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+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #54133 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54133)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Queen of Hearts, by Ruth Ogden
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: A Little Queen of Hearts
-       An International Story
-
-Author: Ruth Ogden
-
-Illustrator: H. A. Ogden
-
-Release Date: February 26, 2017 [EBook #54133]
-Last Updated: April 27, 2018
-
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-
-An International Story
-
-By Ruth Ogden
-
-Illustrated by H. A. Ogden
-
-New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company
-
-1893
-
-[Illustration: 0001]
-
-[Illustration: 0004]
-
-[Illustration: 0005]
-
-
-A CONFIDENTIAL WORD.
-
-A few years ago, when my first story saw the light, a little fellow,
-a stranger to me then, but who has since proved himself the truest of
-friends, wrote me a most welcome letter. He said, among other things:
-“I have read the book five times through. My nurse, Lily Jones, read the
-book to me twice, my mamma read the book to me once, and my Aunt Lizzie
-read the book to me twice, for I can only read in my reading-book.” Now
-you can understand, I think, how I have wanted to keep that boy for
-a friend, together with the other children who have proved themselves
-friendly; and so realizing they were all growing older each year, I have
-tried in the books I have written since then to keep pace with them,
-that they might not perhaps outgrow me for a little while yet.
-
-At the same time, my heart, in a way, is still with the little people
-who count their years by a single numeral; and so, if you please, I want
-to take them aside for a moment, and just whisper in their ears that,
-although “A Little Oueen of Hearts” may seem a trifle too old for them
-at first, I have an idea they will not find that fault later on.
-
-Ruth Ogden.
-
-
-
-
-A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I.--HAROLD AND TED HAVE IT OUT.
-
-[Illustration: 9011]
-
-He was a thoroughly manly little fellow--nobody questioned that for
-a moment, not even Ted; and yet there he sat, his head bowed upon his
-folded arms, while now and then something very like a sob seemed to
-shake the well-knit figure and give the boyish head an undignified
-little bob.
-
-When at last he looked up, behold proof positive. There were tears not
-only in his eyes, but on the sleeve of his Eton jacket; and there was no
-longer any question but that Harold Harris, sturdy little Englishman
-though he was, had been having what is known on both sides of the water
-as a good, hard cry.
-
-“How old was he?” asks Young America, a little mistrustful as to the
-right sort of stuff; but what does it matter how old he was, since
-this is certain, that he was not the boy to cry under any circumstances
-without abundant reason. It was evident now, however, that he was fast
-getting the better of himself. He sat up, and resting his head on one
-hand, reached with the other for the paper-knife, and began cutting
-queer little geometrical figures on the big silver-cornered blotter that
-half covered the table. It was evident too that his thoughts were not at
-all on what he was doing, and that the hard cry was being followed by a
-good, hard think. But this did not last long; Harold was simply trying
-to make up his mind, as the phrase goes, and that soon accomplished, he
-drew pen, paper and ink toward him and commenced writing a letter, with
-his head on one side and his lips tightly pursed together. Indeed, he
-never unpursed them until that same letter was sealed and directed and
-the stamp affixed with a very determined little air, as though firmly
-resolved that the thing he had done should brook no undoing. Then he
-slipped into his coat and hurried out to post it, and a few yards from
-the door he met Ted, who was just coming home.
-
-“Hello, there!” cried Ted, coming to a halt with his hands in his
-pockets; “where are you going this time of night?”
