ac
count in winter, when the water froze so easily, unless
you could have a fire.

When people sigh for the good old times they forget
the hardships and the inconveniences.

Doris brushed out her hair and curled it in a twin
kling; then she had some breakfast. Mrs. Leverett was
baking bread and making pies and a large cake full of
raisins that Betty had seeded, which went by the name of
election cake.

The kitchen was a great cheery place with some sunny
windows and a big oven built at one side, a capacious
working table, a dresser, some wooden chairs, and a yel
low-painted floor. The kitchen opened into mother's
room as well as the hall.

Doris sat and watched both busy women. At Miss
Arabella's they had an old serving maid and the kitchen
was not a place of tidiness and beauty. It had a hard
dirt floor, and Barby sat out of doors in the sunshine to
do whatever work she could take out there, and often
washed and dried her dishes when the weather was
pleasant.

But here the houses were close enough to smile at each
other. After the great spaces these yards seemed small,
but there were trees and vines, and Mrs. Leverett had
quite a garden spot, where she raised all manner of sweet
herbs and some vegetables. Mr. Leverett had a shop
over on Ann Street, and attended steadily to his business,
early and late, as men did at that time.

i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

The dining table was set out at noon, and soon after
twelve o'clock the two men made their appearance.

" Let me look at you," said Mr. Leverett, taking both
of Doris' small hands. " I hardly saw you yesterday.
You were buried in that big hat, and it was getting so
dark. You have not much Adams about you, neither do
you look French."

" Miss Arabella always said I looked like papa. There
is a picture of him in my box. He had dark-blue eyes."

" Well, yours would pass for black. Do they snap
when you get out of temper? "

Doris colored and cast them down.

" Don't tease her," interposed Mrs. Leverett. " She
is not going to get angry. It is a bad thing for little
girls."

" I don't remember much of anything about your
father. Both of your aunts are dead. You have one
cousin somewhere — Margaret's husband married and
went South — to Virginia, didn't he? Well, there is no
end of Adams connection even if some of them have
different names. Captain Grier dropped into the ware
house with a tin box of papers, and your things are to be
sent this afternoon. He is coming up this evening, and
I've sent for Uncle Win to come over to supper. Then
I suppose the child's fate will be settled, and she'll be a
regular Boston girl."

" I do wonder if Uncle Win will let her stay here?
Mother and I have decided that it is the best place."

" Do you think it a good place? "

He turned so suddenly to Doris that her face was scar
let with embarrassment.

" It's splendid," she said when she caught her breath.
" I should like to stay. And Aunt Elizabeth will teach
me to make pies."

"Well, pies are pretty good things, according to my

IN A NEW HOME. 19

way of thinking. There's lots for little girls to learn,
though I dare say Uncle Win will think it can all come
out of a book."

" Some of it might come out of a cookbook," said
Betty demurely.

" Your mother's the best cookbook I know about —
good enough for anyone."

" But we can't send mother all round the world."

" We just don't want to," said Warren.

Mrs. Leverett smiled. She was proud of her ability in
the culinary line.

Mr. Leverett looked at Doris presently. " Come,
come," he began good-naturedly, " this will never do !
You are not eating enough to keep a bird alive. No
wonder you are so thin ! "

" But I ate a great deal of breakfast," explained Doris
with naive honesty.

" And you are not homesick? "

Doris thought a moment. " I don't want to go away,
if that is what you mean."

" Yes, that's about it," nodding humorously.

Warren thought her the quaintest, prettiest child he
had ever seen, but he hardly knew what to say to her.

When the men had eaten and gone the dishes were
soon washed up, and then mother and daughter brought
their sewing. Mrs. Leverett was mending Warren's
coat. Betty darned a small pile of stockings, and then
she took out some needlework. She had begun her
next summer's white gown, and she meant to do it by
odd spells, especially when Aunt Priscilla, who would
lecture her on so much vanity, was not around.

Mrs. Leverett gently questioned Doris — she was not
an aggressive woman, nor unduly curious. No, Doris
had not sewed much. Barby always darned the stock
ings, and Miss Easter had come to make whatever

20 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

clothes she needed. She used to go to Father Lang-
horne and recite, and Mrs. Leverett wondered whether
she and the father both were Roman Catholics. What
did she study? Oh, French and a little Latin, and she
was reading history and " Paradise Lost," but she didn't
like sums, and she could make pillow lace. Miss Ara
bella made beautiful pillow lace, and sometimes the
grand ladies came in carriages and paid her ever so much
money for it.

And presently dusk began to mingle with the golden
touches of sunset, and Mrs. Leverett went to make bis
cuit and fry some chicken, and Uncle Winthrop came at
the same moment that a man on a dray brought an old-
fashioned chest and carried it upstairs to Betty's room.
But Betty had already attired Doris in her silk gown.

Doris liked Uncle Winthrop at once, although he was
so different from Uncle Leverett, who wore all around
his face a brownish-red beard that seemed to grow out of
his neck, and had tumbled hair and a somewhat weather-
beaten face. Mr. Winthrop Adams was two good inches
taller and stood up very straight in spite of his being a
bookworm. His complexion was fair and rather pale,
his features were of the long, slender type, which his
beard, worn in the Vandyke style, intensified. His hair
was light and his eyes were a grayish blue, and he had a
refined and gentle expression.

" So this is our little traveler," he said. " Your father
was somewhat older, perhaps, when we bade him good-
by, but I have often thought of him. We corresponded
a little off and on. And I am glad to be able to do all
that I can for his child."

Doris glanced up, feeling rather shy, and wondering
what she ought to say, but in the next breath Betty had
said it all, even to declaring laughingly that as Doris had
come to them they meant to keep her.

IN A NEW HOME. *i

" Doris," he said softly. " Doris. You have a poet
ical name. And you are poetical-looking."

She wondered what the comparison meant. " Para
dise Lost " was so grand it tired her. Oh, there was
the old volume of Percy's " Reliques." Did he mean
like some of the sweet little things in that? Miss
Arabella had said it wasn't quite the thing for a child to
read, and had taken it away until she grew older.

Uncle Winthrop took her hand again — a small, slim
hand; and his was slender as well. No real physical
work had hardened it. He dropped into the high-
backed chair beside the fireplace, and, putting his arm
about her, drew her near to his side. Uncle Leverett
would have taken her on his knee if he had been
moved by an impulse like that, but he was used to
children and grandchildren, and the bookish man
was not.

" It is a great change to you," he said in his low tone,
which had a fascination for her. " Was Miss Arabella —
were there any young people in the old Lincolnshire
house?"

" Oh, no. Miss Henrietta was very, very old, but then
she had lost her mind and forgotten everybody. And
Miss Arabella had snowy white hair and a sweet
wrinkled face."

" Did you go to school ? "

" There wasn't any school except a dame's school for
very little children. I used to go twice a week to Father
Langhorne and read and write and do sums."

" Then we will have to educate you. Do you think
you would like to go to school? "

" I don't know." She hung her head a little, and it
gave her a still more winsome expression. There was
an indescribable charm about her.

" What did you read with this father? "

22 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" We read ' Paradise Lost ' and some French. And I
had begun Latin."

Winthrop Adams gave a soft, surprised whistle. By
the firelight he looked her over critically. Prodigies
were not to his taste, and a girl prodigy would be an ab
horrence. But her face had a sweet unconcern that re
assured him.

" And did you like it — ' Paradise Lost '? "
" I think I did — not," returned Doris with hesitating
frankness. " I liked the verses in Percy's ' Reliques '
better. I like verses that rhyme, that you can sing
to yourself."

"Ah! And how about the sums?"

" I didn't like them at all. But Miss Arabella said the

right things were often hard, and the easy things "

" Well, what is the fault of the easy things that we all
like, and ought not to like? "

" They were not so good for anyone — though I don't
see why. They are often very pleasant."

He laughed then, but some intuition told her he liked
pleasant things as well.

" What do you do in such a case? "
" I did the sums. It was the right thing to do. And
I studied Latin, though Miss Arabella said it was of no
use to a girl."

" And the French? "

" Oh, I learned French when I was very little and had
mamma, and when I was in the convent, too. But papa
talked English, so I had them both. Isn't it strange that
afterward you have to learn so much about them, and
how to make right sentences, and why they are right.
It seems as if there were a great many things in the
world to learn. Betty doesn't know half of them, and

she's as sweet as Oh, I think the wisest person in

the world couldn't be any sweeter."

IN A NEW HOME. 23

Winthrop Adams smiled at the eager reasoning.
Betty was a bright, gay girl. What occult quality was
sweetness? And Doris had been in a convent. That
startled him the first moment. The old strict bitterness
and narrowness of Puritanism had been softened and re
fined away. The people who had banished Quakers had
for a long while tolerated Roman Catholics. He had
known Father Matignon, and enjoyed the scholarly and
well-trained John Cheverus, who had lately been con
secrated bishop. The Protestants had even been gener
ous to their brethren of another faith when they were
building their church. As for himself he was a rather
stiff Church of England man, if he could be called stiff
about anything.

" And — did you like the convent? " he asked, after a
pause, in which he generously made up his mind he
would not interfere with her religious belief.

" It's so long ago " — with a half-sigh. " I was very sad
at first, and missed mamma. Papa had to go away
somewhere and couldn't take me. Yes, I liked sister
Therese very much. Mamma was a Huguenot, you
know."

" You see, I really do not know anything about her,
and have known very little about your father since he
was a small boy."

" A small boy! How queer that seems," and she gave
a tender, rippling laugh. " Then you can tell me about
him. He used to come to the convent once in a while,
and when he was ready to go to England he took me.
Yes, I was sorry to leave Sister Therese and Sister Clare.
There were some little girls, too. And then we went to
Lincolnshire. Miss Arabella was very nice, and Barby
was so queer and funny — at first I could hardly under
stand her. And then we went to a pretty little church
where they didn't count beads nor pray to the Virgin

24 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

nor Saints. But it was a good deal like. It was the
Church of England. I suppose it had to be different
from the Church of France."

" Yes." He drew her a little closer. That was a
bond of sympathy between them. And just then Uncle
Leverett and Warren came in, and there was a shaking
of hands, and Uncle Leverett said:

" Well, I declare ! The sight of you, Win, is good for
sore eyes — well ones, too."

" I am rather remiss in a social way, I must confess.
I'll try to do better. The years fly around so, I have
always felt sorry that I saw so little of Cousin Charles
until that last sad year."

" It takes womenkind to keep up sociability. Charles
and you might as well have been a couple of old
bachelors."

Uncle Win gave his soft half-smile, which was really
more of an indication than a smile.

" Come to supper now," said Mrs. Leverett.

Doris kept hold of Uncle Win's hand until she
reached her place. He went around to the other side of
the table. She decided she liked him very much. She
liked almost everybody: the captain had been so friendly,
and Mrs. Jewett and some of the ladies on board the
vessel so kind. But Betty and Uncle Win went to the
very first place with her.

The elders had all the conversation, and it seemed
about some coming trouble to the country that she did
not understand. She knew there had been war in France
and various other European countries. Little girls were
not very well up in geography in those days, but they did
learn a good deal listening to their elders.

They were hardly through supper when Captain Grier
came with the very japanned box papa had brought over
from France and placed in Miss Arabella's care. His

IN A NEW HOME. 25

name was on it — " Charles Winthrop Adams." Oh,
and that was Uncle Win's name, too! Surely,
they were relations! Doris experienced a sense of
gladness.

Betty brought out a table standing against the wain
scot. You touched a spring underneath, and the cir
cular side came up and made a flat top. The captain
took a small key out of a curious long leathern purse,
and Uncle Win unlocked the box and spread out the
papers. There was the marriage certificate of Jacqueline
Marie de la Maur and Charles Winthrop Adams, and the
birth and baptismal record of Doris Jacqueline de la
Maur Adams, and ever so many other records and
letters.

Mr. Winthrop Adams gave the captain a receipt for
them, and thanked him cordially for all his care and at
tention to his little niece.

" She was a pretty fair sailor after the first week," said
the captain with a twinkle in his eye. He was very much
wrinkled and weather-beaten, but jolly and good-
humored. " And now, sissy, I'm glad you're safe with
your folks, and I hope you'll grow up into a nice clever
woman. 'Taint no use wishin' you good looks, for
you're purty as a pink now — one of them rather palish
kind. But you'll soon have red cheeks."

Doris had very red cheeks for a moment. Betty
leaned over to her brother, and whispered:

" What a splendid opportunity lost! Aunt Priscilla
ought to be here to say, ' Handsome is as handsome
does.' "

Then Captain Grier shook hands all round and took
his departure.

Afterward the two men discussed business about the
little girl. There must be another trustee, and papers
must be taken out for guardianship. They would go to

26 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

the court-house, say at eleven to-morrow, and put every
thing in train.

Betty took out some knitting. It was a stocking of
fine linen thread, and along the instep it had a pretty
openwork pattern that was like lace work.

" That is to wear with slippers," she explained to
Doris. " But it's a sight of work. 'Lecty had six pairs
when she was married. That's my second sister, Mrs.
King. She lives in Hartford. I want to go and make
her a visit this winter."

Mrs. Leverett's stocking was of the more useful kind,
blue-gray yarn, thick and warm, for her husband's win
ter wear. She did not have to count stitches and make
throws, and take up two here and three there.

" Warren," said his mother, when he had poked the
fire until she was on ' pins and needles,' — they didn't call
it nervous then, — " Warren, I am 'most out of corn. I
wish you'd go shell some."

" The hens do eat an awful lot, seems to me. Why, I
shelled only a few nights ago."

" I touched bottom when I gave them the last feed this
afternoon. By spring we won't have so many," nodding
in a half-humorous fashion.

" Don't you want to come out and see me? You don't
have any Indian corn growing in England, I've heard."

" Did it belong to the Indians? " asked Doris.

" I rather guess it did, in the first instance. But now
we plant it for ourselves. We don't, because father sold
the two-acre lot, and they're bringing a street through.
So now we have only the meadow."

Doris looked at the uncles, but she couldn't under
stand a word they were saying.

" Come! " Warren held out his hand.

" Put the big kitchen apron round her, Warren," said
Betty, thinking of her silk gown.

IN A NEW HOME. 27

He tied the apron round her neck and brought back
the strings round her waist, so she was all covered.
Then he found her a low chair, and poked the kitchen
fire, putting on a pine log to make a nice blaze. He
brought out from the shed a tub and a basket of ears of
corn. Across the tub he laid the blade of an old saw and
then sat on the end to keep it firm.

" Now you'll see business. Maybe you've never seen
any corn before?"

She looked over in the basket, and then took up an
ear with a mysterious expression.

" It won't bite you," he said laughingly.

" But how queer and hard, with all these little points,"
pinching them with her dainty fingers.

" Grains," he explained. " And a husk grows on the
outside to keep it warm. When the winter is going to
be very cold the husk is very thick."

"Will this winter be cold?"

" Land alive ! yes. Winters always are cold."

Warren settled himself and drew the ear across the
blade. A shower of corn rattled down on the bottom of
the tub.

" Oh! is that the way you peel it off? "

He threw his head back and laughed.

" Oh, you Englisher! We shell it off."

" Well, it peels too. You peel a potato and an
apple with a knife blade. Oh, what a pretty white
core!"

" Cob. We Americans are adding new words to the
language. A core has seeds in it. There, see how soft
it is."

Doris took it in her hand and then laid her cheek
against it. " Oh, how soft and fuzzy it is!" she cried.
"And what do you do with it?"

" We don't plant that part of it. That core has no

a8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

seeds. You have to plant a grain like this. The little
clear point we call a heart, and that sprouts and grows.
This is a good use for the cob."

He had finished another, which he tossed into the fire.
A bright blaze seemed to run over it all at once and die
down. Then the small end flamed out and the fire crept
along in a doubtful manner until it was all covered again.

" They're splendid to kindle the fire with. And pine
cones. America has lots of useful things."

" But they burn cones in France. I like the spicy
smell. It's queer though," wrinkling her forehead.
" Did the Indians know about corn the first? "

" That is the general impression unless America was
settled before the Indians. Uncle Win has his head full
of these things and is writing a book. And there is
tobacco that Sir Walter Raleigh carried home from
Virginia."

" Oh, I know about Sir Walter and Queen Elizabeth."

" He was a splendid hero. I think people are grow
ing tame now; there are no wars except Indian skir
mishes."

" Why, Napoleon is fighting all the time."

" Oh, that doesn't count," declared the young man
with a lofty air. " We had some magnificent heroes in
the Revolution. There are lots of places for you to see.
Bunker Hill and Lexington and Concord and the head
quarters of Washington and Lafayette. The French
were real good to us, though we have had some scrim
mages with them. And now that you are to be a Bos
ton girl "

" But I was in Old Boston before," and she laughed.
" Very old Boston, that is so far back no one can remem
ber, and it was called Ikanhoe, which means Boston.
There is the old church and the abbey that St. Botolph
founded. They came over somewhere in six hundred,

AUNT PRISCILLA. 29

and were missionaries from France — St. Botolph and his
brother."

"Whew!" ejaculated Warren with a long whistle,
looking up at the little girl as if she were hundreds of
years old.

Betty opened the door. " Uncle Win is going," she
announced. " Come and say good-by to him."

He was standing up with the box of papers in his hand,
and saying:

" I must have you all over to tea some night, and
Doris must come and see my old house. And I have a
big boy like Warren. Yes, we must be a little more
friendly, for life is short at the best. And you are to stay
here a while with good Cousin Elizabeth, and I hope you
will be content and happy."

She pressed the hand Uncle Win held out in both of
hers. In all the changes she had learned to be content,
and she had a certain adaptiveness that kept her from
being unhappy. She was very glad she was going to
stay with Betty, and glanced up with a bright smile.

They all said good-night to Cousin Adams. Mr.
Leverett turned the great key in the hall door, and it
gave a shriek.

" I must oil that lock to-morrow. It groans enough
to raise the dead," said Mrs. Leverett.

CHAPTER III.

AUNT PRISCILLA.

HP HERE was quite a discussion about a school.
Uncle Win had an idea Doris ought to begin high
up in the scale. For really she was very well born on
both sides. Her father had left considerable money,
and in a few years second-cousin Charles' bequest might

3o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

be quite valuable, if Aunt Priscilla did sniff over it
There was Mrs. Rawson's.

" But that is mostly for young ladies, a kind of finish
ing school. And in some things Doris is quite behind,
while in others far advanced. There will be time enough
for accomplishments. And Mrs. Webb's is near by,
which will be an object this cold winter."

" I shouldn't like her to forget her French. And
perhaps it would be as well to go on with Latin," Cousin
Adams said.

Mrs. Leverett was a very sensible woman, but she
really did not see the need of Latin for a girl. There
was a kind of sentiment about French; it had been her
mother's native tongue, and one did now and then go to
France.

There had been a good deal of objection to even the
medium education of women among certain classes.
The three " R's " had been considered all that was neces
sary. And when the system of public education had
been first inaugurated it was thought quite sufficient for
girls to go from April to October. Good wives and
good mothers was the ideal held up to girls. But people
were beginning to understand that ignorance was not
always goodness. Mrs. Rawson had done a great deal
toward the enlightenment of this subject. The pioneer
days were past, unless one was seized with a mania for
the new countries.

Mrs. Leverett was secretly proud of her two married
daughters. Mrs. King's husband had gone to the State
legislature, and was considered quite a rising politician.
Mrs. Manning was a farmer's wife and held in high
esteem for the management of her family. Betty was
being inducted now into all household accomplishments
with the hope that she would marry quite as well as her
sisters. She was a good reader and speller; she had a

AUNT PRISCILLA. 31

really fine manuscript arithmetic, in which she had writ
ten the rules and copied the sums herself. She had a
book of " elegant extracts " ; she also wrote down the text
of the Sunday morning sermon and what she could re
member of it. She knew the difference between the
Puritans and the Pilgrims; she also knew how the thir
teen States were settled and by whom; she could answer
almost any question about the French, the Indian, and
the Revolutionary wars. She could do fine needlework
and the fancy stitches of the day. She was extremely
" handy " with her needle. Mrs. Leverett called her a
very well-educated girl, and the Leveretts considered
themselves some of the best old stock in Boston, if they
were not much given to show.

It might be different with Doris. But a good husband
was the best thing a girl could have, in Mrs. Leverett's
estimation, and knowing how to make a good home her
greatest accomplishment.

They looked over Doris' chest and found some simple
gowns, mostly summer ones, pairs of fine stockings that
had been cut down and made over by Miss Arabella's
dainty fingers, and underclothes of a delicate quality.
There were the miniatures of her parents — that of her
mother very girlish indeed — and a few trinkets and
books.

" She must have two good woolen frocks for winter,
and a coat," said Mrs. Leverett. " Cousin Winthrop
said I should buy whatever was suitable."

" And a little Puritan cap trimmed about with fur. I
am sure I can make that. And a strip of fur on her
coat. She would blow away in that big hat if a high
wind took her," declared Betty.

" And all the little girls wear them in winter. Still, I
suppose Old Boston must have been cold and bleak in
winter."

32 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" It was not so nearly an island."

There was a good deal of work to do on Friday, so
shopping was put off to the first of the week. Doris
proved eagerly helpful and dusted very well. In the
afternoon Aunt Priscilla came over for her cup of tea.

" Dear me," she began with a great sigh, " I wish I had
some nice young girl that I could train, and who would
take an interest in things. Polly is too old. And I
don't like to send her away, for she was good enough
when she had any sense. There's no place for her but
the poorhouse, and I can't find it in my conscience to
send her there. But I'm monstrous tired of her, and I
do think I'd feel better with a cheerful young person
around. You're just fortunate, 'Lizabeth, that you and
Betty can do for yourselves."

" It answers, now that the family is small. But last
year I found it quite trying. And Betty must have her
two or three years' training at housekeeping."

" Oh, of course. I'm glad you're so sensible, 'Liza
beth. Girls are very flighty, nowadays, and are in the
street half the time, and dancing and frolicking round at
night. I really don't know what the young generation
will be good for! "

Mrs. Leverett smiled. She remembered she had heard
some such comments when she was young, though the
lines were more strictly drawn then."

" Has Winthrop been over to see his charge? How
does he feel about it? Now, if she had been a boy "

" He was up to tea last night, and he and Foster
have been arranging the business this morning. Foster
is to be joint trustee, but Winthrop will be her guardian."

" What will he do with a girl ! Why, she'll set Recom
pense crazy."

" She is not going to live there. For the present she
will stay here. She will go to Mrs. Webb's school this

AUNT PRISCILLA. 33

winter. He has an idea of sending her to boarding
school later on."

" Is she that rich?" asked Aunt Priscilla with a little
sarcasm.

" She will have a small income from what her father
left. Then there is the rent of the house in School
Street, and some stock. Winthrop thinks she ought to
be well educated. And if she should ever have to depend
on herself, teaching seems quite a good thing. Even
Mrs. Webb makes a very comfortable living."

" But we're going to educate the community for noth
ing, and tax the people who have no children to pay
for it."

" Well," said Mrs. Leverett with a smile, " that evens
up matters. But the others, at least property owners,
have to pay their share. I tell Foster that we ought
not grudge our part, though we have no children to
send."

" How did people get along before? "

" I went to school until I was fifteen."

" And when I was twelve I was doing my day's work
spinning. There's talk that we shall have to come back
to it. Jonas Field is in a terrible taking. According to
him war's bound to come. And this embargo is just
ruining everything. It is to be hoped we will have a
new President before everything goes."

" Yes, it is making times hard. But we are learning
to do a great deal more for ourselves."

" It behooves us not to waste our money. But Win
throp Adams hasn't much real calculation. So long as
he has money to buy books, I suppose he thinks the
world will go on all right. It's to be hoped Foster will
look out for the girl's interest a little. But you'll be
foolish to take the brunt of the thing. Now it would be
just like you,'Lizabeth Leverett,to take care of this child,

34 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

without a penny, just as if she was some charity object
thrown on your hands."

Mrs. Leverett did give her soft laugh then.

" You have just hit it, Aunt Priscilla," she said.
" Winthrop wanted to pay her board, but Foster just
wouldn't hear to it, this year at least. We have all taken
a great liking to her, and she is to be our visitor from
now until summer, when some other plans are to be
made."

"Well — if you have money to throw away " gasped

Aunt Priscilla.

" She won't eat more than a chicken, and she'll sleep in
Betty's bed. It will help steady Betty and be an interest
to all of us. I really couldn't think of charging. It's
like having one of the grandchildren here. And she
needs a mother's care. Think of the poor little girl with
not a near relative! Aunt Priscilla, there's a good many
things money can't buy."

Aunt Priscilla sniffed.

" Take off your bonnet and have a cup of tea," Mr§.
Leverett had asked her when she first came in. " It's
such a long walk back to King Street on an empty
stomach. The children are making cookies, but Betty
shall brew a cup of tea at once, unless you'll wait till the
men folks come in."

Aunt Priscilla sat severe and undecided for a moment.
The laughing voices in the other room piqued and vexed
and interested her all in a breath. She had come over to
hear about Doris. There was so little interest in her
methodical old life. Mrs. Leverett sincerely pitied
women who had no children and no grandchildren.

" They're quite as queer as old maids without the real
excuse," she said to her husband. " They've missed the
best things out of their lives without really knowing
they were the best."

AUNT PRISCILLA. 35

And perhaps at this era more respect was paid to age.
There were certain trials and duties to life that men and
women accepted and did not try to evade. A modern
happy woman would have been bored at the call of a dis
satisfied old woman every few days. But since the death
of Mehitable Doule, Priscilla's own cousin, who had been
married from her house, she had clung more to the
Leveretts. Foster was too easy-going, otherwise she
had not much fault to find with him. He had prospered
and was forehanded, and his married son and daughters
had been fairly successful.

" Well, I don't care if I do," said Aunt Priscilla, with
a half-reluctance. " Though I hadn't decided to when I
came away, and Polly '11 make a great hole in that cold
roast pork, for I never said a word as to what she should
have for supper. She's come to have no more sense
than a child, and some things are bad to eat at night.
But if she makes herself sick she'll have to suffer."

" I'll have some tea made "

" No, 'Lizabeth, don't fuss. I shan't be in any hurry,
if I do stay, and the men will be in before long. So
Winthrop wan't real put out when he saw the girl?"

" I think he liked her. He's not much hand to make
a fuss, you know. He feels she must be well brought
up. Her mother, it seems, was quite quality."

" Queer the mother's folks didn't look after her."

" Her mother was an only child. Winthrop has the
records back several generations. And when she died
the father was alive, you know."

" Winthrop is a great stickler for such things. It's
good to have folks you're not ashamed of, to be sure, but
family isn't everything. Behaving counts."

Aunt Priscilla took off her bonnet and shawl, and
hung them in the " best " closet, where the Sunday coats
and cloaks were kept.

36 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" You might just hand me that knitting, 'Lizabeth. I
guess I knit a little tighter'n you do, on account of my
hand being out. I've more than enough stockings to
last my time out and some coarse ones for Polly. They
spin yarn so much finer now. Footing many stockings
this fall?"

" No. I knit Foster new ones late in the spring. He's
easy, too. Warren's the one to gnaw out heels, though
young people are so much on the go."

Aunt Priscilla took up the stocking and pinned the
sheath on her side. How gay the voices sounded in the
kitchen! Then the door opened.

" Just look, Aunt Elizabeth ! Aren't they lovely !
Betty let me cut them out and put them in the pans.
Oh "

Doris stood quite abashed, with a dish of tempting
brown cookies in one hand. Her cheeks were like roses
now, and Betty's kitchen apron made another frock over
hers of gay chintz, that had been exhumed from the
chest.

" Good-afternoon," recovering herself.

" The cookies look delightful. I must taste one,"
Mrs. Leverett said smilingly.

She handed the plate to Aunt Priscilla.

" It '11 just spoil my supper if I eat one. But you may
do up some in a paper, and I'll take them home. I'm
glad to see you at something useful. Did you help
about the house over there in England? "

" Oh, no. We had Barby," answered the child simply.

" Well, there's a deal for you to learn. I made bread
just after I had turned ten years old. Girls in old times
learned to work. It wasn't all cooky-making, by a long
shot!"

Doris made a little courtesy and disappeared.

" I'd do something to that tousled hair, 'Lizabeth.

AUNT PRISCILLA. 37

Have her put it up or cut it off. It's good to cut a
girl's hair; makes it thick and strong. And curls do
look so flighty and frivolous."

" The new fashion is a wig with all the front in little
curls. It's so much less trouble if it is made of natural
curly hair."

" Are you going to set up for fashion in these hard
times?" asked the visitor disdainfully.

" Not quite. But Betty Pickering is to be married in
great state next month, and we have been invited al
ready. I suppose I ought to consider her in some sort
a namesake."

" I'm glad I haven't any fine relatives to be married,"
and the sniff was made to do duty.

Mrs. Leverett put down her sewing. She had drawn
the threads and basted the wristbands and gussets for
Betty to stitch, as they had come to shirt-making. The
new ones of thick cotton cloth would be good for winter
wear. One had always to think ahead in this world if
one wanted things to come out even.

Then she went out to the kitchen, and there was a gay
chattering, as if a colony of chimney swallows had met
on a May morning. Aunt Priscilla pushed up nearer
the window. She had good eyesight still, and only wore
glasses when she read or was doing some extra-fine
work.

Betty came in and rolled out the table as she greeted
her relative. Aunt Priscilla had a curiously lost feeling,
as if somehow she had gone astray. No one ever would
know about it, to be sure. There were times when it
seemed as if there must be a third power, between God
and the Evil One. There were things neither good nor
bad. If they were good the Lord brought them to pass,
— or ought to, — and if they were bad your conscience
was troubled. Aunt Priscilla had been elated over her

38 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

idea all day yesterday. It looked really generous to her.
Of course Cousin Winthrop couldn't be bothered with
this little foreign girl, and the Leveretts had a lot of
grandchildren. She might take this Dorothy Adams,
and bring her up in a virtuous, useful fashion. She
would go to school, of course, but there would be nights
and mornings and Saturdays. In two years, at the latest,
she would be able to take a good deal of charge of the
house. All this time her own little fortune could be
augmenting, interest on interest. And if she turned out
fair, she would do the handsome thing by her — leave her
at least half of what she, Mrs. Perkins, possessed.

And yet it was not achieved without a sort of mental
wrestle. She was not quite sure it was spiritual enough
to pray over; in fact, nothing just like this had come into
her life before. She was not the kind of stuff out of
which missionaries were made, and this wasn't just
charitable work. She would expect the girl to do some
thing for her board, but Polly would be good for a year
or two more. Time did hang heavy on her hands, and
this would be interest and employment, and a good turn.
When matters were settled a little she would broach the
subject to Elizabeth.

If Winthrop Adams meant to make a great lady out of
her — why, that was all there was to it! Times were hard
and there might be war. Winthrop had a son of his
own, and perhaps not so much money as people thought.
And it did seem folly to waste the child's means. If she
had so much — enough to go to boarding school — she
oughtn't be living on the Leveretts. Foster was hav
ing pretty tight squeezing to get along.

They all wondered what made Aunt Priscilla so un-
aggressive at supper time. She watched Doris furtively.
All the household had a smile for her. Foster Leverett
patted her soft hair, and Warren pinched her cheek in

AUNT PRISCILLA. 39

play. Betty gave her half a dozen hugs between times,
and Mrs. Leverett smiled when Doris glanced her way.

The quarter-moon was coming up when Priscilla Per
kins opened the closet door for her things.

" I'll walk over with Aunt Priscilla," said Warren.
" It's my night for practice."

" Oh, yes." His father nodded. Warren had lately
joined the band, but his mother thought she couldn't
stand the cornet round the house.

" I aint a mite afraid in the moonlight. I come so
often I ought not put anyone out."

" Now that the evenings are cool it seems lonesomer,"
said Mr. Leverett, settling in his armchair by the fire,
really glad his son could be attentive without any special
sacrifice.

Doris brought the queer little stool and sat down be
side him. She looked as if she had always lived there.

" You'll all spoil that child," Aunt Priscilla said to
Warren when they had stepped off the stoop.

" I don't believe there's any spoil to her," said Warren
heartily. " She's the sweetest little thing I ever saw; so
wise in some ways and so honestly ignorant in others.
I never saw Uncle Win so taken — he never seems to
quite know what to do with children. And he's asked us
all over to tea some night next week. I was clear
struck."

Mrs. Perkins made no reply. About once a year he
invited her over to tea with some of the old cousins, and
he called on her New Year's Day, which was not spe
cially kept in any fashionable way.

Mrs. Perkins always said King Street, though in a
burst of patriotism the name had been changed after the
Revolution. It had dropped down very much and was
being given over to business. There was a narrow hall
door set in a little distance, with a few steps, and the shop

40 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

front with the plain sign of " Jonas Field, Flour, Grain,
and Feed." The stairway led to an upper hall and a
very comfortable suite of rooms, where Mrs. Perkins had
come as a young wife, and where she meant to end her
days. It was plenty good enough inside, and she "didn't
live in the street."

The best room occupied the whole front and had three
windows. Priscilla had been barely nineteen when she
was married, and Hatfield Perkins quite a bachelor.
And, as no children had come to disturb their orderly
habits, they had settled more securely in them year after
year.

Next to the parlor was the sleeping chamber. Now,
it was the spare room, though no one came to stay all
night who was fine enough to put in it. The smaller
one adjoining she had used since her husband's death.
There was a little tea room, and a big kitchen at the
back. Downstairs the store part had been built out, and
on the roof of this the clothes were dried. Polly always
sat out here in pleasant weather, to prepare vegetables
and do various chores. The lot was deep, and at the
back were some fruit trees, and the patch of herbs every
woman thought she must have, and a square of grass for
bleaching.

A lighted lamp stood at the head of the stairs. Polly
was dozing in the kitchen. Mrs. Perkins sent her to bed
in short order. There were two rooms and a storage
closet upstairs in the gables. One was Polly's. The
other was the guest chamber that was good enough
" for the common run of folks."

The moon was shining in the back windows. Priscilla
snuffed out the candle; there was no use wasting candle
light. She sat down in a low rocker, the only one she
owned ; and several list seats had been worn out in it be
sides the original one of rushes. She had never been

AUNT PRISCILLA. 41

really lonely in the sixty-five years of her life for she had
kept busy, and was replete with old-fashioned methods
that made work. She was very particular. Everything
was scrubbed and scoured and swept and dusted and
aired. The dishes were polished until they were lus
trous. The knives and forks and spoons were speckless.
There were napery and bedding that had been laid by for
her marriage outfit, and not all worn out yet, though in
the early years she had kept replenishing for possible
children. There was plenty for twenty years to come,
and though her people had been strong and healthy,
they never went much over seventy. She was the
youngest, and all the rest were gone. Her few real
nieces and nephews were scattered about; she had made
up her mind long ago she shouldn't ever have anyone
hanging on her.

No one wanted to. No one even leaned on her. Yet
somehow the life had never seemed real solitary until
now. She had comforted her years with the thought
that children were a great deal of trouble and did not
always turn out well. She could see the picture the little
foreign girl made as she folded her arms on Foster Lev-
erett's knee. She wouldn't have that mop of frowzly
hair flying about, and she would like to fat her up a little
— she was rather peaked. She had imagined her going
about in this old place, sewing, learning to work prop
erly, reading and studying, and going to church every
Sabbath. She had really meant to do something for a
human being day after day, not in a spasmodic fashion.
And this was the end of it.

She sprang up suddenly, lighted the candle again,
went out to the kitchen to see that everything was right
and there was no danger of fire. She opened the outside
door and glanced around. There was an autumnal chill
in the air, but there were no mysterious shadows creep-

42 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ing about in the yard below that might presage burglars.
Then she bolted the door with a snap, and stood a mo
ment in the middle of the floor.

" You are an old fool, Priscilla Perkins ! The idea of
all Boston being turned upside down for the sake of one
little girl! People have come over from England be
fore, big and little, and there's been a war and there may
be another, and no end of things to happen. To be sure,
I'd done my duty by her if I'd had her; and if the others
spoil her — I aint to blame, the Lord knows! "

CHAPTER IV.

OUT TO TEA.

'""THERE! Does it look like Old Boston?"

They were winding around Copp's Hill. Warren
had been given part of a day off, and the use of the chaise
and Jack, to show the little cousin something of Boston
before they went to Uncle Winthrop's to tea.

Doris had her new coat, which was a sort of fawn
color, and the close Puritan cap to keep her neck and
ears warm. For earache was quite a common com
plaint among children, and people were careful through
the long cold winter. A strip of beaver fur edged the
front, and went around the little cape at the back. Its
soft grayish-brown framed in her fair face like a picture,
and her eyes were almost the tint of the deep, unclouded
blue sky.

They had a fine view of Old Boston, but they could
hardly dream of the Boston that was to be. There were
still the three elevations of Beacon Hill, lowered some
what, to be sure, but not taken away entirely. And there
was Fort Hill in the distance.

OUT TO TEA. 43

" Why, it looks like a chain of islands, and instead of
a great sea the water runs round and round. At home
the Witham comes down to the winding cove called The
Wash. Boston is sort of set between two rivers, but it
is fast of the mainland, and doesn't look so much like
floating off. You can go over to the Norfolk shore, and
you look out on the great North Sea. But it isn't as big
as the Atlantic Ocean."

" Well, I should say not! " with disdain. " Why, you
can look over to Holland ! "

" You can't see Holland, but it's there, and Denmark."

" And we shall have to be something like the Dutch,
if ever we mean to have a grand city. We shall have to
dike and fill in and bridge. I have a great regard for
those sturdy old Dutchmen and the way they fought the
Spanish as well as the sea."

Doris didn't know much about Holland, even if she
could make pillow lace and read French verses with a
charming accent.

" That's the Mill Pond. And all that is the back part
of the bay. And over there a grand battle was fought —
but you were not born before the Revolutionary
War."

" I guess you were not born yourself, Warren Lev-
erett," said Betty, with unnecessary vigor.

"Well, I am rather glad I wasn't; I shall have the
longer to live. But grandfather and ever so many rela
tives were, and father knows all about it. I am proud,
too, of having been named for General Warren."

" And down there near the bay is Fort Hill. Boston
wasn't built on seven hills like Rome, and though there
are acres and acres of low ground, we are not likely to
be overflowed, unless the Atlantic Ocean should rise and
sweep us out of existence. And there is the old bury
ing ground, full of queer names and curious epitaphs."

44 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

The long peninsula stretched out in a sort of irregular
pear-shape, and then was connected to another portion
by a narrow neck. The little villages about had a rural
aspect, and some of them were joined to the mainland by
bridges. And cows were still pastured on the commons
and in several tracts of meadow land in the city. Many
people had their own milk and made butter. There were
large gardens at the sides of the houses, many of them
standing with the gable end to the street, and built mostly
of wood. But nearly all the leaves had fallen now, and
though the sun shone with a mellow softness, it was
quite evident the reign of summer was ended.

They drove slowly about, Warren rehearsing stories
of this and that place, and wishing there was more time
so they might go over to Charlestown.

" But Doris is to stay, and there will be time enough
next summer. It is confusing to see so many places at
once. And mother said we must be at Uncle Win's
about four," declared Betty.

It was rather confusing to Doris, who had heard so
little of American history in her quiet home. War
seemed a dreadful thing to her, and she could not take
Warren's pride in battle and conquest.

So they turned and went down through the winding
streets.

"Do you know why they are so crooked?" Warren
asked.

" No; why?" asked Doris innocently.

" Well, William Blackstone's cows made the paths.
He came here first of all and had an allotment. Then
when people began to come over from Charlestown he
sold out for thirty pounds English money. Grandfather
used to go over to the old orchard for apples. But
think of Boston being bought for thirty pounds! "

" It wasn't this Boston with the houses and churches

OUT TO TEA. 45

and everything. Come, do get along, or else let me
drive," said Betty.

There was quite a descent as they came down.
Streets seemed to stop suddenly, and you had to make a
curve to get into the next one. From Main they turned
into Fish Street, and here the wind from the harbor
swept across to the Mill Pond.

That's Long Wharf, and it has lots of famous stories
connected with it. And just down there is father's.
And now we could cut across and go over home."

" As if we meant to do any such foolish thing? " ejacu
lated Betty.

" I said we could. There are a great many things pos
sible that are not advisable," returned the oracular young
man. " And I have heard the longest way round was
the surest way home. We shall reach there about nine
o'clock to-night."

" Like the old woman and her pig. I should laugh if
we found mother already at Uncle Win's."

" She's going to wait for father, and something always
happens to him."

They crossed Market Square, and passed Faneuil Hall,
that was to grow more famous as the years went on:
then they took Cornhill and went over to Marlborough
Street.

" That's Fort Hill. It's lovely in summer, when the
wind doesn't blow you to shreds. Now we will take
Marlborough, and to-night you will be surprised to see
how straight it is to Sudbury Street."

They drove rapidly down, and made one turn. It was
like a beautiful country road, over to Common Street,
and there was the great tract of ground that would grow
more beautiful with every decade. Tall, overarching
trees ; ways that were grassy a month ago, but now turn
ing brown.

46 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Here we are," and they turned up a driveway at the
side of the long porch upheld with round columns.
Betty sprang out on the stepping block and half-lifted
Doris, while Warren drove up to the barn.

Uncle Winthrop came out to welcome them, and
smiled down into the little girl's face.

" But where is your mother? " he asked.

" Oh, she had some shopping to do and then she was
to meet father. We have been driving up around Copp's
Hill and giving Doris a peep at the country."

" The wind begins to blow up sharply, though it was
very pleasant. I am glad to see you, little Doris, and I
hope you have not grown homesick sighing for Old Bos
ton. For if you should reach the threescore-and-ten,
things will have changed so much that this will be old
Boston; and, Betty, you will be telling your grandchil
dren what it was like."

Betty laughed gayly.

There was the same wide hall as at home, but it wasn't
the keeping-room here. It had a great fireplace, and at
one side a big square sofa. The floor was inlaid with
different-colored woods, following geometric designs,
much like those of to-day. Before the fire was a rug of
generous dimensions, and a high-backed chair stood on
each of the nearest corners. There was a bookcase with
some busts ranged on the top; there were some por
traits of ancestors in military attire, and women with
enormous head-dresses; there was one in a Puritan cap,
wide collar, and a long-sleeved gown, that quite spoiled
the effect of her pretty hands. Over the mantel was a
pair of very large deer's antlers. Down at one corner
there were two swords crossed and some other firearms.
Just under them was a cabinet with glass doors that con
tained many curiosities.

A tall, thin woman entered from a door at the lower

OUT TO TEA. 47

end of the hall and greeted Betty with a quiet dignity
that would have seemed cold, if it had not been the usual
manner of Recompense Gardiner, who could never have
been effusive, and who took it for granted that anyone
Mr. Winthrop Adams invited to the house was welcome.
Her forehead was high and rather narrow, her brown
hair was combed straight back and twisted in a little knot
high on her head, in which in the afternoon, or on com
pany occasions, she wore a large shell comb. Her fea
tures were rather long and spare, and she wore plain
little gold hoops in her ears because her eyes had been
weak in youth and it was believed this strengthened
them. Anyhow, she could see well enough at five-and-
forty to detect a bit of dust or dirt, or lint left on a plate
from the towel, or a chair that was a trifle out of its
rightful place. She was an excellent housekeeper, and
suited her master exactly.

" This is the little English girl I was telling you about,
Recompense — Cousin Charles' grandniece, and my
ward," announced Mr. Adams.

" How do you do, child! Let me take off your hood
and cloak. Why, she isn't very stout or rosy. She
might have been born here in the east wind. And she
is an Adams through and through."

"Do you think so?" with an expression of pleasure,
as Recompense held her off and looked her over.

" Are her eyes black? " rather disapprovingly.

" No, the very darkest blue you can imagine," said
Mr. Adams.

" Betty, run upstairs with these things. Your feet are
younger than mine, and haven't done so much trotting
round. Lay them on my bed. Why, where's your
mother? " in a tone of surprise.

Betty made the proper explanation and skipped lightly
upstairs.

48 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Mr. Adams took one of the large chairs, drawing it
closer to the fire. Recompense brought out a stool for
the little girl. It was covered with thick crimson bro
cade, a good deal faded, but it had a warm, inviting
aspect. Children were not expected to sit in chairs
then, or to run about and ask what everything was for.

There had been children, little girls of different rela
tives, sitting at the fireside before. His own small boy
had dozed in the fascinating warmth of the fire and hated
to go to bed, and he had weakly indulged him, as there
had been no mother to exercise authority. But Doris
was different. She was alone in the world, and had been
sent to him by a mysterious providence. He knew the
responsibility of a girl must be greater. He couldn't
send her to the Latin school and then to Harvard, and
he really wondered how much education a girl ought to
have to fit her for the position Doris would be able to
take.

She was like a quaint picture sitting there. Betty had
tied a cluster of curls high on her head with a blue rib
bon, and just a few were left to cling about her neck
over the lace tucker. Her slim hands lay in her lap.
He glanced at his own — yes, they were Adams hands,
and looked little like hard work. He was rather proud
that Recompense should discern a family likeness.

Betty came flying down the oaken staircase, and War
ren entered from the back door. For a few moments
there was quite a confusion of tongues, and Recompense
wondered how mothers stood it all the time.

" How queer not to have anyone know about Bos
ton," began Warren with a teasing glance over at Doris.
" We have been looking at it from Copp's Hill, and
going through the odd places."

" And I wondered if people came to be fed in White
Bread Alley," exclaimed Doris quickly.

OUT TO TEA. 49

" And I dare say Warren didn't know."

" Why, yes — a woman baked bread there."

" Women have baked bread in a great many places,"
returned Uncle Win, with a quizzical smile.

" Oh, I didn't mean just that."

" It was John Tudor's mother," appended Betty.

" Mrs. Tudor made the first penny rolls offered for
sale in Boston, and little John, as he was then, took them
around for sale."

" And Mr. Benjamin Franklin didn't make them fa
mous either," laughed Warren.

" And Salutation Alley with its queer sign — its two old
men with cocked hats and small clothes, bowing to each
other," said Betty. " It always suggests a couplet I
found in an old book:

" ' O mortal man who lives by bread,
What is it makes your nose so red ?
O mortal man with cheeks so pale,
'Tis drinking Levi Puncheon's ale ! ' "

" It is said the resolutions for the destruction of the
tea were drawn up in the old tavern. It was famous for
being the rendezvous of the patriots."

" It would be nice to drive all around Boston shore."

" Let it be summer time, then," rejoined Betty. " Or,
like the Hollanders, we might do it on skates. Of course
you do not know how to skate, Doris? "

Doris admitted with winsome frankness that she did
not. But she could ride a pony, and she could row a
little.

" There are some delightful summer parties when we
do go out rowing. At least, the boys row mostly, be
cause

" ' Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do ! ' "

and Betty laughed.

So A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" And the girls always take their knitting," appended
Warren. " There's never any mischief for them to get
into."

" I suppose it doesn't look much like Old Boston,"
inquired Miss Recompense. " And what do the little
girls do there, my dear? "

Warren opened his eyes wide. The idea of Miss
Recompense saying " my dear " to a child.

It had slipped out in a curiously unpremeditated
fashion. There was something about the little girl — per
haps it was the fact of her having come so far, and being
an orphan — that moved Recompense Gardiner.

" I didn't know any real little girls," answered Doris
modestly, " except the farmer's children. They worked
out of doors in the summer in the fields."

" And I was the youngest of five sisters," said Miss
Recompense. " There were three boys."

" It would be so nice to have a sister of one's very
own. There were Sallie and Helen Jewett on the
vessel."

" I think I like the sisters to be older," said Betty
archly. " There are the weddings and the nieces and
nephews. And they are always begging you to visit
them."

" And I had no sisters," said Uncle Win, as if he would
fain console Doris for her loneliness.

She glanced up with sympathetic sweetness. He was
a little puzzled at the intuitive process.

" Fix up the fire, Warren. Your mother and father
will be cold when they get in."

Warren gave the burned log a poke, and it fell in two
ends, neither dropping over the andirons. Then he
pushed them a little nearer and a shower of sparks flew
about.

" Oh, how beautiful ! " and Doris leaned over intently.

OUT TO TEA. 51

Warren placed a large log back of them, then he piled
on some smaller split pieces. They began to blaze
shortly. He picked up the turkey's wing and brushed
around the stone hearth.

" That was very well done," remarked Miss Recom
pense approvingly.

" Warren knows how to make a fire," said his uncle,
" and it is quite an art."

" That is a sign he will make a good husband," com
mented Betty. " And I shall get a bad one, for my fires
go out half the time."

" You are too heedless," said Miss Recompense.

" Now, we ought to tell some ghost stories," suggested
Warren. " Or we could wait until it gets a little darker.
The sun is going down, and the fire is coming up, and
just see how they are fighting at the Spanish Armada.
Uncle Win, when you break up housekeeping you can
leave me that picture."

They all turned to look at the picture in the cross light,
with one of the wonderful fleet ablaze from the broadside
of her enemy. It was a vigorous if somewhat crude
painting by a Dutch artist.

" Oh, Uncle Win," cried Betty; " do you really think
there will be war when we have a new President? "

" I sincerely hope not."

" We ought to have an Armada. Well, I don't know
either," continued Warren dubiously. " If it should go
to pieces like that one," nodding his head over to the
scene, growing more vivid by the reflection of the red
light in the west. " Doris, do you know what happened
to the Spanish Armada? "

" Indeed I do," returned Doris spiritedly. " I may
not know so much about America, except that you
fought England, and were called rebels and — and "

" That we were the upper dog in the fight, and now

52 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

we are citizens of a great and free Republic and rebels no
longer."

" But the Spanish did not conquer England. Some
of the ships were destroyed by English men-of-war, and
then a terrific storm wrecked them, and there were only
a few to return to Spain."

" Pretty good," said Uncle Win smilingly. " And
now, Warren, maybe you can tell about the French Ar
mada that was going to destroy Boston."

" Why, the French — came and helped us. Oh, there
was the French and English war, but did they have a
real Armada? "

" Why, after Louisburg was taken by the colonists —
we were only Colonies in 1745. The French resolved to
destroy all the towns the colonists had planted on the
coast. You surely can't have forgotten?"

" The Revolution seems so much greater to this gen
eration," said Miss Recompense. " That is almost
seventy years ago. My father was called out for the
defense of Boston. Governor Shirley knew it would be
the first town attacked."

" And a real Armada! " said Warren, big-eyed.

" They didn't call it that exactly. Perhaps they
thought the name unlucky. But there were twenty
transports and thirty-four frigates and eleven ships of
the line. Quite a formidable array, you must admit.
The Due d'Anville left Brest with five battalions of
veterans."

" And then what happened? Warren, we do not know
the history of our own city, after all. But surely they
did not take it?"

" No, it is safely anchored to a bit of mainland yet,"
said Uncle Win dryly. " Off Cape Sable they encoun
tered a violent storm. The Due succeeded in reaching
the rendezvous, but in such a damaged condition that

OUT TO TEA. 53

he felt a victory would be impossible. Conflans with
several partly disabled ships returned to France, and
some steered for friendly ports in the West Indies. The
Due died in less than a week, of poison it was said, unwil
ling to endure the misfortune. The Governor General
of Canada ordered the Vice Admiral to proceed and
strike one blow at least. But he saw so many difficulties
in the way, that he worried himself ill with a fever and
put himself to death with his own sword. Boston was
so well prepared for them by this time, the fleet decided
to attack Annapolis, but encountering another furious
storm they returned to France with the remnant. So
Armadas do not seem to meet with brilliant success."

" Why, that is quite a romance, Uncle Win, and I must
hunt it up. Curious that both should have shared so
nearly the same fate."

" That was a special interposition of Providence," said
Miss Recompense.

People believed quite strongly in such things then,
and it certainly looked like it, since the storm was of no
human agency.

Miss Recompense began to light the candles, and the
steps of the tardy ones were heard on the porch. Betty
sprang up and opened the door.

" I began to think I never should get here," exclaimed
Mrs. Leverett. " I waited and waited for your father,
and I thought something had surely happened."

" And so it had. Captain Conklin is going to start for
China in a few days, and there was so much to talk about
I couldn't get away."

" If I had been real sure he would have come on I
would have started. It has blown off cold. Didn't you
have a breezy ride? Were you warm enough, Doris?"

" It was splendid," replied Doris, her eyes shining.
" And I have seen so many things."

54 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Now get good and warm and come out to supper."

" If you call this cold I don't know what you will do at
midwinter."

" Well, it is chilly, and we are not used to it. But we
must have our Indian summer yet."

Betty had been carrying away her mother's hat and
shawl, and now Uncle Win led the way to the dining
room. The table was bountifully spread; it was a sort
of high tea, and in those days people ate with a hearty
relish and had not yet discovered the thousand dangers
lurking in food. If it was good and well cooked no one
asked any farther questions. At least, men did not.
Women took recipes of this and that, and invented new
ways of preparing some dish with as much elation as
some of the greater discoveries have given.

The men talked politics and the possibilities of war.
There was an uneasy feeling all along the border, where
Indian troubles were being fomented. There were some
unsettled questions between us and England. Abroad,
Napoleon was making such strides that it seemed as if
he might conquer all Europe.

Mrs. Leverett and Miss Recompense compared their
successes in pickling and preserving, and discussed the
high prices of dry goods and the newer scant skirts that
would take so much less cloth and the improvement in
home-made goods. Carpets of the higher grades were
beginning to be manufactured in Philadelphia.

Warren, with the appetite of a healthy young fellow,
thought everything tasted uncommonly good, and really
had nothing to say. Doris watched one and another,
with soft dark eyes, and wondered if it would be right to
like Uncle Win any better than she did Uncle Leverett,
and why she had any desire to do so, which troubled her
a little. Uncle Win was the handsomest. She liked the
something about him that she came to know afterward

OUT TO TEA. 55

was culture and refinement. But she was a very loyal
little girl, and Uncle Leverett had welcomed her so
warmly, even on board the vessel.

After supper they went into Uncle Winthrop's study
a while. There were more bookcases, and such a quan
tity of books and pamphlets and papers. There were
busts of some of the old Roman orators and emperors,
and more paintings. There was a beautiful young woman
with a head full of soft curls and two bands passed
through them in Greek fashion. A scarf was loosely
wound around her shoulders, showing her white, shapely
throat, and her short sleeves displayed almost perfect
arms that looked like sculpture. Later Doris came to
know this was Uncle Winthrop's sweet young wife, who
died when her little boy was scarcely a year old.

There were many curiosities. The walls were wain
scoted in panels, with moldings about them that looked
like another frame for the pictures. The chimney piece
was of wood, and exquisitely carved. There was an old
escritoire that was both carved and gilded, and in the
center of the room a large round table strewn with books
and writing materials. At the windows were heavy red
damask curtains, lined with yellow brocade. They were
always put up the first of October and taken down punc
tually the first day of April. Uncle Win had a luxurious
side to his nature, and there was a soft imported rug in
the room as well.

Carpets were not in general use. Many floors were
polished, some in the finer houses inlaid. Rag carpets
were used for warmth in winter, and some were beauti
fully made. Weaving them was quite a business, and
numbers of women were experts at it. Sometimes it was
in a hit-or-miss style, the rags sewed just as one happened
to pick them up. Then they were made of the ribbon
pattern, a broad stripe of black or dark, with narrower

56 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

and wider colors alternating. The rags were often col
ored to get pretty effects.

It was a long walk home, but in those days, when there
were neither cars nor cabs, people were used to walking,
and the two men would not mind it. Betty could drive
Jack by night or day, as he was a sure-footed, steady-
going animal, and for a distance the road was straight
up Beacon Street.

" Some day I will come up and take you out to see a
little more of your new home," said Uncle Winthrop to
Doris. " When does she go to school, Elizabeth?"

" Why, I thought it would be as well for her to begin
next week. From eight to twelve. And she is so young
there is no real need of her beginning other things.
Betty can teach her to sew and do embroidery."

" There is her French. It would be a pity to drop
that."

" She might teach me French for the sake of the exer
cise," returned Betty laughingly when Uncle Win
looked so perplexed.

" To be sure. We will get it all settled presently."
He felt rather helpless where a girl was concerned, yet
when he glanced down into her soft, wistful eyes he
wished somehow that she was living here. But it would
be lonely for a child.

Warren brought Jack around and helped in the
womenkind when they had said all their good-nights,
and Uncle Win added that he would be over some even
ing next week to supper.

It was a clear night, but there was no moon. Jack
tossed up his head and trotted along, with the common
on one side of him.

Boston had been improving very much in the last de
cade, and stretching herself out a little. But it was quite
country-like where Uncle Win lived. He liked the

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 57

quiet and the old house, the great trees and his garden
that gave him all kinds of vegetables and some choice
fruit, though he never did anything more arduous than to
superintend it and enjoy the fruits of Jonas Starr's
labor.

CHAPTER V.

A MORNING AT SCHOOL.

/"~\UR ancestors for some occult reason held early ris-
^^ ing in high esteem. Why burning fire and candle
light in the morning, when everything was cold and
dreary, should look so much more virtuous and heroic
than sitting up a while at night when the house was warm
and everything pleasant, is one of the mysteries to be
solved only by the firm belief that the easy, comfortable
moments were the seasons especially susceptible to temp
tation, and that sacrifice and austerity were the guide-
posts on the narrow way to right living.

Mr. and Mrs. Leverett had been reared in that man
ner. They had softened in many ways, and Betty was
often told, " I had no such indulgences when I was a
girl." But, mother-like, Mrs. Leverett " eased up "
many things for Betty. Electa King half envied them,
and yet she confessed in her secret heart that she had en
joyed her girlhood and her lover very much. She and
Matthias King had been neighbors and played as chil
dren, went to church and to singing school together,
and on visitors' night at the debating society she was
sure to be the visitor. Girls did not have just that kind
of boy friends now, she thought.

The softening of religious prejudices was softening
character as well. Yet the intensity of Puritanism had

58 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

kindled a force of living that had done a needed work.
People really discussed religious problems nowadays,
while even twenty years before it was simply belief or
disbelief, and the latter " was not to be suffered among
you."

Mrs. Leverett kept to her habit of early rising. True,
dark and stormy mornings Mr. Leverett allowed himself
a little latitude, for very few people came to buy his
wares early in the morning. But breakfast was a little
after six, except on Sunday morning, when it dropped
down to seven.

And Mrs. Webb's school began at eight from the first
day of February to the first day of November. The in
tervening three months it was half-past eight and con
tinued to half-past twelve.

Doris came home quite sober. " Well," began Uncle
Leverett, " how did school go? "

" I didn't like it very much," she answered slowly.

" What did you do? "

" I read first. Four little girls and two boys read.
We all stood in a row."

"What then?"

" We spelled. But I did not know where the lesson
was, and I think Mrs. Webb gave me easy words."

" And you did not enjoy that? " Uncle Leverett gave
a short laugh.

" I was glad not to miss," she replied gravely.

" Mrs. Webb uses Dilworth's speller," said Mrs. Lev
erett, "and so I gave her Betty's. But she has a different
reader. She thought Doris read uncommon well."

" And what came next? "

" They said tables all together. Why do they call
them tables? "

" Because a system of calculation would be too long a
name," he answered dryly.

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 59

Doris looked perplexed. " Then there was geog
raphy. What a large place America is ! " and she sighed.

" Yes, the world is a good-sized planet, when you come
to consider. And America is only one side of it."

" I don't see how it keeps going round."

" That must be viewed with the eye of faith," com
mented Betty.

" All that does very well. I am sorry you did not
like it."

" I did like all that," returned Doris slowly. " But the
sums troubled me."

" She's very backward in figures," said Mrs. Leverett.
" Betty, you must take her in hand."

" I must study all the afternoon," said Doris.

" Oh, you'll soon get into the traces," said Uncle Lev
erett consolingly.

It was Monday and wash-day in every well-ordered
family. Mrs. Leverett and Betty had the washing out
early, but it was not a brisk drying day, so no ironing
could be done in the afternoon. Betty changed her
gown and brought out her sewing, and Doris studied her
lessons with great earnestness.

" I wish I was sure I knew the spelling," she said wist
fully.

" Well, let me hear you." Betty laid the book on the
wide window sill and gave out the words between the
stitches, and Doris spelled every one rightly but " per
ceive."

" Those i's and e's used to bother me," said Betty. " I
made a list of them once and used to go over them until
I could spell them in the dark."

" Is it harder to spell in the dark? "

"Oh, you innocent!" laughed Betty. "That means
you could spell them anywhere."

Spelling had been rather a mysterious art, but Mr.

60 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Dilworth, and now Mr. Noah Webster, had been regulat
ing it according to a system.

" Now you might go over some tables. You can add
and multiply so much faster when you know them.
Suppose we try them together."

That was very entertaining and, Doris began to think,
not as difficult as she had imagined in the morning.

" Betty," said her mother, when there was a little lull,
" what do you suppose has become of Aunt Priscilla? I
do hope she did not come over the day we were at Cousin
Winthrop's. But she never was here once last week."

" There were two rainy days."

" And she may be ill. I think you had better go down
and see."

"Yes. Don't you want to go, Doris? The walk will
be quite fun."

Doris could not resist the coaxing eyes, though she
felt she ought to stay and study. But Betty promised to
go over lessons with her when they came back. So in a
few moments they were ready for the change. Mrs.
Leverett sent a piece of cake and some fresh eggs, quite
a rarity now.

The houses and shops seemed so close together, Doris
thought. And they met so many people. Doris had
not lived directly in Old Boston town, but quite in the
outskirts. And King Street was getting to be quite full
of business.

Black Polly came to the door. " Yes, missus was in
but she had an awful cold, and been all stopped up so
that she could hardly get the breath of life."

Aunt Priscilla had a strip of red flannel pinned around
her forehead, holding in place a piece of brown paper,
moistened with vinegar, her unfailing remedy for head
ache. Another band was around her throat, and she had
a well-worn old shawl about her shoulders, while her

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 61

feet rested on a box on which was placed a warm
brick.

" Is it possible you have come? Why, one might be
dead and buried and no one the wiser. I crawled out to
church on Sunday, and took more cold, though I have
heard people say you wouldn't catch cold going to
church. Religion ought to keep one warm, I s'pose."

" I'm sorry. Mother was afraid you were ill."

" And I have all the visiting to do. It does seem as
if once in an age some of you might come over. You
went to Cousin Winthrop's! " in an aggrieved tone.

" But mother had not been there since last summer,
when 'Lecty was on making her visit. And we took all
the family along, just as you can," in a merry tone.
" But if you like to have mother come and spend the day,
I'll keep house. You see, there's always meals to get for
father and Warren."

" Yes, I kept house before you were born, Betty Lev-
erett, and had a man who needed three stout meals a day.
But he want a mite of trouble. I never see a man easier
to suit than Hatfield Perkins. And I didn't neglect him
because he could be put off and find no fault. There are
men in the world that it would take the grace of a saint
to cook for, only in heaven among the saints if there
aint any marryin' you can quite make up your mind there
isn't any cooking either. Well — can't you get a chair?
There's that little low one for Dorothy."

" If you please," began Doris, with quiet dignity, " my
name is not Dorothy."

" Well, you ought to hear yourself called by a Chris
tian name once in a while."

" Still it isn't a Scriptural name," interposed Betty.
" I looked over the list to see. And here are some nice
fresh eggs. Mother has had several splendid layers this
fall."