-
-“Out,” replied Harold, starting off at a run, for it was wet and damp,
-and, to use England's English, “quite nasty.” Ted gave a low whistle of
-surprise, Harold as a rule was such a civil fellow. But no matter. What
-did he care where he was going, and entering the house with a latch-key,
-he tossed his hat on to a hook and started upstairs, his thoughts
-already far afield from all that concerned his younger brother. Back
-they came again, however, as he reached the landing, and the old clock
-struck twelve. “So late as that?” he said to himself, and deciding to
-wait for Harold, he turned and went down again to the library. He hoped
-he should not have to wait long, for, since he was rather counting on
-a good night's rest, nothing more exciting seemed to offer. In the mean
-time, he would make himself as comfortable as possible on the library
-lounge. Indeed, to make himself as comfortable as possible had gradually
-grown to be the one thing worth striving for in the estimation of
-this young gentleman. A beautiful portrait of his mother hung over the
-library mantel, but it belonged to a closed chapter of his life, and he
-had almost forgotten its existence. He had never dreamed this would be
-so; he had never meant it should be; but that did not alter the fact
-that, flattered and made much of ever since he went up to Oxford, he had
-somehow had little time to think of his mother, and, sorrier than
-that, little inclination. Death was such a desperately gloomy thing to
-contemplate! Besides, to keep thinking about it did not bring any one
-back. And yet, as much as in him lay, Ted had loved his mother, and been
-very proud of her too. It seemed hard that she should not have lived
-a great while longer. But then she had been so very sad sometimes, and
-life of course wasn't worth very much under those conditions. When it
-ceased to be awfully jolly, perhaps it was just as well to have done
-with it. For him, thank his stars! that unhappy period had not yet
-arrived. To be a Christ Church Senior, with plenty of money and plenty
-of friends and a head that easily mastered enough learning to make a
-good showing, left little to be desired, especially when already endowed
-with a handsome face and a physique that every man envied--at least, so
-thought Theodore Harris, and so thought and affirmed the half score
-of intimate friends who enjoyed many of the good things of this life
-through his bounty. It was a pity that there was not one among them with
-insight enough to gauge the complacent fellow aright, and at the same
-time with honesty enough to take him to task for the profitless life
-he was leading. But nobody did, and so on he fared, thoughtless and
-selfish, and so wholly absorbed in the present that even alone and at
-midnight, with his eyes resting full upon his mother's portrait, he had
-no thought to give it nor the worthier past that it stood for. Indeed,
-to judge from the discontented look on his face, his mind did not rise
-for a moment above the level of his annoyance at being kept waiting.
-
-“Why don't the fellow come back?” he muttered angrily, realizing, as
-he heard the clock strike half-past twelve, that he had been actually
-inconvenienced for a whole half hour; and shortly after “the fellow did
-come back,” the dearest little fellow in the world too, by the way,
-and shut to the big front door and locked it as he had done night after
-night during the last two years, while Ted was up at Oxford, and he had
-been living alone with the servants in the pretty little home there at
-Windsor.
-
-“Harold!” rang out an impatient voice.
-
-“What, you there, Ted?” with unconcealed gladness; it seemed so cheery
-to have some one awake in the house.
-
-“Yes; of course I'm here. You didn't suppose I'd go to bed, did you,
-with you prowling the streets this time of night?”
-
-That is exactly what Harold had supposed, but he had the grace not to
-say so as he threw himself into a great easy-chair opposite Ted and
-clasped his hands behind his head in comfortable stay-awhile fashion,
-and as though quite ready to be agreeable if Ted would only let him.
-
-“I went out for a walk and to post a letter,” he said, after a moment,
-and with a perceptible little note of apology in his tone for his
-uncivil answer of the half hour before.
-
-“It must have been important,” said Ted, apparently amused at the
-thought of anything relating to that younger brother being in reality of
-any importance: “I should think though it possibly could have waited for
-the morning post.”
-
-“Yes, it could, but I couldn't.” Surprised at this, Ted elevated his
-eyebrows.
-
-“It was a letter to Uncle Fritz,” Harold added.
-
-“To Uncle Fritz!” with evident annoyance. “What in creation have you
-been writing to him about?”
-
-“I have asked him to come over with Aunt Louise and Marie-Celeste and
-make us a visit this summer.” It took Ted a moment to recover from his
-astonishment; then he answered curtly, “Well, you can just write him
-another letter and take it all back. Did it occur to you I might have
-other plans for this house for this summer?”
-
-“I thought you might perhaps propose to have some of your friends down
-here, same as last year,” Harold answered frankly.
-
-[Illustration: 0014]
-
-“Well, that's exactly what I do propose to do, and here you've gone
-ahead in this absurd fashion. What did you do it for, anyway?” and Ted
-in his impatience got on to his feet and glared down at Harold as though
-he would like to have eaten him up.
-
-Not a bit intimidated, Harold looked him straight in the face. “If you
-want to know what I did it for I'll tell you--I did it because I'm tired
-of the lonely life here. You haven't any more interest in me, Ted, than
-in a stick of wood; so I'm going to take things into my own hands now
-and begin to enjoy life in my own way. This little house is as much mine
-as yours, and I mean to have my turn this summer. I didn't like your
-friends last year, and took myself off. If you don't like mine this year
-you can do the same thing.” The role was such a new one for Harold to
-play that Ted stood utterly nonplussed. That Harold should deliberately
-assert himself in this way was such an unprecedented performance that he
-knew not what to say.
-
-“What did you tell Uncle Fritz about me?” he asked presently. “I suppose
-you painted me as black as the ace of spades.”
-
-“I didn't say a word about you. I wrote him it was awfully lonely here
-the last two years, and that it seemed to grow worse instead of better,
-and that if they'd only come over for the summer, we'd do all in our
-power to make them have a pleasant time of it.”
-
-“Well, that is cool. Did you really say _we'd_ do all in our power?”
-
-“Of course I did. You like Uncle Fritz, don't you?”
-
-“Of course I like him, but the cheek of it all,” and Theodore strode
-over to the window to think matters over. It was a fine thing anyway in
-Harold, he admitted to himself, not to have run him down to Uncle Fritz.
-If he was angry enough to take matters into his own hands in this
-way, it was a wonder he stopped short of telling him the truth about
-himself--not that Ted for a moment faced that truth in any honest
-fashion; for he was a very good fellow still in his own estimation. He
-had simply not taken Harold into account--no one could have expected
-that he should; but now it seemed the boy was beginning to resent that
-state of affairs. There was some show of reason in it, too, and he
-rather admired his spirit. It was rather natural, perhaps, that he
-should want to have “his turn,” as he said; very well, he should have
-it. For that matter, he would be rather glad himself to see something
-of Uncle Fritz. He had not really decided to ask any of the fellows down
-for the summer, though he had angrily made a declaration to that effect.
-Indeed, there was some talk of their going over the Continent together
-instead, which would be a deal more fun. All this while Harold sat
-motionless and silent.
-
-“The mean part of it is, that you didn't tell me beforehand what you
-wanted to do,” said Ted, as the upshot of the thinking.
-
-“What I wanted to do has not made any difference to you this long time.
-Besides, you would have told me I couldn't do it.”
-
-“Of course I would” (for, as it often happens, it is easier to be
-reasonable in thinking than in speaking); “and I can tell you one thing,
-Harold, you'll be sick enough of your own bargain before it is over.
-What do you know about Marie-Celeste? Ten to one she's a spoiled,
-forward sort of youngster. American children are a handful always.”
-
-“I'll risk it,” answered Harold; “and I only ask one thing of you, Ted,
-and that is that you'll be decent to them when they come.”
-
-“Like as not I won't be here.”
-
-Harold's face fell. It would seem such a breach of hospitality for Ted
-not to be at home, at least to welcome them. But, never mind, he could
-explain to Uncle Fritz, if he must, what an independent life Ted had led
-these last few years. He would hurt himself more than any one else by
-acting so ungraciously.
-
-“Who's going to pay for things here at home, I'd like to know?” said
-Ted, after another few minutes of meditation. “There isn't enough of my
-allowance left now to tide me over to the first of the year, let alone
-running the house in fine style all summer.”
-
-“You need not bother about that--there's enough of mine, and I can look
-after my own guests, which is more than you did for yours last year.”