62 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I'm obliged, I'm sure. I do wish I could keep a few-
hens. But Jonas Field wants so much room, and there's
my garden herbs. I've just been dosing on sage tea and
honey, and it has about broke up my cough. I generally
do take one cold in autumn, and then I go to March be
fore I get another. Well, I s'pose Recompense Gardi
ner stays at your uncle's? There was some talk I heard
about some old fellow hanging round. After I'd lived
so long single, I'd stay as I was."

" I can't imagine Miss Recompense getting her wed
ding gown ready. What would it be, I wonder? "

Betty laughed heartily.

" She could buy the best in the market if she chose,"
said Aunt Priscilla sharply. " She must have a good bit
of money laid by. Cousin Winthrop would be lost with
out her. Not but what there are as good housekeepers
in the world as Recompense Gardiner."

Then Aunt Priscilla had to stop and cough. Polly
came in with some posset.

" I'll have one of those eggs beaten up in some mulled
cider, Polly," she said.

Doris glanced curiously at the old colored woman.
She was tall and still very straight, and, though kept in
strict subjection all her life, had an air and bearing of
dignity, as if she might have come from some royal race.
Her hair was snowy white, and the little braided tails
hung below her turban, which was of gay Madras, and
the small shoulder shawl she wore was of red and black.

" You're too old a woman to be fussed up in such gay
things," Aunt Priscilla would exclaim severely every
time she brought them home, for she purchased Polly's
attire. " But you've always worn them, and I really
don't know as you'd look natural in suitable colors."

" I like cheerful goin' things, that make you feel as if
the Lord had just let out a summer day stead'er Novem-

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 63

her. An', missus, you don't like a gray fire burned half
to ashes, nuther."

Truth to tell, Aunt Priscilla did hanker after a bit of
gayety, though she frowned on it to preserve a just bal
ance with conscience. And no one knew the parcels
done up in an old oaken chest in the storeroom, that had
been indulged in at reprehensible moments.

Just then there was a curious diversion to Doris. A
beautiful sleek tiger cat entered the room, and, walking
up to the fire, turned and looked at the child, waving his
long tail majestically back and forth. He came nearer
with his sleepy, translucent eyes studying her.

" May I — touch him? " she asked hesitatingly.

" Land, yes ! That's Polly's Solomon. She talks to
him till she's made him most a witch, and she thinks he
knows everything."

Solomon settled the question by putting two snowy
white paws on Doris' knee, and stretching up indefi
nitely with a dainty sniffing movement of the whiskers,
as if he wanted to understand whether advances would be
favorably received.

There was a cat at the Leveretts', but it haunted the
cellar, the shed, and the stable, and was hustled out of
the kitchen with no ceremony. Aunt Elizabeth was not
fond of cats, and cat hairs were her abomination. Doris
had uttered an ejaculation of delight when she saw it one
morning, a big black fellow with white feet and a white
choker.

" Don't touch him — he'll scratch you like as not! " ex
claimed Mrs. Leverett in a quick tone. " Get out, Tom!
We don't allow him in the house. He's a good mouser,
but it spoils cats to nurse them. And I never could
abide a cat around under my feet."

Doris had made one other attempt to win Tom's favor
as she was walking about the garden. But Tom eyed

64 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

her askance and discreetly declined her overture. There
had always been cats at Miss Arabella's, and two great
dogs as well as her pony, and birds so tame they would
fly down for crumbs.

"Oh, kitty!" She touched him with her dainty fin
gers. " Solomon. What a funny name ! Oh, you
beautiful great big cat ! "

Solomon rubbed his head on her arm and began to
purr. He was sure of a welcome.

" You can't get in her lap, for it isn't big enough,"
said Aunt Priscilla. " Polly's got him spoiled out of all
reason, though I s'pose a cat's company when there's
no one else."

" If you would let me — sit on the rug," ventured Doris
timidly. She had been rather precise of late in her new
home.

" Well, I declare ! Sit on the floor if you want to.
The floor was plenty good enough to sit on when I was
a child. Me and my sisters had a corner of our own, and
we'd sit there and sew."

Betty had been about to interpose, but at Aunt Pris-
cilla's concession Doris had slidden down and taken
Solomon in her arms, and rubbed her soft cheek against
his head. Polly came in with the egg and cider.

"Why, little missy, you just done charm him! He's
mighty afeared of the boys around, and there aint no
little gals. Do just see him, Mis' Perkins. He acts as
if he was rollin' in a bed of sweet catnip."

" One is about as wise as the other," declared Aunt
Priscilla, nodding her head. She was rather glad there
was something in her house to be a rival to Cousin Win-
throp and the Leveretts, since Doris Adams was to be
held up on a high plane and spoiled with indulgence.
She had not yet made up her mind whether she would
like the child or not.

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 65

" Yes, she had started at Mrs. Webb's school. Uncle
Win was going to make some arrangement about her
French and her writing when he came over. They'd
had a letter from 'Lecty, and as the legislature was to
meet in Hartford there would be quite gay times, and
she did so hope she could go. Mary wasn't very well,
and wanted mother to come on for a week or two pres
ently," and Betty made big eyes at Aunt Priscilla, while
that lady nodded as well as her bundled up head would
admit, to signify that she understood.

" I'm sure you ought to know enough to keep house
for your father and Warren," was the comment.

Then Betty said they must go, and Aunt Priscilla
tartly rejoined that they might look in and see whether
she was dead or alive.

" Can I come and see Solomon again? " asked Doris.

" Of course, since Solomon is head of the house."

" Thank you," returned Doris simply, not understand
ing the sarcasm.

" Wonderful how Solomon liked little missy," said
Polly, straightening the chairs and restoring order.

" My head aches with all the talking," said Aunt Pris
cilla. " I want to be alone."

But she felt a little conscience-smitten as Polly stepped
about in the kitchen getting supper and sang in a thick,
soft, but rather quivering voice, her favorite hymn:

" ' Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound,
Mine ears, attend the cry.' "

Yes, Polly was a faithful old creature, only she had
grown forgetful, and she was losing her strength, and
black people gave out suddenly. But there, what was
the use of borrowing trouble, and the idea of having a
child around to train and stew over, and no doubt she
would be getting married just the time when she, Mrs.

66 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Perkins, would need her the most. The Lord hadn't
seen fit to give her any children to comfort her old age;
after all, would she want a delicate little thing like this
child with a heathenish name!

It was quite chilly now, and Doris, holding Betty's
hand tight, skipped along merrily, her heart strangely
warm and gay.

" She's very queer, and her voice sounds as if she
couldn't get the scold out of it, doesn't it? And I felt
afraid of the black woman first. I never saw any until
we were on the ship. But the beautiful cat! " with a
lingering emphasis on the adjective.

" Well — cats are cats," replied Betty sagely. " I don't
care much about them myself, though we should be over
run with rats and mice if it wasn't for them. I like a
fine, big dog."

" Oh, Betty! " and a girl caught her by the shoulder,
turning her round and laughing heartily at her surprise.

" Why, Jane ! How you startled me."

" And is this your little foreign girl — French or some
thing? "

" English, if you please, and her father was born here
in Boston. And isn't it queer that she should have lived
in another Boston? And her name is Doris Adams."

" I'm sure the Adams are sown thickly enough about,
but Doris sounds like verses. And, oh, Betty, I've been
crazy to see you for two days. I am to have a real party
next week. I shall be seventeen, and there will be just
that number invited. The girls are to come in the after
noon and bring their sewing. There will be nine. And
eight young men," laughing — " boys that we know and
have gone sledding with. They are to come to tea at
seven sharp. Cousin Morris is to bring his black fiddler
Joe, and we are going to dance, and play forfeits, and
have just a grand time."

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 67

" But I don't know how to dance — much."

Betty's highest accomplishments were in the three R's.
Her manuscript arithmetic was the pride of the family,
but of grammar she candidly confessed she couldn't
make beginning nor end.

" I'm going to coax hard to go to dancing school this
winter. Sam is going, and he says all the girls are learn
ing to dance. Mother's coming round to-morrow. We
want to be sure about the nine girls. Good-by, it's get
ting late."

" Now, let's hurry home," exclaimed Betty.

The table was laid, and Mrs. Leverett said:

" Why didn't you stay all night? "

" Aunt Priscilla has her autumn cold. She was quite
cross at first. She was sick last week, and went to
church yesterday, and is worse to-day. But she was
glad about the eggs."

" There comes your father. Be spry now."

After supper Warren went out to look after Jack. Mr.
Leverett took his chair in the corner of the wide chim
ney and pushed out the stool for the little girl. She
smiled as she sat down and laid her hands on his knee.

" So you didn't like the school," he began, after a long
silence.

" Yes — I liked — most of it," rather reluctantly.

"What was it you didn't like — sitting still?"

" No— not that."

" The lessons? Were they too hard? "

" She said I needn't mind this morning."

" But the figuring bothered you."

" Of course I didn't know," she said candidly.

" You will get into it pretty soon. Betty '11 train you.
She's a master hand at figures, smarter than Warren."

Doris made no comment, but there was an unconfessed
puzzle in her large eyes.

68 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Well, what is it? " The interest he took in her sur
prised himself.

" She whipped a boy on his hands with a ruler very
hard because he couldn't remember his lesson."

" That's a good aid to memory. I've seen it tried
when I was a boy."

" But if I had tried and tried and studied I should have
thought it very cruel."

" I guess he didn't try or study. What did Miss Ara
bella do to you when you were careless and forgot
things? Or were you never bad?"

Doris hung her head, while a faint color mounted to
her brow.

" When I was naughty I couldn't go out on the pony
nor take him a lump of sugar. And he loved sugar so.
And sometimes I had to study a psalm."

" And weren't children ever whipped in your coun
try? "

" The common people beat their children and their
wives and their horses and dogs. But Miss Arabella
was a lady. She couldn't have beaten a cat."

There was a switch on the top of the closet in the
kitchen that beat Tom out of doors when he ventured
in. Doris' tender heart rather resented this.

Foster Leverett smiled at this distinction.

"1 do suppose people might get along, but boys are
often very trying."

" Don't grown-up people ever do anything wrong?
And when they scold dreadfully aren't they out of tem
per? Miss Arabella thought it very unladylike to get
out of temper. And what is done to grown people? "

Uncle Leverett laughed and squeezed the soft little
hands on his knee. Yes, men and women flew into
a rage every day. Their strict training had not given
them control of their tempers. It had not made them

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 69

all honest and truthful. Yet it might have been the best
training for the times, for the heroic duties laid upon
them.

" She was very cross once, and her forehead all
wrinkled up, and her eyes were so — so hard; and when
she is pleasant she has beautiful brown eyes. I like
beautiful people."

" We can't all be beautiful or good-tempered."

" But Miss Arabella said we could, and that beauty
meant sweetness and grace and truth and kindliness,
and that " — she lowered her voice mysteriously —
" where one really tried to be good God gave them grace
to help. I don't quite know about the grace, I'm so
little. But I want to be good."

Was there a beautiful side to goodness? Foster Lev-
erett had been for some time weakening in the old faith.

" Now I'm ready," exclaimed Betty briskly. " We
can say tables without any book."

Uncle Leverett laughed and squeezed the soft little
stranger at his hearth. But affection was not demon
strative in those days, and it looked rather weak in a
man.

They had grand fun saying addition and multiplication
tables. They went up to the fives, and Doris found that
here was a wonderful bridge.

" You could add clear up to a hundred without any
trouble," the child declared gleefully. " But you
couldn't multiply."

" Why, yes," said Betty. " I had not exactly thought
of it before. Five times thirteen would be sixty-five, and
so on. Five times twenty would be a hundred. Why,
we do it in a great many things, but I suppose they —
whoever invented tables thought that was far enough to
go."

" Who did invent them? "

70 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I really don't know. Doris, we will ask Uncle Win
when he comes over. He knows about everything."

" It would take a great many years to learn every
thing," said the child with a sigh.

" But the knowledge goes round," said Betty with
arch gayety. " One has a little and the other a little
and they exchange, and then women don't have to know
as much as men."

" I'd like to see the man that knew enough to keep
house," declared Mrs. Leverett. " And didn't Mrs. Abi
gail Adams farm and bring up her children and pay off
debts while her husband was at congress and war and
abroad? It isn't so much book learning as good com
mon sense. Just think what the old Revolutionary
women did! And now it is high time Doris went to
bed. Come, child, you're so sleepy in the morning."

Doris had her dress unbuttoned and untied her
shoes to make sure there were no knots to pick
out. Knots in shoe-strings were very perplexing at this
period when no one had dreamed of button boots. I
doubt, indeed, if anyone would have worn them. The
shoes were made straight and changed every morning,
so as to wear evenly and not get walked over at the side.
And people had pretty feet then, with arched insteps, and
walked with an air of dignity. Some of the gouty old
men had to be measured for a tender place here or a
protuberance there, or allowance made for bad corn.

Doris said good-night and went upstairs. Miss Ara
bella had always kissed her. Betty did sometimes, and
said " What a sweet little thing you are! " or " What a
queer little thing you are! " She said her prayers, hung
her clothes over a chair, put her little shoes just right for
morning, and stepping on the chair round vaulted over
to her side of the bed.

What a long, long day it had been ! The most beauti-

A MORNING AT SCHOOL. 71

ful thing in it was the big cat Solomon, and if she could
nurse him she shouldn't be very much afraid of Aunt
Priscilla. Oh, how soft his fur was, and how he purred,
just as if he was glad she had come! Perhaps he some
times tired of Aunt Priscilla and black Polly, and longed
for a little girl who didn't mind sitting on the floor, and
who knew how to play.

Then there was the spelling, and she tried to think over
the hard words, and the tables, and her small brain kept
up such a riot that she was not a bit sleepy.

Betty brought out her work after lighting another
candle. Mr. Leverett sat and dozed and thought.
When Warren had finished up the chores he went around
to the other side of Betty's table, and was soon lost in a
history of the French War. When the tall old clock
struck nine it was time to prepare for bed.

Betty was putting up some wisps of hair in tea leads,
when Doris sat up.

" Oh, you midget! Are you not asleep yet? " she ex
claimed.

" No. I've been thinking of everything. And, Betty,
can you go to the party? I went to the May party when
I was home, but that was out of doors, and we danced
round the May pole."

" The party "

"Yes, did you ask Aunt Elizabeth?" eagerly.

" Oh, no. I wasn't going to be caught that way. She
would have had time to think up ever so many excellent
reasons why I shouldn't go. And now Mrs. Morse will
take her by surprise, and she will not have any good
excuse ready and so she will give in."

" But wouldn't she want you to go? " Doris was
rather confused by the reasoning.

" I suppose she thinks I am young to begin with par
ties. But it isn't a regular grown-up affair. And I am

72 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

just crazy to go. I'm so glad you did not blurt it out,
Doris. I'll give you a dozen kisses for being so sensible.
Now lie down and go to sleep this minute."

The child gave a soft little laugh, and a moment later
Betty was " cuddling " her in her arms.

The result of Foster Leverett's cogitation over the fire
led him to say the next morning to his son :

" Warren, you run on. I have a little errand to do."

He turned in another direction and went down two
squares. There was Mrs. Webb sweeping off her front
porch and plank path.

" Good-morning," stopping and leaning on her broom
as he halted.

" I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Webb. I suppose the little
girl wasn't much trouble yesterday. She's never been to
school before."

"Trouble! Bless you, no. If they were all as good
as that I should feel frightened, I really should, thinking
they wouldn't live long. She's a bit timid "

" She's backward in some things — figures, for instance.
And a little strange, I suppose. So if you would be kind
of easy-going with her until she gets settled to the
work "

" Oh, you needn't be a mite afraid, Mr. Leverett.
She's smart in some things, but, you see, she's been run
on different lines, and we'll get straight presently. She's
a nice obedient little thing, and I do like to see children
mind at the first bidding."

" Your school is so near we thought we would try 't
this winter. Yes, I think all will go right. Good-morn
ing," and his heart lightened at the thought of smoothing
the way for Doris.

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 73

CHAPTER VI.

A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

p\ORIS sat in the corner studying. Betty had gone
*^ over to Mme. Sheafe's to make sure she had her lace
stitch just right. They had been ironing and baking all
the morning, and now Mrs. Leverett had attacked her
pile of shirts, when Mrs. Morse came in. She had her
work as well. Everybody took work, for neighborly
calls were an hour or two long.

Doris had been presented first, a kind of attention paid
to her because she was from across the ocean. Every
body's health had been inquired about.

" I came over on a real errand," began Mrs. Morse
presently. " And you mustn't make excuses. My Jane
is going to have a little company week from Thursday
night. She will be seventeen, and we are going to have
seventeen young people. The girls will come in the
afternoon, and the young men at seven to tea. Then
they will have a little merrymaking. And we want
Warren and Betty. We are going to ask those we want
the most first, and if so happen anything serious stands
in the way, we'll take the next row."

" You're very kind, I'm sure. Warren does go out
among young people, but I don't know about Betty.
She's so young."

" Well, she will have to start sometime. My mother
was married at sixteen, but that is too young to begin
life, though she never regretted it, and she had a baker's
dozen of children."

" I'm not in any hurry about Betty. She is the last
girl home. And the others were past nineteen when
they were married."

74 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" We feel there is no hurry about Jane. But I've had
a happy life, and all six of us girls were married. Not
an old maid among us."

" Old maids do come in handy oftentimes," subjoined
Mrs. Leverett.

Yet in those days every mother secretly, often openly,
counted on her girls being married. The single woman
had no such meed of respect paid her as the " bachelor
maids " of to-day. She often went out as housekeeper
in a widower's family, and took him and his children for
the sake of having a home of her own. Still, there were
some fine unmarried women.

" Yes, they're handy in sickness and times when work
presses, but they do get queer and opinionated from hav
ing their own way, I suppose."

Alas! what would the single woman, snubbed on
every side, have said to that !

Then they branched into a chatty discussion about
some neighbors, and as neither was an ill-natured woman,
it was simply gossip and not scandal. Mrs. Morse had a
new recipe for making soap that rendered it clearer and
lighter than the old one and made better soap, she
thought. And to-morrow she was going at her best
candles, so as to be sure they would be hard and nice
for the company.

" But you haven't said about Betty? "

" I'll have to think it over," was the rather cautious
reply.

" Elizabeth Leverett! I feel real hurt that you should
hesitate, when our children have grown up together ! "
exclaimed Mrs. Morse rather aggrieved.

" It's only about putting Betty forward so much.
Why, you know I don't mind her running in and out.
She's at your house twice as often as Jane is here. And
when girls begin to go to parties there's no telling just

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 75

where to draw the line. It's very good of you to ask
her. Yes, I do suppose she ought to go. The girls
have been such friends."

"Jane would feel dreadfully disappointed. She said:
' Now, mother, you run over to the Leveretts' first of all,
because I want to be sure of Betty.' "

" Well — I'll have to say yes. Next Thursday. There's
nothing to prevent that I know of. I suppose it isn't to
be a grand dress affair, for I hadn't counted on making
Betty any real party gown this winter? I don't believe
she's done growing. Who else did you have in your
mind, if it isn't a secret? "

" I'd trust it to you, anyhow. The two Stephens girls
and Letty Rowe, Sally Prentiss and Agnes Green. That
makes six, with Betty. We haven't quite decided on
the others. I dare say some of the girls will be mad
as hornets at being left out, but there can be only nine.
Of course we do not count Jane."

These were all very nice girls of well-to-do families.
Mrs. Leverett did feel a little proud that Betty should
head the list.

" They are all to bring their sewing. I had half a
mind to put on a quilt, but I knew there'd be a talk right
away about Jane marrying, and she has no steady
company. I tell her she can't have until she is
eighteen."

" That's plenty young enough. I don't suppose there
will be any dancing?"

" They've decided on proverbs and forfeits. Cousin
Morris is coming round to help the boys plan it out.
Are you real set against dancing, Elizabeth?"

" Well — I'm afraid we are going on rather fast, and
will get to be too trifling. I can't seem to make up my
mind just what is right. Foster thinks we have been too
strait-laced."

76 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I danced when I was young, and I don't see as it
hurt me any. And some of the best young people here
about are going to a dancing class this winter. Joseph
has promised to join it, and his father said he was old
enough to decide for himself."

Mrs. Morse had finished her sewing and folded it,
quilting her needle back and forth, putting her thimble
and spool of cotton inside and slipping it in her work
bag. Then she rose and wrapped her shawl about her
and tied on her hood.

" Then we may count on Warren and Betty? Give
them my love and Jane's, and say we shall be happy to
see them a week from Thursday, Betty at three and War
ren at seven. Come over soon, do."

When she had closed the door on her friend Mrs.
Leverett glanced over to the corner where Doris sat with
her book. She had half a mind to ask her not to men
tion the call to Betty, then she shrank from anything so
small.

Doris studied and she sewed. Then Betty came in
flushed and pretty.

" I didn't have the stitch quite right," she said to her
mother. " And I have been telling her about Doris.
She wants me to bring her over some afternoon. She is
a little curious to see what kind of lace Doris makes.
She has a pillow — I should call it a cushion."

" Doris ought to learn plain sewing "

" Poor little mite! How your cares will increase.
Can I take her over to Mme. Sheafe's some day? "

" If there is ever any time," with a sigh.

" Do you know your spelling? " She flew over to
Doris and asked a question with her eyes, and Doris an
swered in the same fashion, though she had a fancy that
she ought not. Betty took her book aiwi found that
Doris knew all but two words.

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 77

" If I could only do sums as easily," she said, with a
plaintive sound in her voice.

" Oh, you will learn. You can't do everything in a
moment, or your education would soon be finished."

"What is Mme. Sheafe like?" she asked with some
curiosity, thinking of Aunt Priscilla.

" She is a very splendid, tall old lady. She ought to
be a queen. And she was quite rich at one time, but she
isn't now, and she lives in a little one-story cottage that
is just like — well, full of curious and costly things. And
now she gives lessons in embroidery and lace work, and
hemstitching and fine sewing, and she wears the most
beautiful gowns and laces and rings."

" Your tongue runs like a mill race, Betty."

" I think everybody in Boston is tall," said Doris with
quaint consideration that made both mother and daugh
ter laugh.

" You see, there is plenty of room in the country to
grow," explained Betty.

" Can I do some sums? "

" Oh, yes."

Plainly, figures were a delusion and a snare to little
Doris Adams. They went astray so easily, they would
not add up in the right amounts. Mrs. Webb did not
like the children to count their fingers, though some of
them were very expert about it. When the child got in
among the sevens, eights, and nines she was wild with
helplessness.

Supper time came. This was Warren's evening for
the debating society, which even then was a great enter
tainment for the young men. There would be plenty of
time to give them the invitation. Mrs. Leverett was
sorry she had consented to Betty's going, but it would
have made ill friends.

The next day Mrs. Hollis Leverett, the eldest son's

78 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

wife, came up to spend the day, with her two younger
children. Doris was not much used to babies, but she
liked the little girl. The husband came up after supper
and took them home in a carryall. Doris was tired and
sleepy, and couldn't stop to do any sums.

Betty was folding up her work, and Warren yawning
over his book, when Mrs. Leverett began in a rather
jerky manner:

" Mrs. Morse was in and invited you both to Jane's
birthday party next Thursday night."

" Yes, I saw Joe in the street to-day, and he told me,"
replied Warren.

" I said I'd see about you, Betty. You are quite too
young to begin party-going."

" Why, I suppose it's just a girl's frolic," said her
father, wincing suddenly. " They can't help having
birthdays. Betty will be begging for a party next."

" She won't get it this year," subjoined her mother
dryly. " And, by the looks of things, we have no money
to throw away."

Betty looked a little startled. She had wanted so to
really question Doris, but it did not seem quite the thing
to do. And perhaps she was not to go, after all. She
would coax her father and Warren, she would do almost
anything.

Warren settled it as they were going up to bed. His
mother was in the kitchen, mixing pancakes for break
fast, and he caught Betty's hand.

" Of course you are to go," he said. " Mother doesn't
believe in dealing out all her good things at once. I
wish you had something pretty to wear. It's going to
be quite fine."

" Oh, dear," sighed Betty. " Jane has such pretty
gowns. But of course I have only been a little school
girl until this year, and somehow it is very hard for the

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 79

mothers to think their girls are grown-up in any respect
except that of work."

Warren sighed as well, and secretly wished he had a
regular salary, and could do what he liked with a little
money. His father was training him to take charge of
his own business later on. He gave him his board and
clothing and half a dollar a week for spending money.
When he was twenty-one there would be a new basis, of
course. There was not much call for money unless one
was rich enough to be self-indulgent. One couldn't
spend five cents for a trolley ride, even if there was a
downpour of rain. And as Mr. Leverett had never
smoked, he had routed the first indications of any such
indulgence on the part of his son.

The amusements were still rather simple, neighborly
affairs. The boys and girls "spent an evening" with each
other and had hickory nuts, cider, and crullers that had
found their way from Holland to Boston as well as New
York. And when winter set in fairly there was sledding
and skating and no end of jest and laughter. Many a
decorous love affair sprang into shy existence, taking a
year or two for the young man to be brave enough to
" keep company," if there were no objections on either
side. And this often happened to be a walk home from
church and an hour's sitting by the family fireside taking
part in the general conversation.

To be sure, there was the theater. Since 1798, when
the Federal Street Theater had burned down and been
rebuilt and opened with a rather celebrated actress of
that period, Mrs. Jones, theater-going was quite the
stylish amusement of the quality. Mr. Leverett and his
wife had gone to the old establishment, as it was begin
ning to be called, to see the tragedy of " Gustavus Vasa,"
that had set Boston in a furore. They were never quite
settled on the point of the sinfulness of the pleasure. In-

8o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

deed, Mr. Leverett evinced symptoms of straying away
from the old landmarks of faith. He had even gone to
the preaching of that reprehensible young man, Mr.
Hosea Ballou, who had opened new worlds of thought
for his consideration.

" It's a beautiful belief," Mrs. Leverett admitted, " but
whether you can quite square it with Bible truth "

" I'm not so sure you can square the Westminster
Catechism either."

" If you must doubt, Foster, do be careful before the
children. I'm not sure but the old-fashioned religion is
best. It made good men and women."

" Maybe if you had been brought up a Quaker you
wouldn't have seen the real goodness of it. Isn't belief
largely a matter of habit and education? Mind, I don't
say religion. That is really the man's life, his daily
endeavor."

" Well, we won't argue." She felt that she could not,
and was ashamed that she was not more strongly forti
fied. " And do be careful before the children."

Her husband was a good, honest, upright man — a
steady churchgoer and zealous worker in many ways.
The intangible change to liberalness puzzled her. If
you gave up one point, would there not be a good reason
for giving up another?

Neither could she quite explain why she should feel
more anxious about Betty than she had felt about the
girlhood of the two elder daughters.

Of course Warren accepted the invitations for himself
and his sister. If her new white frock was only done!
She had outgrown her last summer's gowns. There was
a pretty embroidered India muslin that her sister Electa
had given her. If she might put a ruffle around the bot
tom of the skirt.

Aunt Priscilla came over and had her cup of tea so

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 81

she could get back before dark. She was still afraid of
the damp night air. Aunt Priscilla had a trunk full of
pretty things she had worn in her early married life. If
she, Betty, could be allowed to " rummage " through it!

Saturday was magnificent with a summer softness in
the air, and the doors could be left open. There were
sweeping and scrubbing and scouring and baking.
Doris was very anxious to help, and was allowed to seed
some raisins. It wasn't hard, but " putterin' " work, and
took a good deal of time.

But after dinner Uncle Winthrop came in his chaise
with his pretty spirited black mare Juno. It was such a
nice day, and he had to go up to the North End on some
business. There wouldn't be many such days, and Doris
might like a ride.

There was a flash of delight in the child's eyes. Betty
went to help her get ready.

" You had better put on her coat, for it's cooler rid
ing," said Mrs. Leverett. " And by night it may turn
off cold. A fall day like this is hardly to be trusted."

" But it is good while it lasts," said Uncle Win, with
his soft half-smile. " Elizabeth, don't pattern after Aunt
Priscilla, who can't enjoy to-day because there may be
a storm to-morrow."

" I don't know but we are too ready to cross bridges
before we come to them," she admitted.

" A beautiful day goes to my inmost heart. I want to
enjoy every moment of it."

Doris came in with her eager eyes aglow, and Betty
followed her to the chaise, and said:

" Don't run away with her, Uncle Win; I can't spare
her."

That made Doris look up and laugh, she was so happy.

They drove around into Hanover Street and then
through Wing's Lane. There were some very nice

82 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

lanes and alleys then that felt quite as dignified as the
streets, and were oftentimes prettier. He was going to
Dock Square to get a little business errand off his mind.

" You won't be afraid to sit here alone? I will fasten
Juno securely."

" Oh, no," she replied, and she amused herself glanc
ing about. People were mostly through with their busi
ness Saturday afternoon. It had a strange aspect to her,
however — it was so different from the town across the
seas. Some of the streets were so narrow she wondered
how the horses and wagons made their way, and was
amazed that they did not run over the pedestrians, who
seemed to choose the middle of the street as well. Many
of the houses had a second story overhanging the first,
which made the streets look still narrower.

" Now we will go around and see the queer old
things," exclaimed Uncle Win, as he jumped into the
chaise. " For we have some interesting points of view.
A hundred years seems a good while to us new people.
And already streets are changing, houses are being torn
down. There are some curious things you will like to
remember. Did Warren tell you about Paul Revere? "

" Oh, yes. How he hung the lantern out of the
church steeple."

" And this was where he started from. More than
thirty years ago that was, and I was a young fellow just
arrived at man's estate. Still it was a splendid time to
live through. We will have some talks about it in the
years to come."

" Did you fight, Uncle Win? "

" I am not much of a war hero, though we were used
for the defense of Boston. You are too young to under
stand all the struggle."

Doris studied the old house. It was three stories,
the upper windows seeming just under the roof. On the

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 83

ground floor there was a store, with two large windows,
where Paul Revere had carried on his trade of silver
smith and engraver on copper. There was a broken
wire netting before one window, and quite an elaborate
hallway for the private entrance, as many people lived
over their shops.

Long afterward Doris Adams was to be interested in
a poet who told the story of Paul Revere's ride in such
vivid, thrilling words that he was placed in the list of
heroes that the world can never forget. But it had not
seemed such a great deed then.

Old North Square had many curious memories. It
had been a very desirable place of residence, though it
was dropping down even now. There were quaint ware
houses and oddly constructed shops, taverns with queer
names almost washed out of the signs by the storms of
many winters. There were the " Red Lion " and the
" King's Arms " and other names that smacked of Lon
don and had not been overturned in the Revolution.
Here had stood the old Second Church that General
Howe had caused to be pulled down for firewood during
the siege of Boston, the spot rendered sacred by the ser
mon of many a celebrated Mather. And here had re
sided Governor Thomas Hutchinson, who would have
been sacrificed to the fury of the mob for his Tory pro
clivities during the Stamp Act riot but for his brother-
in-law, the Rev. Samuel Mather, who faced the mob and
told them " he should protect the Governor with his life,
even if their sentiments were totally dissimilar." And
when he came to open court the next morning he had
neither gown nor wig, very important articles in that
day. For the wigs had long curling hair, and those who
wore them had their hair cropped close, like malefactors.

And here was the still stately Frankland House, whose
romance was to interest Doris deeply a few years hence

84 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

and to be a theme for poet and novelist. But now she
was a good deal amused when her uncle told her of a
Captain Kemble in the days of Puritan rule who, after a
long sea voyage, was hurrying up the Square, when his
wife, who had heard the vessel was sighted, started to go
to the landing. As they met the captain took her in his
arms and kissed her, and was punished for breaking the
Sabbath day by being put in the stocks.

" But did they think it so very wrong? " Her face
grew suddenly grave.

" I suppose they did. They had some queer ideas in
those days. They thought all exhibitions of affection
out of place."

Doris looked thoughtfully out to the harbor. Perhaps
that was the reason no one but Betty kissed her.

Then they drove around to the Green Dragon. This
had been a famous inn, where, in the early days, the
patriots came to plan and confer and lay their far-reach
ing schemes. It was said they went from here to the
famous Tea Party. Uncle Winthrop repeated an amus
ing rhyme:

" ' Rally, Mohocks, bring out your axes,
And tell King George we'll pay no taxes

On his foreign tea.

His threats are vain, he need not think
To force our wives and girls to drink,

His vile Bohea.'"

" I shouldn't like to be forced to drink it," said Doris,
with a touch of repugnance in her small face.

" It does better when people get old and queer," said
Uncle Winthrop. " Then they want some comfort.
They smoke — at least, the men do — and drink tea. Now
you can see the veritable Green Dragon."

The house was low, with small, oldtime dormer win
dows. The dragon hung out over the doorway. He

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 85

was made of copper painted green, his two hind feet rest
ing on a bar that swung out of the house, his wings
spread out as well as his front feet, and he looked as if
he really could fly. Out of his mouth darted a red
tongue.

" He is dreadful ! " exclaimed Doris.

" Oh, he doesn't look as fierce now as I have seen him.
A coat of paint inspires him with new courage."

" Then I am glad they have not painted him up lately.
Uncle Win, is there any such thing as a real dragon?
Of course I've read about St. George and the dragon,"
and she raised her eyes with a perplexed light in them.

" I think we shall have to relegate dragons to the
mythical period, or the early ages. I have never seen
one any nearer than that old fellow, or with any more
life in him. There are many queer signs about, and
queer corners, but I think now we will go over to Salem
Street and look at some of the pretty old houses, and then
along the Mill Pond. Warren took you up Copp's
Hill?"

" Oh, yes."

" You see, you must know all about Boston. It will
take a long while. Next summer we will have drives
around here and there."

"Oh, that will be delightful!" and she smiled with
such a sweet grace that he began to count on it himself.

The sun was going over westward in a soft haze that
wrapped every leafless tree and seemed to caress the
swaying vines into new life. The honeysuckles had not
dropped all their leaves, and the evergreens were taking
on their winter tint. On some of the wide lawns groups
of children were playing, and their voices rang out full
of mirth and merriment. Doris half wished she were
with them. If Betty was only twelve instead of sixteen!

The Mill Pond seemed like a great bay. The placid

86 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

water (there was no wind to ruffle it) threw up marvelous
reflections and glints of colors from the sky above, and
the sun beyond that was now a globe of softened flame,
raying out lance-like shapes of greater distinctness
and then melting away to assume some new form or
color.

Doris glanced up at Uncle Winthrop. It was as if she
felt it all too deeply for any words. He liked the silence
and the wordless enjoyment in her face.

" We won't go home just yet," he said. They were
crossing Cold Lane and could have gone down Sud-
bury Street. " It is early and we will go along Green
Lane and then down to Cambridge Street. You are not
tired?"

" Oh, no. I think I never should be tired with you,
Uncle Winthrop," she returned with grave sweetness,
quite unconscious of the delicate compliment implied.

What was there about this little girl that went so to
his heart?

" Uncle Winthrop," she began presently, while a soft
pink flush crept up to the edge of her hair, " I heard you
and Uncle Leverett talking about some money the first
night you were over — wasn't it my money? "

" Yes, I think so," with a little dryness in his tone.
What made her think about money just now, and with
that almost ethereal face!

" Is it any that I could have — just a little of it? " hesi
tatingly.

" Why? Haven't you all the things you want? "

"I? Oh, yes. I shouldn't know what to wish for
unless it was someone to talk French with," and there
was a sweet sort of wistfulness in her tone.

" I think I can supply that want. Why we might
have been talking French half the afternoon. Do you
want some French books? Is that it?"

A BIRTHDAY PARTY. 87

" No, sir." There was a lingering inflection in her
tone that missed satisfaction.

" Are you not happy at Cousin Leverett's? "

" Happy? Oh, yes." She glanced up in a little sur
prise. " But the money would be to make someone else
happy."

" Ah ! " He nodded encouragingly.

" Betty is going to a party."

" And she has been teasing her mother for some
finery?"

" She hasn't any pretty gown. I thought this all up
myself, Uncle Win. Miss Arabella has such quantities
of pretty clothes, and they are being saved up for me.
If she was here I should ask her, but I couldn't get it,
you know, by Thursday."

She gave a soft laugh at the impossibility, as if it was
quite ridiculous.

" And you want it for her? "

" She's so good to me, Uncle Win. For although I
know some things quite well, there are others in which
I am very stupid. A little girl in school said yesterday
that I was ' dreadful dumb, dumber than a goose.'
Aunt Elizabeth said a goose was so dumb that if it came
in the garden through a hole in the fence it never could
find it again to get out."

" That is about the truth," laughed Uncle Win.

" I couldn't get along in arithmetic if it wasn't for
Betty. She's so kind and tells me over and over again.
And I can't do anything for Aunt Elizabeth, because I
don't know how, and it takes most of my time to study.
But if I could give Betty a gown — Miss Arabella went
to so many parties when she was young. If I was there
I know she would consent to give Betty one gown."

Uncle Winthrop thought of a trunk full of pretty
gowns that had been lying away many a long year. He

88 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

couldn't offer any of those to Betty. And that wouldn't
be a gift from Doris.

" I wonder what would be nice? An old fellow like
me would not know about a party gown."

" Warren would. He and Betty talked a little about
it last night. And that made me think — but it didn't
come into my mind until a few moments ago that maybe
there would be enough of my own money to buy one."

Doris glanced at him with such wistful entreaty that
he felt he could not have denied her a much greater
thing. He remembered, too, that Elizabeth Leverett
had refused to take any compensation for Doris, this
winter at least, and he had been thinking how to make
some return.

" Yes, I will see Warren. And we will surprise
Betty. But perhaps her mother would be a better
judge."

" I think Aunt Elizabeth doesn't quite want Betty to
go, although she told Mrs. Morse she should."

"Oh, it's at the Morses'? Well, they are very nice
people. And young folks do go to parties. Yes, we will
see about the gown."

" Uncle Winthrop, you are like the uncles in fairy
stories. I had such a beautiful fairy book at home, but
it must have been mislaid."

She put her white-mittened hand over his driving
glove, but he felt the soft pressure with a curious thrill.

They went through Cambridge Street and Hilier's
Lane and there they were at home.

" It has been lovely," she said with a happy sigh as he
lifted her out. Then she reached up from the stepping-
stone and kissed him.

" It isn't Sunday," she said naively, " and it is because
you are so good to me. And this isn't North Square."

He laughed and gave her a squeeze. Cousin Eliza-

ABOUT A GOWN. 89

beth came out and wished him a pleasant good-night as
he drove away.

What a charming little child she was, so quaintly sen
sible, and with a simplicity and innocence that went to
one's heart. How would Recompense Gardiner regard
a little girl like that? He would have her over some
time for a day and they would chatter in French. Per
haps he had better brush up his French a little. Then
he smiled, remembering she had called herself stupid, and
he was indignant that anyone should pronounce her
dumb.

CHAPTER VII.

ABOUT A GOWN.

C ATURDAY evening was already quiet at the Lev-
eretts'. Elizabeth had been brought up to regard
it as the beginning of the Sabbath instead of the end of
the week. People were rather shocked then when you
said Sunday, and quite forgot the beautiful significance
of the Lord's Day. Aunt Priscilla still believed in the
words of the Creation: that the evening and the morn
ing were the first day. In Elizabeth's early married life
she had kept it rigorously. All secular employments had
been put by, and the children had studied and recited the
catechism. But as they changed into men and women
other things came between. Then Mr. Leverett grew
" lax " and strayed off — after other gods, she thought at
first.

He softened noticeably. He had a pitiful side for the
poor and all those in trouble. Elizabeth declared he
used no judgment or discrimination.

He opened the old Bible and put his finger on a verse:
''While we have time let us do good unto all men;

90 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

and especially unto them that are of the household of
faith."

" You see," he said gravely, " the household of faith
isn't put first, it is ' all men.' "

She was reading the Bible, not as a duty but a delight,
skipping about for the sweetness of it. And she found
many things that her duty reading had overlooked.

The children did not repeat the catechism any more.
She had been considering whether it was best to set
Doris at it; but Doris knew her own catechism, and
Cousin Winthrop was a Churchman, so perhaps it
wasn't wise to meddle. She took Doris to church
with her.

Now, on Saturday evening work was put away. War
ren was trying to read " Paradise Lost." He had parsed
out of it at school. Now and then he dropped into the
very heart of things, but he had not a poetical tempera
ment. His father enjoyed it very much, and was quite
a reader of Milton's prose works. Betty had strayed off
into history. Doris sat beside Uncle Leverett with her
arms on his knee, and looked into the fire. What were
they doing back in Old Boston? Aunt Elizabeth had
already condemned the fairy stories as untrue, and there
fore falsehoods, so Doris never mentioned them. The
child, with her many changes and gentle nature, had de
veloped a certain tact or adaptiveness, and loved pleas
antness. She was just a little afraid of Aunt Elizabeth's
sharpness. It was like a biting wind. She always made
comparisons in her mind, and saw things in pictured sig
nificance.

It ran over many things now. The old house that
had been patched and patched, and had one corner
propped up from outside. The barn that was propped up
all around and had a thatched roof that suggested an
immense haystack. Old Barby crooning songs by the

ABOUT A GOWN. 91

kitchen fire, sweet old Miss Arabella with her great high
cap and her snowy little curls. Why did Aunt Priscilla
think curls wrong? She had a feeling Aunt Elizabeth
did not quite approve of hers, but Betty said the Lord
curled them in the beginning. How sweet Miss Ara
bella must have been in her youth — yes, she must surely
have been young — when she wore the pretty frocks and
went to the king's palace! She always thought of her
when she came to the verses in the Psalms about the
king's daughters and their beautiful attire. If Betty
could have had one of those!

Her heart beat with unwonted joy as she remembered
how readily Uncle Winthrop had consented to her wish.
Oh, if the frock would be pretty! And if Betty would
like it! She stole a glance or two at her. How queer
to have a secret from Betty that concerned her so much.
Of course people did not talk about clothes on Sunday,
so there would be no temptation to tell, even if she had
a desire, which she should not have. Monday morning
everything would be in a hurry, for it was wash-day, and
she would have to go over her lessons. Uncle Win said
the gown would be at the house Monday noon.

" What are you thinking of, little one? "

Uncle Leverett put his hand over the small one and
looked down at the face, which grew scarlet — or was it
the warmth of the fire?

She laughed with a sudden embarrassment.

" I've been to Old Boston," she said, " and to new
Boston. And I have seen such sights of things."

" You had better go to bed. And you have almost
burned up your face sitting so close by the fire. It is
bad for the eyes, too," said Aunt Elizabeth.

She rose with ready obedience.

" I think I'll go too," said Betty with a yawn. The
history of the Reformation was dull and prosy.

92 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

When Doris had said her prayers, and was climbing
into bed, Betty kissed her good-night.

" I'm awfully afraid Uncle Win will want you some
day," she said. " And I just couldn't let you go. I wish
you were my little sister."

There was a service in the morning and the afternoon
on Sunday. Uncle Leverett accompanied them in the
morning. He generally went out in the evening, and
often some neighbor came in. It was quite a social time.

When Doris came home from school Monday noon
Aunt Elizabeth handed her a package addressed to
" Miss Doris Adams, from Mr. Winthrop Adams."

" It is a new frock, I know," cried Betty laughingly.
" And it is very choice. I can tell by the way it is
wrapped. Open it quick! I'm on pins and needles."

" It is a nice cord ; don't cut it," interposed Aunt
Elizabeth.

Betty picked out the knot. There was another wrap
per inside, and this had on it " Miss Betty Leverett.
From her little cousin, Doris Adams."

Mr. Leverett came at Betty's exclamation and looked
over her shoulder.

" Are you sure it is for me? Here is a note from
Uncle Win that is for you. Oh! oh! Doris, was this
what you did Saturday?"

A soft shimmering China silk slipped out of its folds
and trailed on the floor. It was a lovely rather dullish
blue, such as you see in old china, and sprays of flowers
were outlined in white. Betty stood transfixed, and just
glanced from one to the other.

" Oh, do you like it? " cried Warren, impatient for the
verdict. " Uncle Win asked me to go out and do an
errand with him. I was clear amazed. But it's Doris'
gift, and bought out of her own money. We looked
over ever so many things. He said you wanted some-

ABOUT A GOWN. 93

thing young, not a grandmother gown. And we both
settled upon this."

Betty let it fall and clasped Doris in her arms.

" Down on the dirty floor as if it was nothing worth
while!" began Mrs. Leverett, while her husband picked
up the slippery stuff and let it fall again until she took it
out of his hands. " And do come to dinner! There's a
potpie made of the cold meat, and it will all be cold to
gether, for I took it up ever so long ago. And, Betty,
you haven't put on any pickles. And get that quince
sauce."

" I don't know what to say." There were tears in
Betty's eyes as she glanced at Doris.

" Well, you can have all winter to say it in," rejoined
her mother tartly. " And your father won't want to
spend all winter waiting for his dinner."

They had finished their washing early. By a little
after ten everything was on the line, and now the morn
ings had grown shorter, although you could piece them
out with candlelight. Betty had suggested the cold
meat should be made into a potpie, and now Mrs. Lev
erett half wished she had kept to the usual wash-day din
ner — cold meat and warmed-over vegetables. She felt
undeniably cross. She had not cordially acquiesced in
Betty's going to the party. The best gown she had to
wear was her gray cloth, new in the spring. It had
been let down in the skirt and trimmed with some wine-
colored bands Aunt Priscilla had brought her. It would
be a good discipline for Betty to wear it. When she saw
the other young girls in gayer attire, she would be morti
fied if she had any pride. Just where proper pride be
gan and improper pride ended she was not quite clear.
Anyhow, it would check Betty's party-going this
winter. And now all the nice-laid plans had come to
grief.

94 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Doris stood still, feeling there was something not quite
harmonious in the atmosphere.

" You were just royal to think of it," said Warren,
clasping both arms around Doris. " Uncle Win told
me about it. And I hope you like our choice. Betty
had a blue and white cambric, I think they called
it, last summer, and she looked so nice in it, but it didn't
wash well. Silk doesn't have to be washed. Oh, you
haven't read your letter."

Uncle Leverett had been folding and rolling the silk
and laid it on a chair. The dinner came in just as Doris
had read two or three lines of her note.

" Aunt Elizabeth," — when there was a little lull, —
" Uncle Winthrop says he will come up to supper
to-night."

" He seems very devoted, suddenly."

"Well, why shouldn't he be devoted to the little
stranger in his charge, if she isn't exactly within his
gates? She is in ours."

A flush crept up in Elizabeth Leverett's face. She did
not look at Doris, but she felt the child's eyes were upon
her — wondering eyes, asking the meaning of this unusual
mood. It was unreasonable as well. Elizabeth had a
kindly heart, and she knew she was doing not only her
self but Doris an injustice. She checked her rising dis
pleasure.

" I should have enjoyed seeing you and Uncle Win
shopping," she said rather jocosely to Warren.

Betty glanced up at that. The sky was clearing and
the storm blowing over. But, oh, she had her pretty
gown, come what might!

" I don't believe but what I would have been a better
judge than either of them," said Uncle Leverett.

" Uncle Win wasn't really any judge at all," rejoined
Warren laughingly. " He would have chosen the very

ABOUT A GOWN. 95

best there was, fine enough for a wedding gown. But
I knew Betty liked blue, and that girls wanted some
thing soft and delicate."

" You couldn't have suited me any better," acknowl
edged Betty, giving the chair that held her treasure an
admiring glance. " I shall have to study all the after
noon to know what to say to Uncle Win. As for
Doris "

Doris was smiling now. If they were all pleased,
that was enough.

" I hope Uncle Win won't let you spend your money
this way very often," said Uncle Leverett, " or you will
have nothing left to buy silk gowns for yourself when
you are a young woman."

" Maybe no one will ever ask me to a party," said
Doris simply.

" I will give one in your honor," declared Warren.
" Let me see — in seven years you will be sixteen. I will
save up a little money every year after I get my freedom
suit."

" Your freedom suit? " in a perplexed manner.

" Yes — when I am twenty-one. That will be next
July."

" You will have to buy her a silk gown as well," said
his father with a twinkle of humor in his eye.

" Then I shall strike for higher wages."

" We shall have a new President and we will see what
that brings about. The present method is simply
ruinous."

The dinner was uncommonly good, if it had been made
of cooked-over meat. And the pie was delicious. Any
woman who could make a pie like that, and have the
custard a perfect cream, ought to be the happiest woman
alive.

Mr. Leverett followed his wife out in the kitchen, and

96 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

gave the door a push with his foot. But the three young
people were so enthusiastic about the new gown, now
that the restraint was removed, that they could not have
listened.

" Mother," he began, " don't spoil the little girl's good
time and her pleasure in the gift."

" Betty did not need a silk gown. The other girls
didn't have one until they were married. If I had con
sidered it proper, I should have bought it myself."

" But Winthrop hadn't the heart to refuse Doris."

" If he means to indulge every whim and fancy she'll
spend everything she has before she is fairly grown.
She's too young to understand and she has been brought
up so far in an irresponsible fashion. Generosity is
sometimes foolishness."

" You wouldn't catch Hollis' little boy spending his
money on anyone," and Sam's grandfather laughed.
Sam was bright and shrewd, smart at his books and
good at a barter. He had a little money out at interest
already. Mr. Leverett had put it in the business, and
every six months Sam collected his interest on the mark.

" Winthrop isn't as slack as you sometimes think. He
could calculate compound interest to a fraction.

" I'm glad someone has a little forethought," was the
rather tart reply.

" Winthrop isn't as slack as you sometimes think. He
doesn't like business, but he has a good head for it. And
he will look out for Doris. He is mightily interested in
her too. But if you must scold anyone, save it for him
to-night, and let Doris be happy in her gift."

" Am I such a scold? "

" You are my dear helpmeet." He put his arm over
her shoulder and kissed her. People were not very
demonstrative in those days, and their affection spoke
oftener in deeds than words. In fact, they thought the

ABOUT A GOWN. 97

words betrayed a strand of weakness. " There, I must
be off," he added. " Come, Warren," opening the door.
" Meade will think we have had a turkey dinner and
stayed to polish the bones."

Betty had been trying the effect of trailing silk and
enjoying her brother's admiration. Now she folded it
again decorously, and began to pile up the cups and
plates, half afraid to venture into the kitchen lest her
dream of delight should be overshadowed by a cloud.

Mrs. Leverett was doing a sober bit of thinking.
How much happiness ought one to allow one's self in
this vale of tears? Something she had read last night
recurred to her — " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto

the least of these " Done what? Fed bodies and

warmed and clothed them. And what of the hungry
longing soul? All her life she had had a good tender
husband. And now, when he had strayed from the faith
a little, he seemed dearer and nearer than ever before.
God had given her a great deal to be thankful for. Five
fine children who had never strayed out of the paths of
rectitude. Of course, she had always given the credit to
their " bringing up." And here was a little girl reared
quite differently, sweet, wholesome, generous, painstak
ing, and grateful for every little favor.

Astute Betty sent Doris in as an advance guard.

" You may take the dish of spoons, and I'll follow with
the cups and saucers."

Aunt Elizabeth looked up and half smiled.

" You and Uncle Win have been very foolish," she
began, but her tone was soft, as if she did not wholly be
lieve what she was saying. " I shall save my scolding
for him, and I think Betty will have to train you in
figures all winter long to half repay for such a beautiful
gift."

" Oh, Aunt Elizabeth, I thought of it, you know," she

98 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

cried in sweet eagerness, " and if there is anything
wrong "

" There isn't anything wrong, dear." Mrs. Leverett
stooped and kissed her. " I don't know as Betty needed
a silk gown, for many a girl doesn't have one until she is
married. I shall have to keep a sharp eye on you and
Uncle Win hereafter."

Betty went back and forth. The dishes were washed
and the kitchen set to rights, while the bits of talk flowed
pleasantly.

" I think I will iron this afternoon," announced Betty.
" I see some of the clothes are dry. Didn't you mean to
go and see about the carpet, mother? "

" I had thought of it. I want to have my warp dyed
blue and orange, and some of the rags colored. Mrs.
Jett does it so well, and she's so needy I thought I would
give her all the work. Your father said I had better.
And she might dip over that brown frock of yours. The
piece of new can go with it so it will all be alike."

Betty wanted to lift up her heart in thanksgiving.
The dyeing tub was her utter abomination — it took so
long for the stain to wear out of your hands.

" Well — if you like." This referred to the ironing.
" I don't know how you'll get your gown done."

" I might run over and get some patterns from Jane,
if I get through in time," suggested Betty. For a hor
rible fear had entered her mind that her mother's ac
ceptance of the fact foreboded some delay in the making.

" Don't go until I get back."

" Oh, no."

Betty took down the clothes and folded them. They
were just right to iron. She arranged her table, and
Doris brought her books and sat at one end.

" It would be so much nicer to talk about the party,"
she said gravely, " but the lessons are so hard. Oh,

ABOUT A GOWN. 99

Betty, do you think I shall ever be smart like other girls?
I feel ashamed sometimes. My figures are just dread
ful. Robert Lane said this morning they looked like
hen tracks. His are beautiful. And he is only seven
years old. Oh, dear!"

" Robbie has been at school three years. Wait until
you have been a year! "

" And writing. Oh, Betty, when will I be able to
write a letter to Miss Arabella? Now, if you could talk
across the ocean ! "

" The idea! One would have to scream pretty loud,
and then it wouldn't go a mile." Betty threw her head
back and laughed.

But Doris was to live long enough to talk across the
ocean, though no one really dreamed of it then; indeed,
at first it was quite ridiculed.

" It is a nice thing to know a good deal, but it is awful
hard to learn," said the little girl presently.

" Now, it seems to me I never could learn French.
And when you rattle it off in the way you do, I am dumb
founded."

" What is that, Betty? "

Betty flushed and laughed. " Surprised or anything
like that," she returned.

" But, you see, I learned to talk and read just as you
do English. And then papa being English, why I had
both languages. It was very easy."

" Patience and perseverance will make this easy."

" And I can't knit a stocking nor make a shirt. And
I haven't pieced a bedspread nor worked a sampler.
Mary Green has a beautiful one, with a border of straw
berries around the edge and forget-me-nots in the cor
ner. Her father is going to have it framed."

" Oh, you must not chatter so much. Begin and say
some tables."

ioo A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I know ' three times ' skipping all about. But when
you get good and used one way you have to fly around
some other way. I can say ' four times ' straight, but I
have to think a little."

" Now begin," said Betty.

They seemed to run races, until Doris' cheeks were
like roses and she was all out of breath. At last she ac
complished the baleful four, skipping about.

" Mrs. Webb said I must learn four and five this week.
And five is easy enough. Now, will you hear me do
some sums in addition?"

She added aloud, and did quite well, Betty thought.

" When I can make nice figures and do sums that are
worth while, I am to have a book to put them in, Mrs.
Webb says. What is worth while, Betty? "

" Why it's — it's — a thing that is really worth doing
well. I don't know everything," with a half-laughing
sigh.

Betty had all her pieces ironed before the lessons were
learned. Doris thought ironing was easier. It finished
up of itself, and there was nothing to come after.

" Well — there is mending," suggested Betty.

" I know how to darn. I shall not have to learn that."

" And you darn beautifully."

While Mrs. Leverett was out she thought she would
run down to Aunt Priscilla's a few moments, so it was
rather late when she returned. But Betty had a pan of
biscuits rising in the warmth of the fire. Then she was
allowed to go over to the Morses' and tell Jane the won
derful news. Uncle Winthrop walked up, so there
would be no trouble about the horse; then, he had been
writing all day, and needed some exercise.

" And how did the silk suit? " he asked as he took both
of the child's hands in his.

" It was just beautiful. Betty was delighted, and so

ABOUT A GOWN. 101

surprised! Uncle Winthrop, isn't it a joyful thing to
make people happy! "

" Why — I suppose it is," with a curious hesitation in
his voice, as he glanced down into the shining eyes. He
had not thought much of making anyone happy latterly.
Indeed, he believed he had laid all the real joys of life in
his wife's grave. He was proud of his son, of course,
and he did everything for his advancement. But a
simple thing like this!

" We have been studying all the afternoon, Betty and
I. She is so good to me. And to think, Uncle Win, she
had read the Bible all through when she was eight years
old, and made a shirt. All the little girls make one for
their father. And he gave her a silver half-dollar with a
hole in it, and she put a blue ribbon through it and
means to keep it always. But I haven't any father.
And I began to read the Bible on Sunday. It will take
me two years," with a long sigh. " I used to read the
Psalms to Miss Arabella, and there was a portion for
every day. They are just a month long, when the month
has thirty days."

Her chatter was so pleasant. Several times through
the day her soft voice had haunted him.

Aunt Elizabeth came in with her big kitchen apron
tied over her best afternoon gown. She didn't scold
very hard, but she thought Uncle Win might better be
careful of the small fortune coming to Doris, since she
had neither father nor brother to augment it. And they
would make Betty as vain as a peacock in all her finery.

Betty returned laden with patterns and her eyes as
bright as stars. Jane Morse had promised to come over
in the morning and help her cut her gown. Jane was a
very " handy " girl, and prided herself on knowing
enough about " mantua making " to get her living if she
had need. At that period nearly every family did the

102 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

sewing of all kinds except the outside wear for men.
And fashions were as eagerly sought for and discussed
among the younger people as in more modern times.
The old Puritan attire was still in vogue. Not so many
years before the Revolution the Royalists' fashions,
both English and French, had been adopted. But
the cocked hats and scarlet coats, the flowing wigs
and embroidered waistcoats, had been swept away by
the Continental style. For women, high heels and
high caps had run riot, and hoops and flowing trains
of brocades and velvets and glistening silks. And now
the wife of the First Consul of France was the Empress
Josephine, and the Empire style had swept away the
pompadour and everything else. It had the advantage
of being more simple, though quite as costly.

Uncle Win and Uncle Leverett talked politics after
supper, one sitting one side of the chimney and one the
other. Doris had gone over to Uncle Winthrop's side,
and she wished she could be two little girls just for the
evening. She was trying very hard to understand what
they meant by the Embargo and the Non-Intercourse
Act, and she learned they were going to have a new
President in March. She did not think politics very in
teresting — she liked better to hear about the war that
had begun more than thirty years ago. Uncle Leverett
was quite sure there would be another war before they
were done with it ; that all the old questions had not been
fought out, and there could be no lasting peace until
they were. Did men like war so much, she wondered?

Betty stole around to Uncle Win's side before he went
away and thanked him again for the interest he had
taken in Doris' desire. Yes, she was a pretty girl; and
how much cheer there seemed around the Leverett fire
side ! Warren was a fine young fellow, too, older by two
years than his own son. He missed a certain cordial

ABOUT A GOWN. 103

living that would have cheered his own life. When his
boy came home he would have it different. And by that
time he would have decided about Doris.

Betty and Jane had plenty of discussions the next
morning. Waists were short and full, and with a square
neck and a flat band, over which there was a fall of lace,
and short, puffed sleeves for evening wear.

" But she isn't likely to go to another party this winter,
and she will want it for a best dress all next summer,"
said Mrs. Leverett.

" Oh, I should have long sleeves, as well, and just
baste them in. And there's so much silk I should make
a fichu to tie round in the back with two long ends.
You can make that any time. And a scant ruffle not
more than an inch wide when it is finished. A ruffle
round the skirt about two inches when that is done.
Letty Rowe has three ruffles around her changeable taf
feta. 'Twas made for her cousin's wedding, and it is
just elegant."

" It is a shame to waste stuff that way," declared Mrs.
Leverett.

" But the frills are scant, and skirts are never more
than two and a half yards round. Why, last summer
mother said I might have that fine sprigged muslin of
hers to make over, and I'm sure I have enough for
another gown. Mrs. Leverett, it doesn't take half as
much to make a gown for us as it did for our mothers,"
said Jane with arch humor.

" She had better save the piece for a new waist and
sleeves," declared the careful mother.

" Well, maybe fichus and capes will go out before
another summer. I would save the piece now, at any
rate," agreed Jane.

Jane was extremely clever. The girls had many amus
ing asides, for Mrs. Leverett was ironing in the kitchen.

104 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

There was nothing harmful about them, but they were
full of gay promise. Jane cut and basted and fitted.
There were the bodice and the sleeves. " You can easily
slip out the long ones," she whispered, " and there was
the skirt with the lining all basted, and the ruffles cut and
sewed together."

" You'll have a nice job hemming them. I should do
it over a cord. It makes them set out so much better.
And if you get in the drag I'll come over to-morrow.
I'm to help mother with the nut cake this afternoon. It
cuts better to be a day or two old. We made the fruit
cake a fortnight ago."

" How good you are! I don't know what I should
have done without you ! "

" And I don't know how Betty will ever repay you,"
said Mrs. Leverett.

"I know," returned Jane laughingly. "I have planned
to get every stitch out of her. I am going to quilt my
' Young Man's Ramble ' this winter, and mother's said
I might ask in two or three of the best quilters I know —
Betty quilts so beautifully ! "

The " Young Man's Ramble " was patchwork of a
most intricate design, in which it seemed that one might
ramble about fruitlessly.

" I am glad there is some way of your getting even,"
said the mother with a little pride.

Jane took dinner with them and then ran off home.
Warren went a short distance with her, as their way lay
together.

" I hope you didn't say anything about the dancing,"
he remarked. " Mother is rather set against it. But
Sister Electa gives dancing parties, and Betty's going to
Hartford this winter. She ought to know how to dance."

" Trust me for not letting the cat out of the bag! "

Betty sewed and sewed. She could hardly attend to

ABOUT A GOWN. 105

Doris' lessons and sums. She hemmed the ruffle in the
evening, and hurried with her work the next morning.
Everything went smoothly, and Mrs. Leverett was more
interested than she would have believed. And she was
quite ready to take up the cudgel for her daughter's
silken gown when Aunt Priscilla made her appearance.
Of course she would find fault.

But it is the unexpected that happens. Aunt Pris
cilla was in an extraordinary mood. Some money had
been paid to her that morning that she had considered
lost beyond a peradventure. And she said, " It was a
great piece of foolishness, and Winthrop Adams at his
time of life ought to have had more sense, but what
could you expect of a man always browsing over
books! And if she had thought Betty was dying for a
silk frock, she had two laid away that would come in
handy some time. She hadn't ever quite decided who
should fall heir to them, but so many of the girls had
grown up and had husbands to buy fine things for them,
she supposed it would be Betty."

"What is going round the neck and sleeves?" she
asked presently.

" Mother has promised to lend me some lace," an
swered Betty. " The other girls had a borrowed wear
out of it."

" I'll look round a bit. I never had much real finery,
but husband always wanted me to dress well when we
were first married. We went out a good deal for a while,
before he was hurt. I'll see what I have."

And the next morning old Polly brought over a box
with " Missus' best compliments." There was some
beautiful English thread lace about four inches wide, just
as it had lain away for years, wrapped in soft white paper,
with a cake of white wax to keep it from turning unduly
yellow.

106 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Betty, you are in wonderful luck," said her mother.
" Something has stirred up Aunt Priscilla."

Just at noon that eventful Thursday Mr. Manning
came in from Salem for his mother-in-law. Mrs. Man
ning's little daughter had been born at eight that morn
ing, and Mary wanted her mother at once. She had
promised to go, but hardly expected the call so soon.

There were so many charges to give Betty, who was
to keep house for the next week. Nothing was quite
ready. Mother fashion, she had counted on doing this
and that before she went; and if Betty couldn't get along
she must ask Aunt Priscilla to come, just as if Betty had
not kept house a whole week last summer. There was
advice to father and to Warren, and he was to try to
bring Betty home by nine o'clock that evening. What
Doris would do in the afternoon, she couldn't see.

" Go off with an easy heart, mother," said Mr. Lev-
erett; " I will come home early this afternoon."

CHAPTER VIII.

SINFUL OR NOT?

should have seen me when Jane tied a white sash
about my waist. Then I was just complete."

" But you looked beautiful before — like a — well, a
queen couldn't have looked prettier. Or the Empress
Josephine."

Betty laughed and kissed the little girl whose eyes
were still full of admiration. She had not come home
until ten, and found her father waiting at the fireside, but
Doris was snuggled up in bed and soundly asleep. She
had risen at her father's call, made the breakfast, and sent
the men off in time; then heard the lesson Doris wasn't

SINFUL OR NOT? 107

quite sure of, and sent her to school ; and now the dinner
was cleared away and they were sitting by the fire.

The Empress Josephine was in her glory then, one of
the notables of Europe.

" And Mrs. Morse said such lace as that would be ten
dollars a yard now. Think of that! Thirty dollars!
But didn't you get lonesome waiting for father? "

" He came just half an hour afterward. And, oh, we
had such a grand, funny time getting supper. It was
as good as a party. I poured the tea. And he called
me Miss Adams, like a grown lady. And, then, what do
you think? We played fox and geese! And do you
know I thought the geese were dumb to let the fox get
them all. And then he took the geese and soon penned
my fox in a corner. Then he told me about the fox and
the goose and the measure of corn and the man crossing
the stream. It was just delightful. I wanted to stay up
until you came home, but I did get so sleepy. And was
the party splendid? I don't think anyone could have
been prettier than you! "

" Sally Prentiss had a pink silk frock, and the ruffles
were fringed out, which made them fluffy. It was beau
tiful ! Oh, I should have felt just awful in my gray cloth
or my blue winter frock. And I owe most of the delight
to you, little Doris. I've been thinking — sometime I
will work you a beautiful white frock, fine India muslin."

" And what did they do? "

" We didn't sew much," Betty laughed. " We talked
and talked. I knew all but one girl, and we were soon
acquainted. Jane didn't have a thing to do, of course.
Then the gentlemen came and we went out to supper.
The table was like a picture. There was cold turkey and
cold ham and cold baked pork. They were all delicious.
And bread and biscuits and puffy little cakes quite new.
Mrs. Morse's cousin brought the recipe, and she has

io8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

promised it to mother. And there were jams and jellies
and ever so many things, and then all the plates and
meats were sent away, and the birthday cake with seven
teen tiny candles was lighted up. And cake of every
kind, and whipped cream and nuts and candies. Then
we went back to the parlor and played " proverbs " and
" What is my thought like? " and then black Joe came
with his fiddle. First they danced the minuet. It was
beautiful. And then they had what is called cotillions.
I believe that is the new fashionable dance. It takes
eight people, but you can have two or three at the same
time. They dance in figures. And, oh, it is just delight
ful ! I do wonder if it is wrong? "

" What would make it wrong? " asked Doris gravely.

" That's what puzzles me. A great many people think
it right and send their children to dancing-school. On
all great occasions there seems to be dancing. It is
stepping and floating around gracefully. You think of
swallows flying and flowers swinging and grass waving
in the summer sun."

" But if there is so much of it in the world, and if God
made the world gay and glad and rejoicing and full of
butterflies and birds and ever so many things that don't
do any real work but just have a lovely time "

Doris' wide-open eyes questioned her companion.

" They haven't any souls. I don't know." Betty shook
her head. " Let's ask father about it to-night. When
you are little you play tag and puss-in-the-corner and
other things, and run about full of fun. Dancing is more
orderly and refined. And there's the delicious music!
All the young men were so nice and polite, — so kind of
elegant, — and it makes you feel of greater consequence.
I don't mean vain, only as if it was worth while to be
have prettily. It's like the parlor and the kitchen. You
don't take your washing and scrubbing and scouring in

SINFUL OR NOT? 109

the parlor, though that work is all necessary. So there
are two sides to life. And my side just now is getting
supper, while your side is studying tables. Oh, I do
wonder if you will ever get to know them ! "

Doris sighed. She would so much rather talk about
the party.

" And your frock was — pretty? " she ventured timidly.

" All the girls thought it lovely. And I told them it
was a gift from my little cousin, who came from old Bos
ton — and they were so interested in you. They thought
Doris a beautiful name, but Sally said the family name
ought to be grander to go with it. But Adams is a fine
old name, too — the first name that was ever given.
There was only one man then, and when there came to
be such hosts of them they tacked the ' s ' on to make it
a noun of multitude."

" Did they really? Some of the children are learning
about nouns. Oh, dear, how much there is to learn!"
said the little girl with a sigh.

Betty went at her supper. People ate three good
stout meals in those days. It made a deal of cooking.
It made a stout race of people as well, and one heard
very little about nerves and indigestion. Betty was get
ting to be quite a practiced cook.

Mr. Leverett took a good deal of interest hearing
about the party. Warren had enjoyed it mightily. And
then they besieged him for an opinion on the question
of dancing. Warren presented his petition that he might
be allowed to join a class of young men that was being
formed. There were only a few vacancies.

" I do not think I have a very decided opinion about
it," he returned slowly. " Times have changed a good
deal since I was young, and amusements have changed
with them. A hundred or so years ago life was very
strenuous, and prejudices of people very strong. Yet

no A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

the young people skated and had out-of-door games,
and indoor plays that we consider very rough now.
And you remember that our ancestors were opposed to
nearly everything their oppressors did. Their own lives
were too serious to indulge in much pleasuring. The
pioneers of a nation rarely do. But we have come to
an era of more leisure as to social life. Whether it will
make us as strong as a nation remains to be seen."

" That doesn't answer my question," said Warren
respectfully.

" I am going to ask you to wait until you are of age,
mostly for your mother's sake. I think she dreads leav
ing the old ways. And then Betty will have no excuse,"
with a shrewd little smile.

Warren looked disappointed.

" But I danced last night," said Betty. " And we used
to dance last winter at school. Two or three of the girls
were good enough to show us the new steps. And one
of the amusing things was a draw cotillion. The girls
drew out a slip of paper that had a young man's name
on it, and then she had to pass it over to him, and he
danced with her. And who do you think I had?"
triumphantly.

" I do not know the young men who were there,"
said her father.

" I hope it was the very nicest and best," exclaimed
Doris.

" It just was ! Jane's cousin, Morris Winslow. And
he was quite the leader in everything, almost as if it was
his party. And he is one of the real quality, you know.
I was almost afraid to dance with him, but he was so
nice and told me what to do every time, so I did not make
any serious blunders. But it is a pleasure to feel that
you know just how."

" There will be years for you to learn," said her father.

SINFUL OR NOT? in

" Meanwhile the ghost of old Miles Standish may come
back."

" What would he do? " asked Doris, big-eyed.

Warren laughed. " What he did in the flesh was this:
The Royalists — you see, they were not all Puritans that
came over — were going to keep an oldtime festival at
a place called Merry Mount. They erected a May pole
and were going to dance around it."

" That is what they do at home. And they have a
merry time. Miss Arabella took me. And didn't Miles
Standish like it? "

" I guess not. He sent a force of men to tear it down,
and marched Morton and his party into Plymouth, where
they were severely reprimanded — fined as well, some
people say."

" We do not rule our neighbors quite as strictly now.
But one must admire those stanch old fellows, after
all."

" I am glad the world has grown wider," said Warren.
But he wished its wideness had taken in his mother, who
had a great fear of the evils lying in wait for unwary
youth. Still he would not go against her wishes while
he was yet under age. Young people were considered
children in their subjection to their parents until this
period. And girls who stayed at home were often in sub
jection all their lives. There were men who ruled their
families with a sort of iron sway, but Mr. Leverett had
always been considered rather easy.

Doris begged to come out and dry the dishes, but
they said tables instead of talking of the seductive party.
Mr. Leverett had to go out for an hour. Betty sat down
and took up her knitting. She felt rather tired and
sleepy, for she had gone on with the party the night
before, after she was in bed. A modern girl would be
just getting ready to go to her party at ten. But then

fi2 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

she would not have to get up at half-past five the next
morning, make a fire, and cook breakfast. Suddenly
Betty found herself nodding.

" Put up your book, Doris. I'll mix the cakes and
we will go to bed. You can dream on the lessons."

The party had demoralized Doris as well.

Among the real quality young men came to inquire
after the welfare of the ladies the next morning, or even
ing at the latest. But people in the middle classes were
occupied with their employments, which were the main
things of their lives.

And though the lines were strongly drawn and the
" quality " were aristocratic, there were pleasant grada
tions, marked by a fine breeding on the one side and
a sense of fitness on the other, that met when there was
occasion, and mingled and fused agreeably, then returned
each to his proper sphere. The Morses were well con
nected and had some quite high-up relatives. For that
matter, so were the Leveretts, but Foster Leverett
was not ambitions for wealth or social distinction,
and Mrs. Leverett clung to the safety of the good old
ways.

Jane ran over in the morning with a basket of some
of the choicer kinds of cake, and some nuts, raisins, and
mottoes for the little girl. There were so many nice
things she was dying to tell Betty, — compliments, — and
some from Cousin Morris. And didn't she think every
thing went off nicely?

" It was splendid, all through," cried Betty enthusi
astically. " I would like to go to a party — well, I sup
pose every week would be too often, but at least twice
a month."

" The Chauncey Winslows are going to have a party
Thanksgiving night. They are Morris' cousins and not
mine, but I've been there; and Morris said last night

SINFUL OR NOT? 113

I should have an invitation. It will be just splendid, I
know."

" But you are seventeen. And mother thinks I am
only a little girl," returned Betty.

" Oh, yes ; I didn't go scarcely anywhere last winter.
Being grown up is ever so much nicer. But it will come
for you."

" Electa wants me to visit her this winter. The as
sembly is to meet, you know, and she has plenty of good
times, although she has three children. I do hope I can
go! And I have that lovely frock."

" That would be delightful. I wish I had a sister mar
ried and living away somewhere — New York, for in
stance. They have such fine times. Oh, dear! how do
you get along alone? "

" It keeps me pretty busy."

Jane had come out in the kitchen, so Betty could go
on with her dinner preparations.

" Mother thinks of keeping Cousin Nabby all winter.
She likes Boston so, and it's lonely up in New Hampshire
on the farm. That will ease me up wonderfully."

" If I go away mother will have to get someone."

" Although they do not think we young people are of
much account," laughed Jane. " Give your little girl
a good big chunk of party cake and run over when you
can."

" But I can't now."

" Then I will have to do the visiting."

Dinner was ready on the mark, and Mr. Leverett
praised it. Doris came home in high feather. She had
not missed a word, and she had done all her sums.

" I think I am growing smarter," she announced with
a kind of grave exultation. " Don't you think Aunt
Elizabeth will teach me how to knit when she comes
back? "

u4 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Not to have knit a pair of stockings was considered
rather disgraceful for a little girl.

Aunt Priscilla came over early Saturday afternoon.
She found the house in very good order, and she glanced
sharply about, too. They had not heard from Mary yet,
but the elder lady said no news was good news. Then
she insisted on looking over the clothes for the Monday's
wash and mending up the rents. Tuesday she would
come in and darn the stockings. When she was nine
years old it was her business to do all the family darn
ing, looking askance at Doris.

" Now, if you had been an only child, Aunt Priscilla,
and had no parents, what a small amount of darning
would have fallen to your share! " said Betty.

" Well, I suppose I would have been put out some
where and trained to make myself useful. And if I'd
had any money that would have been on interest, so that
I could have some security against want in my old age.
Anyway, it isn't likely I should have been allowed to
fritter away my time."

Betty wondered how Aunt Priscilla could content her
self with doing such a very little now! Not but what
she had earned a rest. And Foster Leverett, who man
aged some of her business, said sub rosa that she was
not spending all her income.

" You can't come up to your mother making tea," she
said at the supper table. " Your mother makes the best
cup of tea I ever tasted."

Taking it altogether they did get on passably well
without Mrs. Leverett during the ten days. She brought
little James, six years of age, who couldn't go the long
distance to school in cold weather with the two older
children, and so was treated to a visit at grandmother's.

Mary was doing well and had a sweet little girl, as
good as a kitten. Mr. Manning's Aunt Comfort had

SINFUL OR NOT? 115

come to stay a spell through the winter. And now there
was getting ready for Thanksgiving. There was no
time to make mince pies, but then Mrs. Leverett didn't
care so much for them early in the season. Hollis'
family would come up, they would ask Aunt Priscilla,
and maybe Cousin Winthrop would join them. So they
were busy as possible.

Little James took a great liking to his shy cousin
Doris, and helped her say tables and spell. He had been
at school all summer and was very bright and quick.

" But, Uncle Foster," she declared, " the children in
America are much smarter than English children. They
understand everything so easily."

Then came the first big snowstorm of the season.
There had been two or three little dashes and squalls.
It began at noon and snowed all night. The sky was
so white in the early morning you could hardly tell where
the snow line ended and where it began; but by and by
there came a bluish, silvery streak that parted it like a
band, and presently a pale sun ventured forth, hanging on
the edge of yellowish clouds and growing stronger, until
about noon it flooded everything with gold, and the
heavens were one broad sheet of blue magnificence.

Doris did not go to school in the morning. There
were no broken paths, and boys and men were busy
shoveling out or tracking down.

" It is a heavy snow for so early in the season," de
clared Uncle Leverett. " We are not likely to see bare
ground in a long while."

Doris thought it wonderful. And when Uncle Win
throp came the next day and took them out in a big
sleigh with a span of horses, her heart beat with un
wonted enjoyment. But the familiarity little James
evinced with it quite startled her.

Thanksgiving Day was a great festival even then, and

n6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

had been for a long while. Christmas was held of little
account. New Year's Day had a greater social aspect.
Commencement, election, and training days were in high
favor, and every good housewife baked election cake,
and every voter felt entitled to a half-holiday at least.
Then there was an annual fast day, with churchgoing
and solemnity quite different from its modern suc
cessor.

The Hollis Leveretts, two grown people and four chil
dren, came up early. Sam, or little Sam as he was often
called to distinguish him from his two uncles, was a nice
well-grown and well-looking boy of about ten. Mrs.
Hollis had lost her next child, a boy also, and Bessy was
just beyond six. Charles and the baby completed the
group.

Uncle Leverett made a fire in the best room early in
the morning. Doris was a little curious to see it
with the shutters open. It was a large room, with a
" boughten " ingrain carpet, stiff chairs, two great square
ottomans, a big sofa, and some curious old paintings,
besides a number of framed silhouettes of different mem
bers of the family.

The most splendid thing of all was the great roaring
fire in the wide chimney. The high shelf was adorned
with two pitchers in curious glittering bronze, with odd
designs in blue and white raised from the surface. The
children brought their stools and sat around the fire.

Adjoining this was the spare room, the guest chamber
par excellence. Sometimes the old house had been full,
when there were young people coming and going, and
relatives from distant places visiting. Electa and Mary
had both married young, though in the early years of
her married life Electa had made long visits home. But
her husband had prospered in business and gone into
public life, and she entertained a good deal, and the jour-

SINFUL OR NOT? 117

ney home was long and tedious. Mary was much nearer,
but she had a little family and many cares.

Sam took the leadership of the children. He had seen
Doris for a few minutes on several occasions and had not
a very exalted opinion of a girl who could only cipher
in addition, while he was over in interest and tare and
tret. To be sure he could neither read nor talk French.
This year he had gone to the Latin school. He hadn't
a very high opinion of Latin, and he did not want to go
to college. He was going to be a shipping merchant,
and own vessels to go all over the world and bring car
goes back to Boston. 'He meant to be a rich man and
own a fine big house like the Hancock House.

Doris thought it would be very wonderful for a little
boy to get rich.

" And you might be lord mayor of Boston," she said,
thinking of the renowned Whittington.

" We don't have lord mayors nor lord anything now,
except occasionally a French or English nobleman.
And we don't care much for them," said the uncompro
mising young republican. " I should like to be Gov
ernor or perhaps President, but I shouldn't want to waste
my time on anything else."

Grandfather Leverett smiled over these boyish am
bitions, but he wished Sam's heart was not quite so set
on making money.

There were so few grown people that by bringing in
one of the kitchen tables and placing it alongside they
could make room for all. Betty was to be at the end,
flanked on both sides by the children ; Mrs. Hollis at the
other end. There was a savory fragrance of turkey,
sauces, and vegetables, and the table seemed literally
piled up with good things.

Just as they were about to sit down Uncle Winthrop
came in for a moment to express his regrets again at

n8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

not being able to make one of the family circle. Doris
thought he looked very handsome in his best clothes, his
elegant brocaded waistcoat, and fine double-ruffled shirt-
front. He wore his hair brushed back and tied in a
queue and slightly powdered.

He was to go to a grand dinner with some of the city
officials, a gathering that was not exactly to his taste,
but one he could not well decline. And when Doris
glanced up with such eager admiration and approval, his
heart warmed tenderly toward her, as it recalled other
appreciative eyes that had long ago closed for the last
time.

What a dinner it was! Sam studied hard and played
hard in the brief while he could devote to play, and he
ate accordingly. Doris was filled with amazement. No
wonder he was round and rosy.

" Doesn't that child ever eat any more? " asked Mrs.
Hollis. " No wonder she is so slim and peaked. I'd
give her some gentian, mother, or anything that would
start her up a little."

Doris turned scarlet.

" She's always well," answered Mrs. Leverett. " She
hasn't had a sick day since she came here. I think
she hasn't much color naturally, and her skin is very
fair."

" I do hope she will stay well. I've had such excellent
luck with my children, who certainly do give their keep
ing credit. I think she's been housed too much. I'm
afraid she won't stand the cold winter very well."

" You can't always go by looks," commented Aunt
Priscilla.

After the dinner was cleared away and the dishes
washed (all the grown people helped and made short
work of it), the kitchen was straightened, the chairs being
put over in the corner, and the children who were large

SINFUL OR NOT? 119

enough allowed a game of blindman's buff, Uncle Lev-
erett watching to see that no untoward accidents hap
pened, and presently allowing himself to be caught. And,
oh, what a scattering and laughing there was then! His
arms were so large that it seemed as if he must sweep
everybody into them, but, strange to relate, no one was
caught so easily. They dodged and tiptoed about and
gave little half-giggles and thrilled with success. He
did catch Sam presently, and the boy did not enjoy it a
bit. Not that he minded being blindfolded, but he
should have liked to boast that grandfather could not
catch him.

Sam could see under the blinder just the least bit.
Doris had on red morocco boots, and they were barely
up to her slim ankles. They were getting small, so
Aunt Elizabeth thought she might take a little good out
of them, as they were by far too light for school wear.
Sam was sure he could tell by them, and he resolved to
capture her. But every time he came near grandfather
rushed before her, and he didn't want to catch back right
away, neither did he want Bessy, whose half-shriek be
trayed her whereabouts.

Mrs. Leverett opened the door.

" I think you have made noise enough," she said.
People believed in the old adage then that children
should " be seen and not heard," and that indoors was
no place for a racket. " Aunt Priscilla thinks she must
go, but she wants you to sing a little."

This was for Mr. Leverett, but Sam had a very nice
boy's voice and felt proud enough when he lifted it up in
church.

" I'll come, grandmother," he said with some elation,
as if he alone had been asked. And as he tore off the
blinder he put his head down close to Doris, and whis
pered:

izo A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" It was mean of you to hide behind grandfather every
time, and he didn't play fair a bit."

Bat having a peep at the red shoes as they went danc
ing round was fair enough!

Hollis Leverett sang in the choir. They had come to
this innovation, though they drew the line at instru
mental music. He had a really fine tenor voice, Mr.
Leverett sang in a sort of natural, untrained tone, very
sweet. Mrs. Hollis couldn't sing at all, but she was very
proud to have the children take after their father. There
were times when Aunt Priscilla sang for herself, but her
voice had grown rather quivering and uncertain. So
Betty and her mother had to do their best to keep from
being drowned out. But the old hymns were touching,
with here and there a line of rare sweetness.

Hollis Leverett was going to take Aunt Priscilla home
and then return for the others. Sam insisted upon going
with them, so grandfather roasted some corn for Bessy
and Doris. They had not the high art of popping it
then and turning it inside out, although now and then a
grain achieved such a success all by itself. Bessy
thought Doris rather queer and not very smart.

The two little ones were bundled up and made ready,
and the sleigh came back with a jingle for warning.
Mrs. Hollis took her baby in her arms, grandfather car
ried out little Foster, and they were all packed in snugly
and covered up almost head and ears with the great fur
robes, while little Sam shouted out the last good-night.

Mrs. Leverett straightened things in the best room,
until all the company air had gone out of it. Doris felt
the difference and was glad to come out to her own chim
ney corner. Then Betty spread the table and they had
a light supper, for, what with dinner being a little late
and very hearty, no one was hungry. But they sipped
their tea and talked over the children and how finely

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 121

Sam was getting along in his studies, and Mrs. Leverett
brought up the Manning children, for much as she loved
Hollis, her daughter Mary's children came in for a share
of grandmotherly affection. And in her heart she felt
that little James was quite as good as anybody.

Warren had promised to spend the evening with some
young friends. Betty wished she were a year older and
could have the privilege of inviting in schoolmates and
their brothers, and that she might have fire in the parlor
on special occasions. But, to compensate, some of the
neighbors dropped in. Doris and James played fox
and geese until they were sleepy. James had a little
cot in the corner of grandmother's room.

CHAPTER IX.

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT.

, what a lovely white world it was! The low, sedgy
places were frozen over and covered with snow; the
edges of the bay, Charles River, and Mystic River were
assuming their winter garments as well. And when, just
a week after, another snowstorm came, there seemed a
multitude of white peaks out in the harbor, and the hills
were transformed into veritable snow-capped mountains.
Winter had set in with a rigor unknown to-day. But
people did not seem to mind it. Even the children had
a good time sledding and snowballing and building
snow forts and fighting battles. There were mighty
struggles between the North Enders and the South
Enders. Louisburg was retaken, 1775 was re-enacted,
and Paul Revere again swung his lantern and roused his
party to arms, and snowballs whitened instead of darken
ing the air with the smoke of firearms. Deeds of mighty
prowess were done on both sides.

122 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

But the boys had the best of it surely. The girls had
too much to do. They were soon too large for romping
and playing. There were stockings to knit and to
darn. There were long overseams in sheets; there was
no end of shirt-making for the men. They put the
hems in their own frocks and aprons, they stitched gus
sets and bands and seams. People were still spinning
and weaving, though the mills that were to lead the revo
lution in industries had come in. The Embargo was
taxing the ingenuity of brains as well as hands, and as
more of everything was needed for the increase of popu
lation, new methods were invented to shorten processes
that were to make New England the manufacturing
center of the new world.

When the children had nothing else to do there was
always a bag of carpet rags handy. There were braided
rugs that were quite marvels of taste, and even the hit-or-
miss ones were not bad.

Still they were allowed out after supper on moonlight
nights for an hour or so, and then they had grand good
times. The father or elder brothers went along to see
that no harm happened. Fort Hill was one of the
favorite coasting places, and parties of a larger growth
thronged here. But Beacon Hill had not been shorn of
all its glory.

Uncle Winthrop came over one day and took the chil
dren and Betty to see the battle at Fort Hill. The Brit
ish had intrenched themselves with forts and breastworks
and had their colors flying. It really had been hard
work to enlist men or boys in this army. No one likes
to go into a fight with the foregone conclusion that he is
to be beaten. But they were to do their best, and
they did it. The elders went out to see the fun. The
rebels directed all their energies to the capture of one
fort instead of opening fire all along the line, and by

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 123

dusk they had succeeded in demolishing that, when the
troops on both sides were summoned home to supper
and to comfortable beds, an innovation not laid down
in the rules of warfare.

Little James had been fired with military ardor.
Cousin Sam was the leader of one detachment of the
rebel forces. Catch him anywhere but on the winning
side!

Doris had been much interested as well, and that even
ing Uncle Leverett tolcl them stories about Boston thirty
years before. He was a young man of three-and-twenty
when Paul Revere swung his lantern to give the alarm.
He could only touch lightly upon what had been such
solemn earnest to the men of that time, the women as
well.

" I'm going to be a soldier," declared James, with all
the fervor of his youthful years. " But you can't ever
be, Doris."

" No," answered Doris softly, squeezing Uncle Lev-
erett's hand in both of hers. " But there isn't any war."

" Yes there is — over in France and England, and ever
so many places. My father was reading about it. And
if there wasn't any war here, couldn't we go and fight
for some other country? "

" I hope there will never be war in your time, Jimmie,
boy," said his grandmother. " And it is bedtime for
little people."

"Why does it come bedtime so soon?" in a deeply
aggrieved tone. " When I am a big man I am going to
sit up clear till morning. And I'll tell my grandchildren
all night long how I fought in the wars."

" That is looking a long way ahead," returned grand
father.

Besides the lessons, Doris was writing a letter to Miss
Arabella. That lady would have warmly welcomed any

i24 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

little scrawl in Doris' own hand. Uncle Winthrop had
acknowledged her safe arrival in good health, and en
larged somewhat on the pleasant home she had found
with her relatives. Betty had overlooked the little girl's
letter and made numerous corrections, and she had
copied and thought of some new things and copied it
over again. She had added a little French verse also.

"Dear me!" exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth, ''when will
the child ever learn anything useful! There doesn't
seem any time. The idea of a girl of ten years old never
having knit a stocking! And she will be full that and
more! "

" But everybody doesn't knit," said Betty.

" Oh, yes, you can buy those flimsy French things
that do not give you any wear. And presently we may
not be able to buy either French or English. She is not
going to be so rich either. It's nonsense to think of that
marshy land ever being valuable. Whatever possessed
anyone to buy it, I can't see! And if Doris was to be
a queen I think she ought to know something useful."

" I do not suppose I shall ever need to spin," Betty said
rather archly.

Mrs. Leverett had insisted that all her girls should
learn to spin both wool and flax. Betty had rebelled a
little two years ago, but she had learned nevertheless.

" And there was a time when a premium was paid to
the most skillful spinner. Your grandmother, Betty,
was among those who spun on the Common. The
women used to go out there with their wheels. And
there were spinning schools. The better class had to
pay, but a certain number of poor women were taught on
condition that they would teach their children at home.
And it is not a hundred years ago either. There was
no cloth to be had, and Manufactory House was.
established."

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 125

Betty had heard the story of spinning on the Com
mons, for her own grandmother had told it. But she
had an idea that the world would go on rather than retro
grade. For now they were turning out cotton cloth and
printing calico and making canvas and duck, and it was
the boast of the famous Constitution that everything be
sides her armament was made in Massachusetts.

Uncle Winthrop thought Doris' letter was quite a
masterpiece for a little girl. At least, that was what he
said. I think he was a good deal more interested in that
than in the sampler she had begun. And he agreed
privately with Betty that " useless " sometimes was mis
spelled into " useful."

Another letter created quite a consternation. This
was from Hartford. Mrs. King wrote that a friend, a
Mr. Eastman, was going from Springfield to Boston on
some business, and on his return he would bring Betty
home with him. His wife was going on to Hartford a
few days later and would be very pleased to have Betty's
company. She did not know when another chance
would offer, for not many people were journeying about
in the winter.

Betty was to bring her nicest gowns, and she needed a
good thick pelisse and heavy woolen frock for outside
wear. The new hats were very large, and young girls
were wearing white or cream beaver. Some very hand
some ones had come from New York recently. There
was a big bow on the top, and two feathers if you could
afford it, and ribbon of the same width tied under the
chin. She was to bring her slippers and clocked stock
ings, her newest white frock, and if she had to buy a new
one of any kind it need not be made until she came to
Hartford.

" I never heard of such a thing! " declared Mrs. Lev-
erett, aghast. " She must think your father is made of

iz6 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

money. And when 'Lecty and Matthias were married
they went to housekeeping in three rooms in old Mrs.
Morton's house, and 'Lecty was happy as a queen, and
had to save at every turn. She wasn't talking then about
white hats and wide ribbons and feathers and gewgaws.
The idea!"

" Of course I can't have the hat," returned Betty re
signedly. " But my brown one will do. And, oh, isn't
it lucky my silk is made and trimmed with that beautiful
lace! If I only had my white skirt worked! And that
India muslin might do with a little fixing up. If I had
a lace ruffle to put around the bottom ! "

" I don't know how I can spare you, Betty. I can't
put Doris to doing anything. When any of my girls
were ten years old they could do quite a bit of
housekeeping. If she wasn't so behind in her
studies! "

Betty had twenty plans in a moment, but she knew her
mother would object to every one. She would be very
discreet until she could talk the matter over with her
father.

" Everything about the journey is so nicely arranged,"
she began; "and, you see, Electa says it will not cost
anything to Springfield. There may not be a chance
again this whole winter."

" The summer will be a good deal pleasanter."

" But the Capital won't be nearly so" — "gay," she was
about to say, but changed it to " interesting."

" Betty, I do wish you were more serious-minded. To
think you're sixteen, almost a woman, and in some things
you're just a companion for Doris! "

Betty thought it was rather hard to be between every
thing. She was not old enough for society, she was not
a young lady, but she was too old to indulge in the frolics
of girlhood. She couldn't be wise and sedate — at least,

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 127

she did not want to be. And were the fun and the good
times really wicked?

She was on the lookout for her father that evening.
Warren was going to the house of a friend to supper, as
the debating society met there, and it saved him a long
walk.

" Father, Electa's letter has come," in a hurried whis
per. " She's planned out my visit, but mother thinks —
oh, do try and persuade her, and make it possible! I
want to go so much."

But Betty began to think the subject never would be
mentioned. Supper was cleared away, Doris and James
studied, and she sat and worked diligently on her white
gown. Then she knew her mother did not mean to say
a word before her and presently she went to bed.

Mrs. Leverett handed the letter over to her husband.
" From 'Lecty," she said briefly.

He read it and re-read it, while she knit on her stocking.

" Yes " — slowly. " Well — Betty might as well go.
She has been promised the visit so long."

" I can't spare her. Even if I sent James home, there's
Doris. And I am not as spry as I was ten years ago.
The work is heavy."

" Oh, you must have someone. John Grant was in
from Roxbury to-day. He has two girls quite anxious
to go out this winter. I think the oldest means to marry
next spring or summer, and wants to earn a little
money."

" We can't take in everyone who wants to earn a little
money."

" No," humorously. " It would bankrupt us these
hard times. The keep would be the same as for Betty,
and a few dollars wages wouldn't signify."

" But Betty '11 want no end of things. It does seem as
if 'Lecty had turned into a fine lady. Whether it would

128 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

be a good influence on Betty! She's never been serious
yet."

" And Electa joined the church at fourteen. I think
you can trust Betty with her. To be sure, Mat's pros
pered beyond everything."

Prosperity and every good gift came from the Lord,
Mrs. Leverett fully believed. And yet David had seen
the " ungodly in great prosperity." She had a mother's
pride in Mr. and Mrs. King, but they were rather gay
with dinner parties and everything.

" She will have to take Betty just as she is. Her
clothes are good enough."

Mr. Leverett re-read the letter. He wasn't much
judge of white hats and wide ribbons, and, since the time
was short, perhaps Electa could help her to spend the
money to better advantage, and there would be no worry.
He would just slip a bill or two in Betty's hand toward
the last.

" Betty's a nice-looking girl," said her father.

" I should be sorry to have her niceness all come out
in looks," said Betty's mother.

There was no reply to this.

" I really do not think she ought to go. There will
be other winters."

" Well — we will sleep on the matter. We can't tell
about next winter."

Warren thought she ought to go. Aunt Priscilla
came over a day or two after in Jonas Field's sleigh. He
was out collecting, and would call for her at half-past
five, though she still insisted she was pretty sure-footed
in walking.

Mr. Perkins in a moment of annoyance had once said
to his wife : " Priscilla, you have one virtue, at least.
One can always tell just where to find you. You are
sure to be on the opposition side."

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 129

She had a faculty of always seeing how the other side
looked. She had a curious sympathy with it as well.
And though she was not an irresolute woman, she did
sometimes have a longing to go over to the enemy
when it was very attractive.

She listened now — and nodded at Mrs. Leverett's rea
soning, adding the pungency of her sniff. Betty's heart
dropped like lead. True, she had not really counted on
Aunt Priscilla's influence.

" I just do suppose if 'Lecty was ill and alone, and
wanted Betty, there'd be no difficulty. It's the question
between work and play. There wan't much time to play
when I was young, and now I wish I had some of the
work, since I'm too old to play. I do believe the thing
ought to be evened up."

This was rather non-committal, but the girl's heart
rose a little.

" Oh, if 'Lecty was ill — but you know, Aunt Priscilla,
they keep a man beside the girl, and it seems to me she
is always having a nurse when the children are ailing, or
a woman in to sew, or some extra help. She doesn't
need Betty, and it seems as if I did."

" Now, if that little young one was good for any
thing! "

" She's at her lessons all the time, and she must learn
to sew. I should have been ashamed of my girls if they
had not known how to make one single garment by the
time they were ten year old."

" But Doris isn't ten," interposed Betty. " And here
is Electa's letter, Aunt Priscilla."

" No, I don't see how I can spare Betty," said Mrs.
Leverett decisively.

Aunt Priscilla took out her glasses and polished them
and then adjusted them to her rather high nose.

" Well, 'Lecty's got to be quite quality, hasn't she?

130 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

And Matthias, too. I suppose it's proper to give folks
their whole name when they're getting up in the world
and going to legislatures. But land! I remember Mat
King when he was a patched-up, barefooted little boy.
He was always hanging after 'Lecty, and your uncle
thought she might have done better. 'Lecty was real
good-looking. And now they're top of the heap with
menservants and maidservants, and goodness knows
what all."

" Yes, they have prospered remarkably."

" The Kings were a nice family. My, how Mis' King
did keep them children, five of them, when their father
died, and not a black sheep among them! Theron's a
big sea captain, and Zenas in Washington building up the
Capitol, and I dare say Mat is thinking of being sent to
Congress. Joe is in the Army, and the young one keeps
his mother a lady in New York, I've heard say. Mis'
King deserves some reward."

Betty glanced up in surprise. It was seldom Aunt
Priscilla praised in this wholesale fashion.

" And this about the hat is just queer, Betty. You
should have seen old Madam Clarissa Bowdoin, who
came to call yesterday, with a fine sleigh and driver and
footman. She just holds on to this world's good things,
I tell you, and she's past seventy. My, how she was
trigged out in a black satin pelisse lined with fur ! And
she had a black beaver bonnet or hat, whatever you call
it, with a big bow on top, and two black feathers flying.
I should hate to have my feathers whip all out in such a
windy day."

" Oh, yes, that is the first style," said Betty. " Hart
ford can't keep it all."

" Hartford can't hold a candle to Boston, even if Mat
King is there. Stands to reason we can get fashions just
as soon here, if theirs do come from New York. Madam

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 131

was mighty fine. You see, I do have some grand friends,
Betty. Your uncle was a man well thought of."

" Madam Bowdoin holds her age wonderfully," said
Mrs. Leverett.

" Yes. But she's never done a day's work in her life,
and I don't remember when I didn't work. Let me see
— I've most forgot the thread of my discourse. Oh, you
never would believe, Betty, that twenty year ago there
was just such a fashion. I had a white beaver — what
possessed me to get it I don't know. Everything was
awful high. I had an idea that white would be rather
plain, but when it had that great bow on top, and strings
a full finger wide — well, I didn't even dare show it to
your uncle ! So I packed it away with white wax and in
a linen towel, and when she'd gone yesterday I went and
looked at it. 'Taint white now, but it's just the color of
rich cream when it's stood twenty-four hours or so.
Fursisee, they were just as much alike as two peas except
as to color and the feathers. I declare I was beat ! Now,
if you were going to be married, Betty, it might do for a
wedding hat."

" But I'm not going to be married," with a sigh.

" I should hope not," said her mother — " at sixteen."

" My sister Patty was married when she was sixteen,
and Submit when she was seventeen. The oldest girls
went off in a hurry, so the others had to fill their places.
Well — it just amazes me reading about this bonnet. And
whatever I'll do with mine except to give it away, I don't
know. I did think once of having it dyed. But the bow
on top was so handsome, and I've kept paper wadded up
inside, and it hasn't flatted down a mite. Now, Eliza
beth, she has that silk we all thought so foolish, and her
brown frock and pelisse will be just the thing to travel
in. And maybe I could find something else. The
things will be scattered when I am dead and gone, and

132 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

I might as well have the good of giving them away.
Most of the girls are married off and have husbands to
provide for them. I used to think I'd take some orphan
body to train and sort of fill Polly's place, for she
grows more unreliable every day. Yet I do suppose it's
Christian charity to keep her. And young folks are so
trifling."

" Go make a cup of tea, Betty," said Mrs. Leverett.

" Now, Elizabeth," when Betty had shut the door,
" I don't see why you mightn't as well let Betty go as
not. 'Tisn't as if it was among strangers. And there's
really no telling what may happen next year. We
haven't any promise of that."

Mrs. Leverett looked up in surprise.

" Tisn't every day such a chance comes to hand. She
couldn't go alone on a journey like that. And 'Lecty
seems quite lotting on it."

" But Betty's just started in at housekeeping, and she
would forget so much."

" Betty started in full six months ago. And the world
swings round so fast I dare say what she learns will be
as old-fashioned as the hills in a few years. I didn't do
the way my mother taught me — husband used to laugh
me out of it. She'll have time enough to learn."

The tea, a biscuit, and a piece of pie came in in tempt
ing array. Aunt Priscilla was at her second cup
when Jonas Field arrived, good ten minutes before the
time.

" You come over to-morrow, Betty," said Aunt Pris
cilla. " You and Dorothy just take a run ; it'll do you
good. That child will turn into a book next. She's got
some of the Adams streaks in her. And girls don't need
so much book learning. Solomon's wise, and he don't
even know his letters."

That made Doris laugh. She was getting quite used

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 133

to Aunt Priscilla. She rose and made a pretty courtesy,
and said she would like to come.

Polly had forgotten to light the lamp. She had been
nursing Solomon, and the fire had burned low. Aunt
Priscilla scolded, to be sure. Polly was getting rather
deaf as well.

" It's warm out in the kitchen," said Polly.

" I want it warm here. I aint going to begin to
save on firing at my time of life ! I have enough to last
me out, and I don't suppose anybody will thank me for
the rest. Bring in some logs."

Aunt Priscilla sat with a shawl around her until the
cheerful warmth began to diffuse itself and the blaze
lightened up the room. Polly out in the kitchen was re
hearsing her woes to Solomon.

" It's my 'pinion if missus lives much longer she'll be
queerer'n Dick's hatband. That just wouldn't lay any
how, I've heerd tell, though I don't know who Dick was
and what he'd been doing, but he was mighty queer.
'Pears to me he must a-lived before the war when Gen
eral Washington licked the English. And there's no
suitin' missus. First it's too hot and you're 'stravagant,
then it's too cold and she wants to burn up all the wood
in creation ! "

Aunt Priscilla watched the flame of the dancing scar
let, blue, and leaping white-capped arrows that shot up,
and out of the side of one eye she saw a picture on the
end of the braided rug — a little girl with a cloud of light
curls sitting there with a great gray cat in her lap. The
room was so much less lonely then. Perhaps she was
getting old, real old, with a weakness for human kind.
Was that a sign? She did enjoy the runs over to the
Leveretts'. What would happen if she should not be
able to go out!

She gave a little shudder over that. Of all the large

134 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

family of sisters and brothers there was no one living
very near or dear to her. She was next to the youngest.
They had all married, some had died, one brother had
gone to the Carolinas and found the climate so agreeable
he had settled there. One sister had gone back to Eng
land. There were some nieces and nephews, but in the
early part of her married life Mr. Perkins had objected
to any of them making a home at his house. " We have
no children of our own," he said, " and I take it as a sign
that if the Lord had meant us to care for any, he would
have sent them direct to us, and not had us taking them
in at second-hand."

They had both grown selfish and only considered their
own wants and comforts. But the years of solitude
looked less and less inviting to the woman, who had
been born with a large social side that had met with a
pinch here, been lopped off there, and crowded in an
other person's measure. If the person had not been up
right, scrupulously just in his dealings, and a good pro
vider, that would have altered her respect for him. And
wives were to obey their husbands, just as children were
trained to obey their parents.

But children were having ideas of their own now.
Well, when she was sixteen she went to Marblehead and
spent a summer with her sister Esther, who was having
hard times then with her flock of little children, and who
a few years after had given up the struggle. Mr. Green
had married again and gone out to the lake countries and
started a sawmill, where there were forests to his hand.

But this long-ago summer had been an epoch in her
life. She had baked and brewed, swept and scrubbed,
cooked and put in her spare time spinning, while poor
Esther sewed and took care of a very cross pair of twins
and crawled about a little. There had been some merry
making that would hardly have been allowed at home,

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 135

and a young man who had sat on the doorstep and talked,
who had taken her driving, and with whom she had
wickedly and frivolously danced one afternoon when a
party of young people had a merrymaking after the hay
was in. It was the only time in her life she had ever
danced, and it was a glimpse of fairy delight to her. But
she was frightened half to death when she came home,
and began to have two sides to her life, and she had never
gotten rid of the other side.

She had a vague idea that next summer she would go
again. Meanwhile Mr. Perkins began to come. There
was an older sister, and no one surmised it was Priscilla,
until in March, when he spoke to Priscilla's father.

" I declare I was clear beat," said the worthy parent.
" Seems to me Martha would be more suitable, but his
heart's set on Priscilla. He's a good, steady man, fore
handed and all that, and will make her a good husband,
and she'll keep growing older. There is nothing to say
against it."

The idea that Priscilla would say anything was not
entertained for a moment. Mr. Perkins began to walk
home from church with her and come to tea on Sunday
evening, and it was soon noised about that they were
keeping steady company. Martha went to Marblehead
that summer and one of the twins died. In the fall Pris
cilla was married and went to housekeeping in King
Street, over her husband's place of business. She was
engrossed with her life, but she dreamed sometimes of
the other side and the young man who had remarked
upon the gowns she wore and put roses in her hair, and
she had ideas of lace and ribbons and the vanities of the
world in that early married period. Her attire was rich
but severely plain; she was not stinted in anything. She
was even allowed to " lay by " on her own account, which
meant saving up a little money. She made a good, care-

T36 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ful wife. And some months before he died, touched by
her attentive care, her husband said :

" Silla, I don't see but you might as well have all I'm
worth, as to divide it round in the family. They will be
disappointed, I suppose, but they haven't earned nor
saved. You have been a good wife, and you just take
your comfort on it when I'm gone. Then if you should
feel minded to give back some of it — why, that's your
affair."

The Perkins family had not liked it very well. They
knew Aunt Priscilla would marry again, and all that
money go to a second husband. But she had not
married, though there had been opportunities. Later on
she almost wished she had. She had entertained plans
of taking a girl to bring up, and had considered this little
orphaned Adams girl, — who she had imagined in a vague
way would be glad of a good home with a prospect of
some money, — if she behaved herself rightly. She had
pictured a stout, red-cheeked girl who needed training,
and not a fine little lady like Doris Adams.

But she was glad Doris had sat there on the rug with
the cat in her lap. And she was glad there had been the
summer at Marblehead, and the young man who had
said more with his eyes than with his lips. He had never
married, and had been among the earliest to lay down
his life for his country. She always felt that in a way
he belonged to her. And if in youth she had had one
good time, why shouldn't Betty? Perhaps Betty might
marry in some sensible way that would be for the
best, and this visit at Hartford would illume all her
life.

There were things about it she had never confessed.
When her conscience upbraided her mightily she called
them sins and prayed over them. There were other mat
ters — the white bonnet had been one. She had pur-

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 137

chased it of a friend who was going in mourning, who
had made her try it on, and said :

" Just look at yourself in the glass, Priscilla Perkins.
You never had anything half so becoming. You look
five years younger! "

She did look in the glass. She could have pirouetted
around the room in delight. She was in love with her
pretty youthful face.

So she bought the hat — at a bargain, of course. She
put it away when it came home, and visited it surrepti
tiously, but somehow never had the courage to confess,
or to propose wearing it, though other women of her
age indulged in as much and more gayety. In the spring
she bought a new silk gown, a gray with a kind of lilac
tint, and cut off the breadths to make sure of it.

Mr. Perkins viewed it critically.

" I'm not quite certain, Priscilla, that it is appropriate.
And a brown would give you so much more good wear.
It looks too — too youthful."

He never remembered there were fifteen years between
himself and Priscilla.

" I — I think I would change it."

" Oh," with the best accent of regret she could assume,
" I have cut off the breadths and begun to sew them
up. It's the spring color. And summer is coming."

" Uu — um " with a reluctant nod.

She wore it to a christening and a wedding, but the
real delight in it had to be smothered. And when her
husband proposed she should have it dyed she laid it
away.

There were other foolish indulgences. Bows and
artificial flowers that she had put on bonnets and worn
in her own room with locked doors, then pulled them
off and laid them away. She was so fond of pretty
things, gay things, the pleasures of life — and she was

i38 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

always relegated to the prose ! Other people wore finery
with a serene calmness, and went about their daily duties,
to church, on missions of mercy, and were well thought
of. Where was the sin? Her clothes cost quite as
much. Mr. Perkins was a close manager but not stingy
with his wife.

She used to think she would confess to her mother
about the dancing, but she never had. She ought to
bring out these " sins of the eye " and lay them before
her husband, but she never found the right moment and
the courage. She had meant to deal them out to the
Leverett girls, especially Electa — but Electa seemed to
prosper so amazingly! She must do something with
them, and clear up her life, sweep, and garnish before the
summons came. She was getting to be old now, and if
she went off suddenly someone would come in and take
possession and scatter her treasures. Likely as not it
would be the Perkinses, for she hadn't made any will.

Why shouldn't Betty have some of them and go off
on her good time. It wouldn't be housekeeping and
spinning and looking after fractious children. But those
evenings out on the stoop, and the timid invitations to
take a walk, the pressure of the hand, the smile out of the
eyes — oh, why

All her life she had been asking " Why? " — taking
the hard and distasteful because she thought there was a
virtue in it, not because she had been trained to believe
goodness must have a severe side and that really pleas
ant things were wicked. The " Whys " had never been
answered, much as she had prayed about them.

She would never take the girl to bring up now. As
for Doris Adams — Cousin Winthrop would be thinking
presently that the ground wasn't good enough for her
to walk on. So there was only Betty, unless she took up
some of the Perkins girls. Abby was rather nice. But,

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 139

after all, her father was only a half-brother to Aunt Pris-
cilla's husband. And she must make that will.

" Missus, aint you goin' to come to supper? I told you
'twas ready full five minutes ago," said an aggrieved
voice.

Aunt Priscilla sprang up and gave herself a kind of
mental shaking. She stepped around to avoid the little
girl on the rug with the cat in her lap. Polly went on
grumbling. The toast was cold, the tea had drawn too
long, and for once the mistress never said a word in
dispraise.

" She's goin' off," thought Polly. " That's a bad sign,
though she does sit over the fire a good deal, and you
can't tell by that. Land alive! I hope she'll live my
time out, or I'll sure have to go to the poorhouse ! "

Aunt Priscilla went back to her fire and the vision of
the little girl who had made a curious impression on her
by a kind of sweetness quite new in her experience. It
had disturbed her greatly. Nothing about the child had
been as she supposed.

Everybody went down to her, which meant that she
had some subtle, indescribable charm, but Aunt Pris
cilla would have said she had no dictionary words to ex
plain it, though there had been a speller and definer in
her day.

The little girl had come to " seven times " in the
tables. She had studied an hour, when Betty said they
had better go and get back by dark. Jamie boy gave a
little " snicker " as she shut her book. The disdain of
her young compeer was quite hard to bear, but she
meekly accepted the fact that she " wasn't smart." If
she had known how he longed to go with them, she
would have felt quite even, but he kept that to him
self.

All Boston was still hooded in snow, for every few days

140 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

there came a new fall. Oh, how beautiful it was!
Everybody walked in the middle of the street, — it was so
hard and smooth, — though you had to keep turning out
for vehicles, but one didn't meet them very often.

Boots were not made high for girls and women then,
but everybody had a pair of thick woolen stockings,
some of them with a leather sole on the outside, which
was more durable. The children pulled them well up
over their knees and kept good and warm. Some people
had leather leggings, but rubber boots had not been
invented.

Boys were out snowballing — girls, too, for that matter.
Someone sent a ball that flew all over Doris, but she only
laughed. She snowballed with little James now and
then.

So they were bright and merry when they reached the
sign of " Jonas Field," and Doris gave her pretty, rather
formal greeting. She was never quite sure of Aunt
Priscilla.

" I suppose you came to see Solomon ! " exclaimed that
lady.

" Not altogether," replied Doris.

" Well, he is out in the kitchen. And, Betty, what is
the prospect to-day? "

" Oh, Aunt Priscilla, I almost think I'll get off.
Father is on my side, and mother did really promise
'Lecty last summer. Mother couldn't get along alone,
you know, and Jimmie boy is doing so well at school
that she would like to keep him all winter. Father
knows of a girl who would be very glad to come in and
work for three dollars a month, though he says every
body gives four or more. But Mr. Eastman will be here
so soon. Father said I might get some things in
Hartford."

" We'll see what Boston has first," returned Aunt Pris-

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 141

cilia with a little snort. " I've been hunting over my
things."

People in those days thought it a great favor to have
clothes left to them, as you will see by old wills. And
occasionally the grandmothers brought out garments
beforehand, and did not wait until they were dead and
gone.

" I have a silk gown that I never wore above half a
dozen times. I could have it dyed, I suppose, but they're
so apt to get stringy afterward. Maybe you wouldn't
like it because it's a kind of gray. You're free to leave
it alone. I shan't be a mite put out."

The old spirit of holding on reasserted itself. Of
course, if Betty didn't like it, her duty would be done.

"Oh, Aunt Priscilla! It looks like moonlight over
the harbor. It's beautiful."

The elder woman had shaken it out and made ripples
with it, and Betty stood in admiring wonderment. It
looked to her like a wedding gown, but she knew Aunt
Priscilla's had been Canton crape, dyed brown first and
then black and then worn out. There was an old adage
to the effect that one never could get rich until one's
wedding clothes were worn out.

" It's spotted some, I find — just a faint kind of yellow,
but that may cut out. I never had any good of it," and
she sighed. " It isn't what you might call gay ; but, land
alive! I might as well have bought bright red! There's
plenty of it to make over. They weren't wearing such
skimping skirts then, and I had an extra breadth put in

so that it would all fade alike. Well " And she

gave a half-reluctant sigh.

" Why, I feel as if it ought to be saved for a wedding
gown," declared Betty, her eyes alight with pleasure.
" It's the most beautiful thing. Oh, Aunt Priscilla! "

A modern girl would have thrown her arms around

142 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Aunt Priscilla's neck and kissed her, if one could imagine
a modern girl being grateful for a gown a quarter of a
century old, except for masquerading purposes. People
who could remember the great Jonathan Edwards awak
ening still classed all outward demonstrations of regard
as carnal affections to be subdued. The poor old life
hungered now for a little human love without under
standing what its want really was, just as it had hun
gered for more than half a century.

" Well, child, maybe 'Lecty can plan to make some
thing out of it. You better just take it to her. And
here's a box of ribbons, things I've had no use for this
many a year. You see I had a way of saving up — I
didn't have much call for wearing such."

Aunt Priscilla felt that she was renouncing idols.
How many times she had fingered these things with
exquisite love and longing and a desire to wear them!
Madam Bowdoin, almost ten years older, wore her fine
ribbons and laces and her own snowy white hair in little
rings about her forehead. No one accused her of aping
youth. Aunt Priscilla had worn a false front under her
cap for many a year that was now a rusty, faded brown.
Her own white hair was cut off close.

" Oh, Aunt Priscilla, I think my ship has come in from
the Indies. I never can thank you enough. I'm so glad
you saved them. You see, times are hard, and if father
had to pay a girl for taking my place at home, he
wouldn't feel that he could afford me much finery. And
the journey, too. But I have only to pay from Spring
field to Boston, for Mr. Eastman has his own convey
ance — a nice big covered sleigh. And now all these
beautiful things! I feel as rich as a queen."

Doris had been standing there big-eyed and never
once asked for Solomon.

Aunt Priscilla began to fold the gown. It still had a

WHAT WINTER BROUGHT. 143

crackle and rustle delightful to hear. And there was a
roll of new pieces.

" Why, next summer I could have a lovely drawn
bonnet — only it does cost so much to have one made. I
wish I knew how," said Betty.

" I suppose — you don't want to see my old thing? "
rather contemptuously.

"The hat, do you mean? Oh, I just should! I've
thought so much about it, and how queer it is that old-
fashioned articles should come round."

" Every seven years, people say; but I don't believe it's
quite as often as that."

From the careful way it was pinned up, one would
never imagine it had been out that very morning. The
bows were filled with paper to keep them up, and bits of
paper crumpled up around, so they could not be crushed.
Its days of whiteness were over, but it was the loveliest,
softest cream tint, and looked as if it had just come over
from France. The beaver was almost like plush, and the
puffed satin lining inside was as fresh as if its reverse
plaits had just been laid in place.

" Oh, do put it on! " cried Doris eagerly.

Betty held the strings together under her fair round
chin.

"You look like a queen!" said the child admir
ingly.

" Why it is just as they are wearing them now, the tip
top style. 'Lecty couldn't have described this hat any
better if she had seen it. And if I can have it, Aunt Pris-
cilla, I shall not care a bit about feathers. It's beautiful
enough without."

" Yes, yes, take them all and have a good time with
them. Now you see if you can pack it up — you'll have
to learn."

Aunt Priscilla dropped into her chair. She had cast

144 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

out her life's temptations, and it had been a great
struggle.

" Not that way — make the bow stand up. The band
box is large enough. And give the strings a loose fold,
so. Now put that white paper over. It's like making a
gambrel roof. Then bring up the ends of the towel and
pin them. Polly shall go along and carry it home
for you."

" I'm a thousand times obliged. I wish I knew what
to do in return."

" Have a good time, but don't forget that a good time
is not all to life. Child — why do you look at me so? " for
Doris had come close to Aunt Priscilla and seemed
studying her.

" Were you ever a little girl, and what was your good
time like?"

Doris' wondering eyes were soft and seemed more
pitying than curious.

" No, I never was a little girl. There were no little
girls in my time." She jerked the words out in a spas
modic way, and put her hand to her heart as if there was
a pain or pressure. " When I was three year old I had
to take care of my little brother. I stood up on a bench
to wash dishes when I was four, and scoured milk-pans
and the pewter plates we used then. And at six I was
spinning on the little wheel and knitting stockings. I
went to school part of every year, and at thirteen I
was doing a woman's work. No, I never was a little
girl."

Doris put her soft hand over the one that had been
strained and made coarse and large in the joints, and
roughened as to skin while yet it was in its tender youth.
And all the pay there had been from her father's estate
had been three hundred dollars to each girl, the remain
der being divided evenly among the boys. She felt sud-

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 145

denly grateful to Hatfield Perkins for the easier times of
her married life.

" Now, both of you go out in the kitchen and get a
piece of Polly's fresh gingerbread. She hasn't lost her
art in that yet. Then you must run off home, for it will
soon be dark, and Betty will be needed about the
supper."

The gingerbread was splendid. Doris broke off little
crumbs and fed them to Solomon, and told him some
time she would come and spend the afternoon with him.
She should be so lonesome when Betty went away.

Polly carried the bandbox and bundle for them, and
Betty took the box of ribbons. Aunt Priscilla brought
out the light-stand and set her candle on it and turned
over the leaves of her old Bible to read about the daugh
ters of Zion with their tinkling feet and their cauls and
their round tires like the moon, the chains and the brace
lets and the bonnets, the earrings, the mantles, the
wimples and the crisping pins, the fine linen and the
hoods and the veils — and all these were to be done away
with! To be sure she did not really know what they all
were, but her few had been snares and a source of secret
idolatry for years and years. She had nothing to do
now but to consider the end of all things and prepare for
it. But there was the dreaded will yet to make. If only
there was someone who really cared about her!

CHAPTER X.

CONCERNING MANY THINGS.

\A7HEN Providence overruled, in the early part of

* the century, people generally gave in. The

stronger tide was called Providence. Perhaps there was

a small degree of fatalism in it. So Mrs. Leverett ac-

146 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

quiesced, and recalled the fact that she had promised
Electa that Betty should come.

Aunt Priscilla's generosity was astonishing. The
silken gown would not be made over until Betty reached
Hartford. She worked industriously on her white one,
but her mother found so many things for her to do.
Then Martha Grant came — a stout, hearty, pink-cheeked
country girl who knew how to " take hold," and was
glad of an opportunity to earn something toward a wed
ding gown. Doris was so interested that she hardly re
membered how much she should miss Betty, though
Warren promised to help her with her lessons.

So the trunk was packed. Luckily the bandbox could
go in it, for it was quite small. Most of the bandboxes
were immense affairs in which you could stow a good
many things besides the bonnet. Then they had a calico
cover with a stout cord run through the hem.

Mr. Eastman looked rather askance at the trunk — he
had so many budgets of his own, and for his wife. How
ever, they strapped it on the back securely, and the good-
bys were uttered for a whole month.

Doris had said hers in the morning. She could not
divest herself of a vague presentiment that something
would happen to keep Betty until to-morrow. But
Martha was to sit in her place at the table.

Now that the reign of slavery was over, the farmers'
girls from the country often came in for a while. They
were generally taken in as one of the family — indeed, few
of them would have come to be put down to the level of
a common servant. Many had their old slaves still liv
ing with them, and numbers of the quality preferred col
ored servants.

Jamie boy went out to snowball after dinner. Doris
worked a line across her sampler. She was going to be
gin the alphabet next. There were three kinds of letters.

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 147

Ordinary capitals like printing, small letters, and writ
ing capitals. These were very difficult, little girls
thought.

She put up her work presently, studied her spelling,
and went over " nine times." She could say the ten and
eleven perfectly, but that very day she had missed on
" nine times," and Mrs. Webb told her she had better
study it a little more.

" I do wonder if you will ever get through with the
multiplication tables ! " said Aunt Elizabeth.

Doris sighed. It was hard to be so slow at learning.

" ' Nine times ' floored me pretty well, I remember,"
confessed Martha Grant. " There's great difference in
children. Some have heads for figures and some don't.
My sister Catharine could go all round me. But she's
that dumb about sewing — I don't believe you ever saw
the beat! She just hates it. She'd like to teach
school!"

Doris was very glad to hear that someone else had
been slow.

Betty had been out to tea occasionally, and Doris tried
to make believe it was so now. They would have missed
her more but Martha was a great talker. There were
seven children at the Grants', and one son married.
They had a big farm and a good deal of stock. Martha's
lover had bought a farm also, with a small old house of
two rooms. He had to build a new barn, so they would
wait for their house. She had a nice cow she had raised,
a flock of twelve geese, and her father had promised her
the old mare and another cow. She wanted to be
married by planting time. She had a nice feather bed
and two pairs of pillows and five quilts, beside two wool
blankets.

Mrs. Leverett was a good deal interested in all this.
It took her back to her own early life. City girls did

148 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

come to have different ideas. There was something re
freshing in this very homeliness.

Martha knit and sewed as fast as she talked. Mrs.
Leverett said " she didn't let the grass grow under her
feet," and Doris wondered if she would tread it out in
the summer. Of course, it couldn't grow in the winter.

" Aunt Elizabeth," she said presently, in a sad little
voice, " am I to sleep all alone?"

" Oh dear, no. You would freeze to an icicle.
Martha will take Betty's place."

They wrapped up a piece of brick heated pretty well
when Doris went to bed. For it was desperately cold.
But the soft feathers came up all around one, and in a
little while she was as warm as toast. She did not even
wake when Martha came to bed. Sometimes Betty
cuddled the dear little human ball, and only half awake
Doris would return the hug and find a place to kiss,
whether it was cheek or chin.

" Aunt Elizabeth," when she came in from school one
day, " do you know that Christmas will be here soon —
next Tuesday? "

" Well, yes," deliberately, " it is supposed to be Christ
mas."

" But it really is," with child-like eagerness. " The
day on which Christ was born."

" The day that is kept in commemoration of the birth
of Christ. But some people try to remember every day
that Christ came to redeem the world. So that one day
is not any better than another."

Doris looked puzzled. " At home we always kept it,"
she said slowly. " Miss Arabella made a Christmas cake
and ever so many little ones. The boys came around to
sing Noel, and they were given a cake and a penny, and
we went to church."

" Yes; it is quite an English fashion. When you are

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 149

a larger girl and more used to our ways you will under
stand why we do not keep it."

" Don't you really keep it? " in surprise.

" No, my dear."

The tone was kind, but not encouraging to further
enlightenment. Doris experienced a great sense of dis
appointment. For a little while she was very home
sick for Betty. To have her away a whole month!
And a curious thing was that no one seemed really to
miss her and wish her back. Mrs. Leverett scanned the
weather and the almanac and hoped they would get
safely to Springfield without a storm. Mr. Leverett
counted up the time. It had not stormed yet.

No Christmas and no Betty. Not even a wise old cat
like Solomon, or a playful, amusing little kitten. The
school children stared when she talked about Christmas.

Two big tears fell on her book. She was frightened,
for she had not meant to cry. And now a sense of deso
lation rushed over her. Oh, what could she do without
Betty!

Then a sleigh stopped at the door. She ran to the
window, and when she saw that it was Uncle Winthrop
she was out of the door like a flash.

"Well, little one?" he said in pleasant inquiry, which
seemed to comprehend a great deal. " How do you get
along without Betty? Come in out of the cold. I've
just been wondering if you would like to come over and
keep Christmas with me. I believe they do not have any
Christmas here."

" No, they do not. Oh, Uncle Win, I should be so
glad to come, if I wouldn't trouble you! "

The eyes were full of entreating light.

" I have been thinking about it a day or two. And
Recompense is quite willing. The trouble really would
be hers, you know."

150 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I would try and not make any trouble."

" Oh, it was where we should put you to sleep this cold
weather. You would be lost in the great guest chamber.
But Recompense arranged it all. She has put up a little
cot in the corner of her room. I insisted last winter that
she should keep a fire; she is a little troubled with rheu
matism. And now she enjoys the warmth very much."

" Oh, how good you are! "

She was smiling now and dancing around on one foot.
He smiled too.

" Where's Aunt Elizabeth? " said Uncle Winthrop.

Doris ran to the kitchen and, not seeing her, made the
same inquiry.

" She's gone up to the storeroom to find a lot of
woolen patches for me, and I'm going to start another
quilt. She said she'd never use them in the days of
creation, and they wan't but six. She'll be down in a
minute," said Martha.

" Uncle Winthrop," going back to him beside the fire,
and wrinkling up her brow a little, " is not Christmas
truly Christmas? Has anyone made a mistake about
it?"

" My child, everybody does not keep it in the same
manner, Sometime you will learn about the brave
heroes who came over and settled in a strange land,
fought Indians and wild beasts, and then fought again
for liberty, and why they differed from their brethren.
But I always keep it; and I thought now that Betty was
gone you might like to come and go to church with me."