- It was a mean little thrust, perhaps, on Harold's part, but Ted deserved
-it, for Harold had paid his half of the heavy expenses of the previous
-summer without a murmur.
-
-Be it said to Ted's honor that he appreciated the situation, and colored
-up to the roots of his hair.
-
-“You know how to rub a thing in,” he said, which was as wide of the
-truth as could be, for Harold had never alluded to the fact before, and
-made up his mind on the spot that he never would be mean enough to do it
-again. A little later the boys had said goodnight to each other, and not
-in an altogether unkindly spirit either. Ted had not been as angry
-as Harold had expected, and Harold, sorry for his thrust about money
-matters, had wound up by being rather conciliatory, and he was happier,
-on the whole, than he had been any time for a twelvemonth. And so it
-happens with the children, as with grown folk, that sometimes when there
-is a climax in the heart the head rises to the emergency, and is able to
-think a possible way out from besetting difficulties.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II--GOOD-MORNING, MR. HARTLEY.
-
-[Illustration: 9018]
-
-It is one thing to extend an invitation. It is quite another to have it
-accepted. Harold realized this with a sigh as he woke the next morning.
-Still, hope was in the wind, where it had not been for a long time, and,
-what was more, the first suggestion of spring was in it too, and every
-one knows what a tonic that is; so the sigh, on the whole, did not
-have much of a show, and Harold set off for school with a heart that he
-hardly knew for lightness.
-
-Besides, Ted had taken quite civil leave of him before going back to
-Oxford, and had said he fancied would be down again next Sunday, and
-that he would be on hand, like as not, if Uncle Fritz decided to come
-over--all of which, for any one who knew Ted as Harold knew him, was
-graciousness itself, and made Harold wish he had not waited so long
-before taking matters into his own hands. And in addition to all this,
-the morning was fine enough to brace anybody up, no matter what their
-troubles. The Eton boys in their tall hats (atoning, as it were, for the
-extreme briefness of their jackets) and wide-rolling linen collars were
-skurrying through the streets as though they had the right of way,
-as indeed they have in dear old royal Windsor; and here and there the
-flowing gown of a colleger spread itself to the April wind and floated
-out behind, to all appearances as glad as any peacock to show what it
-could do in that direction. Indeed, who knows of a more inspiriting
-sight anywhere than Eton College on an April morning? The quaint old
-buildings seem to bask in the broad spring sunshine; the trees that dot
-the grass-bare turf where the Upper School fronts the street are already
-casting tiny leaf-shadows, and on the other side, where the garden
-slopes down to the Thames, many a little branch and bush begins to
-glow with color. Even the old bronze statue of Henry VI. in the outer
-quadrangle, with all its panoply of robes of state and globe and
-sceptre, appears to look a little more chipper than ever and a trifle
-more conscious of the distinction of being the “munificent founder” of
-so glorious an institution. No wonder the boys love the old place, and
-even the dingy recitation rooms, whose quaint, high desks and slippery
-benches are notched with the penknives of many a boy, whose name, as a
-man, has come to be known through the length and breadth of England.