" Oh, I shall be glad to! " with a joyful smile.

Aunt Elizabeth entered. Cousin Winthrop presented
his petition that he should take Doris over this after
noon and bring her back on Wednesday, unless there
was to be no school all the week.

" I'm afraid she will bother Recompense. You're so

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 151

little used to children, I keep my hand in with grand
children," smilingly.

" No word from Betty yet? About Doris now — oh,
you need not be afraid; I think Recompense is quite in
the notion."

" Well, if you think best. Doris isn't a mite of
trouble, I will say that. No, we can't hear from Betty
before to-morrow. Mr. Eastman thought likely he'd
find someone coming right back from Springfield, and I
charged Betty to send if she could. I'm glad there has
been no snow so far."

" Very fair winter weather. How is Foster and busi
ness?"

" Desperately dull, both of them," and Mrs. Leverett
gave a piquant nod that would have done Betty credit.

" Go get your other clothes, Doris, and Martha will
see to you. And two white aprons. Recompense keeps
her house as clean as a pink, and you couldn't get soiled
if you rolled round the floor. But dirt doesn't stick to
Doris. There, run along, child."

Martha scrubbed her rigorously, and then helped her
dress. She came back bright as a new pin, with her two
high-necked aprons in her hand, and her nightgown,
which Aunt Elizabeth put in her big black camlet bag.

" I wish you'd see that she studies a little, Winthrop.
She is so behind in some things."

He nodded. Then Doris put on her hood and cloak
and said good-by to Martha, while she kissed Aunt
Elizabeth and left a message for the rest.

" It's early, so we will take a little ride around," he
said, wrapping her up snug and warm.

The plan had been in his mind for several days. The
evening before he had broached it to Recompense. Not
but what he was master in his own house, but he hardly
knew how to plan for a child.

152 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" If Doris was a boy I could put him on the big sofa in
my room. Still, Cato can look after a fire in the guest
chamber. It would be too cruel to put a child alone in
that great cold barn."

There was a very obstinate impression that it was
healthy to sleep in cold rooms, so people shut themselves
up pretty close, and sometimes drew the bedclothes over
their heads. But Winthrop Adams had a rather luxuri
ous side to his nature; he called it a premonition of old
age. He kept a fire in his dressing room, where he often
sat and read a while at night. His sleeping room ad
joined it.

" Why, we might bring a cot in my room," she said.
" I remember how the child delights in a fire. She's
such a delicate-looking little thing."

" She is standing our winter very well and goes to
school every day. Fm afraid she might disturb you? "

" Not if she has a bed by herself. And there is the
corner jog; the cot will just fit into it."

When they put it there in the morning it looked as if
it must have taken root long ago. Then Recompense
arranged a nice dressing table with a white cover and a
pretty bowl and ewer, and a low chair beside it covered
with chintz cushions. Her own high-post bedstead had
curtains all around it of English damask, and the curi
ously carved high-back chairs had cushions tied in of
the same material. There was no carpet on the painted
floor, but a rug beside the bed and one at the stand, and a
great braided square before the fire. It was a well-fur
nished room for the times, though that of Mr. Adams was
rather more luxurious.

He was very glad that Recompense had assented so
readily, for he was beginning to feel that he ought to
take a deeper interest in his little ward.

There were numberless sleighs out on some of the

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 153

favorite thoroughfares. For even now, in spite of the
complaints of hard times, there was a good deal of real
wealth in Boston, fine equipages with colored coachmen
and footmen. There were handsome houses with lawns
and gardens, some of them having orchards besides.
There were rich furnishings as well, from France and
England and from the East. There were china and plate
and glass proud of their age, having come through
several generations.

And though there were shades and degrees of social
position, there was a fine breeding among the richer
people and a kind of pride among the poorer ones.
Tli ere were occasions when they mingled with an agree
able courtesy, yet each side kept its proper and dis
tinctive relations; real worth was respected and dignified
living held in esteem. From a printer's boy, Benjamin
Franklin had stood before kings and added luster to his
country. From a farm at Braintree had come one of the
famous Adamses and his not less notable wife, who had
admirably filled the position of the first lady of the
land.

Yet the odd, narrow, crooked streets of a hundred
years before were running everywhere, occasionally
broadened and straightened. There were still wide
spaces and pasture fields, declivities where the barberry
bush and locust and May flower grew undisturbed.
There were quaint nooks with legends, made famous
since by eloquent pens; there were curious old shops
designated by queer sign and symbols.

But even the pleasures were taken in a leisurely, digni
fied way. There was no wild rush to stand at the head
or to outdo a neighbor, or astonish those who might be
looking on and could not participate.

Doris enjoyed it wonderfully. She had a sudden ac
cession of subtle pride when some fine old gentleman

154 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

bowed to Uncle Win, or a sleigh full of elegantly attired
ladies smiled and nodded. There were large hats fram
ing in pretty faces, and bows and nodding plumes on the
top such as Mrs. King had written about. Oh, how
lovely Betty would look in hers! What was Hartford
like; and New Haven, with its college; then, farther
on, New York; and Washington, where the Presidents
lived while they held office? She was learning so many
things about this new home.

Over here on the Common the boys were drawn up in
two lines and snowballing as if it was all in dead earnest.
And this was the rambling old house with its big porch
and stepping block, and its delightful welcome.

" Are you not most frozen? " asked Miss Recompense.
" Here is the fire you like so much. Take off your
cloak and hood. We are very glad to have you come
and make us a visit."

" Oh, are you? " Doris' face was a gleam of delight.
"And I am glad to come. I was beginning to feel
dreadfully lonesome without Betty. I ought not when
there were so many left," and a bright color suffused her
face. " Then there is little James."

" And we have no small people."

" I never had any over home, you know. And so
many people here have such numbers of brothers and
sisters. It must be delightful."

" But they are not all little at once."

" No," laughed Doris. " I should like to be some
where in the middle. Babies are so cunning, when they
don't cry."

Miss Recompense smiled at that.

There was a comfortable low chair for Doris, and
Uncle Win found her seated there, the ruddy firelight
throwing up her face like a painting. Miss Recompense
went out to see about the supper. There was a good-

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 155

natured black woman in the kitchen to do the cooking,
and Cato, who did the outside work and waited on
Dinah and Miss Recompense — a tall, sedate, rather pom
pous colored man.

Some indefinable charm about the house appealed to
Doris. The table was arranged in such an attractive
manner. Nothing could be more delightful than Aunt
Elizabeth's cooking, but she stopped short at an in
visible something. The china was saved for company,
though there was one pretty cup they always gave to
Aunt Priscilla. The everyday dishes were earthen, such
as ordinary people used, and being of rather poor glaze
they soon checked. Doris knew these pretty plates and
the tall cream jug and sugar dish had not been brought
out especially for her, though she had supposed they
were when they all came over to a company tea.

She started so when Uncle Winthrop addressed her in
French, and glanced at him in amaze; then turned to a
pink glow and laughed as she collected her scattered wits
to answer.

What a soft, exquisite accent the child had! Miss
Recompense paused in her pouring tea to listen.

Uncle Win smiled and continued. They were around
the pretty tea table in a sort of triangle. Uncle Win
passed the thin, dainty slices of bread. Miss Recom
pense, when she was done with the tea, passed the cold
chicken. Then there were cheese and two kinds of pre
serves, plain cake and fruit cake.

Children rarely drank tea, so Doris had some milk in
a glass which was cut with just a sparkle here and there
that the light caught and made brilliant.

" How you can understand any such talk as that beats
me," said Miss Recompense in a sort of helpless fashion
as she glanced from one to the other.

" And if we were abroad talking English the for-

156 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

eigners would say the same thing," replied Mr.
Adams.

" But there is some sense in English."

He laughed a little. " And if we lived in China we
would think there was a good deal of sense in Chinese,
which is said to be one of the queerest languages in the
world."

We did not know very much about China in those
days, and our knowledge was chiefly gleaned from rather
rude maps and some old histories, and the wonderful
tales of sea captains.

" It would be a pity for you to fall back when you are
such a good scholar," Uncle Win said, looking over to
Doris. " One forgets quite easily. I find I am a little
lame. But you like your school, and it is near by this
cold weather. Perhaps you and I can keep up enough
interest to exercise our memories. You have some
French books? "

" Two or three. I tried to read ' Paul and Virginia '
to Betty, but it took so long to tell the story over that
she didn't get interested. There were so many lessons,
too."

She did not say that Aunt Elizabeth had discounte
nanced it. People were horrified by French novels
in those days. Rousseau and Voltaire had been held in
some degree responsible for the terrible French Revolu
tion. And people shuddered at the name of Tom Paine.

At first the Colonies, as they were still largely called,
had been very much interested in the new French Repub
lic. Lafayette had been so impressed with the idea of a
government of the people when he had lent his assistance
to America, that he had joined heartily in a plan for the
regeneration of France. But after the king was exe
cuted, Sunday abolished, and the government passed
into the hands of tyrants who shouted " liberty " and

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 157

yet brought about the slavery of terror, he and many
others had stood aside — indeed, left their beloved city to
the mob. Then had come the first strong and promis
ing theories of Napoleon. He had been first Consul,
then Consul for life, then Emperor, and was now the
scourge of Europe.

To Mrs. Leverett all French books were as actors and
plays, to be shunned. That any little girl should have
read a French story or be able to repeat French verses
was quite horrifying. She had a feeling that it really be
littled the Bible to appear in the French language.

" Yes," returned Uncle Winthrop assentingly. He
could understand the situation, for he knew Mrs. Lev-
erett's prejudices were very strong, and continuous.
That she was a thoroughly good and upright woman he
readily admitted.

The supper being finished they went to the cozy hall
fire again. You had to sit near it to keep comfortable,
for the rooms were large in those days and the outer
edges chilly. Some people were putting up great
stoves in their halls and the high pipes warmed the stairs
and all around.

Miss Recompense brought out some knitting. She
was making a spread in small squares, — red, white, and
blue, — and it would be very fine when it was done.
Doris was very much interested when she laid down the
squares to display the pattern.

" I suppose you knit? " remarked Miss Recompense.

" No. I don't know how. Betty showed me a little.
And Aunt Elizabeth is going to teach me to make a
stocking. It seems very easy when you see other people
do it," and Doris sighed. " But I am afraid I am not
very smart about a good many things besides tables."

That honest admission rather annoyed Uncle Win.
Elizabeth had said it as well. For his part he did not

158 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

see that reading the Bible through by the time you were
eight years old and knitting a pile of stockings was
proof of extraordinary ability.

" What kind of fancy work can you do? " asked Miss
Recompense.

" I've begun a sampler. That isn't hard. And Miss
Arabella taught me to hem and to darn and to make
lace."

" Make lace! What kind of lace? "

" Like the beautiful lace Madam Sheafe makes. Only
I never did any so wide. But Miss Arabella used to.
Betty took me there one afternoon. Madam Sheafe has
such a lovely little house. And, oh, Uncle Win, she can
talk French a little."

He smiled and nodded.

" You see," began Doris with sweet seriousness,
" there was no one to make shirts for, and I suppose Miss
Arabella thought it wasn't worth while. But I hemmed
some on Uncle Leverett's, and Aunt Elizabeth said it
was very nicely done."

" I dare say." She looked as if anything she under
took would be nicely done, Miss Recompense thought.

" Betty was learning housekeeping when she went
to Hartford. I think that is very nice. To make pies
and bread and cake, and roast chickens and turkeys and
everything. But little girls have to go to school first.
Six years is a long time, isn't it?"

A half-smile crossed the grave face of Miss Recom
pense.

" It seems a long time to a little girl, no doubt, but
when you are older it passes very rapidly. There are
years that prove all too short for the work crowded in
them, and then they begin to lengthen again, though I
suppose that is because we no longer hurry to get a cer
tain amount of work done."

CONCERNING MANY THINGS. 159

" I wish the afternoons could be longer."

" They will be in May. I like the long afternoons
too, though the winter evenings by a cheerful fire are
very enjoyable."

" The world is so beautiful," said Doris, " that you
can hardly tell which you do like best. Only the sum
mer, with its flowers and the sweet, green out-of-doors,
fills one with a kind of thanksgiving. Why did they not
have Thanksgiving in the summer? "

" Because we give thanks for a bountiful harvest."

" Oh," Doris responded.

Uncle Winthrop watched her as she chattered on, her
voice like a soft, purling rill. Presently Dinah called
Miss Recompense out in the kitchen to consult her about
the breakfast, for she went to bed as soon as she had the
kitchen set to rights. Then Doris glanced over to him
in a shy, asking fashion, and brought her chair to his
side. He inquired about Father Langhorne, and found
he had been educated in Paris, and was really a Roman
priest.

Perhaps it was the province of childhood to see good
in everybody. Or was it due to the simple life, the ab
sence of that introspection, which had already done so
much to make the New England conscience supersen-
sitive and strenuous.

When Miss Recompense returned she found them
deep in French again. Doris laughed softly when Uncle
Winthrop blundered a little, and perhaps he did it now
and then purposely.

The big old clock that said " Forever, never! " long
before Longfellow's time, measured off nine hours.

" It's funny," said Doris, " but I'm not a bit sleepy,
and at Uncle Leverett's I almost nod, sometimes. May
be it's the French."

" I should not wonder," and Uncle Win smiled.

!6o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" We will both go — it is about my time," remarked
Miss Recompense. " Your uncle sits up all hours of the
night."

" And would like to sleep all hours of the morning,"
he returned humorously, " but Miss Recompense won't
let me. If she raises her little finger the whole house
moves."

" Then she doesn't raise it very often," said that lady.
" But it does seem a sin to sleep away good wholesome
daylight."

" There were some candlesticks on a kind of secretary
with a shelf-like top, and she lighted one, stepping out
in the kitchen to see that all was safe and to bid Cato
lock up. When she returned the candle was sending
out its cheerful beam, so she nodded to Doris, who said
good-night to Uncle Winthrop and followed her.

Doris had an odd, company-like feeling. Her little bed
was pretty, and the room had a fragrance of summer
time, of roses and lavender. Miss Recompense stirred
the fire and put on a big log. Then she sat down by
the stand and read her nightly chapter, turning a little
to give Doris a kind of privacy.

" I hope you will sleep well. Your uncle thought
you would be lonesome in the guest chamber."

" I would ever so much rather be here. And the bed
is so small and cunning, just the bed for a little girl.
Thank you ever so many times."

She said her prayers and breathed a soft good-night
to the fire. And though she did not feel strange nor
sleepy, and wondered about Betty and a dozen other
things, one of the last remembrances was the glimmer of
the candle on the wall, and the soft rustling of the blaze,
that said " Snow, snow, snow."

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 161

CHAPTER XL

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS.

C URE enough, it snowed the next morning — one of the
**^ soft, clinging storms that loaded every branch with
a furry aspect, made mounds of the shrubs, and wrapped
the south sides of the houses with a mantle of dazzling
whiteness. Now and then a patch fell off, and a long
pendant would swing from the trees, and finally drop.
It was a delight to see them.

The breakfast was laid on the same small table in use
last night, but Cato brought in everything hot, and
" waited " as Barby used at home. Uncle Winthrop said
she looked bright as a rose, and her cheeks had a deli
cate pink.

Afterward he invited her in his study and told her she
might look about and perhaps find a book to entertain
herself with while he wrote some letters.

" Thank you. I hope I shall not disturb you."

" Oh, no." He felt somehow he could answer for her.
She was so gentle in her movements, and he really
wanted to see how he liked having a little girl about.
There was a vague idea in his mind that he might decide
to have her here some day, since Miss Recompense had
taken a sort of fancy to her.

Oh, what a luxury it was to wander softly about and
read titles and look at bindings and speculate on what
she would like! They had very few books at Uncle Lev-
erett's. Some volume of sermons, a few biographies
that she had found rather dreary, a history of the French-
Canadian War, and some of Poor Richard's Almanacs,
which she thought the most amusing of all.

There was a, circulating library that Warren patronized

162 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

occasionally. There was also the nucleus of a free
library, but so far people had been too busy to think
much about reading, except the scholarly minds. Books
were expensive, too, and very few persons accumulated
any stock of them. Of Mr. Adams' collection some had
come to him from his father, and Cousin Charles, who
had been called a " queer stick," had some English,
Latin, and Italian poets that he had bequeathed to the
book lover.

Winthrop Adams was a collector of several things be
side books. Now and then at an auction sale on some
one's death he picked up odd articles that were of value.
And so his study was a kind of conglomerate. He had a
cabinet of coins from different parts of the world and
curios from India and Egypt. Napoleon's campaign in
Egypt had awakened a good deal of interest in the coun
try of the Pharaohs.

Doris was so still he glanced around presently. She
was curled up in the corner of the chimney, a book on
her knees and her head bent over until the curls fell
about her in a cloud. When Elizabeth had spoken of the
benefit it might be to a growing child to have them cut
he had protested at once. They were rarely beautiful, he
decided now, gleaming gold in the firelight.

She had a feeling presently that someone was looking
at her, so she raised her head, shook away the curls, and
smiled.

" Did you find something? "

" ' The Vicar of Wakefield/ Uncle Winthrop. Oh, it
is delightful! You said I might read anything!" with
a touch of hesitation.

" That was quite a wide permission," and he smiled.
He couldn't see how that would hurt anyone, but he was
not sure of a girl's reading.

" I opened it at a picture — ' Preparing Moses for the

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 163

Fair.' It made me think of Betty going to Hartford. It
was so interesting to wonder what you would do, and
then to have things happen just right. Aunt Priscilla
was so nice. I thought I couldn't like her at first, but I
do now. You can't find out all about anyone in a
minute, can you?"

" I think not," rather humorously.

" So then I turned to the first of the book. And the
Vicar's wife must have known a good deal to read with
out much spelling. There are some awful hard words in
the back of Betty's spelling book. Do you suppose she
learned tables and all that? "

" I don't believe she did."

" And she could keep house."

" They were a notable couple."

He took up his pen again and she turned to her book.

Suddenly a flood of golden sunshine poured across the
floor, fairly dimming the fire.

"Oh, Uncle Winthrop!" With her book pressed
tightly against her body, she flew over to the window like
a bird, disturbing nothing, and making only a soft flutter.

"Isn't it glorious!"

The edges of the snow everywhere were illumined with
the prismatic rays in proper order. The tree branches
caught them, the corners of the houses, the window
hoods, the straggling bushes, the fences. Everywhere
the sublime beauty was repeated until everything quiv
ered with the excess.

" It is like the New Jerusalem," she said.

The air had softened a great deal. The sun on the
window panes spoke of latent warmth. A slight breeze
stirred the air, and down came the clinging snow in
showers, leaving the trees bare and brown, except the
few evergreens.

" It is warmer," Mr. Adams said. " Though it is near-

164 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ing noon, the warmest part of the day. And so far you
have stood the cold weather very well, little Doris," smil
ing down in the eager face.

" I've snowballed too, and it is real fun. I can slide
ever so far, and I've ridden on Jimmie boy's sled. Betty
thinks I would soon learn to skate. I would like to very
much."

"Then you must have some skates."

" But I am afraid Betty may not come home in time to
teach me."

" Someone else might."

" Do you skate? " in soft inquiry.

" Not now; I used to. But I am not a young man,
and not very energetic. I like warm firesides and a nice
book. I am afraid I shall make an ease-loving old man."

" But isn't it right to be " — what word would express
it? — " happy, comfortable? For why should you try to
make anyone happy if it was wrong?

" It is not wrong."

The sky was very blue now, and the snow began to
have an ethereal look. Cato came out to shovel and
clear away some paths. He struck the young hemlocks
and firs with a stick and beat the snow out of them.

" The snow settles in the branches and sometimes
freezes and that kills a little place," said Uncle Winthrop
in answer to the questioning eyes.

They walked back to the table, with his arm over her
shoulder.

" I am done my writing for to-day," he began. " I
wonder if you would mind answering a few questions?"

" Oh, no — if I knew the answers," smilingly.

" Then tell me first of all how far you went in Latin.
This is a grammar."

She turned some leaves. " I didn't know it very well,"
skimming over the pages. " It was not like this book,

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 165

and " — hanging her head a little — " I did not like it —
that and the sums."

" Who put you to studying it? "

" Oh, the father did. He said Latin was the key to
all other languages. I wonder how many I shall have to
learn? Miss Arabella said it was foolishness, except the
French."

" Let me hear you read a little. This is not difficult."

He was not sure there was any call for a girl to know
Latin. French seemed quite necessary.

She began in a hesitating manner and blundered some
what at first, but as she went on gained courage, her
voice growing firmer and clearer.

" Why, that is very well. You ought to be at a higher
school than Mrs. Webb's. And now let us consider these
dreadful sums. The paper and a pencil will do."

He put down quite a sum in addition. There were
several nines and sevens in it.

She drew a long breath.

" It is a big sum. I haven't done any as large as that."

" Well, begin. Add as I call them off."

Alas! After three figures, in puzzling over an eight,
the amount went out of her mind and she had to begin
again. Uncle Winthrop made a mark at one figure and
put down the amount beside it. After a while she reached
the top of the column. Clearly heaven had not meant
her for a mathematician. There was no rapport between
her figures.

Her eyes were limpid, almost as if there were tears in
them.

" Maybe that was pretty difficult for a little girl. I
know most about big boys and young men."

" Betty just guesses, this way — eight and nine, and it
comes quite as easy as if I had said two and three are
five."

i66 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Uncle Win gave his gentle smile and it comforted her
greatly.

" This quickness comes by practice. When you have
had six years' study you may know as much as Betty in
arithmetic, and you will know more in some other
branches."

" If I can just know as much," she said wistfully.

Cato gave a gentle rap on the open door.

" Juno's ready," he announced. " Will master take
little missy out, or shall I go for Master Gary? "

" I had not thought. Would you like to go, Doris? "

Her eyes answered him before she could speak.

" You may put in the other seat, Cato, and drive."

Cato bowed in a dignified manner.

" Now run and bundle up well," said Uncle Win.

Miss Recompense seemed to know a good deal about
little girls, if she had none of her own. She tied a soft
silk kerchief over Doris' ears before she put on her hood.
Then she told Dinah to slip the soapstone in the foot-
stove, and drew the long stockings up over her knees.

" Now you could go up to Vermont and not get cold,"
she said pleasantly.

But after all it was not so very cold. The sun shone
in golden magnificence and almost dazzled your eyes out.
Uncle Win had on his smoked glasses, and he looked
very queer, but she saw other people with this protection.
Some of the glasses were green.

The streets were really merry. Children were out
with sleds, and snowballing parties were in the field.
They went over to State Street for the mail. Cato
sprang out and returned with quite a budget. There
was one English letter with a big black seal, but Mr.
Adams covered it quickly with the papers and drew the
package under the buffalo robe.

There was a quaint old bookstore in Cornhill with the

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 167

sign of Heart and Crown, that was quite a meeting place
for students and bookish people, and they drove thither.
A young lad came running out, making a bow and greet
ing his father politely. To have said " Hillo! " in those
days would have been horrifying. And to have called
one's father the " governor " or the " old gentleman "
would have been little short of a crime.

" This is the little English cousin, Doris Adams," said
Uncle Win, " and this is my son Cary."

Cary made a bow to her and said he was glad to meet
her, then inquired after his father's health and stepped
into the sleigh, picking up the reins and motioning Cato
to the other side.

Oh, how they spun along! Cary said one or two things,
but the words were carried away by the wind. There
were sleighs full of ladies and children, great family affairs
with three seats ; there were cutters with some portly man
and a black driver; there were well-known people and
unknown people who were to come to the fore in a few
years and be famous.

For Boston was throbbing even then with the mighty
changes transforming her into a great city. Although
she had suffered severely at the first of the war and held
many priceless memories of it, the early evacuation of the
town had left her free for domestic matters, which had
prospered despite poverty and hard times and the great
loss of population. Many of the old Tory families had
returned to England, and the remnants of the provincial
aristocracy were being lessened by death and absorbed
by marriage. The squires and gentry of the small towns,
most of them intense patriots, had filled their places and
given tone to social life, that was still formal, if some of
the old stateliness had slipped away.

The French Revolution had brought about some other
changes. The State possessed fine advantages for mari-

168 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

time commerce, and all the seaports were veritable hives
of industry in the early part of the century. This laid
a foundation of respect for fortunes acquired by energy
rather than inheritance. The United States, being the
only neutral nation in the fierce conflicts raging round
the world, had been reaping a rich harvest for several
years. Sea captains and merchants had been thriving
splendidly until the last year or two, when seizures began
to be made by the British Government that roused a fer
ment of warlike spirit again.

But while men talked politics the women and those
who thought it wiser to take neither side, still amused
themselves with card parties, tea parties and dances,
with now and then an evening at the theater, and driv
ing. There were so many fine long roads not yet cut up
into blocks that were great favorites on a day like this.
Doris felt the exhilaration and her eyes shone like
stars.

Presently Gary turned, and here they were at Common
Street.

" That has been fine ! " he began as he drew up to the
door. " It sets your blood all a-sparkle. Have I taken
your breath away, little cousin? "

He came around and offered his hand to his father.
Then he lifted Doris as if she had been a feather, and
stood her on the broad porch. That recalled Warren
Leverett to her mind.

" It was splendid," answered Doris.

They all walked in together, and Gary shook hands
cordially with Miss Recompense.

He was almost as tall as his father, with a fair, boyish
face and thick light hair that did not curl, but tumbled
about and was always falling over his forehead.

Warren was stouter and had more color, and there was
a kind of laughing expression to his face. Gary's had a

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 169

certain resolution and that loftiness we are given to call
ing aristocratic.

When Doris had carried the footstove to Dinah, and
her own wraps upstairs, she stood for a moment uncer
tain. Gary and his father were talking eagerly in the
study, so she sat down by the hall fire and began to
think about the Vicar and Mrs. Primrose, and wanted to
know what Moses did at the Fair. She had been at one
town fair, but she could not recall much besides the
rather quaintly and gayly dressed crowd. Then there
was a summons to supper.

" Oh," cried Gary, " sit still a moment. You look like
a page of Mother Goose. You can't be Miss Muffet, for
you have no curds and whey, and you are not Jack
Horner "

She sprang up then and caught Uncle Winthrop's
hand. " Nor Mother Goose," she rejoined laugh
ingly.

The plates were moved just a little. Gary sat between
her and his father.

" I have heard quite a good deal about you," he began.
" Are you French or English? "

She caught a tiny gleam in Uncle Win's eye, and
gravely answered in French.

" How do you get along there in Sudbury Street?
Who does the talking? " he asked in surprise.

" We all talk," she answered.

He flushed a little and then gave an amused nod.

" Upon my word, you are not slow, if the weather is
cold. And you parles-vous like a native. Now, if you
and father want to say anything bad about me, you may
hope to keep it a secret, but I warn you that I can under
stand French to some extent."

" I shall not say anything bad," she returned naively.
Adding, " Why, I don't know anything bad."

170 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Oh, Miss Recompense, isn't it nice to be perfect in
someone's eyes? " he laughed.

" Wait until she has known you several years."

" But you have known me several years," appealingly.

" It is best to begin with an unbiased opinion."

" I shall get Betty to speak a good word for me. You
have confidence in Betty? "

" I love Betty," Doris said simply.

" And Boston. That begins with a B too. You
must love Boston, and the State of Massachusetts, and
the whole United States. And if there comes another
war you must be true to the flag and the country. No
skipping off to England, mind."

" I couldn't skip across the whole Atlantic."

" Then you would have to stay. Which is the nicest,
Sudbury Street or this? "

" Gary, you have teased enough," said his father.

" I think the out-of-doors of this will be the prettiest
in the summer," replied Doris gravely, " and when I
came off the ship I thought the indoors in Sudbury
Street just delightful. There was such a splendid fire,
and everybody was so kind."

Gary glanced up at his father, who gave his soft half-
smile.

" You were a brave little girl not to be homesick."

" I did want to see Miss Arabella, and the pony. I
had such a darling pony."

" Why, you can have a pony next summer," said Uncle
Win. " I am very fond of riding."

Doris' face was filled with speechless delight.

After supper they sat round the fire and Gary asked
her about the Old Boston. She had very good descrip
tive powers. Her life had been so circumscribed there
that it had deepened impressions, and the young fellow
listened quite surprised. Like his father he had known

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 171

very little about girls in their childhood. She was so
quaintly pretty, too, with the bow of dark ribbon high
up on her head, amid the waving light hair.

Some time after Uncle Winthrop said :

" Doris, I have a letter from Miss Arabella. Would
you not like to come in the study and read it? "

" Oh, yes," and she sprang up with the lightness of a
bird.

He had cut around the great black seal. Sometime
Doris might be glad to have the letter intact. There
were no envelopes then besides those used for state
purposes.

" Dear and Respected Sir," it began in the formal, old-
fashioned manner. She had been rejoiced to hear of
Doris' safe arrival and continued good health, and every
day she saw the wisdom of the change, though she had
missed the child sorely. Her sister had passed peace
fully away soon after the departure of Doris, a loss to be
accepted with resignation, since her life on earth had long
ceased to have any satisfaction to herself. Her own
health was very much broken, and she knew it would not
be long before she should join those who had preceded
her in a better land. When this occurred there would
be some articles forwarded to him for Doris, and again
she commended the little girl to his affectionate interest
and care, and hoped she would grow into a sweet and
useful womanhood and be all her parents could wish if
they had lived.

" Dear Miss Arabella! " Doris wiped the tears from
her eyes. How strange the little room must look with
out Miss Henrietta sitting at the window babbling of
childish things! "And she is all alone with Barby.
How sad it must be. I should not like to live alone."

Unconsciously she drew nearer Uncle Winthrop. He
put his arm over her shoulder in a caressing manner, and

172 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

his heart was moved with sympathy for the solitary lady
across the ocean.

Doris thought of Aunt Priscilla and wondered whether
she ever was lonesome.

Sunday was still bright, and somehow felt warm when
contrasted with the biting weather of the last ten days.
The three went to old Trinity Church, that stood then on
a corner of Summer Street — a plain wooden building
with a gambrel roof, quite as old-fashioned inside as out,
and even now three-quarters of a century old. Up to the
Revolution the king and the queen, when there was one,
had been prayed for most fervently. The Church con
ceded this point reluctantly, since there were many who
doubted the success of the struggle. But the clergy had
resigned from King's Chapel and Christ Church. For a
long while afterward Dr. Mather Byles had kept himself
before the people by his wit and readiness for controversy,
and the two old ladies, his sisters, were well known for
their adherence to Royalist costumes and the unction
with which they prayed for the king in their own house —
with open windows, in summer.

In fact, even now Episcopalianism was considered
rather foreign than of a home growth. But there had
been such a divergence from the old-time faiths that
people's prejudices were much softened.

It seemed quite natural again to Doris, and she had
no difficulty in finding her places, though Gary offered
her his prayer book every time. And it sounded so
hearty to say " Amen " to the prayers, to respond to the
commandments, and sing some of the old chants.

There was a short service in the afternoon, and in the
evening she and Cary sang hymns. They were getting
to be very good friends. Then on Christmas morning
they all went again. There was a little " box and fir,"
and a branch of hemlock in the corner, but the people of

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 173

that day would have been horrified at the greenery and
the flowers met to hail the birth of Christ to-day.

They paused in the vestibule to give each other a cor
dial greeting, for the congregation was not very large.

A fine-looking elderly lady shook hands with Mr.
Adams and his son.

" This is my little niece from abroad," announced the
elder, " another of the Adams family. Her father was
own nephew to Cousin Charles. Doris, this is Madam
Royall."

" Poor Charles. Yes, I remember him well. Our
children spied out the little girl in the sleigh with you
on Saturday, and made no end of guesses. Is it the child
who attends Mrs. Webb's school? Dorcas Payne goes
there this winter, and she has been teasing to have her
name changed to Doris, which she admires beyond
measure."

" Yes," answered Doris timidly, as Madam Royall
seemed addressing her. " I know Dorcas Payne."

" Oh, Mr. Adams, I have just thought — our children
are going to have a little time to-night — not anything as
pretentious as a party, a sort of Christmas frolic. Will
you not come around and bring Cary and the little girl?
You shall have some Christmas cake and wine with us,
Cary can take tea with Isabel and Alice, and the little
girl can have a good romp. Please do not refuse."

Cary flushed. Mr. Adams looked undecided.

" No, you shall not hunt about for an excuse. Dorcas
has talked so much about the little girl that we are all
curious to see her. Shouldn't you like a frolic with
other little girls, my dear? "

Doris smiled with assenting eagerness.

" We shall surely look for you. I shall tell them all
that you are coming, and that I have captured little
Doris Adams,"

174 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Very well," returned Mr. Adams.

"At four, exactly. The children's supper is at five."

Doris had tight hold of Uncle Winthrop's hand, and
if she had not just come out of church she must have
skipped for very gladness. For Dorcas Payne had
talked about her cousins, the Royalls, and their charm
ing grandmother, and the good times they had in their
fine large house.

Uncle Win looked her all over as she sat at the din
ner table. She was a pretty child, with her hair gath
ered up high and falling in a golden shower. Her frock
was some gray woolen stuff, and he wondered vaguely if
blue or red would have been better. He had seen little
girls in red frocks; they looked so warm and comfortable
in winter. Elizabeth Leverett would be shocked at the
color, he knew. What made so many women afraid of
it, and why did they cling to dismal grays and browns?
He wished he knew a little more about girls.

They had a splendid young goose for the Christmas
dinner, vegetables and pickles and jellies. Cider was
used largely then; no hearty dinner would have been the
thing without it. Even the Leveretts used that, while
they frowned on all other beverages. And then the thick
mince pie with a crust that fairly melted before you could
chew it! One needed something to sustain him
through the long cold winter, and the large rooms where
you shivered if you went out of the chimney corner.

Doris stole a little while for her enchanting Primrose
people, though Gary kept teasing by saying: "Has
Moses gone to the Fair? Just wait until you see the
sort of bargains he makes ! "

Uncle Winthrop went out to Miss Recompense.

" She looks very plain for a little — well, I suppose it is
a party, and I dare say there is another frock at the Lev
eretts'. I think the first time I saw her she had on some-

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 175

thing very pretty — silk, I believe it was. But there is no
time to get it. Recompense, if you could find a ribbon
or any suitable adornment to brighten her up. In that
big bureau upstairs — I wish you would look."

Years ago the pretty things had been laid away.
Recompense went over them every spring during house-
cleaning time, to see that moths had not disturbed them.
Thieves were never thought of. She always touched
them with a delicate regard for the young wife she had
never known.

She put a shawl about her now and went upstairs, un
locked the drawer of " trinkets," and peered into some of
the boxes. Oh, here was a pretty bit of lace, simple
enough for a child. White ribbons turned to cream,
pale-blue grown paler with age, stiff brocaded ones, and
down at the very bottom a rose color with just a simple
silvery band crossing it at intervals. There was enough
for a sash and a bow for the hair, and with the lace
tucker it would be all right.

" Doris," she called over the baluster.

" Yes, ma'am," and Doris came tripping up, book in
hand.

" Your uncle wants you fixed up a bit," she said, " and
as you have nothing here I have looked up a few things.
Let me fasten the tucker in your frock. There, that does
look better. Madam Royall is quite dressy, like all fash
ionable people who go out and have company. I'm not
much of a hand to fix up children, seeing that for years
I have had none of it to do. But I guess I can manage
to tie the sash. There, I think that will do."

"Oh, how lovely! How good of you, Miss Recom
pense."

Recompense Gardiner hated to take the credit for
anything she had not done, but she had to let it go
now.

176 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" How to get this ribbon in your hair ! I think it is
too wide."

" Oh, can I have that too? Well, you see, you take
up the curls this way and put the ribbon under. Can it
be folded? Then you tie it on the top."

Miss Recompense did not make a very artistic bow,
but Doris looked in the glass of the dressing table, and
pulled and patted it a little, and said it was right and that
she was a thousand times grateful.

The sober-minded woman admitted within herself that
the child was greatly improved. Perhaps gay attire did
foster vanity, yet it was pleasant for others to look upon.

" Run down and ask your uncle if you will do," ex
claimed Miss Recompense, feeling that by his approval
she would discharge her conscience from the sin, if sin
it were.

She looked so dainty as she came and stood by him,
and asked her question with such a bewitching flush,
that he kissed her on the forehead for approval. But
she put her soft young arms about his neck and kissed
him back, and he held her there with a strange new
warmth stirring his heart.

The old Royall house in Summer Street went its way
three-quarters of a century ago. No one dreams now of
the beautiful garden that surrounded it, and the blossom
ing shrubbery and beds of flowers from which nosegays
were sent to friends, and the fruit distributed later on.
It was an old house then, a great square, two-story build
ing with a cupola railed around a flat place at the point
of the roof, or what would have been the point if carried
up. There were some rooms built out at the back, and
an arbor — a covered sort of allee where the ladies sat and
sewed at times and the children played. Thirty years
before there had been many a meeting of friends to dis
cuss the state of affairs. There had been disagreement^

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS. 177

ruptures, quarrels made and healed. George Royall had
gone back to England. Dwight Royall had fought on
the side of the " Rebels." One daughter had married an
English officer who had surrendered with Cornwallis
and then returned to his native land. A younger son
had married and died, and left two daughters to his
mother's care, their own mother being dead. A
widowed daughter had come home to live with her four
children, the two youngest being girls. Dorcas Payne
was a cousin to them on their father's side.

There were often guests staying with them, and the old
house was still the scene of good times, as they were then:
friends dropping in and finding ready hospitality. For
though Madam Royall had passed the three score and
ten, she was still intelligent and had been in her earlier
years accomplished. She could play on her old-
fashioned spinet for the children to dance, and sometimes
she sang the songs of her youth, though her voice had
grown a trifle unsteady in singing.

The sun was setting the west in a glow of magnificence
as they walked up to the Royall house. Madam Royall
and her daughter Mrs. Chapman were waiting to wel
come them.

In this hall was the tall stove that was beginning to do
duty for the cheerful hearthfire, and it diffused a delight
ful atmosphere of warmth. But you could see the blaze
in the parlor and the dining room, where some friends
were already assembled and having a game of cards.
The sideboard, as was the custom then, was set out with
a decanter of Madeira and one of sherry and the glasses,
besides a great silver basin filled with nuts and dried fruit
and another dish of crullers.

On the opposite side of the hall there was a hubbub
of children's voices. Madam Royall ushered Mr. Adams
into the dining room, left Gary to the attention of the

178 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

two girls and their aunt, and took possession of Doris
herself, removing her wraps and handing them to the
maid. Then taking her hand she drew her into the room,
kept mostly for dancing and party purposes.

CHAPTER XII.

A CHILDREN'S PARTY.

'"PHIS is Doris Adams, a little girl who came from
* England not long ago. You must make her wel
come and show her what delightful children there are in
Boston. These two girls are Helen and Eudora Chap
man, my grandchildren, and the others are grandnieces
and friends. Helen, you must do the honors."

Dorcas Payne came forward. " She goes to the same
school that I do." She had been entertaining the girls
with nearly all she knew about Doris. That Mr. Win-
throp Adams was her uncle and guardian raised her a
good deal in the estimation of Dorcas, for even then a
man was thought unusually well off to be able to live
without doing any real business.

"Would you like to play graces? " asked Eudora.

" I don't know," admitted Doris.

"We were playing. Grace and Molly, you go down
that end of the room. Now, this is the way. When
Betty tosses it you catch it on the sticks, so."

It seemed very easy when Eudora caught it and tossed
it back, and Betty threw it again.

" Now you try," and she put the sticks in Doris' hands.
" Oh, what tiny little hands you have, and as white as
snow! "

Doris blushed. She threw the hoop and it "wabbled,"
but Betty, a bright, black-eyed girl, made a lunge or two,

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 179

and caught it on the tip of one stick, and back it
came. Doris was looking at her and never moved her
hand.

" Pick it up and try again," said Eudora. " That isn't
the right way, but we will excuse you this time."

Alas! this time Doris ran and brandished her stick
in the air to no purpose.

" I would rather see you play," she said. " You are
all doing it so beautifully."

" Then you stand here and watch."

It was very fascinating. There were three sets play
ing. Doris found that when a girl missed she gave up
to some other companion. Her eyes could hardly move
quickly enough to watch all the hoops. Now and then a
girl was crowned, — that meant the hoops encircled her
head, — and they all shouted.

Then Helen said they had played that long enough,
and now they would try " Hunt the slipper." The slip
per was a pretty one, made of pink plush with a dainty
heel and a shining buckle set in a small pink bow.
Doris said " it looked like a Cinderella slipper."

" Oh, do you know about Cinderella? Do you know
many stories? "

" Not a great many. Little Red Riding Hood and
Beauty and the Beast, and a few in verses."

" I wish you knew something quite new. Oh ! "
Eudora had forgotten to keep the slipper going. The
girls were sitting in a ring, so she jumped up cheerfully
and began to hunt. There were a great many little
giggles and exclamations, and then someone said: " Oh,
let's stop playing and tell riddles ! "

That was a never-failing amusement. There were
some very bright ones, some very puzzling ones. One
girl asked how many baskets of dirt there were in Copp's
Hill.

i8o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Why, there can't anybody tell," said Helen. " You
couldn't measure it that way."

Everybody looked at everybody else, and the glances
finally grew indignant.

" There isn't any answer."

"Give it up?" '

" Yes," cried the voices in unison.

" Why, one — if the basket is big enough."

" There couldn't be a basket made as large as that.
You might as well ask how many drops of water there
are in the sea, and then say only one because they all
run together."

The girls applauded that, and, before anyone had
thought of another, Miranda, — tall, black, imposing, with
a gay turban wound round her head, — announced:

" De little misses were all disquested to walk out to de
Christmas supper."

Grandmamma did not know how to leave her guests,
and she was in the middle of a game of loo, but she had
promised to sit at the head of the table, so Mrs. Chap
man took her place. No one felt troubled because there
were no boys at the party : the only boy of the house had
gone out skating with some other boys.

It was quite a royal feast. There were thin bread and
butter, dainty biscuits not much larger than the penny
of that day, cold turkey and cold ham, and cake of every
kind, it would seem, ranged around the iced Christmas
cake that was surmounted by a wreath of some odd
golden flowers that people dried and kept all winter for
ornamental purposes.

They puzzled grandmamma with the two riddles, but
she thought that about the sea the better one. And she
said no one would ever have an opportunity to meas
ure Copp's Hill, but for all that they did, if they had
cared to.

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 181

The grown-up people had some tea and chocolate in
the dining room, and seemed to be having as merry a
time as the children. There was something infectious
in the air or the house. Doris thought it very delight
ful. Her cheeks began to bloom in a wild-rose tint, and
her eyes had a luminous look, as if happiness was shin
ing through them.

Afterward grandmamma played on the spinet and they
danced several pretty simple figures, ending with the
minuet. When the clock struck seven someone came
in a sleigh for four of the girls who lived quite near to
gether. Pompey, the Royalls' servant, was to escort the
others, and Betty March lived just across in Winter
Street. When children went out the hours were kept
pretty strictly. Seven o'clock meant seven truly, and
not eight or nine.

Each child had a pretty paper box of candy, tied with
a bright ribbon. Bonbons we should call them now.
And they all expressed their thanks and made a courtesy
as they reached the hall door.

" Have you had a good time? " asked Madam Royall,
taking Doris by the hand.

" It's been just delightful, every moment," the child
answered.

" And she's only looked on, grandmamma," ex
claimed Eudora. " Now, let's us get real acquainted.
We will go in the parlor and have a good talk."

" Very well," returned grandmamma. " I'll go and
see what the old people are about."

" I am glad you don't have to go home so soon," be
gan Helen. " Why don't you live with your Uncle
Adams instead of in Sudbury Street? Are there any
girls there? "

" One real big one who is sixteen. She has gone to
Hartford now. That's Bettv Leverett. And I went

i8z A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

there first, because — well, Uncle Leverett came for me
when the vessel reached Boston."

" Oh, he is your uncle, too! Did you come from an
other Boston, truly now? "

" Yes, it was Boston."

"And like this?"

" Oh, no."

" Did you know ever so many girls? "

" No. We lived quite out of the town."

"And, oh, were you not afraid to cross the ocean?
Suppose there had been a pirate or something? "

" I didn't know anything about pirates," said Doris.
" But I was afraid at first, when you could not see
any land for days and days. There were two little
girls and they had a doll. We played together and
grew used to the water. But it was worse when it
stormed."

" I should have been frightened out of my life. Grand
mamma has been to England. We have some cousins
there, but they are grown-up people and married.
Which place do you like best? "

" I had no real relatives there after papa died. Oh,
I like this Boston best."

Then they branched off into school matters. Eudora
and her sister went to a Miss Parker, and to a writing
school an hour in the afternoon. Eudora wished she was
grown-up like Isabel and Alice, and could go out to real
parties and have a silk frock. Grandmamma was going
to give her one when she was fifteen.

A feeling of delicacy kept Doris from confessing that
she owned the coveted article. Some of the girls had
worn very pretty frocks. Eudora's was a beautiful soft
blue, and had bands of black velvet and short sleeves with
lace around them. But Doris had forgotten about her
own attire, though she recalled the fact that there was

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 183

only one little girl in a gray frock, and it didn't seem very
pretty.

So they chattered on, and Eudora said they would have
splendid times if she came in the summer. They had a
big swing, and they went over on the Common and had
no end of fun playing tag. The warm weather was the
nicest, though there was great fun sledding and snow
balling when the boys were not too rough. Oh, had she
seen the forts and the great light out at Fort Hill?
Wasn't it just grand?

" But, you know, Walter said if the redoubts had been
stone instead of snow, the Rebels never could have
taken them. You know, they called us Rebels then.
And now we are a nation."

Doris wondered what a redoubt was, but she saved it
to ask Uncle Win. She gave a sigh to think what an
ignorant little girl she was.

" I think it is a great deal finer to be a country all by
yourself and govern your own people. The King of
England is half crazy, you know. You don't mind, do
you, when we talk about the English? We don't really
mean every person, and our friends and — and all " —
getting rather confused with distinctions.

" We mean the government," interposed Helen. " It
stands to reason people thousands of miles away
wouldn't know what is best for us. Wouldn't it be
ridiculous if someone in Virginia should pretend to in
struct grandmamma what to do? Grandmamma knows
so much. And she is one of the handsomest old ladies
in Boston. Oh, listen!"

A mysterious sound came from the kitchen. A fiddle
was surely tuning up somewhere.

" The big folks are going to dance, and that is black
Joe, Mr. Winslow's man."

Mr. Winslow and a young lady had arrived also.

184 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

They tendered many apologies about their late
ness.

The people in the dining room left the table and came
out in the hall. Gary Adams had been having a very
nice time, for a young fellow. Isabel poured the choco
late, and on her right sat a Harvard senior. Alice
poured the tea, and beside her sat Gary, who made him
self useful handing it about. He liked Alice very much.
A young married couple were over on the other side, and
now this addition and the fiddle looked suspicious.

" My dear Doris," exclaimed her uncle. He had been
discussing Greek poets with the Harvard professor, and
had really forgotten about her. " Are you tired? It's
about time a young person like you, and an old person
like me, went home."

He didn't look a bit old. There was a tint of pink in
his cheeks — he had been so roused and warmed with his
argument and his tea.

" Oh, do let Doris stay and see them dance, just one
dance," pleaded Eudora. " We have been sitting here
talking, and haven't tired ourselves out a bit."

The fiddler and the dancers went to the room where
the children had their frolic. That was Jane Morse's
cousin Winslow. How odd she should see him and
hear black Joe, who fiddled like the blind piper. The
children kept time with their feet.

The minuet was elegant. Then they had a cotillion
in which there was a great deal of bowing. After that
Mr. Adams said they must go home, and Madam Royall
came and talked to Doris in a charming fashion, and
then told Susan, the slim colored maid, to wrap her up
head and ears, and in spite of Mr. Adams' protest Pom-
pey came round with the sleigh.

" I hope you had a nice time," said Madam Royall,
as she put a Christmas box in the little girl's hand.

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 185

" I'm just full of joy," she answered with shining eyes.
" I couldn't hold any more unless I grew," laughingly.

They made her promise to come again, and the chil
dren kissed her good-by. Then they were whisked off
and set down at their own door in no time.

" Now you must run to bed. Aunt Elizabeth would
be horrified at your staying up so late."

Miss Recompense was — almost. She had been nod
ding over the fire.

They went upstairs together. She took a look at
Doris, and suddenly the child clasped her round the
waist.

" Oh, dear Miss Recompense, I was so glad about the
beautiful sash. Most of the frocks were prettier than
mine. Some had tiny ruffles round the bottom and the
sleeves. But the party was so nice I forgot all about
that. Oh, Miss Recompense, were you ever brimful of
happiness, and you wanted to sing for pure gladness? I
think that is the way the birds must feel."

No, Miss Recompense had never been that happy. A
great joy, the delight of childhood, had been lost out of
her life.' She had been trained to believe that for every
miserable day you spent bewailing your sins, a day in
heaven would be intensified, and that happiness on earth
was a snare of the Evil One to lead astray. She had
gone out in the fields and bemoaned herself, and won
dered how the birds could sing when they had to die so
soon, and how anyone could laugh when he had to an
swer for everything at the Day of Judgment.

" Everybody was so delightful, though at first I felt
strange. And I did not make out at all playing graces.
That's just beautiful, and I'd like to know how. And
now if you will untie the sash and put it away, and I ana
a hundred times obliged to you."

Some of the children she had known would have

186 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

begged for the sash. Doris' frank return touched her.
Mr. Adams no doubt meant her to keep it — she would
ask him.

And then the happy little girl went to bed, while even
in the dark the room seemed full of exquisite visions and
voices that charmed her.

Gary had to go away the next morning. Uncle Win
said he couldn't spare her, and sent Cato over to tell Mrs.
Leverett. A young man came in for some instruction,
and Doris followed the fate of the Vicar's household
a while, until she felt she ought to study, since there were
so many things she did not know.

Uncle Win found her in the chimney corner with a
pile of books.

" What is it now? " he asked.

" I think I know all my spelling. But I can't get
some of the addition tables right when I ask myself ques
tions. I wish there had not been any nine."

" The world couldn't get along without the nine. It
is very necessary."

" Most of the good things are hard," she said with a
philosophic sigh.

He laughed.

" Eudora does not like tables either."

" I will tell you a famous thing about nine that you
can't do with any other figure. How much is ten and
ten?"

" Why, twenty, and ten more are thirty, and so on.
It is easy as turning over your hand."

" Ten and nine."

Doris looked nonplused and began to draw her brow
in perplexed lines.

" Nine is only one less than ten. Now, if you can re
member that "

" Nineteen! Why, that is splendid."

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 187

" Now sixteen and nine? "

"Twenty-five," rather hesitatingly.

He nodded. " And nine more."

"Thirty-four. Oh, we made a rhyme. Uncle Win-
throp, is it very hard to write verses? They are so
beautiful."

" I think it is — rather," with his half-smile.

People had not had the leisure to be very poetical as
yet. But through these years some children were being
born into the world whose verses were to find a place by
every fireside before the little girl said her last good
night to it. So far there had been some bright witticisms
and sarcasms in rhyme, and the clergy had penned verses
for wedding and funeral occasions. The Rev. John Cot
ton had indulged in flowing versification, and even Gov
ernor Bradford had interspersed his severer cares with
visions of softer strains. Anne Dudley, the wife of
Governor Bradstreet, with her eight children, had found
time for study and writing, and about 1650 had a volume
of verse published in London entitled " The Tenth Muse.
Several poems compiled with a great variety of wit and
learning. By an American Gentlewoman." And she
makes this protest even then:

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue,
Who says my hand a needle better fits;

A poet's pen all scorn I thus should wrong,
For such despite they cast on female wits:

If what I do prove well it won't advance,

They'll say it's stolen, or else it was by chance.

There was also a Mrs. Murray and a Mercy Otis War
ren, who evinced very fine intellectual ability; and Mrs.
Adams had written letters that the world a hundred years
later was to admire and esteem.

On the parlor table in some houses you found a

i88 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

thin volume of poems with a romantic history. A Mrs.
Wheatley bought a little girl at the slave market one
day, mostly out of pity. She learned to read very
rapidly, and was so modest and thoughtful that as a
young woman she was held in high esteem by Dr.
Sewall's flock at the Old South Church. She went
abroad with her master's son before the breaking out of
the war, and interested Londoners so much that her
poems were published and she was the recipient of a
good many attentions. Afterward they were reissued in
Boston and met with warm commendations for the no
bility of sentiment and smooth versification. So to
Phillis Wheately belongs the honor of having been one
of the first female poets in Boston.

And young men even now celebrated their sweethearts'
charms in rhyme. Gay gallants wrote their own valen
tines. Young collegians struggled with Latin verse,
and sometimes scaled the heights of Thessaly from
whence inspiration sprang. But, for the most part, the
temperaments that inclined to the worship of the Muses
sought solace in Chaucer, Shakspere, and Milton while
the later ones were winning their way.

Doris sighed over the doubtfulness in her uncle's tone.
But it was music rather than poetry that floated through
her brain.

" You might come and read a little Latin, and then we
will have a talk in French. We will leave the prosaic
part. What you will do in square root and cube
root "

" I am afraid I shall not grow at all. I'll just wither
up. Isn't there some round root? "

" Yes, among vegetables."

They both laughed at that.

She did quite well in the Latin. Then she spelled
some rather difficult words, and being in the high tide of

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 189

French when dinner was announced, they kept on talk
ing, to the great amusement of Miss Recompense, who
could hardly convince herself that it really did mean any
thing reasonable.

Uncle Winthrop said then they certainly deserved
some indulgence, and if she was not afraid of blowing
away they would go out riding again. They took the
small sleigh and he drove, and they turned down toward
the stem end of the pear, and if Boston had not held on
good and strong in those early years it might in some
high wind have been twisted off and left an island.

It does not look, to-day, much as it did when Doris
first saw it. Charles River has shrunken, Back Bay has
been filled up. It has stretched out everywhere and
made itself a marvelous city. The Common has changed
as well, and is more beautiful than one could have imag
ined then, but a thousand old recollections cling to it.

They left the streets behind. Sleigh riding was the
great winter amusement then, but you had to take it in
cold weather, for the salt air all about softened the snow
the first mild day. There was no factory smoke or dust
to mar it, and it lay in great unbroken sheets. There
were people skating on Back Bay, and chairs on runners
with ladies well wrapped up in furs, and sleds of every
description.

They came up around the other side and saw the
wharves and the idle shipping and the white-capped
islands in the harbor. Now the wind did nearly blow
you away.

The next day was very lowering and chilly. Uncle
Winthrop had to go to a dinner among some notables.
Miss Recompense always brushed his hair and tied the
queue. Young men did not wear them, but some of
the older people thought leaving them off was aping
youthfulness. He put on his black velvet smallclothes,

190 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

his silk stockings and low shoes with silver buckles, his
flowered waistcoat, his high stock and fine French broad
cloth coat. His shirt front had two full ruffles beauti
fully crimped. Miss Recompense did it with a penknife.

" You look just like a picture, Uncle Winthrop," Doris
exclaimed admiringly. " Party clothes do make one
handsomer. I suppose it isn't good for one to be hand
some all the time."

" We should grow too vain," he answered smilingly,
yet he did enjoy the honest praise.

" Perhaps if we were used to it all the time it would
not seem so beautiful. It would get to be everyday-like,
and you would not think about it."

True enough. He had a fancy Madam Royall did not
think half so much about her apparel as some of the
more strenuous people who referred continually to con
science.

" Good-by. Maybe you will be in bed when I come
back."

" Oh, will you be gone that late? " She stood upon
a stool and reached over to give him a parting kiss, if
she could not see him until to-morrow, and she did not
even touch his immaculate ruffles.

It was growing dusky, and Miss Recompense was in
and out, and was in no hurry for candlelight herself.
Doris sat in a kind of chaotic thinking. Someone came
up the steps, stamped his feet quite too noisily for Cato, —
even if he had returned so soon, — knocked at the door,
and then opened it.

" Oh, Uncle Leverett! " and she sprang up.

"Well, well, little runaway! I was quite struck when
mother told me you were going to stay all the week. I
wanted to see my little girl. It's lonesome without you
and Betty, I can tell you — lonesome as the woods in
winter; and as I couldn't get to see her, I thought

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 191

I would run around this way and see you. The longest
way round is the surest way home, I have heard " — with
a twinkle in his eye. " Where's Uncle Win? What are
you doing in the dark alone? "

" Uncle Win has gone to a grand dinner at the Ex
change something. And he dressed all up. He looked
splendid."

" I dare say. He isn't bad-looking in his everyday
gear. And you are having a good time? "

" A most beautiful time, Uncle Leverett. I went to
church Christmas morning. And a lady asked us both
to a party — yes, it was a party. The grown people were
by themselves, and the children — there were ten little
girls — they had a grand supper and played games and
told riddles, and we talked "

" Where was this fine affair? "

" At Madam Royall's. And she was so kind and sweet
and handsome."

" Well, I declare ! Right in amongst the quality ! I
don't know what mother would say to a party. What a
pity you didn't have that pretty frock ! "

" I did wish for it at first, but we had such a nice time
it made no difference. And then some more people
came and Mr. Winslow and Black Joe, who was at
Betty's party, and they danced. Gary went, too. He
stayed after Uncle Win and I came home."

" Great doings. I am glad you are happy. But I
shall be doubly glad to get you back. And now I must
run off home."

Miss Recompense came in and lighted the candles.
They were going to have supper in five minutes and he
must take off his coat and stay.

" I've sort of run away, and no one would know where
I am. Wife would keep supper waiting. No, I must
hustle back, thanking you for the asking. I wanted to

192 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

see Doris. Somehow we have grown so used to her
already that the house seems kind of lost without her,
Betty being away. We haven't had any letter from
Hartford, but I dare say she is there all safe."

" Post teams do get delayed. Doris is well and satis
fied. She and her uncle have great times studying."

" That is good. Wife worried a little about school.
Now I must go. Good-night. You will surely be home
on Saturday."

" Good-night," returned the soft voice.

Somehow the supper was very quiet. Doris had be
gun to read aloud to Miss Recompense " The Story of
Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia." She did not like it as
well as her dear Vicar, but Uncle Win said it was good.
He was not quite sure of the Vicar for such a child. So
she read along very well for a while, and then she
yawned.

" You were up late last night and you must go to bed,"
said the elder lady.

Doris was ready. She was sleepy, but somehow she
did not drop asleep all in a minute. There was a grave
subject to consider. All day she was thinking how
splendid it would be if Uncle Win should ask her to
come here and live. She liked him. She liked the
books and the curiosities and the talks and the teaching.
Uncle Win was so much more interesting than Mrs.
W'ebb, who flung questions at you in a way that made
you jump if you were not paying strict attention. There
were other delights that she could not explain to herself.
And the books, the leisure to sit and think. For careful
Aunt Elizabeth said — " Have you hung up your cloak,
Doris? Are you sure you know your spelling? I do
wonder if you will ever get those tables perfect! The
idea of such a big girl not knowing how to knit a stock
ing! Don't sit there looking into the fire and dreaming,

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 193

Doris; attend to your book. Jimmie boy is away ahead
of you in some things."

And here she could sit and dream. Of course she was
not going to school. Miss Recompense did not think of
something all the time. She had learned a sort of gra-
ciousness since she had lived with Mr. Winthrop Adams.
True, she had nothing to worry about — no children to
advance in life, no husband whose business she must be
anxiously considering. She had a snug little sum of
money, and was adding to it all the time, and she was
still a long way from old age. Doris could not have
understood the difference in both position and demands,
but she enjoyed the atmosphere of ease. And there was
a certain aspect of luxury, a freedom from the grinding
exactions of conscience that had been trained to keep
continually on the alert lest one " fall into temptation."

" He had wanted to see his little girl. He was lone
some without her."

She could see the longing in Uncle Leverett's face and
hear his wistful voice there in the dark. He had come
to the ship and given her the first greeting and brought
her home. Yes, she supposed she was his little girl.
Guardians were to take care of one's money ; you did not
have to live with them, of course. Uncle Leverett was
something in a business way, too ; and he loved her. She
knew that without any explanation. She was quite sure
Uncle Win loved her also, but her real place was in Sud-
bury Street.

Friday afternoon she was curled up by the fire read
ing, looking like a big kitten, if you had seen only her
gray frock. Uncle Win had glanced at her every now
and then. He did not mind having her around — not as
much, in fact, as Gary, who tumbled books about and
moved chairs noisily and kept one's nerves astir all the
time, as a big healthy fellow whose body has grown so

194 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

fast that he hardly knows what to do with his long arms
and legs is apt to do.

Doris was like a little mouse. She never rattled the
leaves when she turned them over, she never put books in
the cases upside down, she did not ringer papers or any
thing that lay on the table when she stood by it. He had
a fancy that all children were meddlesome and curious
and given to asking queer questions: these were the
things he remembered about Gary in those first years of
sorrow when he could hardly bear him out of his
sight.

Instead, Doris was restful with her quaint ways. She
did not run against chairs nor move a stool so> that the
legs emitted a " screak " of agony, and she could sit still
for an hour at a time if she had a book. Of course, being
a girl she ought to sew instead.

It was getting quite dusky. Uncle Winthrop came
and stirred the fire and put on a pine log, then drew up
his chair.

" Put away your book, Doris. You will try your
eyes."

She shut it up and came and stood by him. He
passed his arm around her.

" Uncle Win, there was a time when people had to read
and sew by the blaze of logs and torches. There were
no candles."

" They did it not so many years ago here. I dare say
they are still doing it out in country places. They go to
bed early."

" What seems queer to me is that people are continu
ally finding out things. They must at one time have
been very ignorant. No, they could not have been
either," reflectively. " For just think how Adam named
the animals. And Miss Arabella said that Job knew all
about the stars and called them by their names. But

A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 195

perhaps it was the little things like candles and such.
Yet they had lamps ever and ever so long ago."

" People seem to advance and then fall back. They
emigrate and cannot take all their appliances with them,
and they make simpler things to use until they have
leisure and begin to accumulate wealth. You see, they
could not bring a great deal from England or Holland
in the vessels they had in early sixteen hundred. So they
had to begin at the foundation in many things."

" It is all so wonderful when you really come to learn
about it," she said with a gentle sigh.

The blaze was shining on her now, and bringing out
the puzzles on the fair child's face. She was very intel
ligent, if she was slow at figures.

" Doris," — after a long pause, — " how would you like
to live here? "

" Oh, Uncle Win, it would be the most splendid
thing "

" I fancied you might like to change. And there are
some matters connected with your education — why, what
is it, Doris?"

She raised her eyes an instant, then they drooped and
he saw the dark fringe beaded with tears. She took a
long quivering inspiration.

" Uncle Win — I don't believe I can." The words
came very slowly. " You see Betty is away, and Uncle
Leverett missed me very much. He said the other night
I was his little girl, and he was lonesome "

" I shall be lonesome when you are gone."

" But you have so many books and things, and people
coming, and — I should like to stay. Oh, I do like you
so." She put her slim arm around his neck and laid her
cheek against his. " Sometimes it seems as if you were
like what I remember of papa. I only saw such a little
of him, you know, after I went to England. But Aunt

196 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Elizabeth says it is the hard things that are right always.
She would have Jimmie boy, you know, if I stayed, but
Uncle Leverett wants me. I can just feel how it is, but
I don't know how to explain it. He has always been so
good to me. And that day on the ship he said, ' Is this
my little girl? 'and I was so glad to really belong to
someone again "

She was crying softly. He felt the tears on his cheek.
Her simple heroism touched him.

" Yes, dear," he said with a comforting sound in his
voice. " Perhaps it would be best to wait a little, until
Betty returns, or in the summer. You can come over
Friday night and spend Sunday, and brush up on Latin,
and brush me up on French, and we will have a nice
visit."

" Oh, thank you, thank you. Uncle Win — if I could
be two little girls "

" I want you all, complete. We will keep it to think
about."

Then Miss Recompense said supper was ready, and
Doris wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled. But
the pressure of her hand as they walked out confessed
that she belonged to him.

CHAPTER XIII.

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS.

! Vf OU have kept up wonderfully for being absent a
whole week. You haven't fallen back a bit," said
Mrs. Webb.

Doris flushed with delight. The little training Uncle
Winthrop had given her had borne fruit.

But she was shocked that Jimmie boy was so bad he
had to be punished with the ruler. He had been pun
ished twice in the week before.

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 197

" Don't you darst to tell grandmother," he said as
they were turning into Sudbury Street. " If you do
I'll — I'll " — she was a girl, and he coudn't punch her —
" I won't take you on my sled."

"No. I won't tell." '

" Honest and true? Hope to die? "

" I'll say honest and true."

" A little thing like that aint much, just two or three
slaps. You ought to see the teacher at Salem? My
brother Foster gets licked sometimes, and he makes us
promise not to tell father."

James had stood a little in awe of Doris on the point of
good behavior. But Sam had been up, and James had
gone down to Aunt Martha's, and he felt a great deal
bigger now.

Uncle Leverett was very glad to get his little girl back.
They had heard from Betty, who had spent two delight
ful days with Mrs. Eastman, and then they had gone to
Hartford together. Electa and the children were well,
and she had a beautiful house with a Brussels carpet in
the parlor and velvet furniture and vases and a table
with a marble top. Betty sent love to everybody, and
they were to tell Aunt Priscilla that the beaver bonnet
was just the thing, and she was going to have the silk
frock made over right away. Electa thought the India
silk lovely, and she was so glad she had brought the
extra piece along, for she was going to have the little
cape with long tabs to tie behind, and she should use up
every scrap putting a frill on it.

Aunt Priscilla had not waited until March, but taken
another cold and was confined to the house, so Aunt
Elizabeth went over quite often. Martha Grant proved
very efficient, and she was industry itself. She, too,
was amazed that Doris wasn't " put to something
useful."

198 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Doris had brought home a Latin book, but Aunt
Elizabeth could not cordially indorse such a boyish
study. Women were never meant to go to colleges.
But she did not feel free to thwart Cousin Adams' plans
for her.

He came over on Saturday and took her out, and they
had a nice laughing French talk, though he admitted he
and Miss Recompense had missed her very much. She
told him about Betty, and what Mrs. Webb had said, and
seemed quite happy.

Just at the last of the month they were all very much
interested in a grand affair to which Uncle Winthrop
was an invited guest. It was at the great Exchange
Coffee House, and really in honor of the gallant struggle
Spain had been making against the man who bid fair
then to be the dictator of all Europe. On one throne
after another he had placed the different members of his
family. Joseph Bonaparte, who had been King of
Naples, was summarily transferred to the throne of
Spain, with small regard for the desires of her people.
He found himself quite unable to cope with the insur
gents rising on every hand. And America sent Spain
her warmest sympathy.

Uncle Leverett read the account aloud from his
weekly paper. Now and then there appeared a daily
paper for a brief while, and a tolerably successful semi-
weekly, but the real substantial paper was the weekly.
How they would have found time then to read a
morning and an evening paper — two or three, perhaps —
is beyond comprehension. And to have heard news
from every quarter of the globe before it was more than
a few hours old would have seemed witchcraft.

Napoleon was now at the zenith of his fame. But the
feeling of the country at his divorcing Josephine, who
loved him deeply, was a thrill of indignation, for the

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 199

tie of marriage was now considered irrevocable save for
the gravest cause. That he should marry an Austrian
princess for the sake of allying himself to a royal house
and having an heir to the throne, which was nearly half
of Europe now, was causing people even then to draw a
parallel between him and our own hero, Washington.
Both had started with an endeavor to free their respective
countries from an intolerable yoke, and when this was
achieved Washington had grandly and calmly laid down
the burdens of state and retired to private life, while Na
poleon was still bent upon conquest. The sympathies
of America went out to all struggling nations.

There had been an ode read, and toasts and songs;
indeed, it had called together the notable men of the city,
who had partaken of a grand feast. It was much talked
of for weeks ; and Doris questioned Uncle Winthrop and
began to be interested in matters pertaining to her new
country.

She was learning a good deal about the city. War
ren took her to Aunt Priscilla's one noon, and came for
her when they had " shut up shop." Aunt Priscilla did
not mend rapidly. She called it being " pudgicky," as if
there was no name of a real disease to give it. A little
fresh cold, a good deal of weakness — and she had always
been so strong; some fever that would persist in coming
back even when she had succeeded in breaking it up for
a few days. The time hung heavily on her hands. She
did miss Betty's freshness and bright, argumentative
ways. So she was glad to see Doris, for Polly sat out in
the kitchen half asleep most of the time.

Solomon as well always seemed very glad to see Doris.
He came and sat in her lap, and Aunt Priscilla told about
the days when she was a little girl, more than fifty years
ago. Doris thought life must have been very hard, and
she was glad not to have lived then.

200 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

She did like Miss Recompense the best, but she felt
very sorry for Aunt Priscilla's loneliness.

" She and Polly have grown old together, and they
need some younger person to take care of them both,"
said Uncle Leverett. " She ought to take her comfort;
she has money enough."

" It is so difficult to find anyone to suit," and Aunt
Elizabeth sighed.

" I shall crawl out in the spring," declared Mrs. Per
kins ; but her tone was rather despondent.

Doris wondered when the spring would come. The
snow and ice had never been entirely off the ground.

Besides going to Uncle Winthrop's, — and she went
every other Saturday, — she had been asked to Madam
Royall's to tea with the children. The elder lady had
not forgotten her. Indeed, this was one of the houses
that Mr. Adams thoroughly enjoyed, though he was not
much of a hand to visit. But people felt then that they
really owed their neighbors some social duty. There
were not so many public amusements.

The Chapman children had real dolls, not simply rag
babies; and the clothes were made so you could take
them off. Doris was quite charmed with them. Helen's
had blue eyes and Eudora's brown, but both were red-
cheeked and had black hair, which was not really hair at
all, but shaped of the composition and curled and painted
over.

They had a grand long slide in their garden at the
back. The servant would flood it over now and then
and make it smooth as glass. Doris found it quite an art
to stand up. Helen could go the whole length beauti
fully, and balance herself better than Eudora. But if
you fell you generally tumbled over in the bank of snow
and did not get hurt.

Playing graces was a great delight to her and after

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 201

several trials she became quite expert. Then on one
occasion Madam Royall found that she had a very sweet
voice.

" You are old enough to learn some pretty songs, my
child," she said. " I must speak to your uncle. When
the weather gets pleasanter he must place you in a sing
ing class."

Singing was quite a great accomplishment then.
Very few people had pianos. But young ladies and
young men would sometimes spend a whole evening in
singing beautiful old songs.

In March there was a new President, Mr. Madison.
Everybody was hoping for a new policy and better
times, yet now and then there were quite sharp talks
of war.

One day Mrs. Manning and the baby came in and
made quite a visit. The baby was very sweet and good,
with pretty dark eyes, and Mrs. Manning looked very
much like Aunt Elizabeth. Mrs. Hollis Leverett came
and spent the day, and young married women who had
been Mary Leverett's friends came to tea. Warren went
over in the old chaise and brought Aunt Priscilla.
Everybody seemed personally aggrieved that Betty
should stay away so long.

But Betty was having a grand time. Her letters to
her mother were very staid and respectful, but there were
accounts of dinners and evening parties and two or three
weddings. Her brother King had given her a pretty
pink silk, and that was made pompadour waist and had a
full double plait at the back that hung down to the floor
in a train. He had taken her and Electa to a grand
affair where there were crowds of beautifully attired
ladies. Betty did not call it a ball, for she knew they
would all be shocked. And though her mother had
written for her to come home, Mrs. King had begged for

202 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

a little longer visit, as there seemed to be something
special all the time.

" What extravagance for a young girl ! " exclaimed
Mrs. Manning. "Pink silk indeed, and a train! Betty
will be so flighty when she comes back there will be no
getting along with her. 'Lecty has grown very worldly,
I think. I have never found any occasion for a pink
silk."

Mrs. Leverett sighed. And Betty was not yet seven
teen!

Mrs. Manning took James home with her, for she said
grandmother was spoiling him. She kept the children
with a pretty strict hand at home, and they soon jumped
over the traces when you gave them a little liberty. She
was very glad to have him go to school all winter and
hoped he had made some improvement.

She was very brisk and energetic and was surprised to
think they were letting Doris grow up into such a help
less, know-nothing sort of girl. And her daughter of
nine was like a steady little woman.

" Still it isn't wise to put too much on her," said
Mrs. Leverett in mild protest. " Where one cannot
help it, why, you must; but I think life is getting
a little easier, and children ought to have their share
of it."

" I'm not asking anything of her that I did not do,"
returned Mrs. Manning. " And I am proud of my
training and my housekeeping."

" But it was so different then. Your father and I be
gan life with only a few hundred dollars. Then there
was his three years in the war, and people were doing
everything for themselves — spinning and weaving and
dyeing, and making clothes of every kind. To be sure
I make soap and candles," laughing a little ; " but we
have only one cow now and give half the milk for her

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 203

care. I really felt as if I ought not have Martha, but
father insisted."

" I don't see why Doris couldn't have done a good
deal instead of poring over books so much."

" Well — you see she isn't really our own. Cousin
Winthrop has some ideas about her education. She will
have a little money, too, if everything turns out right."

" It's just the way to spoil girls. And you will find,
mother, that Betty will be none the better for her visit
to 'Lecty. Dear me! I don't see how 'Lecty can answer
to her conscience, spending money that way. We
couldn't. It's wrong and sinful. And it's wrong to
bring up any child in a helpless, do-little fashion."

They were sitting by the south window sewing, and
Doris was at the other side of the chimney studying.
Now and then she could not help catching a sentence.
She wondered what little Elizabeth Manning was like,
who could cook a meal, work butter, tend babies, and
sew and knit stockings. She only went to school in the
winter; there was too much work to do in the summer.
She was not left alone now; one of the Manning aunts
had been staying some time. This aunt was a tailoress
and had been fitting out Mr. Manning, and now James
must go home to have some clothes made.

Jimmie boy privately admitted to Doris that he
would rather stay at grandmother's. She was a good deal
easier on him than his mother, and he didn't mind Mrs.
Webb a bit. " But you just ought to see Mr. Green.
He does lick the boys like fury! And there's such lots
of errands to do home. Mother never gives you a chunk
of cake either. I don't see why they couldn't all have
been grandmothers instead of mothers."

James was not the first boy who had wished such a
thing. But he knew he had to go home, and that was
all there was about it.

204 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Martha wanted to go also. She had bought a good
stout English cambric — lively colored, as she called it —
and a nice woolen or stuff frock, as goods of that kind
was often called. She was going to do up her last sum
mer's white frock to be married in. They would have a
wedding supper at her father's and then go home, and
begin housekeeping the next morning. Mrs. Leverett
added a tablecloth to her store.

Betty must be sent for imperatively. Her mother was
afraid she would be quite spoiled. And she could not
help wishing that Mrs. King would be a little more care
ful and not branch out so, and Mary take life a little
easier, for Mr. Manning was putting by money and had
his large farm clear.

Then Aunt Priscilla was suddenly at sea. Jonas Field
had bought a place of his own where he could live over
the store. In spite of a changed name, King Street had
dropped down and down, and was now largely given to
taverns. The better class had kept moving out and a
poorer class coming in, with colored people among them.
No one had applied for the store, but a man who wanted
to keep a tavern combined with a kind of sailor lodging
house had made her a very good offer to buy the
property.

" I'm going to live my time out in this very house,"
declared Aunt Priscilla with some of her olden energy.
" I came here when I was married and I'll stay to be
buried. By the looks of things, it won't be a great many
years. And I haven't made a sign of a will yet! Not
that the Perkinses would get anything if I died in this
state — that aint the word, but it means the same thing,
not having your will made, and I aint quite sure after all
that would be right. I worked and saved, and I had
some when we were married, but husband had farsight,

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 205

and knew how to turn it over. Some of his money ought
to go back to his folks."

This had been one of the decisions haunting Aunt Pris-
cilla's conscience. Down at the bottom she had a strict
sense of justice.

" It is hardly nice to go there any more," said Aunt
Elizabeth. " And I shall not enjoy a young girl like
Betty running over there, if Aunt Priscilla shouldn't be
very well, and she is breaking. Polly gets worse and
really is not to be trusted."

It was Polly after all who settled the matter, or the
summons that came to Polly one night. For in the
morning, quite late, after a good deal of calling and
scolding, Aunt Priscilla found she had taken the last
journey. It was a great shock. Jonas Field's errand
boy was dispatched to the Leveretts'.

The woman who came soon gave notice that she
" couldn't stay in no such neighborhood for steady
company."

Mr. Leverett and Cousin Adams urged her to sell. If
there should be war she might not have a chance in a
long while again.

" But I don't know the first thing in the world to do,"
she moaned. " I haven't a chick nor a child to care
about me."

" Come over and stop with us a bit until you can make
some plans. There's two rooms upstairs in which you
could housekeep if you wanted to. Our family gets
smaller all the time. But if you liked to live with us a
spell " said Mr. Leverett.

" I don't know how 'Lizabeth could stand an old
woman and a young one " — hesitatingly.

" If you mean Doris, she is going over to Win-
throp's," he replied.

206 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Ready to jump at the chance, I'll warrant. You
can't count on children."

" No, Aunt Priscilla, she didn't jump. She's a wise,
fond little thing. Win asked her about Christmas, and
she wouldn't consent until Betty came back, for fear we
would be lonesome. It quite touched me when I heard
of it. Win has some ideas about her education, and I
guess he's nearer right. So that needn't trouble you.
It would be so much better for you to sell."

" I'll think it orer," she said almost gruffly, for she
was moved herself. " I never could get along with this
Rachel Day. She doesn't allow that anyone in the world
knows anything but herself, and I kept house before she
was born. I don't like quite such smart people."

Miss Hetty Perkins came in to offer her services as
housekeeper. Every now and then she had " edged
round," as Aunt Priscilla expressed it. Everybody said
Hetty was closer than the skin, but then she had no one
except herself to depend upon. And Amos Perkins
called to see if Aunt Priscilla had anyone she could
trust to do her business. He heard she was going to
sell.

" I haven't made up my mind," she answered tartly.
She was not fond of Amos either.

Then the would-be purchaser found he could have a
place two doors below. He did not like it as well, but it
would answer.

" It seems as if I was bound to have a rum shop and a
sailor's boarding-house under my nose. There'll be a
crowd of men hanging round and fiddling and carousing
half the night. I don't see what's getting into Boston!
Places that were good enough twenty year ago are only
fit for tramps, and decent people have to get out of the
way, whether they will or no."

Betty came home the last of March. She looked

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 207

taller — perhaps it was because she wore her dresses so
long and her hair so high. She had a pretty new frock —
a rich warm brown ground, with little flowers in green
and yellow and a kind of dull red sprinkled all over it.
It had come from New York, and was called delaine.
She had discarded her homespun woolen. And, oh, how
stylishly pretty she was, quite like the young ladies at
Madam Royall's!

She held Doris to her heart and almost smothered her,
kissing her fondly.

"You have grown lovely by the minute!" she cried.
" I was so afraid someone would cut your hair. 'Lecty
said at first that I had only one idea, and that was Doris
Adams, I talked about you so much. And she's wild
to see you. She's quite grand and full of fun, altogether
different from Mary. Mary holds onto every penny
until I should think she'd pinch it thin. And I've had
the most magnificent time, though Hartford is nothing
compared to Boston. It is like a country place where
you know everybody that is at all worth knowing. I
have such lots of things to tell you."

It came rather hard to take up the old routine of work,
and get up early in the morning. She was dismayed by
the news that Aunt Priscilla was coming and Doris
going.

" Though I don't know," she declared after reflecting
a day or two on the subject. " I'll have such a good
excuse to go to Uncle Win's, and we can have delightful
talks. But Aunt Priscilla is certainly a dispensation of
Providence equal to St. Paul's thorn in the flesh."

" I've made her some visits this winter, and she has
been real nice," said Doris. " I shouldn't mind her at
all now. And I told Uncle Win that I would like to be
two little girls, so one could stay here. I love Uncle Win
very much. I love your father too."

2o8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Is there anybody in the whole wide world you do not
love?"

Doris flushed. She had not been able to feel very
tenderly toward Mrs. Manning, and Mrs. Hollis Lev-
erett talked about her being so backward, and such a
" meachin " little thing.

" I dare say if the truth was known, her mother died
of consumption. And that great mop of hair is enough
to take the strength out of any child. I wouldn't have it
on Bessy's head for an hour," declared Mrs. Hollis.

But Bessy told her in a confidential whisper that she
thought her curls the sweetest thing in the world, and
when she was a grown-up young lady she meant to curl
her hair all over her head.

Doris was glad Uncle Winthrop did not find any fault
with them.

Of course she should be sorry to go. It was curious
how one could be glad and sorry in a breath.

Mrs. Leverett went over to Aunt Priscilla's to help
pack. Oh, the boxes and bundles and bags! They
were tied up and labeled; some of them had not been
opened for years. Gowns that she had outgrown, stock
ings she had knit, petticoats she had quilted — quite a
fashion then.

" It's lucky we have a big garret," said Mrs. Leverett.
"And whatever will you do with them?"

" There's that flax wheel — it was grandmother's. She
was like Benjamin Franklin, who gave his sister Jane a
spinning wheel on her wedding day: she gave me that.
And Jane's gone, though I did hear someone bought the
wheel for a sort of keepsake. Oh, Elizabeth, I don't
know what you will do with all this old trumpery! "

Elizabeth hardly knew either. It was good to have
children and grandchildren to take some of these things,
just to keep one from hoarding up. Elizabeth, sweet

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 209

soul, remembered the poor at her gates as well. But
most people were fond of holding onto everything until
their latest breath. There was some virtue in it, for the
later generations had many priceless heirlooms.

One of the south rooms was emptied, and after a great
deal of argument Aunt Priscilla was prevailed upon to
use her best chamber furniture for the rest of her life.
She had not cared much for the housekeeping project,
and decided she would rather board a while until she
could get back some of her strength.

"What are you going to do with Solomon?" asked
Doris.

" Well — I don't know. Aunt Elizabeth doesn't like
cats very much. He's such a nice fellow, I should hate
to leave him behind and have him neglected. But it's
bad luck to move cats."

" I should like to have him."

" Would you, now? He's almost like a human. I've
said that many a time; and he went round asking after
Polly just as plain as anyone could. I declare, it made
my heart ache. Polly had been a capable woman, and
Mr. Perkins bought her, so I didn't feel free to turn her
away when he was gone. And I'd grown used to a
servant, too. I don't know what I should have done
without her the two years he was ailing. Though when
she came to be forgetful and lose her judgment it did
use to try me. But I'm glad now I kept her to the end.
I'd borrowed a sight of trouble thinking what I'd do if
she fell sick, and I might just as well have trusted the
Lord right straight along. When I come to have this
other creetur ordering everything, and making tea her
way, — she will boil it and you might as well give me
senna, — then I knew Polly had some sense and memory,
after all. You can't think how I miss her! I'm sorry
for every bit of fault I've found these last two years."

2io A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Aunt Priscilla stopped to take breath and wipe her
eyes. Polly's death had opened her mind to many
things.

Doris sat and stroked Solomon and rubbed him under
the throat. Now and then he looked up with an intent,
asking gaze, and a solemn flick of one ear, as if he said,
" Can't you tell me where Polly is gone? "

" You'd have to ask Uncle Winthrop. And I don't
know what Miss Recompense would say."

" She likes cats."

" Oh. Well, I'm afraid Uncle Winthrop doesn't."

" If he should" tentatively.

" I think I'd miss Solomon a good deal. But he'd be
a bother to keep at the Leveretts'. I would like him
to have a good home. And he is very fond of you."

Uncle Win was over the very next day, and Doris laid
the case before him.

" I like the picture of comfort a nice cat makes before
the fire. I haven't any objection to cats in themselves.
But I dislike cat hairs."

" Uncle Win, I could brush you off. And Solomon
has been so well trained. He has a box with a cushion,
so he never jumps up in chairs. And he has a piece of
blanket on the rug where he lies. He loves me so, and
Aunt Elizabeth can't bear cats. Oh, I wish I might
have him."

" I'll talk to Miss Recompense. She's having a little
room fixed up for you just off of hers. It opens on the
hall, and it has a window where you can see the sun rise.
I think through the summer you need not go to school,
but study at home as you did Christmas week."

"That will be delightful! And I shall be so glad
when it is truly spring."

It had been a long cold winter, but now there were
signs everywhere of a curious awakening among the

VARIOUS OPINIONS OF LITTLE GIRLS. 211

maples. Some were already out in red bloom. The
grass had begun to spring up in its soft green, though
there were patches of ice in shady places and a broad
skim along the edge of the Charles River marsh. But
the bay and the harbor were clear and beautiful.

Betty and Doris had confidential chats after they
were in bed — in very low tones, lest they should be
heard.

" Everybody would be shocked to see how really gay
Electa is. There are very religious people in Hartford,
too, who begin on Saturday night. But the men insist
upon parties and dinners, and they bring their fashions
up from New York. Boston is just as gay in some
places, and Jane Morse has had a splendid time this win
ter going to dances. The gentlemen who come to Mr.
King's are so polite, some of them elegant. I envy
'Lecty. It's just the kind of world to live in."

" And I want to hear about your pink silk."

" I left it at 'Lecty's. It was too gay to bring home.
It would have frightened everybody. And 'Lecty thinks
of going to New York next winter, and if she does she
will send for me. I should have had to rumple it all up
bringing it home, and I don't believe I'd had a chance to
wear it. I have the other two, and Mat thought the blue
and white one very pretty. Mat laughs at what he calls
Puritanism, and says the world is growing broader and
more generous. He- is a splendid man too, and though
he is making a good deal of money he doesn't think all
the time of saving, as Mary and her husband do. He is
good to the poor, and generous and kind, and wants
everyone to be happy. Of course they go to church,
but there is a curious difference. I sometimes wonder
who is right and if it is a sin to be happy."

Doris' mind had no especial theological bent, and her
conscience had not been trained to keep on the alert.

212 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" It was very nice in him to give it to you. And you
must have looked lovely in it."

" Oh, the frock," Betty laughed. " Yes, I did. And
when you know you look nice you stop feeling anxious
about it. It was just so at Jane's party. But I should
have been mortified in my gray woolen gown. Well —
the mortification may be good, but it isn't pleasant. I
wore the pink silk to the weddings and to some dinners.
Dinners are quite grand things there, but they last so
long I should call them suppers. And sometimes
there is a grand march afterward, which is a kind of
stately dancing. It has been just delightful. I don't
know how I will settle down and wash and iron and
scrub. But I would a great deal rather be in 'Lecty's
place than in Mary's, and saving up money to buy farms
isn't everything to life. I think the Mannings worship
their farms and stock a good deal more than 'Lecty and
Mat do their fine house and their money and all."

Her admirers and her conquests she confided to Janie
Morse. There was one very charming young man that
she liked a great deal, but her sister said she was too
young to keep company, and there might be next winter
in New York.

It spoke volumes for the wholesome, sensible nature of
Betty Leverett that she could take her olden place in the
household, assist her mother, and entertain her father
with the many interesting events of her gay and happy
winter.

IN THE SPRING. 213

CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE SPRING.

HP HE matter had settled itself so easily that Doris could
* not find much opportunity for sorrow, nor misgiv
ings for her joy. She could not see the struggle there
had been in Uncle Leverett's mind, and the sturdy com
mon sense that had come to his assistance. He could
recall habits of second-cousin Charles that were like a
woman's for daintiness, and Winthrop Adams had the
same touch of refinement and delicacy. It was in the
Adams blood, doubtless. Aunt Priscilla had not a large
share, but he had noted some of it in Elizabeth. It per
vaded every atom of Doris' slender body and every cell
of her brain. She never would take to the rougher,
coarser things of life; indeed, why should she when there
was no need? He had wandered so far from the ortho
dox faith that he began to question useless discipline.

Winthrop could understand and care for her better.
She would grow up in his house to the kind of girl nature
had meant her to be. Here the useful, that might never
come in use, would be mingled and confused with what
was necessary. He had watched her trying to achieve
the stocking that all little girls could knit at her age. It
was as bad as Penelope's web. Aunt Elizabeth pulled it
out after she had gone to bed, and knit two or three
" rounds," so as not to utterly discourage her inapt pupil.
But Doris had set up some lace on a " cushion," after
Madam Sheafe's direction, and it grew a web of beauty
under her dainty fingers.

It was not as if Doris would be quite lost to them.
They would see her every day or two. And when it was

214 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

decided that Aunt Priscilla would come he was really
glad. Aunt Priscilla's captious talk did not always pro
ceed from an unkindly heart.

Betty made a violent protest at first.

" After all, it will not be quite so bad as I thought,"
she admitted presently. " I shall go to Uncle Win's
twice as often, and I have always been so fond of him.
And things are prettier there, somehow. There is a
great difference in the way people live, and I mean to
change some things. It isn't because one is ashamed to
be old-fashioned; some of the old ways are lovely. It is
only when you tack hardness and commonness on them
and think ugliness has a real virtue in it. We will have
both sides to talk about. But if you were going back to
England, it would break my heart, Doris."

Doris winked some tears out of her eyes.

She thought her room at Uncle Win's was like a
picture. The wall was whitewashed: people thought
then it was much healthier for sleeping chambers. The
floor was painted a rather palish yellow. There was only
one window, but the door was opposite, and a door that
opened into the room of Miss Recompense. The win
dow had white curtains with ruffled edges, made of rather
coarse muslin, but it was clear, and looked very tidy.
Miss Recompense had found a small bedstead among the
stored-away articles. It had high posts and curtains
and valance of pale-blue flowered chintz. There was a
big bureau, a dressing table covered with white, and a
looking glass prettily draped. At the top of this, sur
mounted by a gilt eagle, was a marvelous picture of a
man with a blue coat and yellow smallclothes handing
into a boat a lady who wore a skirt of purple and an
overdress of scarlet, very much betrimmed, holding a
green parasol over her head with one hand and placing
a slippered foot on the edge of the boat. After a long

IN THE SPRING. 215

while Doris thought she should be much relieved to have
them sail off somewhere.

There were two quaint rush-bottomed chairs and a
yellow stool, such as we tie with ribbons and call a milk
ing stool. A nice warm rug lay at the side of the bed,
and a smaller one at the washing stand. These were
woven like rag carpet, but made of woolen rags with
plenty of ends standing up all over, like the surface of a
Moquette carpet. They were considered quite hand
some then, as they were more trouble than braided rugs,
and so soft to the foot. Some strenuous housekeepers
declared them terrible dust catchers.

Doris' delight in the room amply repaid Miss Recom
pense. She had learned her way about, and could come
down alone, now that the weather had grown pleasanter,
and she was full of joy over everything. Occasionally
Uncle Winthrop would be out, then she and Miss
Recompense would have what they called a " nice talk."

Miss Recompense Gardiner was quite sure she had
never seen just such a child. Indeed at five-and-forty
she was rather set in her ways, disliked noise and bustle,
and could not bear to have a house " torn up," as she
phrased it. Twelve years before she had come here to
" housekeep," as the old phrase went. She had not
lacked admirers, but she had been very particular. Her
sisters said she was a born old maid. There was in her
soul a great love of refinement and order.

Mr. Winthrop Adams just suited her. He was quiet,
neat, made no trouble, and did not smoke. That was a
wretched habit in her estimation. Cousin Charles used
to come over, and different branches of the family were
invited in now and then to tea. Cary was a rather
proper, well-ordered boy, trained by his mother's sister,
who had married and gone away just before the advent
of Miss Gardiner. There had been some talk that Mr.

216 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Winthrop might espouse Miss Harriet Gary in the course
of time, but as there were no signs, and Miss Gary had an
excellent offer of marriage, she accepted it.

Gary went to the Latin School and then to Harvard.
He was a fair average boy, a good student, and ready
for his share of fun at any time. His father had marked
out his course, which was to be law, and Gary was indif
ferent as to what he took up.

So they had gone on year after year. It promised a
pleasant break to have the little girl.

The greatest trouble, Miss Recompense thought, would
be making Solomon feel at home. Doris brought his
cushion, and the box he slept in at night was sent.
Warren brought him over in a bag and they put him in
the closet for the night. He uttered some pathetic wails,
and Doris talked to him until he quieted down. He was
a good deal frightened the next morning, but he clung
to Doris, who carried him about in her arms and intro
duced him to every place. He was afraid of Mr. Adams
and Cato, his acquaintance with men having been rather
limited. After several days he began to feel quite at
home, and took cordially to his cushion in the corner.

" He doesn't offer to run away," announced Doris to
Aunt Priscilla. " He likes Miss Recompense. Uncle
Winthrop thinks him the handsomest cat he has ever
seen."

" Poor old Polly ! She set a great deal of store by
Solomon. I never did care much for a cat, but I do
think Solomon was most as wise as folks. I don't know
what I should have done last winter when I was so
miserable if it had not been for him. He seemed to take
such comfort that it was almost as good as a sermon.
And sometimes when he purred it was like the sound of
a hymn with the up and down and the long notes. I
don't believe he would have stayed with anyone else

IN THE SPRING. 217

though. Child, what is there about you that just goes
to the heart of even a dumb beast ? "

Doris looked amazed, then thoughtful. " I suppose it
is because I love them," she said simply.

There was a great stir everywhere, it seemed. The
slow spring had really come at last. The streets were
being cleared up, the gardens put in order, some of the
houses had a fresh coat of paint ; the stores put out their
best array, the trees were misty-looking with tiny green
shoots, and the maples Doris thought wonderful. There
were four in the row on Common Street; one was full
of soft dull-red blooms, one had little pale-green hoods
on the end of every twig, another looked as if it held a
tiny scarlet parasol over each baby bud, and the fourth
dropped clusters of brownish-green fringe.

" Oh, how beautiful they are! " cried Doris, her eyes
alight with enthusiasm.

And then all the great Common began to put on spring
attire. The marsh grass over beyond sent up stiff green
spikes and tussocks that looked like little islands, and
there were water plants with large leaves that seemed
continually nodding to their neighbors. The frog con
certs at the pond were simply bewildering with the
variety of voices, each one proclaiming that the reign of
ice and snow was at an end and they were giving thanks.

" They are so glad," declared Doris. " I shouldn't
like to be frozen up all winter in a little hole."

Miss Recompense smiled. Perhaps they were grate
ful. She had never thought of it before.

Doris did not go back to Mrs. Webb's school, though
that lady said she was sorry to give her up. Uncle Win
gave her some lessons, and she went to writing school
for an hour every day. Miss Recompense instructed her
how to keep her room tidy, but Uncle Win said there
would be time enough for her to learn housekeeping.

2i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Then there were hunts for flowers. Betty came over;
she knew some nooks where the trailing arbutus grew
and bloomed. The swamp pinks and the violets of every
shade and almost every size — from the wee little fellow
who sheltered his head under his mother's leaf-green
umbrella to the tall, sentinel-like fellow who seemed to
fling out defiance. Doris used to come home with her
hands full of blooms.

The rides too were delightful. They went over the
bridges to West Boston and South Boston and to Cam
bridge, going through the college buildings — small, in
deed, compared with the magnificent pile of to-day. But
Boston did seem almost like a collection of islands. The
bays and rivers, the winding creeks that crept through
the green marsh grass, the long low shores held no pre
sentiment of the great city that was to be.

Although people groaned over hard times and talked
of war, still the town kept a thriving aspect. Men were
at work leveling Beacon Hill. Boylston Street was
being made something better than a lane, and Common
Street was improved. Uncle Winthrop said next thing
he supposed they would begin to improve him and order
him to take up his house and walk. For houses were
moved even then, when they stood in the way of a
street.

The earth from the hill, or rather hills, went to fill in
the Mill Pond. Lord Lyndhurst had once owned a large
part, but he had gone to England to live. Charles Street
was partly laid out — as far as the flats were filled in. It
was quite entertaining to watch the great patient oxen,
which, when they were standing still, chewed their cud in
solemn content and gazed around as though they could
predict unutterable things.

From the house down to Common Street was a kind
of garden where Cato raised vegetables and Miss Recom-

IN THE SPRING. 219

pense had her beds of sweet and medicinal herbs. For
then the housekeeper concocted various household reme
dies, and made extracts by the use of a little still for
flavoring and perfumery. She gathered all the rose
leaves and lavender blossoms and sewed them up in thin
muslin bags and laid them in the drawers and closets.

And, oh, what roses she had then! Great sweet
damask roses, pink and the loveliest deep red, twice as
large as the Jack roses of to-day. And trailing pink and
white roses climbing over everything. Aunt Elizabeth
said Miss Recompense could make a dry stick grow and
bloom.

Uncle Winthrop found a new and charming interest
in the little girl. She was so fond of taking walks and
hearing the legends about the old places. She could see
where the old beacon had stood when the place was
called Sentry Hill, and she knew it had been blown down
in a gale, and that on the spot had been erected a
beautiful Doric column surmounted by an eagle, to
commemorate " the train of events that led to the
American Revolution and finally secured liberty and
Independence."

But the State House had made one great excavation,
and the Mill Pond Corporation was making others, and
they were planning to remove the monument.

" We ought to have more regard for these old places,"
Uncle Win used to say with a sigh.

Gary had not been a companionable child. He was a
regular boy, and the great point of interest in Sentry
Hill for him was batting a ball up the hill. It was a
proud day for him when he carried it farther than any
other boy. He was fond of games of all kinds, and was
one of the fleetest runners and a fine oarsman, and could
sail a boat equal to any old salt, he thought. He was a
boy, of course, and Uncle Win did not want him to be a

220 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Molly coddle," so he gave in, for he did not quite know
what to do with a lad who could tumble more books
around in five minutes than he could put in order in half
an hour, and knew more about every corner in Old Bos
ton than anyone else, and was much more confident of
his knowledge.

But this little girl, who soon learned the peculiarity of
every tree, the song of the different birds, and the sea
son of bloom for wild flowers, and could listen for hours
to the incidents of the past, that seem of more vital im
portance to middle-aged people than the matters of
every day, was a veritable treasure to Mr. Winthrop
Adams. He did not mind if she could not knit a stock
ing, and he sometimes excused her deficiencies in arith
metic because she was so fond of hearing him read
poetry. For Doris thought, of all the things in the
world, being able to write verses was the most delightful,
and that was her aim when she was a grown-up young
lady. She did pick up a good deal of general knowledge
that she would not have acquired at school, but Uncle
Win wasn't quite sure how much a girl ought to be
educated.

She began to see considerable of the Chapman girls,
and Madam Royall grew very fond of her. But she did
not forget her dear friends in Sudbury Street. Some
times when Uncle Win was going out to a supper or to
stay away all the evening she would go up and spend
the night with Betty, and sit in the old corner, for it was
Uncle Leverett's favorite place whether there was fire
or not. He was as fond as ever of listening to her
chatter.

She always brought a message to Aunt Priscilla about
Solomon. Uncle Winthrop thought him the hand
somest cat he had ever seen, and now Solomon was not
even afraid of Cato, but would walk about the garden

IN THE SPRING. 221

with him, and Miss Recompense said he was so much
company when she, Doris, was out of the house.

Indeed, he would look at her with inquiring eyes and
a soft, questioning sound in his voice that was not quite
a mew.

" Yes," Miss Recompense would say, " Doris has gone
up to Sudbury Street. We miss her, don't we, Solomon?
It's a different house without her."

Solomon would assent in a wise fashion.

" I never did think to take comfort in talking to a cat,"
Miss Recompense would say to herself with a touch of
sarcasm.

About the middle of June, when roses and spice pinks
and ten-weeks' stocks, and sweet-williams were at their
best, Mr. Adams always gave a family gathering at
which cousins to the third and fourth generation were
invited. Everything was at its loveliest, and the Mall
just across the street was resplendent in beauty. Even
then it had magnificent trees and great stretches of grass,
green and velvety. Already it was a favorite strolling
place.

Miss Recompense had sent a special request for Betty
on that particular afternoon and evening. There was
to be a high tea at five o'clock.

" I shall have my new white frock all done," said Betty
delightedly. " There is just a little needlework around
the neck and the skirt to sew on."

" But I wouldn't wear it," rejoined her mother.
" You may get a fruit stain on it, or meet with some
accident. Miss Recompense will expect you to work a
little."

" Have you anything new, Doris? "

" Oh, yes," replied Doris. " A white India muslin,
and a cambric with a tiny rosebud in it. Madam Royall
chose them and ordered them made. And, Betty, I have

222 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

almost outgrown the silk already. Madam Royall is
going to see about getting it altered. And in the
autumn Helen Chapman will have a birthday company,
and I am invited already, or my frock is," and Doris
laughed. " She has made me promise to wear it then."

" You go to the Royalls' a good deal," exclaimed Aunt
Priscilla jealously. She was sitting in a high-backed
chair, very straight and prim. She was not quite at
home yet, and kept wondering if she wouldn't rather have
her own house if she could get a reasonable sort of serv
ant. Still, she did enjoy the sociable side of life, and it
was pleasant here at Cousin Leverett's. They all tried to
make her feel at home, and though Betty tormented her
sometimes by a certain argumentativeness, she was very
ready to wait on her. Aunt Priscilla did like to hear of
the delightful entertainments her silk gown had gone to
after being hidden away so many years. As for the hat,
a young Englishman had said " She looked like a prin
cess in it."

" You are just eaten up with vanity, Betty Leverett,"
Aunt Priscilla tried to rejoin in her severest tone.

Doris glanced over to her now.

" Yes," she answered. " Uncle Winthrop thinks I
ought to know something about little girls. Eudora is
six months older than I am. They have such a magnifi
cent swing, four girls can sit in it. Helen is studying
French and the young ladies can talk a little. They do
not see how I can talk so fast."

Doris laughed gleefully. Aunt Priscilla sniffed.
Winthrop Adams would make a flighty, useless girl out
of her. And companying so much with rich people
would fill her mind with vanity. Yes, the child would be
ruined!

" And we tell each other stories about our Boston.
This Boston," making a pretty gesture with her hand,

IN THE SPRING. 223

" has the most splendid ones about the war and all, and
the ships coming over here almost two hundred years
ago. It is a long while to live one hundred years, even.
But I knew about Mr. Cotton and the lady Arabella
Johnston. They had not heard about the saint and how
his body was carried around to make it rain."

" To make it rain! Whose body was it, pray? " asked
Aunt Priscilla sharply, scenting heresy. She was not
quite sure but so much French would shut one out from
final salvation. " Did you have saints in Old Boston? "

"Oh, it was the old Saint of the Church— St. Botolph."
Doris hesitated and glanced up at Uncle Leverett, who
nodded. " He was a very, very good man," she resumed
seriously. " And one summer there was a very long
drought. The grass all dried up, the fruit began to fall
off, and they were afraid there would be nothing for the
cattle to feed upon. So they took up St. Botolph in his
coffin and carried him all around the town, praying as
they went. And it began to rain."

" Stuff and nonsense! The idea of reasonable human
beings believing that! "

" But you know the prophet prayed for rain in the
Bible."

" But to take up his body ! Are they doing it now in
a dry time?" Aunt Priscilla asked sarcastically.

" They don't now, but it was said they did it several
times, and it always rained."

" They wan't good orthodox Christians. No one ever
heard of such a thing."

" But our orthodox Christians believed in witches —
even the descendants of this very John Cotton who came
over to escape the Lords Bishops," said Warren.

" And, unlike Mr. Blacksone, stayed and had a hard
time with the Lords Brethren," said Mr. Leverett. " I
hardly know which was the worst " — smiling with a

224 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

glint of humor. " And you more than half believe in
witches yourself, Aunt Priscilla."

" I am sure I have reason to. Grandmother Parker
was a good woman if ever there was one, and she was
bewitched. And would it have said in the Bible — ' Thou
shalt not suffer a witch to live/ if there had not been
any?"

" They were telling stories at Madam Royall's one day.
And sometime Uncle Winthrop is going to take us all
to Marblehead, where Mammy Redd lived. Eudora said
this:

"' Old Mammy Redd
Of Marblehead
Sweet milk could turn
To mold in churn.'

And Uncle Winthrop has a big book about them."

" He had better take you to Salem. That was the
very hotbed of it all," said Warren.

Doris came around to Aunt Priscilla. " Did your
grandmother really see a witch?" she asked in a serious
tone.

" Well, perhaps she didn't exactly see it. But she
was living at Salem and had a queer neighbor. One
day they had some words, and when grandmother went
to churn her milk turned all moldy and spoiled the but
ter. Grandmother didn't even dare feed it to the pigs.
So it went on several times. Then another neighbor said
to her, 'The next time it happens you just throw a dipper-
full over the back log.' And so grandmother did. It
made an awful smell and smoke. Then she washed out
her churn and put it away. She was barely through
when someone came running in, and said, ' Have you any
sweet oil, Mrs. Parker? Hetty Lane set herself afire
cleaning the cinders out of her oven, and she's dreadfully
burned. Come right over.' Grandmother was a little

IN THE SPRING. 225

afraid, but she went, and, sure enough, it had happened
just the moment she threw the milk in the fire. One
side of her was burned, and one hand. And although
the neighbors suspected her, they were all very kind to
her while she was ill. But grandmother had no more
trouble after that, and it was said Hetty Lane never be
witched anybody again."

" It's something like the kelpies and brownies Barby
used to tell about that were in England long time ago,"
said Doris, big-eyed. " They hid tools and ate up the
food and spoiled the milk and the bread, turning it to
stone. They went away — perhaps someone burned
them up."

Aunt Priscilla gave her sniff. To be compared with
such childish stuff!

" It was very curious," said Mrs. Leverett. " I have
always been glad I was not alive at that time. Some
times unaccountable things happen."

" Did you ever see a truly witch yourself, Aunt Pris
cilla? " asked the child.

" No, I never did," she answered honestly.

" Then I guess they did go with the fairies and kelpies.
Could I tell your story over sometime? " she inquired
eagerly.

Telling ghost stories and witch stories was quite an
amusement at that period.

" Why, yes — if you want to." She was rather pleased
to have it go to the Royalls'.

" The last stitch," and Betty folded up her work.
" Come, Doris, say good-night, and let us go to bed."

Doris put a little kiss on Aunt Priscilla's wrinkled
hand.

226 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.
CHAPTER XV.

A FREEDOM SUIT.

A UNT PRISCILLA had a dozen changes of mind as
•**• to whether to go to Cousin Adams' or not. But
Betty insisted. She trimmed her cap and altered the
sleeves of her best black silk gown. The elderly people
were wearing " leg-o'-mutton " sleeves now, while the
young people had great puffs. Long straight Puritan
sleeves were hardly considered stylish. And then
Cousin Win sent the chaise up for her.

Mrs. March, Gary's aunt, had come up to Boston to
make a little visit. Mr. March was a ship builder at
Plymouth. She was quite anxious to see this cousin
that Cary had talked about so much, and she was almost
jealous lest he should be crowded out of his rightful
place. She had no children of her own, but her hus
band had four when they were married. So a kind of
motherly sympathy still went out to Cary.

Betty came over in the morning. She and Miss
Recompense were always very friendly. They talked of
jells and jams and preserves; it was too early for any
fresh fruit except strawberries, and Cato always took a
good deal of pains to have these of the very nicest.

The wide fireplace was filled in with green boughs and
the shining leaves of "bread and butter." The rugs were
taken up and the floor had a coat of polish. The parlor
was wide open, arrayed in the stately furnishings of a
century ago. There were two Louis XIV. chairs that
had really come from France. There were some square,
heavy pieces of furniture that we should call Eastlake
now. And the extravagant thing was a Brussels carpet
with a scroll centerpiece and a border in arabesque.

A FREEDOM SUIT. 227

The guests began to come at two. Miss Recompense
and Betty had been arranging the long table with its
thick basket-work cloth that was fragrant with sweet
scents. Betty wore her blue and white silk, as that had
met with some mishaps at Hartford. Miss Recompense
had on a brown silk with a choice bit of thread lace,
and a thread lace cap. Many of the elderly society
ladies wore immense headgears like turbans, with some
times one or two marabou feathers, which were con
sidered extremely elegant. But Miss Recompense kept
to her small rather plain cap, and looked very ladylike,
quite fit to do the honors of the house.

Some of the cousins had driven in from Cambridge
and South Boston. Miss Cragie, who admired her
second-cousin Adams very much, and it was said would
not have been averse to a marriage with him, came over
from the old house that had once been Washington's
headquarters and was to be more famous still as the
home of one of America's finest poets. She took a great
interest in Gary and made him a welcome guest.

We should call it a kind of lawn party now. The
guests flitted around the garden and lawn, inspected the
promising fruit trees, and were enthusiastic over the
roses. Then they wandered over to the Mall and dis
cussed the impending changes in Boston, and said, as
people nearly always do, that it would be ruined by im
provements. It was sacrilegious to take away Beacon
Hill. It was absurd to think of filling in the flats ! Who
would want to live on made ground? And where were
all the people to come from to build houses on these
wonderful streets? Why, it was simply ridiculous!

There were some young men who felt rather awkward
and kept in a little knot with Gary. There were a few
young girls who envied Betty Leverett her at-homeness,
and the fact that she had spent a winter in Hartford.

228 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Croquet would have been a boon then, to make a breach
in the walls of deadly reserve.

Elderly men smoked, walked about, and talked of the
prospect of war. Most of them had high hopes of Presi
dent Madison just now.

Doris was a point of interest for everybody. Her
charming simplicity went to all hearts. Betty had
dressed her hair a dozen different ways, but found none
so pretty as tying part of the curls on top with a ribbon.
She had grown quite a little taller, but was still slim and
fair.

Miss Cragie took a great fancy to her and said she
must come and spend the day with her and visit the
notable points of Cambridge. And next year Gary
would graduate, and she supposed they would have a
grand time.

The supper was quite imposing. Cato's nephew, a
tidy young colored lad, came from one of the inns, and
acquitted himself with superior elegance. It was indeed
a feast, enlivened with bright conversation. People ex
pected to talk then, not look bored and indifferent.
Each one brought something besides appetite to the
feast.

Afterward they went out on the porch and sang, the
ice being broken between the younger part of the com
pany. There were some amusing patriotic songs with
choruses that inspired even the older people. " Hail,
Columbia ! " was greeted with applause.

There were sentimental songs as well, Scotch and old
English ballads. Two of Cary's friends sang " Queen
Mary's Escape " with a great deal of spirit. Then Uncle
Win asked Doris if she could not sing a little French
song that she sang for him quite often, and that was set
to a very touching melody.

She hung back and colored up, but she did want to

A FREEDOM SUIT. 229

please Uncle Win. She was standing beside him, so
she straightened up and took a step out, and holding his
hand sang with a grace that went to each heart. But
she hid herself behind Uncle Win's shoulder when the
compliments began. Gary came around, and said " She
need not be afraid; it was just beautiful! "

After that the company began to disperse. Every
body said " It always was delightful to come over here,"
and the women wondered how it happened that such an
attractive man as Mr. Winthrop Adams had not married
again and had someone to entertain regularly.

There was a magnificent full moon, and the air was de
licious with fragrance. One after another drove away,
or taking the arm of a companion uttered a cordial good
night. Mr. Adams had sent some elderly friends home
in a carriage, and begged the Leveretts to wait until it
came back.

Warren had not been very intimate with the young
collegian; their walks in life lay quite far apart. But
Gary came and joined them as they were all out on the
porch.

" I hope you had a pleasant time," he began. " If it
had not been a family party I should have asked the
club to come over and sing some of the college songs.
Arthur Sprague has a fine voice. And you sing very
well, Warren."

" I have been in a singing class this winter, I like
music so much."

" You ought to hear half a dozen of our fellows to
gether! But this little bird warbled melodiously," and
he put his arm over the shoulder of Doris. " I did not
know she could move an audience so deeply."

" I was so frightened at first," began Doris with a
long breath. " I don't mind singing for Uncle Win, and
one day when there were some guests Madam Royall

230 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

asked me to sing a little French song she had known in
her youth. Isn't it queer a song should last so
long? "

" The fine songs ought to last forever. I hope we will
have some national songs presently besides the ridicu
lous ' Yankee Doodle.' It doesn't seem quite so bad
when it is played by the band and men are marching
to it."

Gary straightened himself up. Being slender he often
allowed his shoulders to droop.

" Now you look like a soldier," exclaimed Warren.

" I'd like to be one, first-rate. I'd leave college now
and go in the Navy if there was another boy to follow
out father's plans. But I can't bear to disappoint him.
It's hard to go against your father when you are all he
has. So I suppose I will go on and study law, and some
day you will hear of my being judge. But we are going
to have a big war, and I would like to take a hand in it.
I wish I was twenty-one."

" I shall be next month. I am going to have a little
company. I'd like you to come, Gary."

" I just will, thank you. What are you going to do? "

" I shall stay with father, of course. I have been learn
ing the business. I think I shouldn't like to go to war
unless the enemy really came to us. I should fight for
my home."

" There are larger questions even than homes," re
plied Gary.

Betty came around the corner of the porch with Uncle
Win, to whom she was talking in her bright, energetic
fashion. Aunt Elizabeth said it was very pleasant to see
so many of the relatives again.

" The older generation is dropping out, and we shall
soon be among the old people ourselves," Mr. Leverett

A FREEDOM SUIT. 231

said. " I was thinking to-night how many youngish
people were here who have grown up in the last ten
years."

" We each have a young staff to lean upon," rejoined
Mr. Adams proudly, glancing at the two boys.

The carriage came round. Aunt Priscilla shook hands
with Cousin Winthrop, and said, much moved:

" I've had a pleasant time, and I had a good mind not
to come. I'm getting old and queer and not fit for any
thing but to sit in the corner and grumble, instead of
frolicking round."

" Oh, don't grumble. Why, I believe I am going
backward. I feel ten years younger, and you are not
old enough to die of old age. Betty, you must keep
prodding her up."

He handed her in the carriage himself, and when they
were all in Doris said:

" It seems as if I ought to go, too."

Uncle Win caught her hand, as if she might run away.

" I do think Cousin Winthrop has improved of late,"
said Mrs. Leverett. " He has gained a little flesh and
looks so bright and interested, and he talked to all the
folks in such a cordial way, as if he was really glad to see
them. And those strawberries did beat all for size.
Betty, the table looked like a feast for a king, if they de
serve anything better than common folks."

" Any other child would be clear out of bonds and past
redemption," declared Aunt Priscilla. " Everybody
made so much of her, as if it was her party. And how
the little creetur does sing! I'd like to hear her prais
ing the Lord with that voice instead of wasting it on
French things that may be so bad you couldn't say them
in good English."

"That isn't," replied Betty. "It is a little good-

232 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

night that her mother used to sing to her and taught
her."

Aunt Priscilla winked hard and subsided. A little
orphan girl — well, Cousin Winthrop would be a good
father to her. Perhaps no one would ever be quite ten
der enough for her mother.

Everybody went home pleased. Yet nowadays such a
family party would have been dull and formal, with no
new books and theaters and plays and tennis and golf
to talk about, and the last ball game, perhaps. There
had been a kind of gracious courtesy in inquiries about
each other's families — a true sympathy for the deaths and
misfortunes, a kindly pleasure in the successes, a con
gratulation for the younger members of the family grow
ing up, a little circling about religion and the recent
rather broad doctrines the clergy were entertaining. For
it was a time of ferment when the five strong points of
Calvinism were being severely shaken, and the doctrine
of election assaulted by the doctrine that, since Christ
died for all, all might in some mysterious manner share
the benefit without being ruled out by their neighbors.

Winthrop Adams would hardly have dreamed that the
presence of a little girl in the house was stirring every
pulse in an unwonted fashion. He had brooded over
books so long; now he took to nature and saw
many things through the child's fresh, joyous sight. He
brushed up his stories of half-forgotten knowledge for
her; he recalled his boyhood's lore of birds and squirrels,
bees and butterflies, and began to feast anew on the
beauty of the world and all things in their season.

It is true, in those days knowledge and literature
were not widely diffused. A book or two of ser
mons, the " Pilgrim's Progress," perhaps " Fox's Book
of Martyrs," and the Farmer's Almanac were the extent
of literature in most families. Women had too much to

A FREEDOM SUIT. 233

do to spend their time reading except on Saturday even
ing and after second service on the Sabbath — then it
must be religious reading.

But Boston was beginning to stir in the education of
its women. Mrs. Abigail Adams had said, " If we mean
to have heroes, statesmen, and philosophers, we should
have learned women." They started a circle of sociality
that was to be above the newest pattern for a gown and
the latest recipe for cake or preserves. A Mrs. Grant
had written a volume called " Letters from the Moun
tains," which they interested themselves in having repub-
lished. Hannah Adams had written some valuable
works, and was now braiding straw for a living; and Mrs.
Josiah Quincy exerted herself to have so talented a
woman placed above indigence. She also endeavored to
have Miss Edgeworth's " Moral Tales " republished for
young people. Scott was beginning to infuse new life
with his wonderful tales, which could safely be put in the
hands of younger readers. The first decade of the cen
tury was laying a foundation for the grand work to be
done later on. And with nearly every vessel, or with the
travelers from abroad, would come some new books from
England. Though they were dear, yet there were a few
" foolish " people who liked a book better than several
dollars added to their savings.

Warren's freedom suit and his freedom party inter
ested Doris a great deal. Since Betty's return there had
been several evening companies, with the parlor opened
and the cake and lemonade set out on the table instead of
being passed around. Betty and Jane Morse were fast
friends. They went " uptown " of an afternoon and had
a promenade, with now and then a nod from some of the
quality. Betty was very much elated when Gary Adams
walked home with her one afternoon and planned about
the party. He would ask three of the young fellows, and

234 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

with himself they would give some college songs. He
knew Miss Morse's cousin, Morris Winslow, very well —
he met him quite frequently at the Royalls'. Indeed,
Gary knew he was a warm admirer of Isabel Royall.

After all, the much-talked-of suit was only a best Sun
day suit of black broadcloth. Doris looked disap
pointed.

" Did you expect I would have red and white stripes
down the sides and blue stars all over the coat?" Warren
asked teasingly. "And an eagle on the buttons? I am
afraid then I should be impressed and taken out to sea."

" Betty," she said afterward, " will you have a freedom
suit when you are twenty-one. And must it be a black
gown?"

" I think they never give girls that," answered Betty
laughingly. " Theirs is a wedding gown. Though
after you are twenty-one, if you go anywhere and earn
money, you can keep it for yourself. Your parents can
not claim it."

Warren had a holiday. His father said he did not
want to see him near the store all day long. He went
over to Uncle Win's, who was just having some late
cherries picked to grace the feast, and he was asked into
the library, where Uncle Win made him a very pleasant
little birthday speech and gave him a silver watch to re
member the occasion by. Warren was so surprised he
hardly knew how to thank him.

Betty was sorry there could be no dancing at the party,
especially as Mr. Winslow had offered black Joe. But
mother would be so opposed they did not even sug
gest it.

The young people began to gather about seven.
They congratulated the hero of the occasion, and one
young fellow recited some amusing verses. They played
games and forfeits and had a merry time. The Cam-

A FREEDOM SUIT. 235

bridge boys sang several beautiful songs, and others of
the gay, rollicking order. The supper table looked very
inviting, Betty thought. Altogether it was a great
pleasure to the young people, who kept it up quite
late, but then it was such a delightful summer night!
Doris thought the singing the most beautiful part of all.
Warren's great surprise occurred the next morning.
There was a new sign up over the door in the place of
the old weather-beaten one that his father had admitted
was disgraceful. And on it in nice fresh lettering was:

P. LEVERETT & SON.

" Oh, father! " was all he could say for a moment.

" Hollis was a good, steady boy — I've been blest in my
boys, and I thank God for it, so when Hollis was through
with his trade, and had that good opportunity to go in
business, I advanced him some money. He has been
prospered and would have paid it back, but I told him
to keep it for his part. This will be your offset to it.
Cousin Winthrop is coming down presently, and Giles
Thatcher, and we will have all the papers signed, so that
if anything happens to me there will be no trouble.
You've been a good son, Warren, and I hope you will
make a good, honorable man."

The tears sprang to Warren's eyes. He was very
glad he had yielded some points to his father and ac
cepted obedience as his due to be rendered cheerfully.
For Mr. Leverett had never been an unreasonable man.

Uncle Win congratulated him again. Betty and her
mother went down in the afternoon to see the new sign.
Aunt Priscilla thought it rather risky business, for being
twenty-one didn't always bring good sense with it, and

236 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

too much liberty was apt to spoil anyone with no more
experience than Warren.

Betty said Aunt Priscilla must have something to
worry about, which was true enough. She had come to
the Leveretts' to see how she could stand " being with
out a home," as she phrased it. But she found herself
quite feeble, and with a cough, and she admitted she
never had quite gotten over the winter's cold which she
took going to church that bitter Sunday. As just the
right person to keep her house had not come to hand,
and as it really was cheaper to live this way, and gave one
a secure feeling in case of illness, she thought it best to
go on. Elizabeth Leverett made her feel very much at
home. She could go down in the kitchen and do a bit of
work when she wanted to, she could weed a little out in
the garden, she could mend and knit and pass away the
time, and it was a pleasure to have someone to converse
with, to argue with.

She had been in great trouble at first about black
Polly. That she had really entertained the thought of
getting rid of her in a helpless old age seemed a great sin
now.

" And the poor old thing had been so faithful until she
began to lose her memory. How could I have resolved
to do such a thing ! " she would exclaim.

" You never did resolve to do it, Aunt Priscilla," Mr.
Leverett said one day. " I am quite sure you could not
have done it when it came to the pinch. It was one of
the temptations only."

" But I never struggled against it. That is what
troubles me."

" God knew just how it would end. He did not mean
the poor creature to become a trouble to anyone. If he
had wanted to try you further, no doubt he would have
done it. Now, why can't you accept the release as he

A FREEDOM SUIT. 237

sent it? It seems almost as if you couldn't resign your
self to his wisdom."

" You make religion so comfortable, Foster Leverett,
that I hardly know whether to take it that way. It isn't
the old-fashioned way in which I was brought up."

" There was just one Doubting Thomas among the
Twelve," he replied smilingly.

There was little need of people going away for a sum
mering then, though they did try to visit their relatives
in the country places about. People came up from the
more southern States for the cool breezes and the pleas
ant excursions everywhere. There were delightful parties
going out almost every day, to the islands lying off the
city, to the little towns farther away, to some places
where it was necessary to remain all night. Madam
Royall insisted upon taking Doris with the girls for a
week's excursion, and she had a happy time. Gary went
to Plymouth to his aunt's, and was fascinated with sea
going matters and the naval wars in progress. Josiah
March was a stanch patriot, and said the thing would
never be settled until we had taught England to let our
men and our vessels alone.

Only a few years before our commerce had extended
over the world. Boston — with her eighty wharves and
quays, her merchants of shrewd and sound judgment,
ability of a high order and comprehensive as well as
authentic information — at that time stood at the head of
the maritime world. The West Indies, China, — though
Canton was the only port to which foreigners were ad
mitted, — and all the ports of Europe had been open to
her. The coastwise trade was also enormous. From
seventy to eighty sail of vessels had cleared in one day.
Long Wharf, at the foot of State Street, was one of the
most interesting and busy places.

The treaty between France and America had agreed

238 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

that " free bottoms made free ships," but during the wars
of Napoleon this had been so abridged that trade was
now practically destroyed. Then England had insisted
upon the right of search, which left every ship at her
mercy, and hundreds of our sailors were being taken
prisoners. There was a great deal of war talk already.
Trade was seriously disturbed.

There was a very strong party opposed to war. What
could so young a country, unprepared in every way, do?
The government temporized — tried various methods in
the hope of averting the storm.

People began to economize ; still there was a good deal
of money in Boston. Pleasures took on a rather more
economical aspect and grew simpler. But business was
at a standstill. The Leveretts were among the first to
suffer, but Mr. Leverett's equable temperament and
serene philosophy kept his family from undue anxiety.

" It's rather a hard beginning for you, my boy," he
said, " but you will have years enough to recover. Only
I sometimes wish it could come to a crisis and be over,
so that we could begin again. It can never be quite as
bad as the old war."

Doris commenced school with the Chapman girls at
Miss Parker's. Uncle Win had a great fancy for sending
her to Mrs. Rowson.

"Wait a year or so," counseled Madam Royall.
" Children grow up fast enough without pushing them
ahead. Little girlhood is the sweetest time of life for
the elderly people, whatever it may be for the girls. I
should like Helen and Eudora to stand still for a few
years, and Doris is too perfect a little bud to be lured
into blossoming. There is something unusual about the
child."

When anyone praised Doris, Uncle Win experienced
a thrill of delight.

A FREEDOM SUIT. 239

Miss Parker's school was much more aristocratic than
Mrs. Webb's. There were no boys and no very small
children. Some of the accomplishments were taught.
French, drawing and painting, and what was called the
" use of the globe," which meant a large globe with all
the countries of the world upon it, arranged to turn
around on an axis. This was a new thing. Doris was
quite fascinated by it, and when she found the North Sea
and the Devonshire coast and the " Wash " the girls
looked on eagerly and straightway she became a heroine.

But one unlucky recess when she had won in the game
of graces a girl said :

"I don't care! That isn't anything! We beat your
old English in the Revolutionary War, and if there's an
other war we'll beat you again. My father says so. I
wouldn't be English for all the gold on the Guinea
coast! "

" I am not English," Doris protested. " My father
was born in this very Boston. And I was born in
France."

" Well, the French are just as bad. They are not to
be depended upon. You are a mean little foreign girl,
and I shall not speak to you again, there now ! "

Doris looked very sober. Helen Chapman comforted
her and said Faith Dunscomb was not worth minding.

She told it over to Uncle Win that evening.

" I suppose I can never be a real Boston girl," she said
sorrowfully.

" I think you are a pretty good one now, and of good
old Boston stock," he replied smilingly. " Sometime
you will be proud that you came from the other Boston.
Oddly enough most of us came from England in the be
ginning. And the Faneuils came from France, and they
are proud enough of their old Huguenot blood."

She had been to Faneuil Hall and the Market with

240 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Uncle Winthrop. They raised all their vegetables and
fruit, unless it was something quite rare, and Cato did
the family marketing.