-To Harold it was a matter of no small pride, I assure you, that his
-particular seat on the form during that spring term was the same that
-had once been Gladstone's--“the prettiest little boy,” by the way, in
-the mind of his partial teacher, that ever went up to Eton. But all
-this, as you can plainly see, has nothing whatever to do with the title
-of this chapter, so it “behooves us,” as the preachers used to say, to
-turn our back on Harold and the charms of the renowned old college, and
-our faces toward the ocean and a far-off land--far off, that is, as far
-as Windsor and the English are concerned, but very near and dear to the
-hearts of some of the rest of us. Of course it is the letter that is
-turning our thoughts that way at this particular moment. It is tied
-firmly in a packet within a great leather bag, and, having been just
-in time to catch the mail-train, is being spirited down to Queenstown,
-where one of the great White Star steamers has been waiting full four
-long hours, so important are these reams upon reams of letters we and
-our English cousins keep sending one to the other across the water. Wind
-and tide favor the huge, swift ship, and early in the morning, the sixth
-day out, Fire Island light is sighted. It is a cloudless morning,
-the white sands of the South-shore beaches shine like silver in the
-sunlight, and the fresh sea breeze that is stirring holds its own the
-whole length of Long Island, and blows its purifying way into every
-street and alley of the vast city that lies at its farther end. A most
-uninteresting city, this city of Brooklyn, some people affirm; even
-those of us who love it best cannot claim that it is great in anything
-but “bigness” but there are homes there we will match against homes the
-world over, not for show or for luxury, but for pure and transcendent
-comfort. It is only a corner of the wide-spreading city of which we are
-speaking, and a little corner at that, but the charm of it lies in the
-fact that many of the streets open right to the harbor, and that many of
-the houses, as well, command the same glorious view. To be sure, one
-has need to overlook, in quite too literal fashion, the warehouses
-that front the water below the bluff, and here and there an unsightly
-elevator, but why let the eye rest on these, with the dancing blue water
-beneath you, and the Jersey hills beyond, and beyond that again, like as
-not, a glorious sunset. To be sure, the houses that line these streets
-stand most of them shoulder to shoulder, in barbarous, city-like
-fashion, and with far too much sameness in their general make-up and
-plan. But that is neither here nor there; we simply are claiming--we who
-love it--that it is a region of ideal homes. And more than this, there
-is a rare kindliness of spirit and an open-handed hospitality prevalent
-among the people. They are friends and neighbors in the best sense of
-the word; too high-minded and preoccupied to be gossipy or prying, they
-are interested in each other's affairs with the interest that means a
-sharing of each other's joys and sorrows.
-
-So much for the corner--let who will gainsay it--and more for a little
-maid who lives there, and who is none other, as you may have
-imagined, than Marie-Celeste, the little Queen-Pin of this story. And
-Marie-Celeste she is always. For some reason or other neither she nor
-the friend of her mother for whom she is called is ever known by any
-shorter title. Indeed, the two names have even become to be written
-with a hyphen, and seemingly to belong to each other, and to be quite as
-inseparable as the three syllables of Dorothy or the four of Dorothea.
-At the time of our introduction to the little maid in question she has
-donned the prettiest of white embroidered dresses and a broad white sash
-(which she first tied in a great bow in front and then pulled round to
-where it belongs in the back), and has come down to the front steps to
-watch for somebody. She knows almost to a minute how long she will
-have to wait, for she heard the signal--three little, short, sharp
-whistles--about five minutes ago. She decides it is worth while to
-make herself comfortable, and also worth while, looking askance at the
-doubtful doormat, to bring a well-swept rug from within. Then she seats
-herself, and, clasping two fair little hands round one knee, just waits,
-letting eyes rove where they will and thoughts follow. That is a very
-pretty cage in the window across the way, but she feels sorry for the
-bird. People oughtn't to leave a canary hanging full in the sunshine on
-a warm day like this; and then she meditates awhile on the advantages of
-living on the side of the street that is shady in the afternoon. And
-now two or three gentlemen are coming by from the ferry, all of whom she
-knows by sight, for the short terrace where she lives is by no means
-a general thoroughfare, and just behind them is Mr. Eversley, May
-Eversley's father. She wishes he would look up, for she has a bow
-ready for him; but he doesn't, and she must needs defer her social
-proclivities yet a little while longer. And here comes a great yellow
-delivery wagon, with horses fine enough for a carriage and two men in
-livery. What a deafening noise it makes on the Belgian pavement! There!
-for a comfort it is going to stop for a minute at the next house. My!
-what a lot of bundles! And now the street is quite empty again, not a
-person on either side of the one, short block; but the whistle that has
-been ringing out more and more clearly at quite regular, three-minute
-intervals sounds very near indeed, and in another second a gray-suited
-individual, with soldier-like cap to match and a glitter of shining
-brass buttons, swings round the opposite corner, and makes a bee-line
-across the street. Our little friend is instantly on her feet, with one
-hand extended, and a “Good-afternoon, Mr. Hartley.”
-
-“The same to you, Marie-Celeste,” replies the gray-coated newcomer,
-clasping the little, friendly hand in his.
-
-“And how did it come out?” she asks in the next breath.
-
-“It came out all right,” and Mr. Hartley leaned back and rested both
-elbows on the rail behind him.
-
-“I knew you would win,” said Marie-Celeste complacently; “I felt
-perfectly sure of it, Chris.”
-
-“And what is more, Bradford came in second.”
-
-“You don't mean it!” for Bradford was assistant postman on the route
-that included the Terrace, and Marie-Celeste was naturally quite
-overwhelmed at the thought that both their men should have won. The
-winning in question had occurred at a foot-race the night before, an
-accomplishment somewhat in the line of the daily training of the average
-postman, and for which Christopher Hartley in particular had long shown
-a special aptitude.
-
-[Illustration: 0023]
-
-“It was quite a big prize, wasn't it?” questioned Marie-Celeste, really
-longing to know the exact amount; but Mr. Hartley, not divining that,
-simply answered, his kind face radiant as a boy's, “The largest yet,
-Marie-Celeste--enough to take me home for two months this summer, and
-pay Bradford, besides, for doing double work while I'm gone. He can
-manage the route easily; the mails fall off more than half in the
-summer, you know.”
-
-“Well, isn't that splendid!” with a world of meaning in her inflection
-and a face every whit as radiant as Mr. Hartley's own. “And now won't
-you please tell me everything about the race, from the _start_ to the
-_finish_,” proud to show that she remembered the terms she had heard
-him use; and only too glad of the opportunity, Chris proceeded to give a
-graphic narrative of all the details of the exciting contest. Wide-eyed
-and interested, Marie-Celeste sat and listened, furtively scanning the
-street now and then for fear of interruption by some of the children of
-the neighborhood.
-
-“Have you told any of the others?” she asked eagerly, when the story's
-end had been reached, and hoping in her heart of hearts that she was to
-have the pleasure of imparting news of such paramount importance to the
-neighborhood.
-
-“Never a one; I dodged a crowd of them round the corner there for the
-sake of telling you first;” wherefrom it was easy to discover that Mr.
-Hartley had a somewhat partial regard for his earnest little listener.
-It was a decidedly partial regard, for that matter, and with reason.
-Had any other child friend along his route, no matter how friendly,
-questioned him day after day as to how he was getting on with his
-training for the race? Had any other among them promised to be on hand
-at the latest delivery on the afternoon succeeding it, so as to learn
-just what the issue had been, and at a time when he would be able to
-stop and tell about it? Would any one else in the world have thought
-of suggesting that he should give three short little whistles when he
-reached the Browns', in Remsen Street, so that she should know just how
-near he was? Surely no one; and it was just this surpassing interest
-in every living body, to the utter forgetting of all that concerned
-herself, that made Marie-Celeste different from other children, that
-made everybody love her, and that makes it worth while for me to try to
-tell this story of one summer in her blessed little life.
-
-“Well, I'm just as glad as I can be,” she said joyously when at last
-Mr. Hartley thought he had better be moving on, and thought at the same
-time, too, I venture, that it was something to have won that race, if
-only to have caused such gladness.
-
-“You haven't any letters for us, have you?” she added, as he turned to
-go down the step and she caught sight of the leather bag swung across
-his shoulder.
-
-“Why, yes, I have,” diving into its depths, and angry at himself for
-his forgetfulness; “it's an important letter, too, I reckon; it's from
-England.”
-
-“Why, so it is!” her eyes fairly dancing with delight and surprise.
-“It's from Harold, and we haven't heard from him in ever so long; but
-oh, dear, it's for papa, isn't it, and he's out driving.”