Only a few years before the Market had been enlarged
and improved. Fifty years earlier the building had
burned down and been replaced, but even the old building
had been identified with liberty of thought, and had a well-
known portrait painter of that day, John Smibert, for its
architect. In the later improvements it had been much
enlarged, and the beautiful open arches of the ground
floor were closed by doors and windows, which rendered
it less picturesque. It was the marketplace par excel
lence then, as Quincy Market came in with the enterprise
of the real city. But even then it rejoiced in the appel
lation of " The Cradle of Liberty," and the hall over the
market-space was used for political gatherings.

Huckster and market wagons from the country farms
congregated in Dock Square. The mornings were the
most interesting time for a visit. The " quality " came
in their carriages with their servant man to run to and
fro; or some young lady on horseback rode up through
the busy throng to leave an order, and then the women
whose servant carried a basket, or those having no serv
ant carried their own baskets, and who went about cheap
ening everything.

So Doris was quite comforted to know that Peter
Faneuil, who was held in such esteem, had not even been
born in Boston, and was of French extraction.

But girls soon get over their tiffs and disputes. Play
is the great leveler. Then Doris was so obliging about
the French exercises that the girls could not stay away
very long at a time.

Miss Parker's typified the conventional idea of a
girl's education prevalent at that time: that ft should
be largely accomplishment. So Doris was allowed

A FREEDOM SUIT. 241

considerable latitude in the commoner branches. Mrs.
Webb had been exacting in the few things she taught,
especially arithmetic. And Uncle Win admitted to him
self that Doris had a poor head for figures. When she
came to fractions it was heartrending. Common mul
tiples and least and greatest common divisors had such a
way of getting mixed up in her brain, that he felt very
sorry for her.

She brought over Betty's book in which all her sums
in the more difficult rules had been worked out and
copied beautifully. There were banking and equation of
payments and all the " roots " and progression and alli
gation and mensuration.

" I don't know what good they will really be to Betty,"
said Uncle Win gravely. Then, as his face relaxed into
a half-smile, he added : " Perhaps Mary Manning's fifty
pairs of stockings she had when she was married may be
more useful. Betty has a good head and " twinkling
feet." Did you know a poet said that? And another
one wrote:

" ' Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice stole in and out

As if they feared the light ;
But, oh, she dances such a way !
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fair a sight. ' "

"Oh, Uncle Win, that's just delightful! Did your
poet write any more such dainty things, and can I read
them? Betty would just go wild over that."

" Yes, I will find it for you. And we won't worry
now about the hard knots over in the back of the arith
metic."

" Nor about the stockings. Miss Isabel is knitting
some beautiful silk ones, blossom color.

Ladies and girls danced in slippers then and wore

242 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

them for evening company, and stockings were quite a
feature in attire.

Uncle Win was too indulgent, of course. Miss
Recompense said she had never known a girl to be
brought up just that way, and shook her head doubtfully.

Early in the new year an event happened, or rather the
tidings came to them that seemed to have a bearing on
both of these points. An old sea captain one day
brought a curious oaken chest, brass bound, and with
three brass initials on the top. The key, which was tied
up in a small leathern bag, and a letter stowed away in
an enormous well-worn wallet, he delivered to " Mr.
Winthrop Adams, Esq."

It contained an unfinished letter from Miss Arabella,
beginning " Dear and Honored Sir," and another from
the borough justice. Miss Arabella was dead. The
care of her sister had worn her so much that she had
dropped into a gentle decline, and knowing herself near
the end had packed the chest with some table linen that
belonged to the mother of Doris, some clothing, two
dresses of her own, several petticoats, two pairs of satin
slippers she had worn in her youth and outgrown, and
six pairs of silk stockings. Doris would grow into them
all presently.

Then inclosed was a bank note for one hundred
pounds sterling, and much love and fond remembrances.

The other note announced the death of Miss Arabella
Sophia Roulstone, aged eighty-one years and three
months, and the time of her burial. Her will had been
read and the bequests were being paid. Mr. Millington
requested a release before a notary, and an acknowledg
ment of the safe arrival of the goods and the legacy, to be
returned by the captain.

Mr. Adams went out with the captain and attended to
the business.

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 243

Doris had a little cry over Miss Arabella. It did not
seem as if she could be eighty years old. She could re
call the sweet, placid face under the snowy cap, and
almost hear the soft voice.

" That is quite a legacy," said Uncle Win. " Doris,
can you compute it in dollars ? "

We had come to have a currency of our own — " deci
mal " it was called, because computed by tens.

We still reckoned a good deal in pounds, shillings, and
pence, but ours were not pounds sterling.

Doris considered and knit her delicate brows. Then
a soft light illumined her face.

"Why, Uncle Win, it is five hundred dollars! Isn't
that a great deal of money for a little girl like me? And
must it not be saved up some way? "

" Yes, I think for your wedding day."

" And then suppose I should not get married? "

CHAPTER XVI.

A SUMMER IN BOSTON.

'TTHE Leveretts rejoiced heartily over Doris' good for-
*• tune. Aunt Priscilla began to trouble herself again
about her will. She had taken the usual autumnal cold,
but recovered from it with good nursing. Certainly
Elizabeth Leverett was very kind. Aunt Priscilla had
eased up Betty while her mother spent a fortnight at
Salem, helping with the fall sewing and making com
fortables. And this time she brought home little Ruth,
who was thin and peevish, and who had not gotten well
over the measles, that had affected her eyes badly. Ruth
was past four.

" I wish Mary did not take life so hard," said Mrs.

244 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Leverett with a sigh. " They have been buying a new
twenty-acre pasture lot and two new cows, and it is just
drive all the time. That poor little Elizabeth will be all
worn out before she is grown up. And Ruth wouldn't
have lived the winter through there."

Ruth was extremely troublesome at first. But grand
mothers have a soothing art, and after a few weeks she
began to improve. The visits of Doris fairly transported
her, and she amused grandpa by asking every morning
" if Doris would come to-day," having implicit faith in
his knowledge of everything.

Aunt Priscilla counted on the visits as well. She kept
her room a good deal. Ruth's chatter disturbed her.
Pattern children brought up on the strictest rules did not
seem quite so agreeable to her as the little flower grow
ing up in its own sweetness.

Betty used to walk a short distance home with her, as
she declared it was the only chance she had for a bit of
Doris. She was very fond of hearing about the Royalls,
and now Miss Isabel's engagement to Mr. Morris Win-
slow was announced.

Warren declared Jane was quite " top-loftical " about
it. She had been introduced to Miss Isabel at an even
ing company, and then they had met at Thayer's dry
goods store, where she and Mrs. Chapman had been
shopping, and had quite a little chat. They bowed in the
street, and Jane was much pleased at the prospect of
being indirectly related.

But Betty had taken tea at Uncle Winthrop's with
Miss Alice Royall, who had come over with the two
little girls to return some of the visits Doris had made.
The girls fell in love with bright, versatile Betty, and
Alice was much interested in her visit to Hartford, and
thought her quite charming.

Then it was quite fascinating to compare notes about

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 245

Mr. Adams with one of his own kin. Alice made no
secret of her admiration for him ; the whole family joined
in, for that matter. Young girls could be a little free and
friendly with elderly gentlemen without exciting com
ment or having to be so precise.

When Jane said " Cousin Morris told me such or such
a thing," Betty was delighted to reply, " Yes, Doris was
speaking of it." The girls were the best of friends, but
this half-unconscious rivalry was natural.

Mrs. Leverett had no objections to the intimacy now.
Betty was older and more sensible, and now she was
really a young lady receiving invitations, and going out
to walk or to shop with the girls. For hard as the times
were, a little finery had to be bought, or a gown now and
then.

Mrs. King had not gone to New York, though her
husband had been there on business. She would .have
been very glad of Betty's company; but with little Ruth
and Aunt Priscilla, Betty felt she ought not leave her
mother. And, then, she was having a young girl's good
time at home.

Mrs. Leverett half wished Jane might "fancy Warren."
She was a smart, attractive, and withal sensible girl. But
Warren was not thinking of girls just now, or of marry
ing. The debating society was a source of great interest
and nearly every " talk " turned on some aspect of the
possible war. His singing class occupied him one even
ing, and one evening was devoted to dancing. He
liked Jane very much in a friendly fashion, and they went
on calling each other by their first names, but if he hap
pened to drop in there was almost sure to be other com
pany.

The " Son " on the business sign over the doorway
gave him a great sense of responsibility, especially now
when everything was so dull, and money, as people said,

246 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" came like drawing teeth," a painful enough process in
those days.

Finally Miss Isabel Royall's wedding day was set for
early in June. The shopping was quite an undertaking.
There were Thayer's dry-goods store and Daniel Simp
son's and Mr. Bromfield's, the greater and the lesser
shops on Washington and School streets. It was quite
a risk now ordering things from abroad, vessels were
interfered with so much. But there were China silks and
Canton crape, — a beautiful material, — and French and
English goods that escaped the enemy ; so if you had the
money you could find enough for an extensive wedding
outfit. At home we had also begun to make some very
nice woolen goods.

May came out full of bloom and beauty. Such a
shower of blossoms from cherry, peach, pear, and apple
would be difficult now to imagine. For almost every
house had a yard or a garden. Colonnade Row was
among the earliest places to be built up compactly
of brick and was considered very handsome for the
time.

But people strolled around then to see the beautiful
unfolding of nature. There was the old Hancock House
on Beacon Street. The old hero had gone his way, and
his wife was now Madam Scott, and lived in the same
house, and though the garden and nursery had been
shorn of much of their glory, there were numerous for
eign trees that were curiously beautiful, and people used
to make at least one pilgrimage to see these immense
mulberry trees in bloom.

The old Bowdoin garden was another remarkable
place, and the air around was sweet for weeks with the
bloom of fruit trees and later on the grapes that were
raised in great profusion. You sometimes saw elegant
old Madam Bowdoin walking up and down the garden

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 247

paths and the grandchildren skipping rope or playing
tag.

But Summer Street, with its crown of beauty, held its
head as high as any of its neighbors.

" I don't see why May should be considered unlucky
for weddings," Isabel protested. " I should like to be
married in a bower of apple blossoms."

"But isn't a bower of roses as beautiful?"

"And the snow of the cherries and pears! Think of
it — fragrant snow! "

But Isabel gave parties to her friends, and they took
tea out under the great apple tree and were snowed on
with every soft wave of wind.

It was not necessary then to go into seclusion. The
bride-elect took pleasure in showing her gowns and her
finery to her dearest friends. She was to be married in
grandmother's brocade. Her own mother had it lent to
her for the occasion. It was very handsome and could
almost " stand alone." There were great flowers that
looked as if they were embroidered on it, and now it had
assumed an ivory tint. Two breadths had been taken
out of the skirt, people were so slim at present. But the
court train was left. The bertha, as we should call it
now, was as a cobweb, and the lace from the puff sleeve
falling over the arm of the same elegant material.

It was good luck to borrow something to be married
in, and good luck to have something old as well as the
something new.

Morris Winslow had been quite a beau about town.
He was thirty now, ten years older than Isabel. He had
a big house over in Dorchester and almost a farm. He
owned another in Boston, where a tavern of the higher
sort was kept and rooms rented to bachelors. He had
an apartment here and kept his servant Joe and his hand
some team, besides his saddle horse. He was rather

248 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

gay, but of good moral character. No one else would
have been accepted as a lover at the Royalls'.

Jane was invited to one of the teas. People had not
come to calling them " Dove " parties yet, nor had break
fasts or luncheon parties come in vogue for such occa
sions. There were about a dozen girls. They in
spected the wedding outfit, they played graces, they sang
songs, and had tea in Madam Royall's old china that had
come to America almost a hundred years before.

Afterward several young gentlemen called, and they
walked up and down in the moonlight. A young lady
could invite her own escort, especially if she was " keep
ing company." Sometimes the mothers sent a servant
to fetch home their daughters.

Of course Jane had an invitation to the wedding.
Alice and a friend were to be bridesmaids, and the chil
dren were to be gowned in simple white muslin, with
bows and streamers of pink satin ribbon and strew roses
in the bride's path. They were flower maidens. Dorcas
Payne was asked, and Madam Royall begged Mr.
Adams to allow his niece to join them. They would all
take it as a great favor.

"The idea!" cried Aunt Priscilla; "and she no rela
tion! If the queen was to come to Boston I dare say
Doris Adams would be asked to turn out to meet her!
Well, I hope her pretty face won't ever get her into
trouble."

It was a beautiful wedding, everybody said. The
great rooms and the halls were full of guests, but they
kept a way open for the bride, who came downstairs on
her lover's arm, and he looked very proud and manly.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen stood one couple at
each side. The little girls strewed their flowers and then
stood in a circle, and the bride swept gracefully to the
open space and turned to face the guests. The maid

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 249

was a little excited when she pulled off the bride's glove,
but all went well, and Isabel Royall was at her very best.

While the kissing and congratulations were going on,
four violins struck up melodious strains. It was just six
o'clock then. The bride and groom stood for a while in
the center of the room, then marched around and smiled
and talked, and finally went out to the dining room,
where the feast was spread, and where the bride had to
cut the cake.

Gary Adams was among the young people. He was
a great favorite with Alice, and a welcome guest, if he
did not come quite as often as his father.

One of the prettiest things afterward was the minuet
danced by the four little girls, and after that two or three
cotillions were formed. The bride danced with both of
the groomsmen, and the new husband with both of the
bridesmaids. Then their duty was done.

They were to drive over to Dorchester that night, so
presently they started. Two or three old slippers were
thrown for good luck. Several of the younger men were
quite nonplused at this arrangement, for they had
planned some rather rough fun in a serenade, thinking
the bridal couple would stay in town.

There were some amusements, jesting and laughter,
some card-playing and health-drinking among the elders.
The guests congratulated Madam Royall nearly as much
as they had the bride. Then one after another came and
bade her good-night, and took away their parcel of wed
ding cake to dream on.

" Oh," cried Doris on the way home, — the night was
so pleasant they were walking, — " oh, wasn't it splendid!
I wish Betty could have been there. Gary, how old must
you be before you can get married?"

" Well — I should have to look up a girl."

" Oh, take Miss Alice. She likes you ever so much —

250 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

I heard her say so. But you haven't any house like Mr.
Winslow. Uncle Win, couldn't he bring her home to
live with us?"

Gary's cheeks were in a red flame. Uncle Win
laughed.

" My dear," he began, " a young man must have some
business or some money to take care of his wife. She
wouldn't like to be dependent on his relatives. Gary is
going to study law, which will take some years, then he
must get established, and so we will have to wait a long
while. He is too young. Mr. Winslow is thirty; Gary
isn't twenty yet."

"Oh, dear! Well, perhaps Betty will get married.
The girl doesn't have to be so old? "

" No," said Uncle Win.

Betty came over the next morning to spend the day
and help Miss Recompense to distill. She wanted to
hear the first account from Doris and Uncle Win, to
take off the edge of Jane's triumphant news.

They made rose water and a concoction from the spice
pinks. Then they preserved cherries. Uncle Win took
them driving toward night and said some day they would
go over to Dorchester. He had several friends there.

The next excitement for Doris was the college com
mencement. Mr. Adams was disappointed that his son
should not stand at the head of almost everything. He
had taken one prize and made some excellent examina
tions, but there were many ranking as high and some
higher.

There were no ball games, no college regattas to share
honors then. Not that these things were tabooed.
There were some splendid rowing matches and games,
but then young men had a desire to stand high intel
lectually.

A long while before Judge Sewall had expressed his

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 251

disapproval of the excesses at dinners, the wine-drinking
and conviviality, and had set Friday for commencement
so that there would be less time for frolicking. The war,
with its long train of economies, and the greater serious
ness of life in general, had tempered all things, but there
was gayety enough now, with dinners given to the prize
winners and a very general jollification.

Doris went with Uncle Winthrop. Commencement
was one of the great occasions of the year. All the ora
tions were in Latin, and the young men might have been
haranguing a Roman army, so vigorous were they.
Many of the graduates were very young; boys really
studied at that time.

The remainder of the day and the one following were
given over to festivities. Booths were everywhere on
the ground; colors flying, flowers wreathed in every
fashion, and so much merriment that they quite needed
Judge Sewall back again to restrain the excesses.

Mr. Adams and Doris went to dine at the Cragie
House, and Doris would have felt quite lost among
judges and professors but for Miss Cragie, who took her
in charge. When they went home in the early evening
the shouts and songs and boisterousness seemed like a
perfect orgy.

Someone has said, with a kind of dry wit, " Wherever
an Englishman goes courts and litigation are sure to pre
vail." Certainly our New England forefathers, who set
out with the highest aims, soon found it necessary to
establish law courts. In the early days every man
pleaded his own cause, and was especially versed in the
" quirks of the law." Jeremy Gridley, a graduate of
Harvard, interested himself in forming a law club in the
early part of the previous century to pursue the study
enough " to keep out of the briars." And to Justice
Dana is ascribed the credit of administering to Mr. Sec-

252 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

retary Oliver, standing under the Liberty Tree in a
great assemblage of angry townspeople, an oath that he
would take no measures to enforce the odius Stamp Act
of the British Parliament or distribute it among the
people.

And now the bar had a rank of its own, and Winthrop
Adams had a strong desire to see his son one of the
shining lights in the profession. Gary had a fine voice
and was a good speaker. More than once he had dis
tinguished himself in an argument at some of the de
bates. To be admitted to the office of Governor Gore
was considered a high honor then, and this Mr. Adams
gained for his son. Gary had another vague dream, but
parental authority in well-bred families was not to be
disputed at that period, and Gary acquiesced in his
father's decision, since he knew his own must bring
about much discussion and probably a refusal.

Mrs. King came to visit her mother this summer.
She left all her children at home, as she wanted to visit
round, and was afraid they might be an annoyance to
Aunt Priscilla. Little Ruth had gone home very much
improved, her eyes quite restored.

Uncle Winthrop enjoyed Mrs. King's society very
much. She was intelligent and had cultivated her natu
ral abilities, she also had a certain society suavity that
made her an agreeable companion. Doris thought her
a good deal like Betty, she was so pleasant and ready for
all kinds of enjoyment. Aunt Priscilla considered her
very frivolous, and there was so much going and coming
that she wondered Elizabeth did not get crazy over it.

They were to remove to New York in the fall, Mr.
King having perfected his business arrangements. So
Betty would have her winter in the gay city after all.

There were many delightful excursions with pleasure
parties up and down the bay. The Embargo had been

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 253

repealed, and the sails of merchant ships were again
whitening the harbor, and business people breathed more
freely.

There were Castle Island, with its fortifications and its
waving flag, and queer old dreary-looking Noddle's
Island, also little towns and settlements where one
could spend a day delightfully. Every place, it seemed
to Doris, had some queer, interesting story, and she
possessed an insatiable appetite for them. There was
the great beautiful sweep of Boston Bay, with its inlets
running around the towns and its green islands every
where — places that had been famous and had suffered in
the war, and were soon to suffer again.

Mrs. King had a friend at Hingham, and one day they
went there in a sort of family party. Uncle Winthrop
obtained a carriage and drove them around. It was
still famous for its wooden-ware factories, and Uncle
Win said in the time of Governor Andros, when money
was scarce among the early settlers, Hingham had paid
its taxes in milk pails, but they decided the taxes could
not have been very high, or the fame of the milk pails
must have been very great.

Mrs. Gerry said in the early season forget-me-nots
grew wild all about, and the ground was blue with them.

" Oh, Uncle Win, let us come and see them next year,"
cried Doris.

Then they hunted up the old church that had been
nearly rent asunder by the bringing in of a bass viol to
assist the singers. Party spirit had run very high. The
musical people had quoted the harps and sacbuts of King
David's time, the trumpets and cymbals. At last the big
bass viol won the victory and was there. And the hymn
was:

" Oh, may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound."

254 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

But the old minister was not to be outdone. The hymn
was lined off in this fashion :

" Oh, may my heart go diddle, diddle,
Like Uncle David's sacred fiddle."

There were still a great many people opposed to in
strumental music and who could see no reverence in the
organ's solemn sound.

Uncle Winthrop smiled over the story, and Betty said
it would do to tell to Aunt Priscilla.

Betty begged that they might take Doris to Salem with
them. Doris thought she should like to see the smart
little Elizabeth, who was like a woman already, and her
old playfellow James, as well as Ruth, who seemed to her
hardly beyond babyhood. And there were all the weird
old stories — she had read some of them in Cotton
Mather's " Magnalia," and begged others from Miss
Recompense, who did not quite know whether she be
lieved them or not, but she said emphatically that people
had been mistaken and there was no such thing as
witches.

" A whole week ! " said Uncle Winthrop. " Whatever
shall I do without a little girl that length of time? "

" But you have Gary now," she returned archly.

Gary was a good deal occupied with young friends and
college associates. Now and then he went over to
Charlestown and stayed all night with one of his
chums.

" I suppose I ought to learn how it will be without
you when you want to go away in real earnest."

" I am never going away."

" Suppose Mrs. King should invite you to New York?
She has some little girls."

" You might like to go," she returned with a touch of
hesitation.

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 255

"To see the little girls? " smilingly.

" To see a great city. Do you suppose they are very
queer — and Dutch ? "

He laughed at that.

" But the Dutch people went there and settled, just as
the Puritans came here. And I think I like the Dutch
because they have such a merry time at Christmas. We
read about them in history at school."

" And then the English came, you know. I think now
there is not much that would suggest Holland. I have
been there."

Then Doris was eager to know what it was like, and
Uncle Winthrop was interested in telling her. They for
got all about Salem — at least, Doris did until she was
going to bed.

" If you do go you must be very careful a witch does
not catch you, for I couldn't spare my little girl alto
gether."

" Uncle Winthrop, I am going to stay with you always.
When Miss Recompense gets real old and cannot look
after things I shall be your housekeeper."

" When Miss Recompense reaches old age I am afraid
I shall be quaking for very fear."

" But it takes a long while for people to get very old,"
she returned decisively.

Betty came over the next day to tell her they would
start on Thursday morning, and were going in a sloop to
Marblehead with a friend of her father's, Captain
Morton.

It was almost like going to sea, Doris thought. They
had to thread their way through the islands and round
Winthrop Head. There was Grover's Cliff, and then
they went out past Nahant into the broad, beautiful bay,
where you could see the ocean. It seemed ages ago
since she had crossed it. They kept quite in to the green

256 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

shores and could see Lynn and Swampscott, then they
rounded one more point and came to Marblehead, where
Captain Morton stopped to unload his cargo, while they
went on to Salem.

At the old dock they were met by a big boy and a
country wagon. This was Foster Manning, the eldest
grandson of the family.

" Oh," cried Betty in amazement, " how you have
grown! It is Foster? "

He smiled and blushed under the sunburn — a thin,
angular boy, tall for his age, with rather large features
and light-brown hair with tawny streaks in it. But his
gray-blue eyes were bright and honest-looking.

" Yes, 'm," staring at the others, for he had at the mo
ment forgotten his aunt's looks.

Betty introduced them.

" I should not have known you," said Aunt Electa.
" But boys change a good deal in two years or so."

They were helped in the wagon, more by Betty than
Foster, who was evidently very bashful. They drove up
past the old Court House, through the main part of the
town, which even then presented a thriving appearance
with its home industries. But the seaport trade had been
sadly interfered with by the rumors and apprehensions of
war. At that time it was quaint and country-looking,
with few pretensions to architectural beauty. There was
old Gallows Hill at one end, with its haunting stories of
witchcraft days.

The irregular road wandered out to the farming dis
tricts. Many small towns had been set off from the
original Salem in the century before, and the boundaries
were marked mostly by the farms.

Betty inquired after everybody, but most of the an
swers were " Yes, 'm " and " No, 'm." When they came
in sight of the house Mrs. Manning and little Ruth ran

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 257

out to welcome the guests, followed by Elizabeth, who
was almost as good as a woman.

The house itself was a plain two-story with the hall
door in the middle and a window on each side. The
roof had a rather steep pitch in front with overhanging
eaves. From this pitch it wandered off in a slow curve
at the back and seemed stretched out to cover the kitchen
and the sheds.

A grassy plot in front was divided by a trodden path.
On one side of the small stoop was a great patch of holly
hocks that were tolerated because they needed no special
care. Mrs. Manning had no time to waste upon flowers.
The aspect was neat enough, but rather dreary, as Doris
contrasted it with the bloom at home.

But the greetings were cordial, only Mrs. Manning
asked Betty " If she had been waiting for someone to
come and show her the way? " Ruth ran to Doris at
once and caught her round the waist, nestling her head
fondly on the bosom of the guest. Elizabeth stood awk
wardly distant, and only stared when Betty presented her
to Doris.

They were ushered into the first room, which was the
guest chamber. The floor was painted, and in summer
the rugs were put away. A large bedstead with faded
chintz hangings, a bureau, a table, and two chairs com
pleted the furniture. The ornaments were two brass
candlesticks and a snuffers tray on the high mantel.

Here they took off their hats and laid down their
budgets, and then went through to mother's room, where
there were a bed and a cradle, a bureau, a big chest, a
table piled up with work, a smaller candlestand, and a
curious old desk. Next to this was the living-room,
where the main work of life went on. Beyond this were
a kitchen and some sheds.

Baby Hester sat on the floor and looked amazed at

258 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

the irruption, then began to whimper. Her mother
hushed her up sharply, and she crept out to the living-
room.

" We may as well all go out," said Mrs. Manning. " I
must see about supper, for that creature we have doesn't
know when the kettle boils," and she led the way.

Elizabeth began to spread the tea table. A youngish
woman was working in the kitchen. The Mannings had
taken one of the town's poor, who at this period were
farmed out. Sarah Lewis was not mentally bright, and
required close watching, which she certainly received at
the Mannings'. Doris stood by the window with Ruth,
until the baby cried, when her mother told her to take
Hester out in the kitchen and give her some supper and
put her to bed. And then Doris could do nothing but
watch Elizabeth while the elders discussed family affairs,
the conversation a good deal interrupted by rather sharp
orders to Sarah in the kitchen, and some not quite so
sharp to Elizabeth.

Supper was all on the table when the men came in.
There were Mr. Manning, Foster and James, and two
hired men.

" You must wait, James," said his mother — " you and
Elizabeth."

The guests were ranged at one end of the table, the
hired men and Foster at the other. Elizabeth took some
knitting and sat down by the window. The two younger
children remained in the kitchen.

"Doris was curiously interested, though she felt a little
strange. Her eyes wandered to Elizabeth, and met the
other eyes, as curious as hers. Elizabeth had straight
light hair, cut square across the neck, and across her
forehead in what we should call a bang. " It was time
to let it grow long," her mother admitted, " but it was
such a bother, falling in her eyes." Her frock, whatever

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 259

color it had been, was now faded to a hopeless, depressing
gray, and her brown gingham apron tied at the waist be
trayed the result of many washings. She was thin and
pale, too, and tired-looking. Times had not been good,
and some of the crops were not turning out well, so every
nerve had to be strained to pay for the new lot, in order
that the interest on the amount should not eat up every
thing.

Afterward the men went to look to the cattle, and Mrs.
Manning, when she had given orders a while in the
kitchen, took her guests out on the front porch. She sat
and knit as she talked to them, as the moon was shining
and gave her light enough to see.

When the old clock struck nine, Mr. Manning came
through the hall and stood in the doorway.

" Be you goin' to sit up all night, mother? " he in
quired.

" Dear, no. And I expect you're all tired. We're up
so early in the morning here that we go to bed early.
And I was thinking — Ruth needn't have gone upstairs,
and Doris could have slept with Elizabeth "

" I'll go upstairs with Doris, and 'Lecty may have the
room to herself," exclaimed Betty.

Grandmother Manning had a room downstairs, back
of the parlor, and one of the large rooms upstairs, that
the family had the privilege of using, though it was
stored nearly full with a motley collection of articles and
furniture. This was her right in the house left by her
husband. But she spent most of her time between her
daughter at Danvers and another in the heart of the
town, where there were neighbors to look at, if nothing
else.

Doris peered in the corners of the room by the dim
candlelight.

" It's very queer," she said with a half-smile at Betty,

260 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

glancing around. For there were lines across on which
hung clothes and bags of dried herbs that gave the room
an aromatic fragrance, and parcels in one corner piled
almost up to the wall. But the space to the bed was
clear, and there were a stand for the candle and two
chairs.

" The children are in the next room, and the boys and
men sleep at the back. The other rooms have sloping
roofs. And then there's a queer little garret. Grand
mother Manning is real old, and some time Mary will
have all the house to herself. Josiah bought out his
sisters' share, and Mrs. Manning's runs only as long as
she lives."

" I shouldn't want to sleep with Elizabeth. I love
you, Betty."

Betty laughed wholesomely. " You will get ac
quainted with her to-morrow," she said.

Doris laid awake some time, wondering if she really
liked visiting, and recalling the delightful Christmas
visit at Uncle Winthrop's. The indefinable something
that she came to understand was not only leisure and re
finement, but the certain harmonious satisfactions that
make up the keynote of life from whence melody diffuses
itself, were wanting here.

They had their breakfast by themselves the next morn
ing. Friday was a busy day, but all the household ex
cept the baby were astir at five, and often earlier. There
were churning and the working of butter and packing it
down for customers. Of course, June butter had the
royal mark, but there were plenty of people glad to get
any " grass " butter.

Betty took Doris out for a walk and to show her what
a farm was like. There was the herd of cows, and in a
field by themselves the young ones from three months to
a year. There were two pretty colts Mr. Manning was

A SUMMER IN BOSTON. 261

raising. And there was a flock of sheep on a stony
pasture lot, with some long-legged, awkward-looking
lambs who had outgrown their babyhood. Then they
espied James weeding out the garden beds.

Betty sat down on a stone at the edge of the fence and
took out some needlework she carried around in her
pocket. Doris stood patting down the soft earth with
her foot.

" Do you like to do that?" she asked presently.

" No, I don't," in a short tone.

" I think I should not either."

" 'Taint the things you like, it's what has to be done,"
the boy flung out impatiently. " I'm not going to be a
farmer. I just hate it. When I'm big enough I'm com
ing to Boston."

" When will you be big enough? "

" Well — when I'm twenty-one. You're of age then,
you see, and your own master. But I might run away
before that. Don't tell anyone that, Doris. Gewhilli-
ker! didn't I have a splendid time at grandmother's that
winter! I wish I could live there always. And grand-
pop is just the nicest man I know! I just hate a farm."

Doris felt very sorry for him. She thought she would
not like to work that way with her bare hands. Miss
Recompense always wore gloves when she gardened.

" I'd like to be you, with nothing to do."

That was a great admission. The winter at Uncle
Leverett's he had rather despised girls. Cousin Sam was
the one to be envied then. And it seemed to her that she
kept quite busy at home, but it was a pleasant kind of
business.

She did not see Elizabeth until dinner time. James
took the men's dinner out to the field. They could not
spend the time to come in. And after dinner Betty har
nessed the old mare Jinny, and took Electa, Doris, and

262 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

little Ruth out driving. The sun had gone under a cloud
and the breeze was blowing over from the ocean. Electa
chose to see the old town, even if there were but few
changes and trade had fallen off. Several slender-
masted merchantmen were lying idly at the quays, half
afraid to venture with a cargo lest they might fall into
the hands of privateers. The stores too had a depressed
aspect. Men sat outside gossiping in a languid sort of
way, and here and there a woman was tending her baby
on the porch or doing a bit of sewing.

"What a sleepy old place!" said Mrs. King. "It
would drive me to distraction."

CHAPTER XVII.

ANOTHER GIRL.

C ATURDAY afternoon the work was finished up and
^ the children washed. The supper was eaten early,
and at sundown the Sabbath had begun. The parlor
was opened, but the children were allowed out on the
porch. Ruth sprang up a time or two rather impa
tiently.

" Sit still," said Elizabeth, " or you will have to go to
bed at once."

" Couldn't I take her a little walk? " asked Doris.

" A walk! Why it is part of Sunday! "

" But I walk on Sunday with Uncle Winthrop."

" It's very wicked. We do walk to church, but that
isn't anything for pleasure."

" But uncle thinks one ought to be happy and joyous
on Sunday. It is the day the Lord rose from the dead."

" It's the Sabbath. And you are to remember the
Sabbath to keep it holy."

"What is the difference between Sabbath and Sun
day?"

ANOTHER GIRL. 263

" There aint any," said James. " There's six days to
work, and I wish there was two Sundays — one in the
middle of the week. The best time of all is Sunday
night. You don't have to keep so very still, and you
don't have to work neither."

Elizabeth sighed. Then she said severely, " Do you
know your catechism, James? "

" Well — I always have to study it Sunday morning,"
was the rather sullen reply.

" Maybe you had better go in and look it over."

" You never do want a fellow to take any comfort.
Yes, I know it."

" Ruth, if you are getting sleepy go to bed."

Ruth had leaned her head down on Doris' shoulder.

"She's wide awake," and Doris gave her a little squeeze
that made her smile. She would have laughed outright
but for fear.

Elizabeth leaned her head against the door jamb.

" You look so tired," said Doris pityingly.

" I am tired through and through. I am always glad
to have Saturday night come and no knitting or any
thing. Don't you knit when you are home? "

" I haven't knit — much." Doris flushed up to the
roots of her fair hair, remembering her unfortunate at
tempts at achieving a stocking.

" What do you do? "

" Study, and read to Uncle Winthrop, and go to school
and to writing school, and walk and take little journeys
and drives and do drawing. Next year I shall learn to
paint flowers."

" But you do some kind of work? "

" I keep my room in order and Uncle Win trusts me
to dust his books. And I sew a little and make lace.
But, you see, there is Miss Recompense and Dinah and
Cato."

264 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

"Oh, what a lot of help! What does Miss Recom
pense do? "

" She is the housekeeper."

" Is Uncle Winthrop very rich? "

" I— I don't know."

" But there are no children and boys to wear out their
clothes and stockings. There's so much knitting to be
done. I go to school in winter, but there is too much
work in summer. Doris Adams, you are a lucky girl if
your fortune doesn't spoil you."

" Fortune! " exclaimed Doris in surprise.

"Yes. I heard father talk about it. And all that
from England! Then someone died in Boston and left
you ever so much. I suppose you will be a grand lady! "

" I'd like to be a lovely old lady like Madam Royall."

" And who is she? "

Doris was in the full tide of narration when Mrs. Man
ning came to the hall door. She caught some descrip
tion of a party.

" Elizabeth, put Ruth to bed at once and go yourself.
Doris, talking of parties isn't a very good preparation for
tfie Sabbath. Elizabeth, when you say your prayers
think of your sins and shortcomings for the week, and
repent of them earnestly."

Ruth had fallen asleep and gave a little whine. Her
mother slapped her.

" Hush, not a word. You deserve the same and more,
Elizabeth! James, go in and study your catechism over
three times, then go to bed."

Doris sat alone on the doorstep, confused and amazed.
She was quite sure now she did not like Mrs. Manning,
and she felt very sorry for Elizabeth. Then Betty came
out and told her some odd Salem stories.

They all went to church Sabbath morning, in the old
Puritan parlance. Doris found it hard to comprehend

ANOTHER GIRL. 265

the sermon. Many of the people from the farms brought
their luncheons, and wandered about the graveyard or
sat under the shady trees. At two the children were
catechised, at three service began again.

Mrs. King took Doris and Betty to dine with a friend
of her youth, and then went back to the service out of
respect to her sister and brother-in-law. Little Ruth fell
asleep and was punished for it when she reached home.
The children were all fractious and their mother scolded.
When the sun went down there was a general sense of
relief. The younger ones began to wander around.
The two mothers sauntered off together, talking of
matters they preferred not to have fall on the ears of
small listeners.

Betty attracted the boys. Foster could talk to her,
though he was much afraid of girls in general.

Doris and Elizabeth sat on the steps. Ruth was run
ning small races with herself.

" Would you rather go and walk? " inquired Elizabeth
timidly.

" Oh, no. Not if you like to sit still," cheerfully.

" I just do. I'm always tired. You are so pretty, I
was afraid of you at first. And you have such beautiful
clothes. That blue ribbon on your hat is like a bit of
the sky. And God made the sky."

The voice died away in admiration.

" That isn't my best hat," returned Doris simply.
" Cousin Betty thought the damp of the ocean and run
ning out in the dust would ruin it. It has some beautiful
pink roses and ever so much gauzy stuff and a great bow
of pink satin. Then I have a pink muslin frock with tiny
green and brown sprigs all over it, and a great sash of
the muslin that comes down to the hem. (The Chap
man girls have satin ribbon sashes, but Miss Recom
pense said she liked the muslin better."

266 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" Do you have to wear just what she says? "

" Oh, no. Madam Royall chooses some things, and
Betty. And Cousin King brought me an elegant sash,
white, with flowers all over it. I have ever so many
pretty things."

" Oh, how proud you must feel ! " said the Puritan
maid half enviously.

" I don't know "—hesitatingly. " I think I feel just
nice, and that is all there is about it. Uncle Win likes
what they get for me — men can't buy clothes, you know,
and if he is pleased and thinks I look well, that is the
end of it."

" Oh, how good it must feel to be happy just like that.
But are you quite sure," lowering her voice to a touch
of awe, " that you will not be punished in the next
world?"

" What for? Doesn't God mean us to be happy? "

" Well — not in this world, perhaps," answered the
young theologian. " But you don't have anything in
heaven except a white robe, and if you haven't had any
pretty things in this world "

" I wish I could give you some of mine." Doris
slipped her soft warm hand over the other, beginning to
grow bony and strained already.

" They wouldn't do me any good," was the almost
apathetical reply. " I only go to church, and niQther
wouldn't let me wear them."

11 Do you like to go to church ? "

" I hate the long sermons and the prayers. Oh, that
is dreadful wicked, isn't it? But I like to see the people
and hear the talk, and they do have some new clothes;
and the sitting still. When you've run and run all the
week and are tired all over, it's just good to sit still. And
it's different. I get so tired of the same things all the

ANOTHER GIRL. 267

time and the hurry. Do you know what I am going to
do when I am a woman? "

" No," replied Doris with a look of interested inquiry.

" I'm going to have one room like grandmother Man
ning, and live by myself. I shan't have any husband or
children. I don't want to be sewing and knitting and
patching continually, and babies are an awful sight of
trouble, and husbands are just thinking of work, work all
the time. Then I shall go visiting when I like, and
though I shall read the Bible I won't mind about remem
bering the sermons. I'll just have a good time by
myself."

Doris felt strangely puzzled. She always wanted a
good time with someone. The great pleasure to her was
having another share a joy. And to live alone was
almost like being imprisoned in some dreary cell.
Neither could she think of Helen or Eudora living alone
— indeed, any of the girls she knew.

" Now you can go on about the wedding party," said
Elizabeth after a pause. " And you really danced ! And
you were not afraid the ground would open and swallow
you?"

" Why, no," returned Doris. " There are earthquakes
that swallow up whole towns, but, you see, the good and
the bad go together. And I never heard of anyone being
swallowed up "

" Why, yes — in the Bible — Korah, Dathan, and
Abiram."

" But they were not dancing. I think," — hesitat
ingly, — " they were finding fault with Moses and Aaron,
and wanting to be leaders in some manner."

" Well — I am glad it wasn't dancing. And now go
on quick before they come back."

Elizabeth had never read a fairy story or any vivid de-

268 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

scription. She had no time and there were no books of
that kind about the house. She fairly reveled in Doris'
brilliant narrative. She had seen one middle-aged
couple stand up to be married after the Sunday afternoon
service, and she had heard of two or three younger
people being married with a kind of wedding supper.
But that Doris should have witnessed all this herself!
That she should have worn a wedding gown and scat
tered flowers before the bride!

Ruth was tired of running. " I'm sleepy," she said.
" Unfasten my dress, I want to go to bed."

Betty and the boys were coming up the path, with the
shadowy forms of the grown people behind them.
Mr. Manning had been taking a nap on the rude kitchen
settee, his Sunday evening indulgence. Now he came
through the hall.

" Boys, children, it's time to go to bed. You are all
sleepy enough in the mornin', but you would sit up half
the night if someone did not drive you off."

" Oh, I wish you lived here, Aunt Betty," said Foster
for a good-night.

Betty and Doris were almost ready for bed when there
was a little sound at the door, pushed open by Elizabeth,
who stood there in her plain, scant nightgown with a dis
traught expression, as if she had seen a ghost^________

" Oh, Aunt Betty or Doris, can you remember the text
and what the sermon was about? We always say it to
mother after tea Sabbath evening, and she'll be sure to
ask me to-morrow morning. And I can't think! I
never scarcely do forget. Oh, what shall I do! "

Her distress was so genuine that Betty folded her
in her arms. Elizabeth began to cry at the tender
touch.

" There, little Bessy, don't cry. Let me see — I re
member I was preaching another sermon to myself. It

ANOTHER GIRL. 269

was — ' Do this and ye shall live.' And instead of all the
hard things he put in, I thought of the kindly things
father was always doing, and Uncle Win, and mother,
and the pleasant things instead of the severe laws. And
when he reached his lastly he said no one could keep all
the laws, and because they could not the Saviour came
and died, but he seemed to preach as if the old laws were
still in force, and that the Saviour's death really had not
changed anything. That was in the morning. And the
afternoon was the miracle of the loaves and fishes."

" Yes — I could recall that. But I was sure mother
would ask me the one I had forgotten. It always hap
pens that way. Oh, I am so glad. Dear Aunt Betty!
And if I was sometimes called Bessy, as you called me
just now, or Betty, or anything besides the everlasting
'Lisbeth. Oh, Doris, how happy you must be "

" There, dear," said Betty soothingly, " don't cry so.
I will write out what I can recall on a slip of paper and
you can look it over in the morning. I just wish you
could come and make me a visit, and go over to Uncle
Win's. Yes, Doris is a happy little girl."

" But I have everything in the world," said Doris with
a long breath. " I am afraid I could not be so happy
here. Oh, can't we take Elizabeth home with us?
Betty, coax her mother."

"It wouldn't do a bit of good. You can't coax mother.
And there is always so much work in the summer. I am
afraid she wouldn't like it — even if you asked her."

" But James came, and little Ruth "

" They were too young to work. Oh, it would be like
going to heaven! "

" It may be sometime, little Bessy. You can dream
over it."

" Good-night. Would you kiss me, Doris?"

The happy girl kissed her a dozen times instead of

270 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

once. But her deep eyes were full of tears as she turned
to Betty when the small figure had slipped away.

" Yes, it is a hard life," said Betty. " It seems as if
children's lives ought to be happier. I don't know what
makes Mary so hard. I'm sure she does not get it from
father or mother. She appears to think all the virtue of
the world lies in work. I wonder what such people will
do in heaven ! "

" Oh, Betty, do try to have her come to Boston. I
know Uncle Win will feel sorry for her."

Those years in the early part of the century were not
happy ones for childhood in general. Too much happi
ness was considered demoralizing in this world and a
poor preparation for the next. Work was the great
panacea for all sorts of evils. It was seldom work for
one's neighbors, though people were ready to go in sick
ness and trouble. It was adding field to field and
interest to interest, to strive and save and wear one's self
out and die.

Elizabeth was up betimes the next morning, and there
lay the paper with chapter and verse and some " re
marks." Her heart swelled with gratitude as she ran
downstairs. Sarah had nmde the " shed " fire and the
big wash kettle had beenput over it. She was rubbing
out the first clothes, the nicest pieces.

" Now fly round, 'Lisbeth," said her mother. " You've
dawdled enough these few days back, and there'll be an
account to settle presently. I suppose your head was so
full of that bunch of vanity you never remembered a
word of the sermon yesterday. What was the text in the
morning? "

Elizabeth's pale face turned scarlet and her lip quiv
ered; her slight frame seemed to shrink a moment, then
in a gasping sort of way she gave chapter and verse and
repeated the words.

ANOTHER GIRL. 271

" I don't think that was it," said her mother sharply.
" Ruth was in a fidget just as the text was given out.
Wasn't that last Sunday's text? "

" Some of the others may remember," the child said
in her usual apathetical voice.

" Well, you needn't act as if you were going to have a
hysteric! Hand me that dish of beans. Your father
likes them warmed over. Quick, there he comes now.
You stir them."

A trivet stood on the glowing coals, and the pan soon
warmed through. Father and the men took their places.
Foster came in sleepily.

"Where's James?" inquired his mother.

" I don't want him in the field to-day. He can weed
in the garden. You send him with the dinners."

" Where was yesterday morning's text, Foster? " Mrs.
Manning asked sharply.

The boy looked up blankly. As there was no Sunday
evening examination it had slipped out of his mind.

" It was something about — keeping the law —
doing "

James entered at that moment and had heard the ques
tion and hesitating reply.

" I can't remember chapter and verse, but it was short,
and I just rammed the words down in my memory box.
' Do this and ye shall live.' "

" James, no such irreverence," exclaimed his father.

Elizabeth in the kitchen drew a long breath of relief.
She wondered whether his mother would have taken
Aunt Betty's word.

Monday morning was always a hard time. Sarah re
quired looking after, for her memory lapses were fre
quent. Mr. Manning said a good birch switch was the
best remedy he knew. But though a hundred years be
fore people had thought nothing of whipping their

272 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

servants, public opinion was against it now. Mrs. Man
ning did sometimes box her ears when she was over
much tired. But she was a very faithful worker.

Elizabeth gave Ruth and baby Hester their breakfast.
Then Betty came down, and insisted upon getting the
next breakfast while Mrs. Manning hung up her first
clothes. She had been scolding to Betty about people
having no thought or care as to how they put back the
work with their late breakfast. But when Betty cooked
and served it, and insisted upon washing up the dishes;
and Doris amused the baby, who was not well, and helped
Ruth shell the pease for dinner; when the washing and
cfiurning were out of the way long before noon, and
Elizabeth was folding down the clothes for ironing while
Sarah and her mother prepared the dinner and sent it out
to the men — the child couldn't see that things were at all
behindhand.

Sarah and Elizabeth ironed in the afternoon. Mrs.
Manning brought out her sewing and Betty helped on
some/frocks for the children. Two old neighbors came
in to supper, bringing two little girls who were wonder
fully attracted by Doris and delighted to be amused in
quite a new fashion. But Elizabeth was too busy to be
spared.

After supper was cleared away and the visitors had
gone Elizabeth brought her knitting and sat on the
stoop step in the moonlight.

" Oh, don't knit! " cried Doris. " You look so tired."

" I'd like to go to bed this minute," said the child.
" But last week I fell behind. You see, there are so
many to wear stockings, and the boys do rattle them out
so fast. We try to get most of the new knitting done in
the summer, for autumn brings so much work. And if
you will talk to me — I like so to hear about Boston and
Madam Royall's beautiful house and your Uncle Win.

ANOTHER GIRL. 273

It must be like reading some interesting book. Oh, I
wish I could come and stay a whole week with you ! "

"A week!" Doris laughed. "Why, you couldn't
see it all in a month, or a year. Every day I am finding
something new about Boston, and Miss Recompense
remembers so many queer stories. I'm going to tell her
all about you. I know she'll be real nice about your
coming. Everything is as Uncle Win says, but he
always asks her."

Doris could make her little descriptions very vivid and
attractive. At first Elizabeth replied by exclamations,
then there was quite a silence. Doris looked at her.
She was leaning against the post of the porch and her
needles no longer clicked, though she held the stocking
in its place. The poor child had fallen fast asleep. The
moonlight made her look so ghostly pale that at first
Doris was startled.

The three ladies came out, but Elizabeth never stirred.
When her mother spied her she shook her sharply by the
shoulder.

"Poor child!" exclaimed Mrs. King. "Elizabeth,
put up your work and go to bed."

" If you are too sleepy to knit, put up your work and
go out and knead on the bread a spell. Sarah always
gets it lumpy if you don't watch her," said Mrs. Manning.

Elizabeth gathered up her ball and went without a
word.

" I'll knit for you," said Betty, intercepting her, and
taking the work.

" Mary, you will kill that child presently, and when
you have buried her I hope you will be satisfied to give
Ruth a chance for her life," exclaimed Mrs. King indig
nantly.

" I can't afford to bring my children up in idleness,
and if I could, I hope I have too great a sense of respon-

274 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

sibility and my duty toward them. I was trained to
work, and I've been thankful many a time that I didn't
have to waste grown-up years in learning."

" We didn't work like that. Then father had given
some years to his country and we were poor. You have
no need, and it is cruel to make such a slave of a child.
She does a woman's work."

" I am quite capable of governing my own family,
Electa, and I think I know what is best and right for
them. We can't afford to bring up fine ladies and teach
them French and other trumpery. If Elizabeth is fitted
for a plain farmer's wife, that is all I ask. She won't be
likely to marry a President or a foreign lord, and if we
have a few hundred dollars to start her in life, maybe she
won't object."

" You had better give her a little comfort now instead
of adding farm to farm, and saving up so much for the
woman who will come in here when you are dead and
gone. Think of the men who have second and third
wives and whose children are often turned adrift to look
out for themselves. Hundreds of poor women are living
hard and joyless lives just to save up money. And it is
a shame to grind their children to the lowest ebb."

Mrs. Manning was very angry. She had no argument
at hand, so she turned in an arrogant manner and said
austerely :

" I had better go and look after my daughter, to see
that she doesn't work herself quite to death. But I don't
know what we should do without bread."

" Now you have done it! " cried Betty. " I only hope
she won't vent her anger on the poor child."

" It is a curious thing," said Mrs. King reflectively,
"that women — well, men too — make such a point of
church-going on Sunday, and hardly allow the poor chil
dren to draw a comfortable breath, and on Monday act

ANOTHER GIRL. 275

like fiends. Women especially seem to think they have a
right to indulge in dreadful tempers on washing day, and
drive all before them. Think of the work that has been
done in this house to-day, and the picture of Elizabeth,
worn out, falling asleep over her knitting. I should
have sent her to bed with the chickens. I'd like to take
her home with me, but it would spoil her for the farm."

Betty knit away on the stocking. " I can't see what
makes Mary so hard and grasping," she said. " It
troubles mother a good deal."

When they went in the house was quiet and the
kitchen dark. Mrs. Manning sat sewing. Their candles
were on the table. Betty and Mrs. King said a cordial
good-night.

The sisters-in-law were to come the next day, and
grandmother Manning, with an addition of four children.
The Salem sister, Mrs. Gates, was stout and pleasant; the
farmer sister thin and with a troublesome cough, and she
had a young baby besides her little girl of six. She was
to make a visit in Salem, and doctor somewhat, to see if
she could not get over her cough before cold weather.

The children were turned out of doors on the grassy
roadside, where they couldn't hurt anything. Mrs. Gates
and Betty helped in the kitchen, and after the dinner was
cleared away Elizabeth was allowed to put on her second-
best gingham and go out with the children. They ran
and played and screamed and laughed.

" I'd a hundred times rather sit still and hear you talk,"
she said to Doris. " And I'm awful sorry to have you
go to-morrow. Even when I am busy it is so nice just
to look at you, with your beautiful hair and your dark
eyes, and your skin that is like velvet and doesn't seem
to tan or freckle. Foster hates freckles so."

Doris flushed at the compliment.

" I wonder how it would seem to be as pretty as you

276 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

are? And you're not a bit set up about your fine clothes
and all. I s'pose when you're born that way you're so
used to it, and there aint anything to wish for. I'm so
glad you could come. And I do hope you will come
again."

They parted very good friends. Mrs. King had been
quite generous to the small people, and Mrs. Manning
really loved her sister, although she considered her very
lax and extravagant. No one could tell what was be
fore him, and thrift and prudence were the great virtues
of those days. True, they often degenerated into penu-
riousness and labor that was early and late — so severe,
indeed, it cost many a life; and the people who came after
reaped the benefit.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WINTER AND SORROW.

Uncle Win," exclaimed Doris, " I can't be sorry
that I went to Salem, and I've had a queer, delight
ful time seeing so many strange things and hearing
stories about them! But I am very, very glad to get
back to Boston, and gladdest of all to be your little girl.
There isn't anybody in the whole wide world I'd change
you for! "

Her arms were about him. He was so tall that she
could not quite reach up to his neck when he stood
straight, but he had a way of bending over, and she was
growing, and the clasp gave him a thrill of exquisite
pleasure.

" I've missed my little girl a great deal," he said. " I
am afraid I shall never want you to go away again."

" The next time you must go with me. Though Betty
was delightful and Mrs. King is just splendid."

They had famous talks about Salem afterward, and the

WINTER AND SORROW. 277

little towns around. Miss Recompense said now she
shouldn't know how to live without a child in the house.
Mrs. King went home to her husband and little ones, and
Doris imagined the joy in greeting such a fond mother.
Uncle Win half promised he would visit New York
sometime. Even Aunt Priscilla was pleased when Doris
came up to Sudbury Street, and wanted her full share of
every visit. And they were all amazed when she went
over to Uncle Win's to spend a day and was very cordial
with Miss Recompense. They had a nice chat about the
old times and the Salem witches and the dead and gone
Governors — even Governor and Lady Gage, who had
been very gay in her day ; and both women had seen her
riding about in her elegant carriage, often with a hand
some young girl at her side.

She had some business, too, with Uncle Win. They
were in the study a long while together.

" Living with the Leveretts has certainly changed
Aunt Priscilla very much," he said later in the evening
to Miss Recompense. " I begin to think it is not good
for people to live so much alone when they are going
down the shady side of life. Or perhaps it would not be
so shady if they would allow a little sun to shine in it."

Solomon was full of purring content and growing
lazier every day. Latterly he had courted Uncle Win's
society. There was a wide ledge in one of the southern
windows, and Doris made a cushion to fit one end. He
loved to lie here and bask in the sunshine. When there
was a fire on the hearth he had another cushion in the
corner. Sometimes he sauntered around and inter
viewed the books quite as if he was aware of their con
tents. He considered that he had a supreme right to
Doris' lap, and he sometimes had half a mind to spring
up on Uncle Win's knee, but the invitation did not seem
sufficiently pressing.

278 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Gary was at home regularly now, except that he spent
one night every week with a friend at Charlestown, and
went frequently to the Cragies' to meet some of his
old chums. He had not appeared to care much for
Doris at first, and she was rather shy. Latterly they had
become quite friends.

But it seemed to Doris that he was so much gayer and
brighter at Madam Royall's, where he certainly was a
great favorite. Miss Alice was very brilliant and charm
ing. They were always having hosts of company. Mr.
and Mrs. Winslow were at the head of one circle in
society. And this autumn Miss Jane Morse was married
and went to live in Sheaffe Street in handsome style. She
had done very well indeed. Betty was one of the brides
maids and wore a white India silk in which she looked
quite a beauty.

Miss Helen Chapman was transferred to Mrs. Row-
son's school to be finished. Doris and Eudora still at
tended Miss Parker's. But Madam Royall had treated
the girls to the new instrument coming into vogue, the
pianoforte. It's tone was so much richer and deeper
than the old spinet. She liked it very much herself.
Doris was quite wild over it. Madam Royal begged that
she might be allowed to take lessons on it with the girls.
Uncle Winthrop said in a year or two she might have
one if she liked it and could learn to play.

She and Betty used to talk about Elizabeth Manning.
There was a new baby now, another little boy. Mrs.
Leverett made a visit and brought home Hester, to ease
up things for the winter. Elizabeth couldn't go to
school any more, there was so much to do. She wrote
Doris quite a long letter and sent it by grandmother.
Postage was high then, and people did not write much
for pure pleasure.

And just before the new year, when Betty was planning

WINTER AND SORROW. 279

to go to New York for her visit to Mrs. King, a great
sorrow came to all of them. Uncle Leverett had not
seemed well all the fall, though he was for the most part
his usual happy self, but business anxieties pressed
deeply upon him and Warren. He used to drop in now
and then and take tea with Cousin Winthrop, and as they
sat round the cheerful fire Doris would bring her stool
to his side and slip her hand in his as she had that first
winter. She was growing tall quite rapidly now, and
pretty by the minute, Uncle Leverett said.

There was no end of disquieting rumors. American
shipping was greatly interfered with and American sea
men impressed aboard British ships by the hundreds,
often to desert at the first opportunity. Merchantmen
were deprived of the best of their crews for the British
navy, as that country was carrying on several wars; and
now Wellington had gone to the assistance of the
Spanish, and all Europe was trying to break the power
of Napoleon, who had set out since the birth of his son,
now crowned King of Rome, to subdue all the nations.

The Leopard-Chesapeake affair had nearly plunged us
into war, but it was promptly disavowed by the British
Government and some indemnity paid. There was a
powerful sentiment opposed to war in New York and
New England, but the people were becoming much in
flamed under repeated outrages. Young men were
training in companies and studying up naval matters.
The country had so few ships then that to rush into a
struggle was considered madness.

Mr. Winthrop Adams was among those bitterly op
posed to war. Gary was strongly imbued with a young
man's patriotic enthusiasm. There was a good deal of
talk at Madam Royall's, and a young lieutenant had been
quite a frequent visitor and was an admirer also of the
fair Miss Alice. Then Alfred Barron, his friend at

28o A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Charlestown, had entered the naval service. Studying
law seemed dry and tiresome to the young fellow when
such stirring events were happening on every side.

Uncle Leverett took a hard cold early in the new year.
He was indoors several days, then some business diffi
culties seemed to demand his attention and he went out
again. A fever set in, and though at first it did not ap
pear serious, after a week the doctor began to look very
grave. Betty stopped her preparations and wrote a
rather apprehensive letter to Mrs. King.

One day Uncle Win was sent for, and remained all the
afternoon and evening. The next morning he went
down to the store.

" I'm afraid father's worse," said Warren. " His fever
was very high through the night, and he was flighty, and
now he seems to be in a sort of stupor, with a very feeble
pulse. Oh, Uncle Win, I haven't once thought of his
dying, and now I am awfully afraid. Business is in such
a dreadful way. That has worried him."

Mr. Adams went up to Sudbury Street at once. The
doctor was there.

" There has been a great change since yesterday," he
said gravely. " We must prepare for the worst. It has
taken me by surprise, for he bid fair to pull through."

Alas, the fears were only too true ! By night they had
all given up hope and watched tearfully for the next
twenty-four hours, when the kindly, upright life that had
blessed so many went to its own reward.

To Doris is seemed incredible. That poor Miss Hen
rietta Maria should slip out of life was only a release, and
that Miss Arabella in the ripeness of age should follow
had awakened in her heart no real sorrow, but a gentle
sense of their having gained something in another world.
But Uncle Leverett had so much here, so many to love
him and to need him.

WINTER AND SORROW. 281

Death, the mystery to all of us, is doubly so to the
young. When Doris looked on Uncle Leverett's placid
face she was very sure he could not be really gone, but
mysteriously asleep.

Yes, little Doris — the active, loving, thinking man had
" fallen on sleep," and the soul had gone to its reward.

Foster Leverett had been very much respected, and
there were many friends to follow him to his grave in the
old Granary burying ground, where the Fosters and
Leveretts rested from their labors. There on the walk
stood the noble row of elms that Captain Adino Pad
dock had imported from England a dozen years before
the Revolutionary War broke out, in their very pride of
strength and grandeur now, even if they were leafless.

It seemed very hard and cruel to leave him here in the
bleakness of midwinter, Doris thought. And he was
not really dead to her until the bearers turned away with
empty hands, and the friends with sorrowful Meeting
passed out of the inclosure and left him alon<Fto the
coming evening and the requiem of the wind soughing
through the trees.

Doris sat by Miss Recompense that evening with Solo
mon on her lap. She could not study, she did not want
to read or sew or make lace. Uncle Winthrop had gone
up to Sudbury Street. All the family were to be there.
The Kings had come from New York and the Mannings
from Salem.

" Oh," said Doris, after a long silence, " how can Aunt
Elizabeth live, and Betty and Warren, when they cannot
see uncle Leverett any more! And there are so many
things to talk about, only they can never ask him any
questions, and he was so — so comforting. He was the
first one that came to me on the vessel, you know, and he
said to Captain Grier, ' Have you a little girl who has
come from Old Boston to New Boston? ' Then he put

282 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

his arm around me, and I liked him right away. And
the great fire in the hall was so lovely. I liked every
body but Aunt Priscilla, and now I feel sorry for her and
like her a good deal. Sometimes she gets queer and
what she calls ' pudgicky.' But she is real good to
Betty."

" She's a sensible, clear-headed woman, and she has
good solid principles. I do suppose we all get a little
queer. I can see it in myself."

" Oh, dear Miss Recompense, you are not queer," pro
tested Doris, seizing her hand. " When I first came I
was a little afraid — you were so very nice. And then I
remembered that Miss Arabella had all these nice ways,
and could not bear a cloth askew nor towels wrinkled
instead of being laid straight, nor anything spilled at the
table, nor an untidy room, and she was very sweet and
nice. And then I tried to be as neat as I could."

" I knew you had been well brought up." Miss
Recompense was pleased always to be compared to her
" dear Miss Arabella." There was something grateful
to her woman's heart, that had long ago held a longing
for a child of her own, in the ardent tone Doris always
uttered this endearment.

"Miss Recompense, don't you think there is something
in people loving you? You want to love them in return.
You want to do the things they like. And when they
smile and are glad, your whole heart is light with a kind
of inward sunshine. And I think if Mrs. Manning
would smile on Elizabeth once in a while, and tell her
what she did was nice, and that she was smart, — for she
is very, very smart, — I know it would comfort her."

" You see, people haven't thought it was best to praise
children. ,They rarely did in my day."

" But Uncle Leverett praised Warren and Betty, and

WINTER AND SORROW. 283

always said what Aunt Elizabeth cooked and did was
delightful."

" Foster Lever ett was one man out of a thousand.
They will all miss him dreadfully."

Aunt Priscilla would have been amazed to know that
Mr. Leverett had been in the estimation of Miss Recom
pense an ideal husband. Years ago she had compared
other men with him and found them wanting.

Uncle Win was much surprised to find them sitting
there talking when he came home, for it was ten o'clock.
Gary returned shortly after, and the two men retired to
the study. But there was a curious half-dread of some
intangible influence that kept Doris awake a long while.
The wind moaned outside and now and then raised to a
somber gust sweeping across the wide Common. Oh,
how lonely it must be in the old burying ground!

Mr. Leverett's will had been read that evening. The
business was left to Warren, as Hollis had most of his
share years before. To the married daughters a small
remembrance, to Betty and her mother the house in Sud-
bury Street, to be kept or sold as they should elect; if
sold, they were to share equally.

Mrs. King was very well satisfied. In the present
state of affairs Warren's part was very uncertain, and
his married sisters were to be paid out of that. The
building was old, and though the lot was in a good busi
ness location, the value at that time was not great.

" It seems to me the estate ought to be worth more,"
said Mrs. Manning. " I did suppose father was quite
well off, and had considerable ready money."

" So he did two years ago," answered Warren. " But
it has been spent in the effort to keep afloat. If the
times should ever get better "

"You'll pull through," said Hollis encouragingly.

284 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

He had not suffered so much from the hard times, and
was prospering.

The will had been remade six months before, after a
good deal of consideration.

When Mrs. King went home, a few days after, she said
privately to Warren : " Do not trouble about my legacy,
and if you come to hard places I am sure Matt will help
you out if he possibly can."

Warren thanked her in a broken voice.

Mr. King said nearly the same thing as he grasped the
young fellow's hand.

They were a very lonely household. Of course, Betty
could not think of going away. And now that they
knew what a struggle it had been for some time to keep
matters going comfortably, they cast about to see what
retrenchment could be made. Even if they wanted to,
this would be no time to sell. The house seemed much
too large for them, yet it was not planned so that any
could be rented out.

"If you're set upon that," said Aunt Priscilla, "I'll take
the spare rooms, whether I need them or not. And we
will just go on together. Strange though that Foster,
who was so much needed, should be taken, and I, without
a chick or a child, and so much older, be left behind."

There was a new trustee to be looked up for Doris.
A much younger man was needed. If Gary were five or
six years older! Foster Leverett's death was a great
shock to Winthrop Adams. Sometimes it seemed as if
a shadowy form hovered over his shoulder, warning him
that middle life was passing. He had a keen disappoint
ment, too, in his son. He had hoped to find in him an
intellectual companion as the years went on, but he could
plainly see that his heart was not in his profession. The
young fellow's ardor had been aroused on other lines
that brought him in direct opposition to the elder's

WINTER AND SORROW. 285

views. He had gone so far as to ask his father's per
mission to enlist in the navy, which had been refused, not
only with prompt decision, but with a feeling of amaze
ment that a son of his should have proposed such a
step.

Gary had the larger love of country and the enthu
siasm of youth. His father was deeply interested in the
welfare and standing of the city, and he desired it to keep
at the head. He had hoped to see his son one of the
rising men of the coming generation. War horrified
him: it called forth the cruel and brutal side of most
men, and was to be undertaken only for extremely
urgent reasons as the last hope and salvation of one's
country. We had gained a right to stand among the
nations of the world ; it was time now that we should take
upon ourselves something higher — the cultivation of
literature and the fine arts. To plunge the country into
war again would be setting it back decades.

He had taken a great deal of pleasure in the meetings
of the Anthology Club and the effort they had made to
keep afloat a Magazine of Polite Literature. The little
supper, which was very plain; the literary chat; the
discussions of English poets and essayists, several of
which were reprinted at this era; and the encouragement
of native writers, of whom there were but few except in
the line of sermons and orations. By 1793 there had
been two American novels published, and though we
should smile over them now we can find their compeers
in several of the old English novels that crop out now
and then, exhumed from what was meant to be a kindly
oblivion.

The magazine had been given up, and the life some
how had gone out of the club. There was a plan to
form a reading room and library to take its place. Men
like Mr. Adams were anxious to advance the intellectual

286 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

reputation of the town, though few people found suffi
cient leisure to devote to the idea of a national literature.
Others said : " What need, when we have the world of
brilliant English thinkers that we can never excel, the
poets, and novelists! Let us study those and be content."

The incidents of the winter had been quite depressing
to Mr. Adams. Gary was around to the Royalls' nearly
every evening, sometimes to other places, and at dis
cussions that would have alarmed his father still more if
he had known it. The young fellow's conscience gave
him many twinges. " Children, obey your parents " had
been instilled into every generation and until a boy was
of age he had no lawful right to think for himself.

So it happened that Doris became more of a com
panion to Uncle Win. They rambled about as the
spring opened and noted the improvements. Old Frog
Lane was being changed into Boylston Street. Every
year the historic Common took on some new charm.
There was the Old Elm, that dated back to tradition, for
no one could remember its youth. She was interested
in the conflicts that had ushered in the freedom of the
American Colonies. Here the British waited behind
their earthworks for Washington to attack them, just as
every winter boys congregated behind their snowy walls
and fought mimic battles. Indeed, during General
Gage's administration the soldiers had driven the boys
off their coasting place on the Common, and in a body
they had gone to the Governor and demanded their
rights, which were restored to them. Many a famous
celebration had occurred here, and here the militia met
on training days and had their banquets in tents. At the
first training all the colored population was allowed to
throng the Common; but at the second, when the Ancient
and Honorable Artillery chose its new officers, they were
strictly prohibited.

WINTER AND SORROW. 287

Many of the ropewalks up at the northern end were
silent now. Indeed, everybody seemed waiting with
bated breath for something to happen, but all nature
went on1 its usual way and made the town a little
world of beauty with wild flowers and shrubs and the
gardens coming into bloom, and the myriads of fruit
trees with their crowns of snowy white and pink in all
gradations.

" I think the world never was so beautiful," said Doris
to Uncle Winthrop.

It was so delightful to have such an appreciative com
panion, even if she was only a little girl.

Gary's birthday was the last of May, and it was de
cided to have the family party at the same time. Gary's
young friends would be invited in the evening, but for
the elders there would be the regular supper.

" You will have your freedom suit, and afterward you
can do just as you like," said Doris laughingly. She
and Gary had been quite friendly of late, young-
mannish reserve having given place to a brotherly
regard.

"Do you suppose I can do just as I like?" He
studied the eager face.

" Of course you wouldn't want to do anything Uncle
Win would not like."

Gary flushed. " I wonder if fathers always know
what is best? And when you are a man " he began.

" Don't you want to study law? "

" Under some circumstances I should like it."

" Would you like keeping a store or having a factory,
or building beautiful houses — architecture, I believe, the
fine part is called. Or painting portraits like Copley and
Stuart and the young Mr. Allston up in Court Street."

" No, I can't aspire to that kind of genius, and I am
sure I shouldn't like shop-keeping. I am just an ordi-

288 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

nary young fellow and I am afraid I shall always be a
disappointment to the kindest of fathers. I wish there
were three or four other children."

" How strange it would seem," returned Doris mus
ingly.

" I am glad he has you, little Doris."

" Are you really glad? " Her face was alight with
joy. " Sometimes I have almost wondered "

" Don't wonder any more. You are like a dear little
sister. During the last six months it has been a great
pleasure to me to see father so fond of you. I hope you
will never go away."

" I don't mean to. I love Uncle Win dearly. It used
to trouble me sometimes when Uncle Leverett was alive,
lest I couldn't love quite even, you know," and a tiny
line came in her smooth brow.

" What an idea ! " with a soft smile that suggested his
father.

" It's curious how you can love so many people," she
said reflectively.

At first the Leveretts thought they could not come
to the party, but Uncle Winthrop insisted strongly.
Some of the other relatives had lost members from their
households. All the gayety would be reserved for the
evening. But Gary said they would miss Betty very
much.

They had a pleasant afternoon, and Betty was finally
prevailed upon to stay a little while in the evening.
Gary was congratulated by the elder relatives, who said
many pleasant things and gave him good wishes as to
his future success. One of the cousins proposed his
health, and Gary replied in a very entertaining manner.
There was a birthday cake that he had to cut and pass
around.

" I think Gary has been real delightful," said Betty.

WINTER AND SORROW. 289

" I've never felt intimately acquainted with him, because
he has always seemed rather distant, and went with the
quality and all that, and we are rather plain people. Oh,
how proud of him Uncle Win must be! "

He certainly was proud of his gracious attentions to
the elders and his pleasant way of taking the rather tire
some compliments of a few of the old ladies who had
known his Grandfather Gary as well as his Grandfather
Adams.

Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Priscilla sat up in the room
of Miss Recompense with a few of the guests who wanted
to see the young people gather. There were four col
ored musicians, and they began to tune their instruments
out on the rustic settee at the side of the front garden,
where the beautiful drooping honey locusts hid them
from sight and made even the tuning seem enchanting.
Girls in white gowns trooped up the path, young men in
the height of fashion carried fans and nosegays for them ;
there was laughing and chattering and floating back and
forth to the dressing rooms.

Madam Royall came with Miss Alice and Helen, who
was allowed to go out occasionally under her wing.
Eudora had been permitted just to look on a while and
to return with grandmamma.

The large parlor was cleared of the small and dainty
tables and articles likely to be in the way of the dancers.
The first was to be a new march to a patriotic air, and the
guests stood on the stairs to watch them come out of the
lower door of the long room, march through the hall, and
enter the parlor at the other door. Oh, what a pretty
crowd they were! The old Continental styles had not
all gone out, but were toned down a little. There were
pretty embroidered satin petticoats and sheer gowns fall
ing away at the sides, with a train one had to tuck up
under the belt when one really danced. Hair of all

290 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

shades done high on the head with a comb of silver or
brilliants, or tortoise shell so clear that you could see the
limpid variations. Pompadour rolls, short curls, dainty
puffs, many of the dark heads powdered, laces and frills
and ribbons, and dainty feet in satin slippers and silken
hose.

After that they formed quadrilles in the parlor. There
was space for three and one in the hall. Eudora and
Doris patted their feet on the stairs in unison, and clasp
ing each other's hands smiled and moved their heads in
perfect time.

Aunt Priscilla admitted that it was a beautiful sight,
but she had her doubts about it. Betty was sorry there
was such a sad cause for her not being among them.
Even Gary had expressed regrets about it.

Then the Leveretts and Madam Royall went home.
A few of the elders had a game of loo, and Mr. Adams
played chess with Morris Winslow, whose pretty wife still
enjoyed dancing, though he was growing stout and
begged to be excused on a warm night.

They played forfeits afterward and had a merry time.
Then there was supper, and they drank toasts and made
bright speeches, and there was a great deal of jesting and
gay laughter, and much wishing of success, a judgeship
in the future, a mission abroad perhaps, a pretty and lov
ing wife, a happy and honorable old age.

They drank the health of Mr. Winthrop as well, and
congratulated him on his promising son. He was very
proud and happy that night, and planned within his heart
what he woulcl do for his boy.

Doris kept begging to stay up a little longer. The
music was so fascinating, for the band was playing soft
strains out on the front porch while the guests were at
supper. She sat on the stairs quite enchanted with the
gay scene.

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 291

The guests wandered about the hall and parlor and
chatted joyously. Then there was a movement toward
breaking up.

Miss Alice espied her.

" Oh, you midget, are you up here at midnight? " she
cried. " Have we done Gary ample honor on his arrival
at man's estate? "

" You were all so beautiful ! " said Doris breathlessly.
"And the dancing and the music. It was splendid! "

Helen kissed her good-night with girlish effusion.
Some of the other ladies spoke to her, and Mrs. Winslow
said : " No doubt you will have a party in this old house.
But you will have a girl's advantage. You need not
wait until you are twenty-one."

When the last good-nights were said, and the lights
put out, Gary Adams wondered whether he would have
the determination to avow his plans.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH.

\ A7AR was declared. The President, James Madison,
* * proclaimed it June 18, 1812. Hostilities opened
promptly. True, England's navy was largely engaged
with France in the tremendous effort to keep Napoleon
confined within the boundaries that he had at one time
assented to by treaty, but at that period she had over a
thousand vessels afloat, while America had only seven
teen warships in her navy to brave them.

There was a call for men and money. The Indian
troubles had been fomented largely by England. There
had been fighting on the borders, but the battle of Tippe-
canoe had broken the power of Tecumseh — for the time,
at least. But now the hopes of the Indian chieftain re-

292 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

vived, and the country was beset by both land and naval
warfare.

The town had been all along opposed to war. It had
been said of Boston a few years before that she was like
Tyre of old, and that her ships whitened every sea. Still,
now that the fiat had gone forth, the latent enthusiasm
came to the surface, and men were eager to enlist. A
company had been studying naval tactics at Charlestown,
and most of them offered their services, filled with the
enthusiasm of youth and brimming with indignation at
the treatment our sailors were continually receiving.

Still, the little navy had proudly distinguished itself
in the Mediterranean, and the Constitution had gained
for herself the sobriquet of " Old Ironsides " — a Boston-
built vessel, though the live oak, the red cedar, and the
pitch pine had come from South Carolina. But Paul
Revere had furnished the copper bolts and spikes, and
when the ship was recoppered, later on, that came from
the same place. Ephraim Thayer, at the South End, had
made her gun carriages, and her sails were manufactured
in the Old Granary building.

" A bunch of pine boards with a bit of striped bunt
ing " had been the enemy's disdainful description of our
youthful navy. And now they were to try their prowess
with the Mistress of the Seas, who had defeated the com
bined navies of Europe. No wonder the country stood
astounded over its own daring.

Everything afloat was hurriedly equipped as a war
vessel. The solid, far-sighted men of New York and
New England shook their heads over the great mistake
Congress and the President had made.

Warren Leverett began to talk about enlisting. Busi
ness had been running behind. True, he could appeal to
his brother-in-law King. He had sounded Hollis, who
declared he had all he could do to keep afloat himself.

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 293

Mrs. Leverett besought him to take no hasty step.
What could they do without him? -They might break
up the home. Electa would be glad to have Betty —
there were some things she could do, but Aunt Priscilla
— whose health was really poor

Aunt Priscilla understood the drift presently, and the
perplexity. Warren admitted that if he had some money
to tide him over he would fight through. The war
couldn't last forever.

" And you never thought of me! " declared Aunt Pris
cilla, pretending to be quite indignant. " See here, War
ren Leverett, when I made my will I looked out for you
and Betty. Mary Manning shan't hoard up any of my
money, and 'Lecty King, thank the Lord, doesn't want
it. So if you're to have it in the end you may as well
take some of it now, fursisee. I shall have enough to
last my time out. And I'm settled and comfortable
here and don't want to be routed out and set down else
where."

Warren and his mother were surprised and overcome
by the offer. He would take it only on condition that
he should pay Aunt Priscilla the interest.

But his business stirred up wonderfully. Still, they
all felt it was very generous in Aunt Priscilla, whose
money had really been her idol.

Doris had gone over from her music lesson one after
noon. They were always so glad to see her. Aunt Pris
cilla thought a piano in such times as these was almost
defying Providence. But even the promise of that did
not spoil Doris, and they were always glad to see her
drop in and hear her dainty bits of news.

They wanted very much to keep her to supper.

" Why, they " — which meant the family at home —
" will be sure you have stayed here or at the Royalls'.
Mr. Winslow has given ever so much money toward the

294 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

fitting out of a vessel. They are all very patriotic. And
Gary's uncle, Mr. March, has gone in heart and hand. I
don't know which is right," said Betty with a sigh, " but
now that we are in it I hope we will win."

But Doris was afraid Miss Recompense would feel
anxious, and she promised to come in a few days and
stay to supper.

It was very odd that just as she reached the corner
Cousin Gary should cross the street and join her.

" I have been down having a talk with Warren," he
said as if in explanation. " I wish I had a good, plodding
business head like that, and Warren isn't lacking in the
higher qualities, either. If there was money enough to
keep the house going, he would enlist. He had almost
resolved to when this stir in business came."

" Oh, I don't know what his mother would have done!
If Uncle Leverett was alive "

" He would have consented in a minute. Someone's
sons must go," Gary said decisively. " No, don't go
straight home — come over to the Common. Doris, you
are only a little girl, but I want to talk to you. There is
no one else "

Doris glanced at him in amazement. He was quite
generally grave, though he sometimes teased her, and
occasionally read with her and explained any difficult
point. But she always felt so like a very little girl with
him.

They went on in silence, however, until they crossed
Common Street and passed on under the magnificent
elms. Clumps of shrubbery were blooming. Vines ran
riotously over supports, and roses and honeysuckle made
the air sweet.

" Doris," — his voice had a little huskiness in it, — " you
are very fond of father, and he loves you quite as if you

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 295

were his own child. Oh, I wish you were! I wish he
had half a dozen sons and daughters. If mother had
lived "

" Yes," Doris said at length, in the long silence broken
only by the song and whistle of myriad birds.

" I don't know how to tell you. I can't soften things,
incidents, or explanations. I am so apt to go straight to
the point, and though it may be honorable, it is not
always wisest or best. But I can't help it now. I have
enlisted in the navy. We start for Annapolis this even
ing."

"Oh, Gary! And Uncle Win "

" That is it. That gives me a heartache, I must con
fess. For, you see, I can't go and tell him in a manly
way, as I would like. We have had some talks over it. I
asked him before I was of age, and he refused in the most
decisive manner to consider it. He said if I went I
would have to choose between the country and him,
which meant — a separation for years, maybe. It is
strange, too, for he is noble and just and patriotic on cer
tain lines. I do think he would spend any money on me,
give me everything I could possibly want, but he feels
in some way that I am his and it is my duty to do with
my life what he desires, not what I like. I am talking
over your head, you are such a little girl, and so simple-
hearted. And I have really come to love you a great
deal, Doris."

She looked up with a soft smile, but there were tears
in her eyes.

" You see, a big boy who has no sisters doesn't get
used to little girls. And when he really begins to admire
them they are generally older. Then, I have always been
with boys and young men. I was glad when you came,
because father was so interested in you. And I thought

296 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

he had begun to love you so much that he wouldn't
really mind if I went away. But, you see, his heart would
be big enough for a houseful of children."

" Oh, why do you go? He will be — broken-hearted."

" Little Doris, I shall be broken-hearted if I stay. I
shall begin to hate law — maybe I shall take to drink —
young fellows do at times. I know I shall be just good
for nothing. I should like best to talk it over dispas
sionately with him, but that can't be done. We should
both say things that would hurt each other and that we
should regret all our lives. I have written him a long
letter, but I wanted to tell someone. I thought of Betty
first, and Madam Royall, but no one can comfort him
like you. Then I wanted you to feel, Doris, that I was
not an ungrateful, disobedient son. I wish we could
think alike about the war, but it seems that we cannot.
And because you are here, — and, Doris, you are a very
sweet little girl, and you will love him always, I know,
— I give him in your charge. I hope to come back, but
the chances of war are of a fearful sort, and if I should
not, will you keep to him always, Doris? Will you be
son and daughter to him as you grow up — oh, Doris,
don't cry! People die every day, you know, staying at
home. I have often thought how sad it was that my
mother and both your parents should die so young "

His voice broke then. They came to a rustic seat and
sat down. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

" If I shouldn't ever come back " — tremulously — " I
should like to feel at the last moment there was some
one who would tell him that my very latest thought was
of him and his tender love all my twenty-one years. I
want you to make him feel that it was no disrespect
to him, but love for my country, that impelled me to the
step. You will understand it better when you grow
older, and I can trust you to do me full justice and to be

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 297

tender to him. And at first, Doris, when I can, I shall
write to you. If he doesn't forbid you, I want you to
answer if I can get letters. This is a sad, sad talk for a
little girl "

Doris tried very hard not to sob. She seemed to
understand intuitively how it was, and that to make any
appeal could only pain him without persuading. If she
were as wise and bright as Betty!

" That is all — or if I said any more it would be a repe
tition, and it is awfully hard on you. But you will love
him and comfort him."

" I shall love him and stay with him all my life," said
Doris with tender solemnity.

They were both too young to understand all that such
a promise implied.

" My dear little sister! " He rose and stooping over
kissed her on the fair forehead. " I will walk back to the
house with you," he added as she rose.

Neither of them said a word until they reached the cor
ner. Then he took both hands and, kissing her again,
turned away, feeling that he could not even utter a
good-by.

Doris stood quite still, as if she was stunned. She
was not crying in any positive fashion, but the tears
dropped silently. She could not go indoors, so she went
down to the big apple tree that had a seat all around the
trunk. Was Uncle Win at home? Then she heard
voices. Miss Recompense had a visitor, and she was
very glad.

The lady, an old friend, stayed to supper. Uncle Win
did not make his appearance. Doris took a book after
ward and sat out on the stoop, but reading was only a
pretense. She was frightened now at having a secret,
and it seemed such a solemn thing as she recalled what
she had promised. She would like to spend all her life

298 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

with Uncle Win; but could she care for him and make
him happy, when the one great love of his life was gone?

Miss Recompense walked out to the gate with her
visitor, and they had a great many last bits to say, and
then she watched her going down the street.

" Child, you can't see to read," she said to Doris. " I
think it is damp. You had better come in. Mr. Adams
will not be home before ten."

Doris entered the lighted hall and stood a moment
uncertain.

" How pale and heavy-eyed you look ! " exclaimed
Miss Recompense. " Does your head ache? Have they
some new trouble in Sudbury Street? "

" Oh, no. But I am tired. I think I will go to bed.
Good-night, dear Miss Recompense," and she gave her
a gentle hug.

She cried a little softly to her pillow. Had Gary gone?
When Uncle Win came home he would find the letter.
She dreaded to-morrow.

Gary had one more errand before he started. He had
said good-by to them at Madam Royall's and announced
his enlistment, but he had asked Alice to meet him at the
foot of the garden. They were not lovers, though he
was perhaps quite in love. And he knew that he had
only to speak to gain his father's consent and have his
way to matrimony made easy, since it was Alice Royall.
But he had never been quite sure that she cared for him
with her whole soul, as Isabel had cared for Morris Win-
slow. And if he won her — would he, could he go
away?

He used to wonder later on how much was pure pa
triotism and how much a desire to stand well with Alice
Royall. She was proudly patriotic and had stirred his
blood many a time with her wishes and desires for the
country. Grandmamma Royall had laughed a little at

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 299

her vehemence, and said it was fortunate she was not a
boy.

" I should enlist at once. Or what would be better
yet, I would beg brother Morris to fit out a war ship, and
look up the men to command it, and go in any capacity.
I should not wait for a high-up appointment."

When Gary confessed his step first to her, she caught
his hands in hers so soft and delicate.

" I knew you were the stuff out of which heroes were
made!" she cried exultantly. "Oh, Gary, I shall pray
for you day and night, and you will come back crowned
with honors."

" If I come back "

" You will. Take my word for your guerdon. I
can't tell you how I know it, but I am sure you will re
turn. I can see you and the future "

She paused, flushed with excitement, her eyes intense,
her rosy lips tremulous, and looked, indeed, as if she
might be inspired.

So she met him again at the garden gate for a last
good-by. Young people who had been well brought up
did not play at love-making in those days, though they
might be warm friends. A girl seldom gave or received
caresses until the elders had signified assent. An en
gagement was quite a solemn thing, not lightly to be
entered into. And even to himself Gary seemed very
young. All his instincts were those of a gentleman, and
in his father he had had an example of the most punc
tilious honor.

They walked up and down a few moments. He
pressed tender kisses on her fair hand, about which there
always seemed to cling the odor of roses. And then he
tore himself away with a passionate sorrow that his
father, the nearest in human ties of love, could not bid
him Godspeed.

300 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

The next morning Doris wondered what had hap
pened. There was a loneliness in the very air, as there
had been when Uncle Leverett died. The sky was over
cast, not exactly promising a storm, but soft and pene
trative, as if presaging sorrow.

Oh, yes, she remembered now. She dressed herself
and went quietly downstairs.

" You may as well come and have your breakfast,"
exclaimed Miss Recompense. " Your uncle sent down
word that he had a headache and begged not to be dis
turbed. He was up a long while after he came home
last night; it must have been past midnight when he
went to bed. I wish he did not get so deeply interested
in improvements and everything. And if we are to be
bombarded and destroyed I don't see any sense in laying
out new streets and filling up ponds and wasting the
money of the town."

It seemed to Doris as if she could not swallow a
mouthful. She tried heroically. Then she went out and
gathered a bunch of roses for Uncle Win's study. She
generally read French and Latin a while with him in the
morning. Then she made her bed, dusted her room,
put her books in her satchel and went to school in an un
willing sort of fashion. How long the morning seemed !
Then there was a half-hour in deportment — we should
call it physical culture at present. All the girls were gay
and chatty. Eudora told her about a new lace stitch.
Grandmamma had been out yesterday where there was
such an elegant Spanish woman with coal-black eyes and
hair. Her family had fled to this country to escape the
horrors of war. They had been rich, but were now quite
poor, and she was thinking of having a needlework class.

Did Eudora know Gary had gone away?

Uncle Win came out to dinner. She was a little late.

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 301

He glanced up and gave a faint half-smile, but, oh, how
deadly pale he was!

" Dear Uncle Winthrop — is your headache better? "
she asked with gentle solicitude.

" A little," he said gravely.

It was a very quiet meal. Although Mr. Winthrop
Adams had a delicate appearance, he was rarely ill. Now
there were deep rings under his eyes, and the utter de
pression was sad indeed to behold.

Doris nearly always ran in the study and gossiped
girlishly about the morning's employments. Now she
sauntered out on the porch. There was neither music
nor writing class. She wondered if she had better sew.
She was learning to do that quite nicely, but the stock
ing still remained a puzzle.

" Doris," said a gentle voice through the open win
dow; and the sadness pierced her heart.

She rose and went in. Solomon lay on his cushion in
the corner, and even he, she thought, had a troubled look
in his eyes. Uncle Win sat by the table, and there lay
Gary's letter.

She put her arms about his neck and pressed her soft
warm cheek against his, so cool that it startled her.

" My dear little Doris," he began. " I am childless.
I have no son. Gary has gone away, against my wishes,
in the face of my prohibition. I do not suppose he will
ever return alive. And so I have given him up, Doris "
— his voice failed him. He had meant to say, " You are
all I have."

" Uncle Win — may I tell you — I saw him yesterday in
the afternoon. And he told me he had enlisted "

"Oh, then, you know!" The tone somehow grew
harder.

" Dear Uncle Win, I think he could not help going.

302 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

He was very brave. And he was sorry, too. His eyes

were full of tears while he was talking. And he asked

»
me

"To intercede for him?"

" No — to stay here with you always. He said I was
like a little sister. And I promised. Uncle Win, if you
will keep me I will be your little girl all my life long.
I will never leave you. I love you very dearly. For
since Uncle Leverett went away I have given you both
loves."

She stood there in silence many minutes. Oh, how
comforting was the clasp of the soft arms about his neck,
how consoling the dear, assuring voice!

" Will you tell me about it? " he said at length.

She was a wise little thing, though I think her chief
wisdom lay in her desire not to give anyone pain. Some
few sentences she left out, others she softened.

" Oh," she said beseechingly, " you will not be angry
with him, Uncle Winthrop? I think it is very brave and
heroic in him. It is like some of the old soldiers in the
Latin stories. I shall study hard now, so I can read
about them all. And I shall pray all the time that the
war will come to an end. We shall be so proud and glad
when he returns. And then you will have two children
again."

" Yes — we will hope for the war to end speedily. It
ought never to have begun. What can we do against an
enemy that has a hundred arms ready to destroy us?
Little Doris, I am glad to have you."

Winthrop Adams was not a man to talk over his sor
rows. He had been wounded to the quick. He had not
dreamed that his son would disregard his wishes. His
fatherly pride was up in arms. But he did not turn his
wounded side to the world. He quietly admitted that
his son had gone to Annapolis, and received the con-

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 303

gratulations of friends who sincerely believed it was time
to strike.

Salem was busy at her wharves, where peaceable
merchantmen were being transformed into war vessels.
Charlestown was all astir, and sailors donned the uni
form proudly. New York and Baltimore joined in the
general activity. The Constellation was fitting out at
Norfolk. The Chesapeake, the United States, and the
President were to be made famous on history's page.
Privateers without number were hurried to the fore.

The Constitution had quite a reception in New York,
and she started out with high endeavors. She had not
gone far, however, before she found herself followed by
three British frigates, and among them the Guerriere,
whose captain Commodore Hull had met in New York.
To be captured in this manner — for fighting against such
odds would be of no avail — was not to be thought of, so
there was nothing but a race before him. If he could
reach Boston he would save his ship and his men, and
somewhere perhaps gain a victory.

Ah, what a race it was! The men put forth all their
strength, all their ingenuity. At times it seemed as if
capture was imminent. By night and by day, trying
every experiment, working until they dropped from
sheer fatigue, and after an hour or two of rest going at it
again — Captain Hull kept her well to the windward, and
with various maneuverings puzzled the pursuers. Then
Providence favored them with a fine, driving rain, and
she flew along in the darkness of the night, hardly dar
ing to hope, but at dawn, after a three days' race, Boston
was in sight, and her enemies were left behind.

But that was not in any sense a complete victory, and
she started out again to face her enemy and conquer if
she could, for her captain knew the British ship Guerriere
was lying somewhere in wait for her. Everybody prayed

304 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

and hoped. Firing was heard, but at such a distance
from the harbor nothing could be decided.

The frontier losses had been depressing in the ex
treme. Boston had hung her flags at half-mast for the
brave dead. But suddenly a report came that the Con
stitution had been victorious, and that the Guerriere after
having been disabled beyond any power of restoration,
had been sent to a watery grave.

In a moment it seemed as if the whole town was in a
transport of joy. Flags were waving everywhere, and a
gayly decorated flotilla went out in the harbor to greet
the brave battle-scarred veteran. And when the tale of
the great victory ran from lip to lip the rejoicing was un
bounded. A national salute was fired, which was re
turned from the ship. The streets were in festive array
and crowded with people who could not restrain their
wild rejoicing. The Guerriere, which was to drive the in
solent striped bunting from the face of the seas, had been
swept away in a brief hour and a half, and the bunting
waved above her grave. That night the story was told
over in many a home. The loss of the Constitution had
been very small compared to that of the Guerriere, which
Had twenty-three dead and fifty-six wounded; and Cap
tain Dacres headed the list of prisoners.

There was a grand banquet at the Exchange Coffee
House. The freedom of the city was presented to Cap
tain Hull, and New York sent him a handsome sword.
Congress voted him a gold medal, and Philadelphia a
service of plate.

At one blow the prestige of invincibility claimed for
the British navy was shattered. And now the Constitu
tion's earlier escape from the hot chase of the three British
frigates was understood to be a great race for the nation's
honor and welfare, as well as for their own lives, and at
last the baffled pursuers, out-sailed, out-maneuvered,

THE HIGH RESOLVE OF YOUTH. 305

dropped behind with no story of success to tell, and were
to gnaw their hearts in bitterness when they heard of
this glorious achievement.

Uncle Winthrop took Doris and Betty out in the car
riage that they might see the great rejoicing from all
points. Everywhere one heard bits of the splendid
action and the intrepidity of Captain Hull and his men.

" I only wish Gary had been in it," said Betty with
sparkling eyes.

Warren told them that when Lieutenant Read came on
deck with Captain Hull's " compliments, and wished to
know if they had struck their flag," Captain Dacres re
plied:

" Well — I don't know. Our mizzenmast is gone, our
mainmast is gone, and I think you may say on the whole
that we have struck our flag."

One of the points that pleased Mr. Adams very much
was the official report of Captain Dacres, who " wished
to acknowledge, as a matter of courtesy, that the conduct
of Captain Hull and his officers to our men had been
that of a brave enemy; the greatest care being taken to
prevent our losing the smallest trifle, and the kindest
attention being paid to the wounded."

More than one officer was to admit the same fact be
fore the war ended, even if we did not receive the like
consideration from our enemies.

" I only wish Cary had been on the Constitution," said
Betty eagerly. " I should be proud of the fact to my
dying day, and tell it over to my grandchildren."

A tint of color wavered over Uncle Winthrop's pale
face. No one mentioned Cary, out of a sincere regard
for his father, except people outside who did not know
the truth of his sudden departure; though many of his
young personal friends were aware of his interest and his
study on the subject.

306 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Old Boston had a gala time surely. The flags floated
for days, and everyone wore a kind of triumphant aspect.
That her own ship, built with so much native work and
equipments, should be the first to which a British frigate
should strike her colors was indeed a triumph. Though
there were not wanting voices across the sea to say the
Guerriere should have gone down with flying colors, but
even that would have been impossible.

Miss Recompense and Uncle Winthrop began to dis
cuss Revolutionary times, and Doris listened with a great
deal of interest. She delighted to identify herself
strongly with her adopted country, and in her secret
heart she was proud of Gary, though she could not be
quite sure he was right in the step he had taken. They
missed him so much. She tried in many ways to make
up the loss, and her devotion went to her uncle's heart.

If they could only hear! Not to know where he was
seemed so hard to bear.

CHAPTER XX.

A VISITOR FOR DORIS.

P\ORIS was in the little still-room, as it was called — a
*-^ large sort of pantry shelved on one side, and with
numerous drawers and a kind of dresser with glass doors
on another. By the window there were a table and the
dainty little still where Miss Recompense made perfumes
and extracts. There were boxes of sweet herbs, useful
ones, bottles of medicinal cordials and salves. Miss
Recompense Was a " master hand " at such things, and
the neighbors around thought her as good as a doctor.

It was so fragrant in this little room that Doris always
had a vague impression of a beautiful country. She had
a kind of poetical temperament, and she hoped some day

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 307

to be able to write verses. Helen Chapman had written
a pretty song for a friend's birthday and had it set to
music. The quartette sang it so well that the leading
paper had praised it. There was no one she could con
fess her secret ambition to, but if she ever did achieve
anything she would confide in Uncle Winthrop. So she
sat here with all manner of vague, delightful ideas float
ing through her brain, steeped with the fragrance of
balms and odors.

" Please, 'm," and Dinah stood in the door in all the
glory of her gay afternoon turban, which seemed to make
her face more black and shining — " Please, 'm, dere's a
young sojer man jus' come. He got a bundle an' he
say he got strict d'rections to gib it to missy. An' here's
de ticket."

" Oh, for me ! " Doris took it eagerly and read aloud,
" Lieutenant E. D. Hawthorne." " Oh, Miss Recom
pense, it's from Gary, I know," and for a moment she
looked undecided.

Miss Recompense had on her morning gown, rather
faded, though she had changed it for dinner. Her
sleeves were pushed above the elbow, her hands were a
little stained, and just now she could not leave her con
coction without great injury to it, though it was evidently
improper for a child like Doris, or indeed a young lady,
to see a strange gentleman alone. And Mr. Adams was
out.

Doris cut the Gordian knot by flashing through the
kitchen and entering the lower end of the hall. The
young man stood viewing " The Destruction of the
Spanish Armada." But he turned at the sort of bird-
like flutter and glanced at the vision that all his life long
he thought the prettiest sight he had ever beheld.

She had on a simple white frock, though it was one of
her best, with a narrow embroidered ruffle around the

308 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

bottom that Madam Royall had given her. When it was
a little crumpled she put it on for afternoon wear. The
neck was cut a small square with a bit of edging around
it, gathered with a pink ribbon tied in a bow in front.
She still wore her hair in ringlets ; it did not seem to grow
very fast, but she had been promoted to a pompadour,
the front hair being brushed up over a cushion. That
left innumerable short ends to curl in tiny tendrils about
her forehead. Oddly enough, too, she had on a pink
apron Betty had made out of the best breadth of a pink
India lawn frock she had worn out. It had pretty
pockets with a bow of the same.

" Miss Doris Adams," exclaimed the young lieutenant.
" I should have known you in a minute, although you

are " He paused and flushed, for Gary had said, "She

isn't exactly handsome, but very sweet-looking with
pretty, eager eyes and fair hair." He checked himself
suddenly, understanding the impropriety of paying her
the compliment on the end of his tongue, but he thought
her an enchanting picture. " You are larger than I sup
posed. Adams always said ' My little cousin.' "

" I was little when I first came. And I have grown
ever so much this summer — since Gary went away. Oh,
have you seen him? How is he? Where is he?"

Doris had a soft and curiously musical voice, the sound
that lingered with a sort of cadence. Her eyes shone in
eager expectation, her curved red lips were dewy sweet.

" He is well. He has sailed on the United States as
midshipman. I saw him at Annapolis — indeed, we came
quite near being on the same vessel. He is a fine young
fellow, but he doesn't look a day over eighteen. And
there is a family resemblance," but he thought Doris
would make a much handsomer young woman than
Gary would a young man. " And I have a small packet
for you that I was to deliver to no one else."

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 309

He held it out to her with a smile. It was sealed, and
was also secured with a bit of cord, which, of course,
should have been a thread of silk, but we saved our re
finements of chivalry for other purposes.

" He is going to make a fine, earnest, patriotic sailor.
You will never hear anything about him that you need
be ashamed of. He told me his father wasn't quite recon
ciled to the step, but after this splendid victory in Boston
harbor — to strain a little point," laughingly, " the town
may well be proud of the courageous navy. And I hope
you will hear good news of him. One thing you may be
sure of — he will never show the white feather."

Oh, how her eyes glistened! There were tears in them
as well.

" He described the house to me, and the town. I
have never been in Boston before, and have come from
Washington on important business. I return this even
ing. I don't know when I shall see him again, and let
ters to vessels are so uncertain. That seems the hardest
part of it all. But he may happen in this very port be
fore a great while. One never knows. Believe that I
am very glad to have the opportunity of coming myself,
and if in the future I should run across him on the high
seas or the shore even," — smiling again, — " I shall feel
better acquainted and more than ever interested in him.
There is one great favor I should like to ask — could you
show me the study? Adams talked so much about that
and his father."

" It is here." Doris made a pretty gesture with her
hand, and he walked to the door, glancing around.
There was the high backed chair by the table with its
covering of Cordovan leather, and he could imagine the
father sitting there.

" One would want a year to journey around these four
walls," he said with a soft sigh. " A library like this is

310 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

an uncommon sight. And you study here? Adams said
you had been such a comfort and pleasure to his father.
Oh, what a magnificent cat ! "

" Kitty is mine," said Doris. She crossed over to the
window, and Solomon rose to his fullest extent, gave a
comfortable stretch, and rubbed the cheek of his young
mistress, then arched his back, studied the visitor out of
sleepy green eyes and began to turn around him three
times in cat fashion.

They both laughed at that. Did Doris know what a
pretty picture she made of herself in her girlish grace?

" Thank you. What a splendid old hall ! I should
like to spend a day looking round. But I had only the
briefest while, and I was afraid I should not get here.
So I must be satisfied with my glimpse. I shall hope
that fate will send me this way again when I have more
leisure. May I pay a visit here? "

" Oh, yes," returned Doris impulsively. " And I can
never tell you how glad I am for this," touching the little
packet caressingly to her cheek. " There isn't any word
with enough thanks and gratitude in it."

" I am glad to have earned your gratitude. And now
I must say farewell, for I know you are impatient to read
your letter."

He stepped out on the porch and bowed with a kind of
courtly grace. Doris realized then that he was a very
handsome young man.

" Miss Doris," — he paused halfway down the steps, —
" I wonder if I might be so bold as to ask for yonder
rose — the last on its parent stem? "

Thomas Moore had not yet immortalized " The Last
Rose of Summer " and given it such pathetic possibilities.

" Oh, yes," she said. " That is a late-blooming rose —
indeed, it blooms twice in the season." Only this morn
ing she had gathered a bowl of rose leaves for Miss

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 311

Recompense, and this one had opened since. She broke
the stem and handed it to him. " It is a very little gift
for all you have brought me," she added in a soft, heart
felt tone.

" Thank you. I shall cherish it sacredly."

Miss Recompense had hurried and donned a gingham
gown and a fresh cap. She had come just in time to see
the gift, and the manner in which the young man received
it alarmed her. And when he had walked down to the
street he turned and bowed and made a farewell gesture
with his hand.

Doris had nothing to cut the cord around the packet,
so she bit it with her pretty teeth and tore off the wrap
per, coming up the steps. Then raising her eyes she
sprang forward.

"Oh, dear Miss Recompense, letters, see! A letter
from Gary all to myself, and one for Uncle Win! I'll
just put that on his table to be a joyful surprise. And
may I come and read mine to you? He was in such a
hurry, though really I did not ask him to stay. Was
that impolite?"

" No — under the circumstances." She cleared her
throat a little, but the lecture on propriety would not
materialize.

" ' Dear little Doris.' Think of that— wouldn't Gary
be surprised to see how much I have grown! May I sit
here?"

Miss Recompense was about to decant some of her
preparations. Doris took the high stool and read
eagerly, though now and then a little break came in her
voice. The journey to Annapolis with half a dozen col
lege chums bent on the same errand, the being mus
tered into the country's service and assigned to positions,
meeting famous people and hearing some thrilling news,
and at last the order for sailing, were vivid as a picture.

312 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

She was to let Madam Royall and the household read all
this, and he sent respectful regard to them all, and real
love to all the Leveretts. There had been moments
when he was wild to see them again, but after all he was
prouder than ever to be of service to his country, who
needed her bravest sons as much now as in her seven
years' struggle.

There was a loose page beginning " For your eyes
alone, Doris," and she laid it by, for she felt even now
that she wanted to cry over her brave cousin. Then he
spoke of Lieutenant Hawthorne, who had been instru
mental in getting him his appointment, and who had
undertaken to see that this would reach her safely. And
so many farewells, as if he could hardly say the very last
one.

Miss Recompense wiped her eyes and stepped about
softly, as if her whole body was pervaded with a new
tenderness. She made little comments to restore the
equilibrium, so that neither would give way to undue
emotion.

" Miss Recompense, do you think I might run up to
Aunt Elizabeth's with my letter? They will all want to
hear."

" Why — I see no objections, child. And then if you
wanted to go to Madam Royall's — but I think they will
keep you to tea at Sudbury Street. Let Betty or War
ren walk home with you. Take off your apron."

Doris read half a dozen lines of her own personal letter
and laid it in the bottom of her workbox, that had come
from India, and had a subtle fragrance. She did not
want to cry in real earnest, as she felt she should, with
all these references to Uncle Win. She tied on her hat
and said " Good-afternoon," and really did run part of the
way.

They were just overflowing with joy to hear, only

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 313

Betty said, " What a shame Gary had to go before the
glorious news of the Constitution! There was a chance
of two days after he had written his letter, so he might
have heard." Postage was high at that time and mails
uncertain, so letters and important matters were often
trusted to private hands. Then Lieutenant Hawthorne
had not gone to Boston as soon as he expected.

Betty had some news too. Mr. and Mrs. King were
going to Washington, perhaps for the greater part of the
winter.

As they walked home Betty rehearsed her perplexities
to Doris. It was odd how many matters were confided
to this girl of thirteen, but she seemed so wise and sen
sible and sympathetic.

" If it wasn't quite such hard times, and if Warren
could marry and bring Mercy home! She's an excellent
housekeeper, just the wife for a struggling young man,
mother admits. But whether she would like it, and
whether Aunt Priscilla would feel comfortable, are the
great questions. She's been so good to Warren. Mary
badgered him dreadfully about her part. If Mary was a
little more like Electa! "

Warren had been keeping company with Mercy Oil
man for the last year. She was a bright, cheerful, indus
trious girl, well brought up, and the engagement was
acceptable to both families. Young people paid more
deference to their elders then. Warren felt that he
could not go away from home, and surely there was room
enough if they could all agree.

" It's odd how many splendid things come to Electa,
though it may be because she is always willing to take
advantage of them. They have rented their house in
New York and are to take some rooms in Washington.
Bessy and Leverett are to be put in school, and she takes
the two little ones. Their meals are to be sent in from

314 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

a cook shop. Of course she can't be very gay, being in
mourning. Everybody says Mrs. Madison is so charm-
ing."

" Oh, I wish you could go," sighed Doris.

" And Mary is always wondering why I do not come
and stay with her, and sew and help along. Oh, Doris,
what if I should be the old maid aunt and go visiting
round! For there hasn't a soul asked me to keep com
pany yet," and Betty laughed. But she was not very
anxious on the subject.

They reached the corner and kissed each other good
night. Miss Recompense sat on the stoop with a little
shawl about her shoulders. She drew Doris down beside
her and inquired about her visit.

While there was much that was stern and hard and
reticent in the Puritan character, there was also an innate
delicacy concerning the inward life. They made few
appeals to each other's sympathies. Perhaps this very
reserve gave them strength to endure trials heroically
and not burden others.

Miss Recompense had judged wisely that Mr. Adams
would prefer to receive his missive alone. His first re
mark had been the usual question :

"Where is Doris?"

" Oh, we have had quite an adventure — a call from a
young naval officer. Here is his card. He brought
letters to you and Doris, and she was eager to take hers
over to Betty. She will stay to supper."

He scrutinized the card while his breath came in
strangling gasps, but he preserved his composure out
wardly.

" Did you — did he " pausing confusedly.

" I did not see him," returned Miss Recompense
quietly. " I was not in company trim, and he asked for
Doris. I dare say he thought her a young lady."

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 315

" Is he staying in Boston? " fingering the card irreso
lutely.

" He was to return to Washington at once. He had
come on some urgent business."

Mr. Adams went through to his study. He looked at
the address some moments before he broke the seal, but
he found the first lines reassuring.

"Will you have supper now?" asked Miss Recom
pense from the doorway.

" If convenient, yes." He laid down his letter and
came out in the hall. " Doris told you all her news, I
suppose?"

" She read me her letter. Gary seems to be in good
spirits and position. He spoke very highly of Lieutenant
Hawthorne."

" The accounts seem very satisfactory."

Then they went out to the quiet supper. A meal was
not the same without Doris.

All the evening he had remained in his room, reading
his son's letter more than once and lapsing into deep
thought over it. He heard the greetings now, and came
out, inquiring after the folks in Sudbury Street, sitting
down on the step and listening with evident pleasure to
Doris' eager chat. It was bedtime when they dispersed.

" Uncle Win," Doris said the next morning, " there is
a page in my letter I would like you to read. And do
you think I might go home with Eudora and take dinner
at Madam Royall's? Gary sent them some messages."

" Yes, child," he made answer.

They were indeed very glad, but like Betty they could
not help wishing he had been on the famous Constitution.
Alice was particularly interested, and said she should
watch the career of the United States.

After that the ice seemed broken and no one hesitated
to mention Gary. But Mr. Winthrop said to Doris:

316 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" My dear child, will you give me this leaf of your
letter. I know Gary did not mean it for my eyes, but it
is very precious to me. Doris, how comes it that you
find the way to everybody's heart? "

"And you will forgive him, Uncle Win? He was so
brave " Her voice trembled.

" I have forgiven him, Doris. If I should never see
him again, — you are young and most likely will, — assure
him there never was a moment that I ceased to love him.
Perhaps I have not taken as much pains to understand
him as I might have. I suppose different influences act
upon the new generation. If we should both live to
welcome him back "

" Oh, we must, Uncle Win."

" If he has you " Oh, what was he saying?

" You will both have me. I shall stay here always."

He stooped and kissed her.

The other alternative, that Gary might not return, they
banished resolutely. But it drew them nearer together
in unspoken sympathy.

Everybody noted how thin and frail-looking Mr.
Adams had grown. Doris became his constant com
panion. She had a well-trained horse now, and they
rode a good deal. Or they walked down Washington
street, where there were some pretty shops, and met
promenaders. They sauntered about Cornhill, where
Uncle Win picked up now and then an odd book, and
they discovered strange things that had belonged to the
Old Boston of a hundred years agone. There was quite
an art gallery in Cornhill kept by Dogget & Williams —
the nucleus of great things to come. It was quite the
fashion for young ladies to drop in and exercise their
powers of budding criticism or love of art. Now and
then someone lent a portrait of Smibert's or Copley's, or

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 317

you found some fine German or English engravings.
An elder person generally accompanied the younger
people. The law students, released from their labors, or
the young society men, would walk home beside the
chaperone, but talk to the maidens.

Then Uncle Winthrop committed a piece of great
extravagance, everybody said — especially in such times
as these, when the British might take and destroy Bos
ton. This was buying a pianoforte. Madam Royall ap
proved, for Doris was learning to play very nicely. An
old German musician, Gottlieb Graupner, who was quite
a visitor at the Royall house, had imported it for a friend
who had been nearly ruined by war troubles and was
compelled to part with it. Mr. Graupner and a knot of
musical friends used to meet Saturday evenings in old
Pond Street, and with a few instruments made a sort of
orchestra. As a very great favor, friends were occa
sionally invited in.

There was a new organist at Trinity Church, a Mr.
Jackson, who was trying to bring in the higher class
cathedral music. The choir of Park Street Church, some
fifty in number, was considered one of the great successes
of the day, and people flocked to hear it. Puritan
music had been rather doleful and depressing.

There was quite a discussion as to where the piano
should stand. They had very little call to use the parlor
in winter. Uncle Winthrop's friends generally visited
him in the study. The spacious hall was the ordinary
living-room, and Doris begged that it might be kept
here — for the winter, at least.

Oh, what a cheerful sound the music made in the old
house! Uncle Win would bring out a book of poems,
often Milton's " L' Allegro " and half read, half listen, to
the entrancing combination. Dinah declared " It was

3i8 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

like de w'ice ob de Angel Gabriel hisself." Miss Recom
pense enjoyed the grand old hymns that brought back
her childhood.

Solomon at first made a vigorous protest. He seemed
jealous of the pretty fingers gliding over the keys, and
would spring up to cover them or rest on her arms. But
when he found he was banished to the kitchen every
evening, he began to consider and presently gave in.
He would sit beside Uncle Win in dignified protest, look
ing very " dour," as a Scotchman would say.

And then the country was electrified with the news of
another great victory. Off the Canary Islands, Captain
Decatur, with the frigate United States, met the Mace
donian, one of the finest of the British fleet. The fight
had been at close quarters with terrific broadsides. After
an hour and a half, with her fighting force disabled, the
Macedonian struck her colors. Her loss in men killed and
wounded was over one hundred, and the United States
lost five killed and seven wounded.

The American vessel brought her prize and prisoners
into port amid general acclaim. The Macedonian was re
paired and added to the fast-increasing navy, that was
rapidly winning a world-wide reputation. And when
she came up to New York early in January with " The
compliments of the season," there was great rejoicing.
Samuel Woodworth, printer and poet, wrote the song of
the occasion, and Calvert, another poet, celebrated the
event in an ode.

Captain Garden was severely censured by his own
government, as Captain Dacres had been, for not going
down with flying colors instead of allowing his flag to
be captured and his ship turned to the enemy's advan
tage. Instead of jeering at the navy of " pine boards and
striped bunting," it was claimed the American vessels
were of superior size and armament and met the British

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 319

at unfair advantage, and that they were largely manned
by English sailors.

There was an enthusiastic note from Gary. He was
well, and it had been a glorious action. Captain Garden
had been a brave gentleman, and he said regretfully,
" Oh, why do we have to fight these heroic men! "

But Betty had the letter of triumph this time. Mrs.
King was a delightful correspondent, though she was
always imploring Betty to join her.

There had been a ball and reception given to several
naval officers who were soon to go away. The Presi
dent, engaged with some weighty affairs, had not come in
yet, but the Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Hamilton, and no
end of military and naval men, in gold lace and epaulettes
and gleaming swords, were present, and beautiful,
enthusiastic women in shimmering silks and laces. One
did not have to get a new gown for every occasion in
those days.

There was a little lull in the dancing. Mrs. Madison,
who was charmingly affable, was seated with a group of
men about her, when there was a stir in the hall, and a
sudden thrill of expectancy quivered through the apart
ment. Ensign Hamilton, son of the Secretary, and sev
eral midshipmen entered, and the young man went
straight to his father with the captured flag of the Mace
donian. Such a cheer as rent the air! Ladies wiped their
eyes and then waved their handkerchiefs in the wild burst
of joy. They held the flag over the heads of the chief
officer while the band played " Hail, Columbia! " Then
it was laid at the feet of Mrs. Madison, who accepted it in
the name of the country with a charming and graceful
speech. Afterward it was festooned on the wall with the
flag of the Guerriere.

" So, you see, Gary has been the hero of a great vic
tory," said Betty enthusiastically; " but we all wish it had

320 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

been ' off Boston Light ' instead of on the distant ocean.
And it is a shame not to be in Washington. Electa seems
to be going everywhere and seeing everything, ' in spite
of her being the mother of four children/ as Aunt Pris-
cilla says. And the ladies dress so beautifully. We
shall come to be known as ' plain Boston ' presently."

There was no Worth or Pingat to charge enormous
prices. Patterns were passed around. Ladies went
visiting and took their sleeves along to make, or their
ruffles to plait, and altered over their brocades and pad-
uasoys and crapes, and some darned Brussels " footing "
until it was transformed into really handsome lace.
They could clean their feathers and ribbons, and one
wonders how they found time for so many things. They
were very good letter writers too. Dolly Madison and
Mrs. Adams are fresh and interesting to-day.

But Boston could rejoice, nevertheless. To the little
girl Gary was invested with the attributes of a hero. He
even looked different to her enchanted eyes.

Uncle Win used to smile with grave softness when she
chattered about him. At first it had given him a heart
ache to hear Gary's name mentioned, but now it was like
a strain of comforting music. Only he wondered how
he ever would have lived without the little girl from Old
Boston.

She used to play and sing "Hail, Columbia!" — for
people were patriotic then. But the sweetest of all were
the old-fashioned ones that his wife had sung as a young
girl, daintily tender love songs. Sometimes he tried
them with her, but his voice sounded to himself like a
pale ghost out of the past, yet it still had a mournful
sweetness.

But with the rejoicing we had many sorrows. Our
northern frontier warfare had been full of defeats; 1813
opened with various misfortunes. Ports were blockaded,

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 321

business dropped lower and lower. Still social life went
on, and in a tentative way intellectual life was making
some progress.

The drama was not neglected either. The old Bos
ton Theater gave several stirring representations that
to-day would be called quite realistic. One was the
capture of the Guerriere with officers, sailors and marines,
and songs that aroused drooping patriotism. Perhaps
the young people of that time enjoyed it as much as their
grandchildren did " H. M. S. Pinafore."

Doris liked the rare musical entertainments. People
grew quite used to seeing Mr. Winthrop Adams with the
pretty, bright, growing girl, who might have been his
daughter. It was a delight to her when anyone made the
mistake. Occasionally an old gentleman remembered
her grandfather, and the little boy Charles who went to
England.

Then in the early summer Mrs. King came on for a
visit, and brought her eldest child Bessy, a bright, well-
trained little girl.

There had been a good deal of trouble at the Man
nings', and grandmother had gone back and forth, mak
ing it very confining for Betty. Crops had proved poor
in the autumn; the children had the measles and Mrs.
Manning a run of fever. Elizabeth had taken a cold in
the early fall and had a troublesome cough all winter.
Mrs. Leverett wanted to bring her home for a rest, but
Mrs. Manning could not spare her, with all the summer
work, and the warm weather would set her up, she was
quite sure.

The country was drawing a brief breath of relief.
There had been the magnificent victories on the Lakes
and some on the land, and now and then came cheering
news of naval successes. Everybody was in better
spirits. Mrs. King seemed to bring a waft of hope from

322 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

the Capital itself, and the Leverett house was quite en
livened with callers. Invitations came in for dinners and
suppers and evening parties. Madam Royall quite
claimed her on the strength of the Adams relation, and
also Doris, who was such a favorite. Doris and little
Bessy fraternized at once, and practiced a duet for the
entertainment of Uncle Winthrop, who praised them
warmly.

She planned to take Betty back to New York with her.

"But I can't go," declared Betty. "Warren must
not be taxed any more heavily, so there would be no hope
of having help, and mother cannot be left alone."

" Is there any objection to Mercy coming? Why
doesn't Warren marry? That would relieve you all. I
suppose it is best for young people to have a home by
tfiemselves, but if it isn't possible — and I'd like to know
how we are going to get along in heaven if we can't agree
with each other here on earth ! " Mrs. King inquired.

" That sounds like father," said Betty laughingly, yet
the tears came to her eyes. " Poor father! He did not
suppose we would have such hard times. If the war
would only end. You see," — after a pause, — " we are
not quite sure of Aunt Priscilla. She's changed and
softened wonderfully, and she and mother get along so
well. She insisted upon paying a generous board, and
she was good to Warren."

" I must talk it over with mother. There is no need
of having your life spoiled, Betty."

For Betty was a very well-looking girl, arch and viva
cious, and her harvest time of youth must not be wasted.
Mrs. King was really glad she had no entanglement.

Mrs. Leverett had no objections to a speedy marriage
if Mercy could be content. Warren had thought if he
could be prosperous he would like to buy out Betty's
share if she married. " And my share will be mine as

A VISITOR FOR DORIS. 323

long as I live," added the mother. " But Warren is fond
of the old house, and Hollis has a home of his own. You
girls will never want it."

Warren was delighted with what he called " Lecty's
spunk." For Aunt Priscilla agreed quite readily. It
was dull for Betty with two old people. Mercy would
have her husband.

So the wedding day was appointed. Mercy had been a
year getting ready. Girls began soon after they were
engaged. Mrs. Oilman was rather afraid the thing
wouldn't work, but she was sure Mercy was good tem
pered, and she had been a good daughter.

They made quite a " turning round." Mrs. Leverett
went upstairs to Betty's room, which adjoined Aunt Pris-
cilla's, and she gave some of her furniture for the adorn
ment of the bridal chamber.

It was a very quiet wedding with a few friends and a
supper. At nine o'clock the new wife went to Sudbury
Street. Mrs. Gilman had some rather strict ideas, and
declared it was no time for frolicking when war was at
our very door, and no one knew what might happen,
and hundreds of families were in pinching want.

Mercy was up the next morning betimes and assisted
her new mother with the breakfast. Warren went down
to his shop. But they had quite an elaborate tea drink
ing at the Leveretts', and some songs and games in the
evening. Mercy did enjoy the wider life.

Mrs. Manning had come in for the wedding and a few
days' stay, though she didn't see how she could be spared
just now, and things would get dreadfully behindhand.
Mrs. King was to go home with her and make a little
visit. Bessy thought she would rather stay with Doris,
and she was captivated with the Royall House and Eu-
dora. The children never seemed in the way of the
grown people there, and if elderly men talked politics

324 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

and city improvements, — quite visionary, some thought
them, — the young people with Alice and Helen had the
garden walks and the wide porch, and discussed the en
joyments of the time with the zest of enthusiastic inex
perience but keen delight.

CHAPTER XXI.

ELIZABETH AND PEACE.

JVARS. KING brought back Elizabeth Manning, a pale,
*• * slim ghost of a girl, tall for her age — indeed, really
grown up, her mother said. Of the three girls Bessy
King had the most indications of the traditional country
girl. A fine clear skin, pink cheeks and a plump figure,
and an inexhausible flow of spirits, ready for any fun or
frolic.

Doris was always well, but she had the Adams com
plexion, which was rather pale, with color when she was
warm, or enthusiastic or indignant. The pink came and
went like a swift summer cloud.

" I do declare," exclaimed Aunt Priscilla, " if 'Lecty
King doesn't beat all about getting what she wants, and
making other people believe they want it, too! War,ren
might as well have been married in the winter, and Mercy
would have been company for Betty. She never liked to
run out and leave me alone. Mercy seems a nice, promis
ing body, and Warren might as well be happy and settled
as not. And 'Lecty's been to Washington and dined
with the President and Mrs. Madison, and I'll venture to
say there was something the President's wife consulted
her about. And all the big captains and generals, and
what not! And here's the quality of Boston running
after her and asking her out just as if we had nothing to

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 325

feed her on at home. She don't do anything, fursisee,
but just look smiling and talk. But my opinion is that
Elizabeth Manning hasn't a very long journey to the
graveyard. I don't see what Mary's been thinking
about."

Mrs. King took her niece to Dr. Jackson, one of the
best medical authorities of that day, and he looked the
young girl over with his keen eyes.

" If you want the real truth," said the doctor, " she has
had too much east wind and too much hard work. The
children of this generation are not going to stand what
their mothers did. A bad cold or two next winter will
finish her, but with care and no undue exposure she may
live several years. But she will never reach the three
score and ten that every human being has a right to."

Uncle Winthrop sent the carriage around every day to
the Leveretts'. They had given up theirs before Mr.
Leverett's death. He and Doris took their morning
horseback rides and scoured the beautiful country places
for miles around, until Doris knew every magnificent
tree or unusual shrub or queer old house and its history.
These hours were a great delight to him.

Elizabeth had often gone down to Salem town, but her
time was so brief and there was so much to do that she
" couldn't bother." And she wondered how Doris knew
about the shops in Essex Street and Federal Street and
Miss Rust's pretty millinery show, and Mr. John Innes'
delicate French rolls and braided bread, and Molly Saun-
ders' gingerbread that the school children devoured, and
the old Forrester House with its legends and fine old
pictures and the lovely gardens, the wharves with their
idle fleets that dared not put out to sea for fear of being
swallowed up by the enemy.

Uncle Winthrop had taken her several times when
some business had called him thither. But, truth to tell,

326 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

she had never cared to repeat her visit to Mrs. Man
ning's.

The piano was like a bit of heaven, Elizabeth thought,
the first time she came over to visit Doris.

" Oh," she said, with a long sigh, pressing her hand
on her heart, for the deep breaths always hurt her, " if I
was only prepared to go to heaven I shouldn't want to
stay here a day longer. When they sing about ' eternal
rest ' it seems such a lovely thing, and to ' lay your bur
dens down.' But then there's ' the terrors of the law,'
and the ' judgments to come,' and the great searching of
the hearts and reins — do you know just what the reins
are?"

No, Doris didn't. Heaven had always seemed a
lovely place to her and God like a father, only grander
and tenderer than any human father could be.

Then they talked about praying, and it came out that
Doris said her mother's prayers still in French and her
father's in English.

"Oh," exclaimed Elizabeth, horrified, "I shouldn't
dare to pray to God in French — it would seem like a
mockery. And * Now I lay me down to sleep ' is just a
baby prayer, and really isn't pouring out your own soul
to God."

Doris asked Uncle Winthrop about it.

" My child," he said with grave sweetness, " you can
never say any better prayers of your own. The Saviour
himself gave us the comprehensive Lord's Prayer. And
are all the nations of the earth who cannot pray in Eng
lish offering God vain petitions? You will find as you
grow older that no earnest soul ever worships God in
vain, and that religion is a life-long work. I am learning
something new about it every day. And I think God
means us to be happy here on earth. He doesn't save all
the joys for heaven. He has given me one," and he

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 327

stooped and kissed Doris on the forehead. " Poor Eliza
beth," he added — " make her as happy as you can! "

When Mrs. King proposed to take Betty to New York
for the whole of the coming winter there was consterna
tion, but no one could find a valid objection. It was a
somewhat expensive journey, and winter was a very en
joyable season in the city. Then another year some
thing new might happen to prevent — there was no time
like the present.

No one had the courage to object, though they did not
know how to spare her. Aunt Priscilla sighed and
brought out some beautiful long-laid-away articles that
Electa declared would make over admirably.

"Where do you suppose Aunt Priscilla picked up all
these elegant things?" asked Electa. " I never remem
ber seeing her wear them, though she always dressed
well, but severely plain. And Uncle Perkins was quite
strict about the pomps and vanities of the world."

And so Aunt Priscilla put away the last of her idols
and the life she had coveted and never had. But perhaps
the best of all was her consideration for others, the cer
tainty that it was quite as well to begin some of the vir
tues of the heavenly world here on earth that they might
not seem strange to one.

Mrs. Manning sent in for Elizabeth.

" Well — you do seem like a different girl," her father
declared, looking her over from head to foot. " You've
had a good rest now, and you'll have to turn in strong
and hearty, for Sarah's gone, and Ruth isn't big enough
to take hold of everything. So hunt up your things
while I'm doing some trading."

Elizabeth only had time for the very briefest fare
wells. Mrs. King sent a little note containing the doc
tor's verdict, but Mrs. Manning was indignant rather
than alarmed.

328 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

It was lonesome when they were all gone. Eudora
Chapman went to a " finishing school " this autumn, and
Doris accompanied her — poor Doris, who had not mas
tered fractions, and whose written arithmetic could not
compare with Betty's. She had achieved a pair of stock
ings after infinite labor and trouble. They did look
rowy, being knit tighter and looser. But Aunt Priscilla
gave her a pair of fine merino that she had kept from the
ravages of the moths. Miss Recompense declared that
she had no one else to knit for.

There were expert knitters who made beautiful silk
stockings, and Uncle Winthrop said buying helped along
trade, so why should Doris worry when there were so
many more important matters?

The little girl and her uncle kept track of what was
going on in the great world. Napoleon the invincible
had been driven back from Russia by cold and famine,
forced to yield by the great coalition and losing step by
step until he was compelled to accept banishment. Then
England redoubled her efforts, prepared to carry on the
war with us vigorously. Towns on the Chesapeake
were plundered and burned, and General Ross entered
Washington, from which Congress and the President's
family had fled for their lives. America was again hor
ror stricken, but gathering all her energies she made such
a vigorous defense as to convince her antagonist that
though cast down she could never be wholly defeated.

But this attack gave us the inspiration of one of our
finest deathless songs. A Mr. Francis S. Key, a resident
of Georgetown, had gone down from Baltimore with a
flag of truce to procure the release of a friend held as
prisoner of war, when the bombardment of Fort
McHenry began. All day long he watched the flag as it
floated above the ramparts. Night came on and it was
still there. And at midnight he could see it only by " the

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 329

rockets' red glare," while he and his friends tremulously
inquired if the " flag still waved o'er the Land of the
Free." Oh, what joy must have been his when it
" caught the gleam of the morning's first beam." He
had put the night watch and the dawn in a song that is
still an inspiration.

And now convinced, the enemy withdrew. There
were talks of peace, though we did not abate our ener
gies. And the indications of a settlement brought about
another wedding at the Royall house.

Miss Alice had been a great favorite with the young
men, and her ardent patriotism had inspired more than
one, as it had Gary Adams, with a desire to rush to his
country's defense. There were admirers too, but most
of them had been kept at an intangible distance. At last
she had yielded to the eloquence of young Oliver Sar
gent, who was in every way acceptable. Grandmother
Royall expected to give her an elegant wedding along in
the winter.

The Government was to send out another commis
sioner to consult with those already at Ghent, and Mr.
Sargent had been offered the post of private secretary.
He was to sail from New York, but he obtained leave to
spend a few days in Boston to attend to some affairs.
He went at once to Madam Royall and laid his plans be
fore her. He wanted to marry Alice and take her with
him, as he might be gone a long while. Alice was noth
ing loath, for the journey abroad was extremely tempting.

But what could one do in such a few days? And
wedding clothes

" Save the wedding gear until we come back," said the
impatient young lover. " Alice can get clothes enough
abroad."

It was quite a new departure in a wedding. Invita
tions were always sent out by hand, even for small even-

330 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ing parties, and often verbally given. A private marriage
would not have suited old Madam Royall. So the house
was crowded at eleven in the morning, and the bride
came through the wide hall in a mulberry-colored satin
gown and pelisse that had been made two weeks before
for ordinary autumn wear. But her bonnet was white
with long streamers, and her gloves were white, and she
made a very attractive bride, while young Sargent was
manly and looked proud enough for a king. At twelve
they went away with no end of good wishes, and an old
slipper was thrown after the carriage.

Mrs. Morris Winslow had two babies, and was already
growing stout. But the departure of Alice made a great
break.

" But it is the way of the world and the way of God
that young people should marry," said Madam Royall.
" I was very happy myself."

" Oh," exclaimed Doris eagerly that evening, her eyes
aglow and her cheeks pink with excitement — " oh, Uncle
Win, do you think there will be peace? "

" My little girl, it is my prayer day and night."

" And then Gary will come home."

It had been a long while since they had heard. Gary
had been transferred from the United States, that had
lain blockaded in a harbor many weary weeks. But
where he was now no one could tell.

People began to take heart though the righting had
not ceased. And it was odd that a dozen years before
everybody had looked askance at dancing, and now no
one hesitated to give a dancing party. The contra-dance
and cotillions were all the rage. Sometimes there was
great amusement when it was a draw dance, for then you
had to accept your partner whether or no.

Whole families went, grandmothers and grandchil
dren. There were cards and conversation circles for

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 331

those who did not care to join the mazy whirls. And the
suppers were quite elegant, with brilliant lamps and
flowers, plate and glass that had come through genera
tions. Fruits and melons were preserved as long as pos
sible, and a Turkish band in fine Oriental costume
was often a feature of the entertainment.

Doris had charming letters from Betty, a little stilted
we should call them now, but very interesting. Mr.
King was confident of peace. Doris used to read them
to Aunt Priscilla, who said Betty was very frivolous, but
that she always had a good time, and perhaps good times
were not as wicked as people used to think.

Mrs. Leverett went to Salem in November. Her
namesake had taken a cold and had some fever, and she
asked for grandmother continually. Mercy did finely at
housekeeping, and so the weeks ran along, the invalid
being better, then worse, and just before Christmas the
frail little life floated out to the Land of Rest.

"Oh, poor little Elizabeth!" cried Doris. "If she
could have been real happy! But there never seemed
any time. Uncle Win, they are not so poor that they
have to work so hard, are they? "

" No, dear. Mr. Manning has money out at interest,
besides his handsome farm. But a great many people
think there is solid virtue in working and saving. I sup
pose it makes them happy."

Doris was puzzled. She said the same thing to Aunt
Priscilla, who took off her glasses, rubbed them with a
bit of old silk and wiped the tears out of her eyes.

" I think we haven't had quite the right end of it," she
began after a pause. " I was brought up that way. But
then people had to spin and weave for themselves, and
help the men with the out-of-doors work. The children
dropped corn, and potatoes, and there was always weed
ing. There was so much spring work and fall work, and

332 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

folks couldn't be comfortable if they saw a child playing
' cat's cradle.' They did think Satan was going about
continually to catch up idle hands. Well maybe if I'd
had children I'd 'a' done the same way."

" Oh, you wouldn't, Aunt Priscilla, I know," said Doris
with the sweetest faith shining in her eyes. " Elizabeth
thought you such a comfortable old lady. She said you
never worried at anyone."

" That is because I have come to believe the worrying
wrong. The Lord didn't worry at people. He told
them what to do and then he let them alone. And Fos
ter Leverett was about the best man I ever knew. He
didn't even worry when times were so bad. Everybody
said his children would be spoiled. They were out sled
ding and sliding and skating, and playing tag in summer.
They've made nice men and women."

" Oh, I remember how friendly he looked that day he
came on the vessel. And how he said to Captain Grier,
' Is there a little girl for me that has come from Old
Boston? ' He might have said something else, you
know. ' A little girl for me ' was such a sweet welcome,
I have never forgotten it."

" Yes — I was here the night you came. We had been
waiting. And the red cloak and big bonnet with the
great bow under your chin, and a silk frock "

" Did I look very queer? " Doris laughed softly.

" You looked like a picture, though that wan't my idea
of what children should be."

" Miss Recompense has them put away to keep. I
outgrew them, you know. What would you have done
with me? "

Aunt Priscilla's pale face wrinkled up and then
smoothed out.

" I've come to the conclusion the Lord knows his busi
ness best and is capable of attending to it. When we

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 333

meddle we make a rather poor fist of it. Betty has a lot
of morning-glories out there," nodding her head, " and I
said to her ' They're poor frail things : why not put out a
hop vine or red beans? They can't stand a bit of sun,
like Jonah's gourd.' But she only laughed — her father
had that way when he didn't want to argue. When they
came to bloom they were sights to behold, like the early
morning when the sun is rising, and you see such beauti
ful colors. They used to nod to each other and swing
back and forth, like people coming to call, then they
said good-by and were off. The Lord meant 'em just to
look pretty and they did."

" Uncle Win likes them so much. Miss Recompense
had a whole lattice full of them. Oh, did you mean I was
like a morning glory? Haven't I some other uses? "

" You're always fresh and blossoming every day.
That's a use. You come in with a little greeting that
warms one's heart. You were a great delight to Uncle
Leverett, and I don't know what Uncle Winthrop would
have done without you, Gary being away. And how
Solomon took to you, when he was awful shy of stran
gers ! He must have liked you uncommon to be willing
to stay in a strange place, for cats cannot bear to be
moved about. Maybe 'twould been the same if you had
not been so pretty to look at, but the Lord made you the
way he wanted you, and you haven't spoiled yourself a
bit."

Doris blushed. Compliments were quite a new thing
with Aunt Priscilla.

"What would you have done with me?" Doris asked
again, after a long pause.

" You won't like to hear it. I ought to confess it be
cause it was a sin, a sort of meddling with the Lord's
plans. You see, I'd taken it in my head that someone
would have to give you a home. It didn't seem as if

334 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

that old ma'shland would be good for anything, and I
knew your father wasn't rich. Winthrop Adams was
one of the finicky kind and quite put about to know
what to do with you. So I thought if there didn't any
place open, for Elizabeth Leverett was quite wrapped up
in her grandchildren, that " — hesitatingly — " when things
were straightened out a bit, I'd offer "

That would have been good of you-

" No, it wasn't goodness," interrupted Aunt Priscilla.
" I thought I should want someone, with Polly getting
old. I'd have expected you to work, though I'd have
done the fair thing by you, and left you some money in
the end. I was a little jealous when everybody took to
you so. I was sure you'd be spoiled. And, though
you've got that music thing and go among the quality,
and are pretty as a pink, and Winthrop Adams thinks
you a nonesuch, you come in here in plain everyday
fashion and talk and read and make it sunshiny for every
body. So, you see, the Lord knew, and it is just as if he
said, ' Priscilla Perkins, your way doesn't suit at all.
There's something in the world besides work and saving
money. There's room enough in the world for a hill of
potatoes and a morning-glory made of silk and dew if it
doesn't bloom but just one morning. It's a smile, and
there are others to follow, and it is a thousand times
better than frowns.' "

" And if there had been no money, and I had wanted a
Home, would you have given me one? " she asked in a
soft, tremulous tone.

" Yes, child. And I couldn't have worked you quite
like poor little Elizabeth was worked. I didn't think
there was so much money, or that that lady in England
would have left you a legacy or that Winthrop Adams
would come to believing that he couldn't live without
you."

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 335

" Then you were kind to have a plan about it, and I
am glad to know it."

She had been sitting on Aunt Priscilla's footstool, but
she rose and twined her arms about the shrunken neck,
and kissed the wrinkled forehead. She saw a homeless
little girl going to sheltering care, with a kindly remem
brance at the last. Someone else might have thought of
the exactions.

" You make the thing look better than it was," Aunt
Priscilla cried with true humility. " But the Lord put
you in the right place."

She saw the mean and selfish desire, the wish to get
rid of a faithful old woman who might prove a burden.
It was a sin like the finery she had longed for and bought
and laid away. She had not worn the finery, she had
not sent away the poor black soul, she had not been
a hard taskmistress to the child, but early training
had added the weight of possible sins to the actual
ones.

Christmas morning Doris was surprised by a lovely
gift. In a small box by her plate, with best wishes from
Uncle Winthrop, lay a watch and chain, a dainty thing
with just " Doris " on the plain space in the center that
overlay another name that had once been there. It had
undergone some renovation at the jeweler's hands, after
lying untouched more than twenty years. Winthrop
Adams had kept it for a possible granddaughter, but he
knew now no one could cherish it more tenderly than
Doris.

January, 1815, came in. People counted the days.
But it was not until the middle of February that Boston
town was one morning electrified by the ringing of bells
and the shouts of men and boys, who ran along the
streets crying " Peace! Peace! Peace!" Windows were
raised ; people ran out, so eager were they. Of all glori-

336 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

ous words ever uttered none fell with such music on the
air. Could it be true?

Uncle Winthrop put on his surtout with the great fur
collar. Then he looked at Doris.

" Wrap yourself up and come along," he said huskily.

Already people were hanging flags out of the windows
and stringing them across the streets. Every sled and
sleigh had some sort of banner, if nothing more than
white or brown paper with the five welcome letters, and
everybody was shouting. Some men were carrying high
banners with the words in blue or red on a white ground.
When they came to State Street it was impassable.
Cornhill was jammed. The Evening Gazette office had
the announcement, thirty-two hours from New York
(there was no telegraph or railroad train then) :

" Sir : I hasten to acquaint you for the information of

the public of the arrival here this afternoon of H. Br. M.

sloop of war Favorite, in which has come passenger Mr.

Carroll, American Messenger, having in his possession

A Treaty of Peace."

They passed that word from the nearest, standing by
the bulletin, to the farther circles, and in five minutes the
crowd knew it by heart. On the Commons the drums
were beating, the cannons firing, and people shouting
themselves hoarse.

Mr. Adams went around to the Royall house, and that
looked like a hotel on a gala day, and was nearly as full
of people. The treaty had been signed on Christmas
Eve. The President had now to issue a decree suspend
ing hostilities. But one of the most brilliant battles had
been fought on the 8th of January at New Orleans,
under General Jackson — a farewell shot.

For a week no one could think or talk of anything

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 337

else. Then the official acounts having been received
from Washington, there were plans for a grand proces
sion. An oratorio was given at the Stone Chapel in the
morning. Madam Royall had managed to obtain seats
for Mr. Winthrop and Doris with her party. The
church was crowded. American and British officers in
full uniform were side by side, — as happy to be at peace
as the rulers themselves, — chatting cordially with each
other.

The State House was decorated with transparencies,
and there were to be fireworks in the evening. The
procession marched around the Common, with the dif
ferent trades drawn on sleds. Printers struck off hand
bills with the word " Peace! " printed on them and dis
tributed them among the crowd. The carpenters were
erecting a Temple of Peace. The papermakers had long
strips of red, white, and blue: every trade had hit upon
some signification of the general joy.

Uncle Win sent Cato round for Mercy and Warren
Leverett to come to tea, and then they went out to see
the illumination and the fireworks. Old Boston had
suffered a great deal from the war, and her rejoicing was
as broad as her sorrow had been deep.

As if that was not enough, there was to be a grand
Peace Ball. The gentry did not so often patronize public
balls, but this was an exception. Uncle Winthrop pro
cured a ticket for Wrarren and his wife. Mrs. Gilman
was shocked, and Mercy like a modern woman declared
she had nothing to wear. But Aunt Priscilla brought
out her last remnant of gorgeousness, a gray satin that
looked very, youthful draped with sheer white.

" I feel just as if I was going to be married over again,"
Mercy declared laughingly; and Warren said she had
never looked so beautiful.

Uncle Winthrop left Doris' adornments to Madam

338 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Royall and Mrs. Chapman. She and Eudora had the
same kind of gowns — sheer, dotted muslin trimmed with
rows of white satin ribbon, and the bodice with frills of
lace and bows of ribbon.

The hairdresser did her hair in a multitude of puffs
and curls that made her look quite like a young lady.
She was still very slim, but growing tall rapidly. In fact,
as Uncle Winthrop looked at her he realized that she
could not always remain a little girl.

Concert Hall was brilliantly illuminated and decorated
with flags and flowers. A platform surrounded the floor,
and many people preferred to be spectators or just join
in the march. There were some naval as well as military
officers, and Doris kept a sharp watch, for it almost
seemed as if she might come upon Cary. Oh, where
would he hear the declaration of peace !

The dancing was quite delightful to most of the young
people. Even those who just walked about, looked
happy, and little knots chatted and smiled, adding a cer
tain interest to the scene. The supper was very fine, and
after that many of the quality retired, leaving the floor
to those who had come to dance.

Doris looked bright the next morning as she came to
breakfast in her blue flannel frock and lace tucker, and
her hair tied up high with a red ribbon, which with her
white skin " made the American colors," Helen Chap
man said.

" I am glad to get back my little girl," Uncle Winthrop
exclaimed, as he placed his hands lightly on her shoul
ders. " You looked strange to me last night. Doris,
how tall you are growing ! " in half-surprise.

"That is an Adams trait, Aunt Priscilla would say.
And do you remember that I am fifteen? "

" Isn't there some way that girls can be set back? " he
asked with feigned anxiety.

ELIZABETH AND— PEACE. 339

" I've heard of their being set back after they reached
thirty or forty," said Miss Recompense.

" I don't want to wait so long," returned Uncle Win-
throp with a smile.

" There were some beautiful old ladies there last
night," said Doris. " The one with black velvet and
diamonds — Madam Bowdoin. Is that Aunt Priscilla's
friend?"

" I suppose so. Mr. Perkins was held in high esteem,
and Aunt Priscilla used to go about in her carriage then."

"And Madam Scott! Uncle Win, to think she was
John Hancock's wife, and he signed the Declaration of
Independence! "

"And after that I wouldn't have married anybody," de
clared Miss Recompense with haughty stiffness.

The enthusiasm did not die out at once. When men
or women met they had to talk over the good news.
Warren Leverett declared that business was reviving.
Mercy told Uncle Winthrop that she had never expected
to see so many famous people under such grand con
ditions as a Peace Ball, and that it would be some
thing to talk about when she was an old lady. Aunt
Priscilla listened to the accounts with deep interest.

0 And I looked like a real young lady," said Doris.
" I was frightened when I came to think about it. I
woufd like to stay a little girl for years and years. But
I would not have missed the ball for anything. I do
not believe there will ever be such a grand occasion
again."

340 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.
CHAPTER XXII.

GARY ADAMS.

I T took a good while in those days for the news of peace

to go around the world. But there was a general
reign of peace. The European countries had mostly
settled their difficulties; there was royalty proper again
on the throne of France. Napoleon swept through his
hundred brilliant days, and was banished for life to the
rocky isle of St. Helena; the young King of Rome was
a virtual prisoner to Austria, and Russia and Prussia be
gan to breathe freely once more.

The United States had won a standing among the
nations. Her indomitable courage, her successes against
tremendous odds, had impressed Europe with her vitality
and determination.

One by one the ships came back to home ports. Mr.
Adams and Doris watched and listened to every bit of
news eagerly.

The old apothecary's shop on Washington Street, to
begin a famous history a decade later as " The Old Cor
ner Bookstore," was even then a rendezvous for the news
of the day. People paused going up and down, and each
one added his bit to the general fund, or took with him
the knowledge he was eagerly seeking.

And when someone said, " Heard from your son yet,
Mr. Adams? " he could only make a negative gesture.

" If there isn't some word of Cary Adams soon, his
father will never live to welcome him home," said Madam
Royall to her daughter. " He grows thinner every day.
What a perfect Godsend Doris has been! "

Madam Royall was hale and hearty though she had
lived through many sorrows.

GARY ADAMS. 341

The coveted news came first from Betty. She had
written a letter to send by a private messenger, and
opened it to add this postscript:

" Mr. Bowen is waiting for this letter. Mr. King has
just come in with the news that two ships have arrived at
Portsmouth. Among the officers is ' Lieutenant Gary
Adams.' That is all we know."

" Oh, Uncle Win! " Doris' eyes swam in tears of joy.
" Read Betty's postscript." Then she ran out of the
room and had a good cry by herself, though why any
one should want to cry over such joyful news she could
not quite understand.

Afterward she tied on her hat and ran over to Madam
Royall's and then up to Sudbury Street. For in those
days people were wont to say to their neighbors, " Come,
rejoice with me! "

When she returned home the house was very quiet.
Solomon came and rubbed against her in mute inquiry.
No one was in the study. She went out to the kitchen.

" Don't disturb your uncle, Doris," said Miss Recom
pense. " The news quite overcame him. He has gone
to lie down."

After dinner she went out again for some lessons. Oh,
how bright the world looked, though it was a day in later
March, but the wind had a Southern softness. Soon the
wild flowers would be out. There was a very interesting
new study, botany, that the previous autumn had taken
groups of girls out in the lanes and fields, and some had
ventured to visit the Botanic Gardens at Harvard Uni
versity. Doris was much interested in it.

Uncle Winthrop came to supper, and Doris played and
sang for him during the evening. For though Gary was
the uppermost thought in both hearts, they could not
talk about him.

It was a tedious post journey from Washington to

342 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Boston. One had to possess one's soul in patience. But
the letter came at length.

Gary had to go to Washington, as there was some prize
money and claims to be inquired into. He had handed
in his resignation, and should hereafter be a private citi
zen of dear old Boston. There was much more that
gladdened his father's heart and betrayed a manly
spirit.

Betty returned home, though Mrs. King declared she
only lent her for a visit. She was very stylish now, and
was studying French, for it might be possible that Mr.
King would go abroad and take his wife and Betty.

" I do wonder if you will ever settle down? " exclaimed
Mrs. Leverett anxiously. That meant marriage and
housekeeping.

Betty laughed. " You know I have settled to be the
old maid aunt," she returned. " But I am going to have
a good young time first. And, mother, you can hardly
realize what a fine, generous, broad-minded man Mat
King has made."

There were lovely odds and ends of attire, dainty slip
pers, long gloves that came to your very shoulders, van-
dyke capes of beautiful lace, buckles that looked like
diamonds, ribbons and belts and sashes. Mercy said
Betty could go down to Washington Street and open a
fancy-goods store. And, oh, the delightful things she
had seen and done, the skating parties in the winter, the
sleigh rides when one stopped at a cozy, well-kept
tavern and had a dainty supper and a dance. The drives
down around the Battery and Bowling Green, and the
promenades. There were still a good many military men
in New York, but it had not suffered as much from the
war as Boston.

But Boston was growing beautiful by the hour, with
her pretty private gardens and hundreds of fruit trees

GARY ADAMS. 343

blooming everywhere, and the great Common where
people went for walks on sunny afternoons.

Miss Recompense had a gorgeous tulip bed and some
lilies of the valley, which were quite a new thing. Cato
trimmed and trained the roses and vines, and the old
Adams house was quite a bower of beauty.

One April afternoon Doris sat by the study window
doing some lace work, while Solomon lay curled up on
the sill. She kept glancing out. People were quite
given to going around this corner to get into Common
Street. She liked to see them. Now and then a friend
nodded. Uncle Win had been reading aloud from
" Jerusalem Delivered," but Doris thought it rather
prosy, and strayed off into her own thoughts.

A tall, soldierly fellow came up the street, looked, hesi
tated, opened the gate softly, and glanced down at the
tulips. He was quite imposing as to figure, and his
complexion was bronzed, the ends of his brown hair
rather long and curling. He was in citizen clothes, and
Doris wondered why she should think of Lieutenant
Hawthorne. She had expected Cary in all the glory of
a naval uniform — a slim, fair, boyish person with a light
springy walk. It never could be Cary !

" Oh, Uncle Win, quick ! " as the step sounded on the

porch. " It is — someone " She was so little certain

sfie could not utter a name.

Uncle Winthrop went out, opened the door, and his
son put his arms about the father's neck. If there had
been need of words neither could have uttered them for
many minutes.

When Miss Recompense cleaned house a week or two
before the piano had been moved into the parlor. The
door stood open so that it could have the warmth of the
hall fire. The two entered it when they had found their
voices.

344 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" It is Gary," thought Doris with a sense of disap
pointment, though why she could not have told.

Half an hour afterward they came out to the study.

"Oh, Doris!" Gary cried, "how you have changed
and grown. I shouldn't have known you! I've been
carrying about with me the remembrance of a little girl.
In my mind you have been no taller, no older, and yet
I might have known — why, we shall have to get ac
quainted all over again."

Doris blushed. " I am sure I have not changed as
much as you. I did not think it could be you."

" Someone at Annapolis before we went out designated
me as ' That consumptive-looking young fellow.' But I
have grown strong and hearty, and no doubt I shall come
to fourscore. I do not mean that it shall be all labor and
sorrow, either."

Then Gary made the rounds of the house. Miss
Recompense was as much amazed as Doris had been.
Cato and Dinah were overjoyed. He had hardly dared
dream that nothing would be changed, that more than
the old love would be given back. He had gone away
a boy, nurtured in the restraints of wise Puritanism that
made a lasting mark on New England character; he had
come home a man of experience, of deeper thought, of
higher understanding and stronger affection. He was
proud that he had done his duty as a citizen of the repub
lic, but he knew now that neither naval or military life
was to his taste. Henceforth he was to be a son in the
old home.

Doris left them talking when she went to bed, a little
hurt and jealous that she was no longer first, that she
could not be all to Uncle Win. It gave her a kind of
solitary feeling.

The old house took on an aspect of intense interest.
There was a continual going and coming and enough

GARY ADAMS. 345

congratulations for a wedding feast. All Gary's friends
vied with each other in warm welcomes, and Madam
Royall claimed him with the old time cordiality.

Was there any disappointment about Alice?

He had a boy's thought the first few months about
winning glory for her, of coming back to her, and per
haps laying his triumphs at her feet. But the real work,
the anxieties, the solemn fact of taking one's life in one's
hands and realizing how near death might be, had
changed him month by month, until he had only one
prayer left — that he might see his father again. If she
was happy — she surely had her heart's choice — he was
satisfied. They had never really been lovers.

When the first excitement of welcome was over there
were many things to think about. His interrupted career
was one. Governor Gore had been chosen United States
Senator the year before, but he still kept his office, and
very kindly greeted the return of his student, offering
him still greater advantages. Here the young Daniel
Webster, a lad fresh from the country, had won the
friendship of his master, and after a brief trial in New
Hampshire had returned to Boston.

Boston town began to experience the beneficent power
of peace. Languishing industries revived. Commerce
had been crippled by the war, but the inhabitants of New
England had learned the value of their own ingenuity and
industry to supply needs, and now they were roused to
the fact there was an outside world to supply as well.

Improvements started up on every side. There was
even talk of transforming the town into a city. In
deed, it had never been a formally incorporated town.
The Court of Assistants one hundred and seventy years
Sefore had changed the name from Tri-Mountain to Bos
ton, and it had taken the privileges of a town. But there
were many grave questions coming to the front,

346 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

The family party at the Adams house this year seemed
to include half of Boston. One by one the old relatives
had dropped out. Some of the younger ones had gone
to other cities.

Madam Royall came over to be mistress of ceremonies.
For besides the ovation to the returned lieutenant, Miss
Doris Adams was to be presented as a full-fledged young
lady, and she wore her pretty gown made for the Peace
Ball, and pink roses. Miss Betty Leverett was quite a
star as well. Miss Helen Chapman was engaged, and
Eudora was a favorite with the young gentlemen.

" I shall be so sorry when they are all gone," declared
Madam Royall. " I do love young people, but I am
afraid my fourth generation will not grow up in time for
me to enjoy them. You must keep good watch over
Doris lest some wolf enters the fold and carries off the
sweet child."

Uncle Win smiled and then looked grave. Doris
carried off — oh, no, he could never spare her!

Gary Adams had not forgotten how to dance, and every
girl he asked was delighted with the opportunity. It
seemed rather queer to Doris to accept or decline on her
own responsibility.

A week or two later, when they had settled to quite
regular living, Gary came out and sat on the step one
evening.

" Doris," he began, " do you remember the letter I
sent you by a Lieutenant Hawthorne — that first let
ter " What a flood of remembrances it brought!

" Oh, yes." She had begun to feel very much at
home with Gary — his little sister, as he called her. "And
I must tell you a queer thing — the day you came home —
when I looked down the path — I thought of him. You
had changed so. I don't know what sent him to my
mind."

GARY ADAMS. 347

" That was odd. He is in town. He called on me
to-day. For the last year he has been Captain Haw
thorne, and he is a splendid fellow. He has been sent to
the Charlestown Navy Yard, and may be here the next
three months, for now the Government is considering a
navy. Well — we did some splendid fighting with the
old ships. But oh, Doris, you can't imagine how home
sick I was. I had half a mind to show the white feather
and come home."

" Oh, you couldn't have done it, Gary! "

" No, I couldn't when it came to the pinch. But if I
had gone with father's consent! I understood then what
it would be never to see him again. I think I shall be a
better son all my life for the lesson."

" Yes," in her gentle approving fashion.

" Hawthorne wants to come over here," Gary said
presently. " I think my father would like him, though
I notice he has an aversion to military or naval men.
But I shall never go away again unless the country is in
great danger."

" I should like to see him. I wonder if he has changed
as much as you? "

" I think not," and Gary laughed. " He was twenty-
four then, and sort of settled into manhood, while I was
a rather green stripling."

" You are losing some of the ' sea tan,' as Madam
Royall calls it. I am glad of it. I like you best fair."

" Captain Hawthorne is a very handsome man. I
ought to feel flattered to be mistaken for him."

" Is he? " returned Doris simply.

" Don't you remember him? "

" I remember that he asked me for a rose and I gave it
to him. It was the last one on the bush. I was so glad
to get the letter I couldn't think of anything else."

So Gary brought him over to tea one afternoon.

348 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Doris noted then that he was extremely good-looking
and very entertaining. Besides, he had a fine tenor voice
and they sang songs together.

Uncle Winthrop was troubled at first. Captain Haw
thorne's enthusiasm for his profession was so ardent
that Mr. Adams was alarmed lest it might turn Gary's
thoughts seaward again. But he found presently that
Gary's enlisting had been that of a patriotic, high-spirited
boy, and that he had no real desire for the life.

What a summer it was! Betty was over often, Eudora
was enchanted with the Adams house, and there was a
bevy of girls who brought their sewing and spent the
afternoon on the stoop. Sometimes Uncle Win came
out and read to them. There were several new English
poets. A Lord Byron was writing the cantos of a beau
tiful and stirring poem entitled " Childe Harold " that
abounded in fine descriptions. There were " The Lady
of the Lake " and " Marmion," and there was a queer
Scotchy poet by the name of Burns, who had a dry wit
— and few could master the tongue. A whole harvest of
delight was coming over from England.

There were so many curious and lovely places within
a few hours sail or drive. Captain Hawthorne had spent
most of his life in Maryland, and this scenery was new.
They made up parties for the day, or Betty, Doris, and
Uncle Winthrop and the captain went in a quartette.

" I don't know," Uncle Win said one day with a grave
shake of the head. " Do you not think I am rather an
old fellow to go careering round with you young
people? "

" But, you see, someone would have to go," explained
Doris. " Young ladies can't go out with a young man
alone. It would have to be Aunt Elizabeth, or Mrs.
Chapman, and I would so much rather have you. It's
nice to be just by ourselves."

GARY ADAMS. 349

" The captain seems to like Betty very much."

" Indeed he does," answered Doris warmly.

Occasionally Gary would get off and join them. But
he was trying hard to catch up. He had gotten out of
study habits, and some days he found it quite irksome,
for he was fond of pleasure, and it seemed to him that
Betty was extremely charming, and Doris quaint, and
Eudora vivacious to the point of wit.

One warm August afternoon he sat alone, having re
solved to master a knotty point. What were the others
doing? he wondered.

There was a step, and he glanced up.

" Oh," nodding to Captain Hawthorne, " I was just
envying you and all the others, and wondering where
you were on pleasure bound."

" It was not pleasure, but hard work over at the yard
to-day. However, I have the evening, and feel like in
viting myself to partake of a cup of the comforting tea
Miss Recompense brews."

" Come along then. I have put in a good day and am
conscience-clear."

Gary began to pile up his books.

" I have only about a fortnight more," Captain Haw
thorne said slowly.

Gary changed his coat and locked his desk. " Well? "
as the caller was watching him earnestly.

" Adams, do you mean — do you expect to marry your
cousin?" Hawthorne asked abruptly.

" My cousin? Betty or Doris? "

" Doris."

" Why — no, I never thought of it. And I have a sight
of work to do before I marry."

" Then — I suppose you never suspected such a thing
— but I am in love with her."

" In love with Doris ! Why, she's just a child."

350 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

" I dare say I shall have to serve seven years before I
can get your father's consent. She will be older then.
I was listening to a romantic story about an old house
where a handsome girl leaned out of a window and her
beauty attracted an English officer passing by, who said
to himself that was the one woman for him, and
long afterward he went back, found her, and married
her."

" A handsome Miss Sheafe. Yes." Gary smiled.

" See here, Gary Adams." 'Hawthorne took a small
leather case out of his pocket. Between two cards was a
pressed rose. " When I took your packet to Miss Doris
Adams almost four years ago, I gave it into the hands of
the sweetest little girl I ever saw. If I had been less of
a gentleman I must have kissed her. I espied one rose
in the garden and asked her for it. This is the rose she
gave me. I meant to come North and find her, and
when I asked for leave of absence to visit Boston this
business was put in my charge. Then I said, ' I will look
up the little girl, who must be a large girl now, and woo
her with the sincerest regard.' It shall go hard indeed
with me if I cannot win her. But I have fancied of late
that you "

" She is very dear to me and to my father. But I had
not thought "

" Then I take my chances. As I said, I will wait for
her. She is still very young, and I should feel con
science-smitten to rob your father. Sometime you may
want to bring the woman you love to the old home, and
then it will not be so hard. I could keep true to her the
whole world over; and if she promises, she will keep true
to me."

Gary Adams was deeply moved. Such devotion ought
to win a reward. How blind he and his father had been,
thinking of Betty Leverett.

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 351

Oh, how could they let Doris go! Yet a lover like
t'fiis was not to be curtly refused.

" I shall not stand in your way," quietly.

"Thank you a thousand times. But if she had been
for you, as I feared, I should have proved man enough
to keep silent and go my way. It has been a happy sum
mer, and in two weeks more it will end. Still, I may be
able to get an appointment here. I shall try for it and
return."

" Come," said Cary Adams, and he went out feeling
there had been a great change in the world, and he was
wrapped about with some mysterious influence.

Doris had thought of Captain Hawthorne on the day
of his, Gary's, return. How many times besides had she
thought of him? And she had recalled giving him the
rose.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD.

A HAPPY fortnight. It was worth all the after-pain
•**• to have it to remember. When Boston was a great
city half a century later, and there had been another war,
and Captain Hawthorne had risen in the ranks and been
put on the retired list, he came a grizzled old man to find
the place that had always lived in his remembrance.
But the old house had been swept away by the march of
improvement, the rounding corner straightened and
given over to business, and the Common was magnificent
in beauty. The tall, thin, scholarly man had gone to the
wife of his youth. Doris, little Doris, was very happy.
So what did it matter?

There was a succession of lovely days. One morning,
early, Captain Hawthorne joined Doris and her uncle in
a long ride over on Boston Neck. They found an odd

352 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

o!3 tavern kept by a sailor who had been round the
world and taken a hand in the " scrimmage," as he called
it, and with his small prize money bought out the place.
There was some delightful bread and cold chicken, wine
and bottled cider equal to champagne. There was an
other long lovely day when with Betty they went up to
Salem and drove around the quaint streets and watched
the signs of awakening business. There was Fort Pick
ering, the lighthouse out on the island, the pretty Com
mon, the East India Marine Society's hall with its curi
osities (quite wonderful even then), and the clean streets
with their tidy shops, the children coming from school,
the housewives going about on errands. Foster Man
ning drove his grandmother down to join them; and he
was almost a young man now. He told Doris they all
missed Elizabeth so much, but he was glad she had had
that nice visit to Boston.

So the days drifted on; Doris unconsciously sweet in
her simplicity, yet so innocent that the lover began to
fear while he hoped.

Uncle Winthrop had gone to a meeting of the Histori
cal Society. Miss Recompense had a neighbor in great
trouble that she was trying to console out in the supper
room, where they could talk unreservedly. Gary was in
the study, and the two were sauntering around the fra
grant walks where the grassy beds had recently been cut.
There was no moon, and the whole world seemed soft and
still, as if it was listening to the story Captain Hawthorne
had to tell, as if it was in love with itself.

" Oh," interrupted Doris with a sharp, pained cry, " do
not, please do not ! I never dreamed — I — shall never go
away from Uncle Winthrop. I do not want any other
love. I thought it was — Betty. Oh, forgive me for the
pain and disappointment. I seem even to myself such a
little girl "

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 353

" But I can wait years. I wanted you to know. Oh,
Doris, as the years go on can you not learn to love me?
I will be patient and live in the sweet, grand hope that
some day "

" No, no; do not hope. I cannot promise. Oh, you
are so noble and upright, can you not accept this truth
from me? For it would only be pain and disappoint
ment in the end."

No, she did not love him. Her sweet soul was still
asleep within her fair body. He was too really honor
able to persist.

" Doris," he said, — what a sweet girl's name it was! —
" five years from this time I shall come back. You will
be a woman then, you are still a child. And if no other
lover has won you, I shall ask again."

He pressed her hand to his lips. Then he led her
around to the porch, and bade her a tender good-night.
He would not embarrass her by any longer stay.

She ran up the steps. Gary intercepted her in the
hall.

" Has he gone? Doris "

" Oh, did you know? How could you let him! " she
cried in anguish. " How could you ! "

" Doris — my dear little sister, he loved you so. But
I wish it had been Betty. Oh, don't cry. You have
done nothing. I am sorry, but he would not have been
satisfied if he had not spoken. <He wanted to ask father
first, but I hated to have him pained if it was not neces
sary "

" Thank you for that, Gary. Do not tell him. You
will not? " she pleaded, thinking of the other first.

" No, dear. We must shield him all we can."

Yes, they would try always. There was a little rift in
the cloud of pain.

The next evening Captain Hawthorne came over to

354 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

bid them a formal good-by. Helen Chapman and her
lover and Eudora were there, so it was an unembarrass-
ing affair with many good wishes on both sides.

Doris thought she would like to run away and hide.
It seemed as if the whole story was written in her face.
Betty suspected, but she loved her too well to tease. And
almost immediately Helen announced her arrangements.
She was to be married in October. Doris and Gary
must stand with her, and one of the Chapman cousins
with Eudora. Another warm girl friend and her lover
would complete the party. Grandmamma had stipulated
that Mr. Harrison Gray should cast in his lot with them
for a year. Mr. Sargent had been attached to the em
bassy at London and they would remain two years longer
at least. Madam Royall could not bear to have the
family shrink so rapidly.

Betty was to go away again. Mr. and Mrs. Matthias
King came together this time to see old friends and Bos
ton, that Mr. King found wonderfully changed. He was
to go to France on business for the firm of which he was
a member, and be absent a year at least. It would be
such a splendid chance for Betty. They were to take
their own little Bessy and leave the three younger chil
dren with a friend who had a school for small people
and who would give them a mother's care.

There was a little grandson in Sudbury Street, and
Mercy had proved a very agreeable daughter-in-law.
Warren had begun to prosper again, and was full of hope.
The children at Hollis Leverett's were growing rapidly.
They no longer said " little Sam." He was almost a
young man. He had taken the Franklin prize at the
Latin School and was now apprenticed to an architect
and builder, and would set up for himself when he came
of age, as Boston had begun to build up rapidly. But

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 355

he couldn't help envying Cousin Cary Adams his prize
money and wondering what he meant to do with it.

An invitation to go to Paris was not to be lightly de
clined then, any more than it would be now. Mrs. Man
ning did not see " how Betty could leave mother for so
long," but Mrs. Leverett was in good health, and though
she hated to have her go so far away, there really could
be no objection, when Matthias King was so generous.

" I am going to have some of my good times while we
are together and able to enjoy them," he said to Mrs.
Leverett. " I shall have to leave Electa alone every now
and then while I am about business, and it will be such a
comfort to her to have Betty. No doubt, we shall marry
her to a French count."

" Oh, no, bring her back to me," said Betty's mother.

There was quite a stir among Betty's compeers. She
was congratulated and envied, and they begged her to
write everything she could about French fashions. How
lucky that she had been studying French!

Aunt Priscilla had a hard struggle with conscience
about a matter that she felt to be quite a duty. Giving
away finery that you would never wear was one thing,
but your money was quite another.

" Betty," she said, I'm going to make you a little gift.
If you shouldn't want to use it maybe Mat will see some
way to invest it for you. When the trouble came to
Warren, I said he might as well have his part as to wait
until I was dead and gone. I have been paid over and
over again in comfort. He grows so much like your
father, Betty. And he's weathered through the storm
and stress. So I'll do the same by you, and if you never
get any more you must be content."

It was an order for five hundred dollars. Winthrop
Adams would see it paid.

356 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Betty was quite overwhelmed. " I ought to give half
of it to mother! " she cried.

" No, no. Your mother will have all she needs. The
Mannings would borrow it of her to buy more ground
with. I've no patience with all their scrimping, and
sometimes I give thanks that poor Elizabeth is out of it
all. Don't have an anxious thought about money where
you mother is concerned."

" What a comfort you are, Aunt Priscilla."

" Well, it took years enough to teach me that anybody
needed comforting."

As for Doris, she was so busy that she could hardly
think about herself or Captain Hawthorne. She did
wish he had not loved her. If she had known about the
rose her heart would have been still more sore and
pitiful.

Betty went before the wedding. They took a sloop to
New York and were to leave there for Havre.

Madam Royall had this wedding just to her fancy, and
it was quite a fine affair. Gary looked very nice, Doris
thought, for the sea tan had nearly all bleached out. His
figure was compact, and he had a rather soldierly bear
ing. He was quite a hero, too, to his old college mates,
some of whom had not considered him possessed of really
strong characteristics.

But the young ladies were proud of his notice and
attention, and there was no end of invitations from their
mothers when they were going to have evening com
panies.

The cold weather came on apace. Mr. Adams seemed
to feel it more and gave up his horseback rides. He
interested himself very much in the library plans, but he
grew fonder of staying at home, and Doris was such a
pleasant companion. Gary had never been fond of
poetry, and now he threw himself into his profession with

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 357

a resolve to stand high. Manhood's ambition was so
different from the lukewarm endeavors of the boy.

His father did enjoy his earnestness very much.
Sometimes he roused himself to argue a point when two
or three young men dropped in, and the old fire flashed
up, though he liked best his ease and his poets, or Doris
reading or singing some old song. But he did not lose
his interest in the world's progress or that of his be
loved city.

Doris was very happy in a young girl's way. One
did not expect to fill every moment with pleasure, or go
to parties or the theater every evening. There were
other duties and purposes to life. As Aunt Priscilla did
not go out after the cold weather set in, she ran up there
nearly every day with some cheerful bit of gossip.
Madam Royall had grown very fond of her as well.
There was the dancing class; and the sewing class, when
they made garments for poor people ; and shopping — even
if one did not buy much, for now such pretty French and
English goods were shown again. Then one stopped in
the confectioner's on Newberry Street and had a cup of
hot coffee or tea if it was a cold day; or strolled down
Cornhill to see what new books had come over from
London, for the Waverley novels had just begun, and
everybody was wondering about the author. Or you
went to Faneuil Hall to see Trumbull's Declaration of
Independence, which was considered a very remarkable
work. There were the sleigh-rides, when you went out
in style and had a supper and a dance; and the sledding
parties, that were really the most fun of all, when you
almost forgot you were grown-up.

Gary was always ready to attend his cousin, though
she quite as often went out with Mr. and Mrs. Gray and
Eudora. When he thought of it, it did seem a little
curious that Doris had no special company.

353 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

But a girl was not allowed to keep special company
until the family had consented and she was regularly
engaged. Young men and girls came to sing, for a
piano was a rarity; there were parties going here and
there, but Doris never evinced any particular preference.

So spring came again and gardening engrossed Doris.
She had been learning housekeeping in all its branches
under the experienced tuition of Miss Recompense and
Dinah. A girl who did not know everything from the
roasting of a turkey to the making of sack-posset, and
through all the gradations of pickling and preserving,
was not considered " finished."

Doris was very fond of the wide out-of-doors. She
often took her work, and Uncle Winthrop his book, and
sat out on a rustic seat at the edge of the Common, which
was beginning to be beautiful, though it was twenty years
later that the Botanic Garden was started. But now that
our ships were going everywhere, curious bulbs and
plants were brought from Holland and from the East
Indies by sea captains. And they found wonderful wild
flowers that developed under cultivation. Brookline was
a great resort on pleasant days, with its meadows and
wooded hillsides and beautiful gardens. Colonel Per
kins had all manner of foreign fruits and flowers that he
had brought home from abroad, and had a greenhouse
where you could often find the grandmother of the family,
who was most generous in her gifts. There were people
who thought you " flew in the face of Providence " when
you made flowers bloom in winter, but Providence
seemed to smile on them.

Over on the Foster estate at Cambridge there was a
genuine hawthorn. People made pilgrimages to see it
when it was white with bloom and diffusing its peculiar
odor all about. There were the sweet blossoms of the
mulberry and the honey locust, and the air everywhere

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 359

was fragrant, for there were so few factories, and people
had not learned to turn waste materials into every sort
of product and make vile smells.

Gary sometimes left his books early in the afternoon
and went driving with them. If he did not appreciate
poetry so much, he was on the lookout for every fine tree
and curious flower, and twenty years later he was deep
in the Horticultural Society.

Uncle Winthrop bought a new low carriage this sum
mer. For anyone else but a grave gentleman it would
have looked rather pronounced, but it was so much easier
to get in and out. And Doris in her sweet unconscious
ness never made any bid for attention, but people would
turn and look at them as one looks at a picture.

Thirty years or so afterward old ladies would some
times say to the daughters of Doris :

" My dear, I knew your mother when she was a sweet,
fresh young girl and used to go out driving with her
uncle. Mr. Winthrop Adams was one of the high-bred,
delicate-looking men that would have graced a court.
There wasn't a prettier sight in Boston — and, dear me!
that was way back in '16 or '17. How time flies! "

They heard from Betty occasionally. The letters were
long and " writ fine," though happily not crossed. They
should have been saved for a book, they were so chatty.
In August one came to Doris that stirred up a mighty
excitement. Betty had a way of being quite dramatic
and leading up to a climax.

A month before they had met a delightful Frenchman,
a M. Henri de la Maur, twenty-five or thereabouts, and
found him an excellent cicerone to some remarkable
things they had not seen. He was much interested in
America and its chief cities, especially Boston, when he
found that was Betty's native town.

And one day he told them of a search he had been

360 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

making for a little girl. The De la Maurs had suffered
considerably under the Napoleonic regime, and had now
been restored to some of their rights. There was one
estate that could not be settled until they found a missing
member. They had traced the mother, who had died and
left a husband and a little girl — Jacqueline. " That is
such a common name in France," explained Betty. She
had been placed in a convent, and that was such a com
mon occurrence, too. Then she had been taken to the
North of England. He had gone to the old town, but the
child's father had died and some elderly relatives had
passed away, and the child herself had been sent to the
United States. Everybody who had known her was
dead or had forgotten.

" And I never thought until one day he said Old Bos
ton," confessed Betty, " when I remembered suddenly
that your mother's name was Jacqueline Marie de la
Maur in the old marriage certificate. We had been
talking of it a week or more, but one hears so many
family stories here in Paris, and lost and found inherit
ances. But I almost screamed with surprise, and added
tfie sequel; and he was just overjoyed, and brought the
family papers. He and your mother are second- and
third-cousins. It is queer you should have so many far-
off relations, and so few near-by ones, and be mixed up
in so many romances.

" The fortune sounds quite grand in francs, but if we
enumerated our money by quarters of dollars, we might
all be rich. It is a snug little sum, however, and they are
anxious to get it settled before the next turn in the
dynasty, lest it might be confiscated again. So M.
Henri is coming home with us, and we shall start the first
day of September, as Mr. King has finished his business
and Electa is wild to see her children. I think I shall
give ' talks ' all winter and invite you over to Sudbury

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 361

Street, with your sewing, for I never shall be talked
out."

It was wonderful. Doris had to read the letter over
and over. It had listeners at the Royall house who said
it was a perfect romance, and at the Leveretts' they re
joiced greatly.

" I declare! " exclaimed Aunt Priscilla, " if you should
live to be fifty or sixty, and everybody go on leaving you
fortunes, you won't know what to do with your money.
They're filling up the Mill Pond and the big ma'sh and
going to lay out streets. I wouldn't have believed it!
Foster Leverett held on to his legacy because he couldn't
sell it, and now Warren has been offered a good sum.
Mary Manning will pinch herself blue to think she sold
out when she did. I'm just glad for Warren. And
Gary '11 know so much law that he will look out for
you."

It was a beautiful autumn, for a wonder. Summer
seemed loath to depart or allow the flame-colored finger
of Fall to place her seal on the glowing foliage. But it
was the last of October when Betty reached Boston, con
voyed by a very old-time New England woman going on
to Newburyport.

" For you know," said Betty, " the French are very
particular about a young woman traveling alone, but we
did have a hunt to find someone coming to Boston.
Otherwise M'sieur Henri — you see how apt I am in
French — could not have accompanied me."

M. de la Maur was a very nice-looking young man,
not as tall as Gary, but with a graceful and manly figure,
soft dark eyes, and hair that just missed being black, a
clear complexion and fine color, and a small line of mus
tache. As to manners he was really charming, and so
well-read that Mr. Winthrop Adams took to him at once.
He was conversant with Voltaire and Rousseau, the

362 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

plays of Racine and Moliere, and the causes that had led
to the French Revolution, and had been in Paris through
the famous " Hundred Days." Of course he was bitter
against Napoleon.

The inheritance part was soon settled. Doris would
have about three thousand dollars. But De la Maur
took a great fancy to Boston, and the Royall family ap
proved of him. Mr. and Mrs. Sargent had returned this
fall and the old house was a center of attractive gayeties.

" Do you know, I think Cousin Henri is in love with
Betty," said Doris, with a feminine habit of guessing at
love matters. " But she insists she will never live
abroad, and Cousin Henri thinks Paris is the center of
the world."

" How will they manage? "

Doris laughed. She did not just see herself.

But Betty's romance came to light presently. It had
begun during her winter in New York, but it had not run
smoothly. Betty had a rather quick wit and was fond
of teasing, and there had been " differences " not easily
settled. Mr. Harman Gaynor had risen to the distinc
tion of a partnership in the King firm, and on meeting
Betty again, with the young Frenchman at her elbow,
had presented his claim in such a way that Betty yielded.
When Mr. Gaynor came to Boston to have a conference
with Mrs. Leverett — for fathers and mothers still had
authority in such matters — Betty's engagement was
announced and the marriage set for spring.

Somehow it was a delightful winter. But after a little
one person began to feel strangely apprehensive, and this
was Cary Adams.

" I suppose Doris and her third- or fourth-cousin will
make a match? " Madam Royall said one evening when
tfiey had been playing morris and she had won the rub
ber. " How can you let her go away? "

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 363

" She will never leave father," exclaimed Gary con
fidently.

There was a sudden stricture all over his body. It
seemed as if some cold hand had clutched both heart and
brain.

He walked home in the bright, fresh air. It was barely
ten. He passed De la Maur on the way and they greeted
each other. The parlor windows were darkened, his
father was alone in the study, and everyone else had gone
to bed.

" I wish you had been home," said his father glancing
up. " De la Maur has been reciting Racine, and I have
never heard anything finer! I wish he could read
Shakspere. He certainly is a delightful person, so cul
tured and appreciative. It makes me feel that we really
are a new people."

Could no one see the danger? How happened it his
father was so blind? Did Doris really care? She had
not loved Captain Hawthorne, a man worthy of any
woman's love. Gary had a confident feeling that in five
years they would see him again. But he would be too
old for Doris — thirteen years between them. Yet his
father had been fifteen years older than his mother.
Doris was so guileless, so simply honest, and if she loved
— how curiously she had kept from friendships or inti
macies with young men! Eudora had a train of ad
mirers. So had Helen and Alice in their day.

When he had met Mrs. Sargent he knew it had only
been a boyish fancy for Alice Royall, and it had merely
shaped and strengthened the ardent desire of youth to
go to his country's defense. He was a man now, and
capable of loving with supreme tenderness and strength.
Yet he had seen no woman to whom he cared to pour out
the first sweet draught of a man's regard.

But Doris must not go away, she could not.

364 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

Morning, noon, and night he watched her. She pre
pared his father's toast, she chatted with him and often
coaxed him to taste this or that, for his appetite was slen
der. On sunny mornings they went to drive, or if not
she brought her sewing and sat in the study, listened and
discussed the subjects he loved, and was enthusiastic
about the Boston that was to be, that they both saw with
the eye of faith. While he took his siesta she ran up to
Sudbury Street, or did an errand. Later in the afternoon
there would be calls. There was a sideboard at the end
of the hall where a bottle or two of wine were kept, as
was the custom then, and a plate of cake.

Doris brought in a fashion of offering tea or sometimes
mulled cider on a cold day. But Miss Recompense
made delicious tea, and some of the gentlemen took it
just to see Doris drop in the lump of sugar so daintily.

If they were at home there was always company in the
evening, unless the night was very stormy. De la Maur
generally made one of the guests. If they were alone
tfiey had a charming evening in the study.

The young Frenchman was most punctilious. He
might take a few cousinly freedoms, but he never offered
any that were lover-like. So it was the more easy for
Doris to persuade herself that it was merely relationship.
Occasionally the eloquence of his eyes quite unnerved
her. She cunningly sheltered herself beside Eudora
when it was possible.

But De la Maur's regard grew apace. It would not
be honorable to come without declaring his intentions.
And the American fashion of being engaged was ex
tremely fascinating to him. He wanted the more than
cousinly privileges.

So it happened one night Betty and Warren came over
with a piece of music Mrs. King had sent, a song by
Moore, the Irish poet. Doris went to the parlor to try it.

THE COST OF WOMANHOOD. 365

That was De la Maur's golden opportunity, and he could
not allow it to slip. In a most deferential manner he laid
his case before her relative and guardian and begged per
mission to address Miss Doris.

Winthrop Adams was utterly amazed at the first mo
ment. Then he recovered himself. Doris was a young
lady. One friend and another was being given in mar
riage, and Doris naturally would have lovers. There was
one that he had hoped — but he had never seen any real
indication.

" It is true that I like my own Paris best, but if Miss
Doris longed to stay here a few years, I would make
myself content. But you will understand — I could not
come any longer without explaining; and this time you
allow young people — betrothment — looks so attractive.
May I ask and learn her sentiments, since young ladies
choose for themselves? "

What could he do but consent? If Doris should not
love him

" Good-night Uncle Win," cried Betty from the hall.
" Good-night, M. De la Maur."

Doris was replacing some music in the portfolio.
Cousin Henri crossed the room and she saw a mysterious
sweetness in his face as he took her hand.

" Ma chere amie Cousin Doris, I have just explained to
your uncle my sentiments concerning you, and have his
permission to ask for your regard. I love you very
dearly. Will you be my wife? "

Doris drew her hand away and was pale and red by
turns, while her throat constricted and her breath came
in great bounds.

" I am so sorry. I tried not to be — I did not want
anything like this to happen — but sometimes I felt
afraid," she stammered in her embarrassment. " I like
you very much. But I do not want to marry or to be

366 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

engaged. I shall stay with my uncle. I shall never go
away from the country of my adoption."

" But if I were willing to remain a while — so long as
your uncle lived? I do not wonder you love him very
much. He is a charming gentleman. I have no parents
to bid me stay at home, I need consult only you and
myself."

" Oh, no, no! Do not compel me to pain you by con
tinued refusals. I cannot consent. I will always be
friend and cousin — I do not love anyone "

" Then if you do not love anyone this friendship might
ripen into a sweet regard. Oh, Doris, I had hardly
thought so deep a love possible."

His imploring tone touched her. But she drew back
farther and said in a more decisive tone: " Oh, no, no!
I cannot promise."

He was too gentlemanly to persist in his pleading.
But he was confident he had Mr. Adams on his side.
And at home the desires of parents and guardians
counted for a great deal.

" My dear cousin, will you talk this matter over with
your uncle? You may look at it in a different light.
And I shall remain your ardent admirer until I am con
vinced. Since you have no lover "

Doris Adams suddenly straightened her pliant young
figure. Some dignity was born in her face and in the
clear eyes she raised, too pure to doubt anything or to
fear anything, sure for a moment that she possessed every
pulse and thought and knowledge of her own soul, then
beset by a strange shadowy misgiving that she had
reached a curious crisis in her life that she did not know
of an instant ago.

But she said bravely, though there was a quiver in her
breath that she tried to keep from her voice :

" Let us remain cousins merely. My duty is here.

THE BLOOM OF LIFE— LOVE. 367

My love is here also — to the best of fathers, the tenderest
of friends. I cannot share it with anyone."

De la Maur bowed and went slowly out of the apart
ment.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE BLOOM OF LIFE LOVE.

p\ORIS flew to the study. Uncle Winthrop's eyes
*-* were bent on his book and his face partly turned
aside. He had been making a brave fight. A man of a
less fine strain of honor would not have answered the
brave young lover as he had done. He could not have
answered him thus if he had not liked Henri de la Maur
so well, and loved Doris with such singleness of heart.

He heard her step and put out his hand without mov
ing. His tone was very low.

" Is it— France? "

"France! Oh, Uncle Win! When I belong to you
and Boston? "

Her arms were around his neck. His heart, his whole
body, seemed to give one great throb of joy as he drew
her down to his knee. There had been only one other
experience in life as sweet.

" And you would have sent me away ! " with a soft,
broken upbraiding in which love was uppermost.

" No, child, no. God forbid, Doris, now that you are
not going, I will confess — I think I should have died be
fore the parting came. But, my little girl, I must say
this in memory of two sweet years of wedded life — there
is no happiness comparable to it. And to accept your
youth, your golden period that never dawns but once on
any human being, to gladden my declining years would
be a selfish sin. I once had a dream — but it came to
naught " — he drew a long breath as if the remembrance

368 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

pained him. " You must be quite free, dear, to love and
to marry. All these years with you have been so
precious, but sometime I shall go my way, and I could
not bear the thought of your being left alone! "

" I shall stay with you. I — there can never be any
home like this — any love like yours "

The hall door opened and shut slowly. That was
Gary's step. She could not meet him here. She
kissed Uncle Win vehemently and flashed past the
young man standing there almost in the doorway with a
white, strained face. The great armchair was in her way
and she half stumbled over it. Then some other arms
caught her and she had no strength to struggle. Did
she want to?

" Doris! Doris! Was it true what you said just now
— that no home could be like this, and your love for him,
which has been that of a tender daughter — his love for
you — is there room for another regard still? for, Doris, I
love you! I want you. I have been wild and jealous
since I have suspected, since I have really known or
guessed your cousin's intentions. I did not suspect at
first — there were Betty and Eudora — and an old regard
waiting for you, but now I can think of only one thing,
that has been in my mind day and night for the last fort
night, that I love you as well as the others ; only it seems
a small and ignoble matter to appeal to your affection
for my father and the old home. But I want your love,
your sweetness, your precious faith, the trust of your
coming womanhood, your own sweet self. I'm not a
handsome fellow like Captain Hawthorne, nor accom
plished like De la Maur, but I shall love you to my life's
end, Doris!"

They sat down on the step of the old staircase and he
could feel the tremble in every pulse of her slim young
figure. Was it the strange mystery that had come to her

THE BLOOM OF LIFE— LOVE. 369

half an hour ago in the parlor opposite, a something that
was not knowledge, but a vague consciousness that there
was a person in the world who could say the words that
would thrill her with delight instead of bringing sorrow
and regret!

" All that is a very illogical and incoherent presenta
tion. I must do better when I come to argue my first
case," and he gave a joyous little laugh. For he knew if
Doris meant to say him " Nay," she would not let her
head droop on his shoulder, or yield to the clasp of his
arm. And suddenly his soul was filled with infinite pity
for Hawthorne, and — yes — he felt sorry for De la Maur.

" Doris — is it a little for my own sake?"

A breath of happy content swept over her like a sum
mer wind coming from some mysterious world.

" You have been an angel of comfort to both of us. I
don't know what I should have done in that unhappy
time if it had not been for you. But Hawthorne's regard
made it a point of honor with me. Could you have loved
him, Doris? He is such a fine fellow."

He noted the little shrinking, he was holding her so
close.

" Not in that way," and her reply was a soft whisper.

*'Thank Heaven! But I want to hear you say — oh,
my darling, I want the assurance that I shall be dear to
you, that it is not all because "

" I should stay for Uncle Win's sake. I think Miss
Recompense finds a great many sources of happiness in
a single life. But if I promised you, it would be because
— because — I loved you."

tl Then promise me," he cried enraptured. " I love
you dearly, if I haven't been much of a lover. I have
said to myself that I was waiting for Hawthorne's five
years to end, or to do something worthy of you. And
now, Doris, I know what fighting means, and I would

370 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

fight to the death for you. I am afraid I shall be selfish
and exigent to the last degree."

He felt the delicate revelation in the warmth of her
cheek, the tremble of the soft hands, the relaxation of her
whole body. And a kind of solemn exultation filled his
soul. Except the youthful episode with Alice Royall, he
had never sincerely cared for any woman, and he was
very glad he could give Doris the first offering of a man's
love as he understood it now.

And then for a long while neither spoke, except in
kisses — love's own language. Every moment the mys
tery seemed to grow upon Doris, to unfold as well, to
pass the line of girlhood, to accept the crown of a woman's
life. It had been very simply sweet. Some other
woman might have made a rather tragic episode of her
two lovers. Doris pitied them sincerely, but they both
had the deepest sympathy from Gary Adams.

" Let us go to him," Gary exclaimed presently, rising,
with his arm still about her.

There were two wax candles burning in their sconces
that had been made over forty years ago in Paul Re-
vere's foundry. By the softened light Gary glanced at
the flushed face, downcast eyes and dewy, tremulous lips.
Half the sweet story was still untold, but there would be
years and years. Oh, Heaven grant they might have
them together! And at this instant he was filled with a
profound sympathy for his father's loss and lonely life.

They walked slowly through the hall and paused a
moment in the doorway. Winthrop Adams was leaning
his head on his hand, and the lamp a little at the side
threw up his thin, finely cut features, as if they had been
done in marble, and he was almost as pale. The exulta
tion went out of the soul of the young lover, and a rush
of tenderness such as he had never experienced before
swept through him.

THE BLOOM OF LIFE— LOVE. 371

" Father," he said softly, touching him on the shoulder,
" father — will you give me Doris, for your claim is first?
Will you accept me as her lover, sometime to be her hus
band, always to be your son, and your daughter? "

Winthrop Adams rose half-bewildered. Had the
secret hope of his soul unfolded in blessed fruition? He
looked from one to the other, then his glance rested on
his son — their eyes met, and in that instant they came to
know each other as they never had before, to understand,
to comprehend all that was in the tie of nature. He
laid one hand on his son's shoulder, the other clasped
the slim virginal figure, no longer a little girl, but whose
girlhood and affectionate devotion would always fill both
hearts.

" Doris, my child — you are quite sure " He could

not have his son defrauded of any sweetness.

Doris raised her downcast eyes and smiled, while the
pink flush was like a rosy gleam of sunrise. Then she
laid her hand over both of the others' in a tender, caress
ing fashion. But she was too deeply moved for words.

Winthrop Adams kissed her fair brow, but her lover
kissed her on the sweet, rosy lips.

They announced the engagement almost at once. It
was done partly for De la Maur's sake, though after the
first he took it quite philosophically. There were three
people supremely happy over it. Miss Recompense,
IVtadam Royall, — who declared she would have been dis
appointed in Providence if it had been any other way, —
and Cousin Betty, who was happy as a queen in her own
life, though why we should make royalty a synonym
for happiness I do not know.

" You never could have left Uncle Win," wrote Betty,
" and Gary could not have gone away, neither could he
have brought home a strange woman. This was the only
satisfactory ending. But I hope you will be awfully in

372 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.

love with each other and sweet — and silly and all that. I
am sorry for Captain Hawthorne, for, Doris, he loved you
sincerely, but your French cousin can console himself
with an English rhyme:

" ' If she be not fair for me,

What care I how fair she be ? ' "

And oddly enough a few months later he did console
himself with Eudora Chapman.

Just a few years afterward there was a great time in
Boston. For she had adopted a charter and become a
real city, after long and earnest discussion. There was
a grand celebration and no end of dinners, and young
Gary Adams made one of the addresses. Mr. Winthrop
Adams insisted that his life work was done, but he lived
to be interested in many more improvements, and some
charming grandchildren.

" But after all," Doris would declare, " splendid as it is
going to be, I am glad to belong to Old Boston with her
lanes and byways and rough hills and marsh lands, with
their billowy grasses and wild flowers, and great gardens
full of fruit trees, and the little old shops and people sit
ting on front stoops sewing or reading or chatting cozily.
And what a pleasure it will be by and by to tell the chil
dren that I was a little girl in Old Boston."

THE END.

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