-
-“You won't have very long to wait,” said Chris, smiling at her
-impatience, “if you're expecting him home to dinner.”
-
-“But we're not, that's the bother of it. He and mamma are going to dine
-at the Crescent Club afterward, and I shall have to be sound asleep when
-they come home.” Then she asked after a moment of serious cogitation,
-“Do you suppose, Chris, that any of the children along your route open
-their fathers' letters, when they are sure they're from their cousins?”
-
-“I can't say about that,” laughed Chris, as he went down the steps. “You
-know best; good-night, I'm off now.”
-
-“Good-night, Chris,” rather absent-mindedly, and with eyes and thoughts
-still intent upon the letter. Would it be such a dreadful thing to open
-it? It was so hard not to know right away what was in it. She had never
-seen this English Cousin Harold, but when they had exchanged photographs
-at Christmas-time he had sent such a beautiful letter that she had come
-to feel that they were the best of friends. But no, hard as it was, she
-felt certain it would really be best not to open it; so she would put
-the letter in her pocket, and when she went to bed she would slide it
-under her pillow, and then only take little cat-naps until her father
-and mother should come home, and she could tell them about it, and
-hear what was in it. But alas! for the little cat-naps; for the lights
-blinked brightly in the harbor, and the ferry-boats whistled and let off
-steam in deafening fashion, and the stars came out, and the moon came
-up, and papa and mamma came home, and chatted gayly besides, with the
-door wide open into her room, and yet Marie-Celeste never wakened, and
-Harold's important letter lay sealed and unread, and as flat as a fluffy
-head could press it until the light of another morning.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III.--ABOARD A WHITE STAR.
-
-[Illustration: 0026]
-
-There was commotion in the Harris household, notwithstanding the very
-early hour--the sort of commotion which means that somebody is off for
-Europe, somebody who has preferred remaining at home, and rising as
-early as need he, to boarding the steamer the night before and spending
-it tied to a noisy dock. In this case there were three somebodies, and
-you can easily guess who; for there was that in Harold's letter that had
-made Mr. and Mis. Harris feel they really ought to go if they could, and
-that moved Marie-Celeste to declare that go they must; that, in short,
-made the hearts of all three go out very warmly to the lonely little
-fellow across the water. And the best part of it all was that it had
-been the easiest thing in the world to arrange matters, and that a cable
-bore to Harold the glad word that they would come, so that he had not
-even to wait for a letter. And now the one week of preparation was over,
-and the carriage was at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Harris were in it,
-and Marie-Celeste was taking effusive and affectionate leave of the
-maids, who were smiling and crying all in one, after the manner of an
-Irish parting. And now even that is done with, and the carriage rolls
-off, and the wagon-load of steamer trunks and bags jogs after, and Mary
-and Bridget and Norah dry their eyes on their respective aprons, and
-go back to a general cleaning up today, and like as not to Coney Island
-to-morrow. And what if they do, thinks their mistress. Indeed, she is
-altogether willing that they should, for if there is ever a time when
-the contrasts in life will not be overlooked it is when you are on your
-way to the steamer. It seems so pitiful to see men and women on every
-hand plodding away at the same old, monotonous tasks, when ahead of you
-are all the delights of novelty, travel, and leisure. Oh! if only every
-one might have “his turn” in this world of ours; but since that is
-out of the question, let there at least be as much Coney Island for
-housemaids as is consistent with good morals and faithful discharge of
-their duties; at least so thought one dear little mistress, with more
-heart, perhaps, than discretion, but a heart, all the same, that won
-every one to her and made life in her household move with infinite
-smoothness.
-
-“I wonder, mamma, if Harold will like us?” said Marie-Celeste, when the
-excitement of immediate departure had sufficiently subsided for her to
-find any words at all.
-
-“It's a little late in the day, dear, for you to do any wondering on
-that score.”
-
-“Somehow, I hadn't thought until now how dreadful it would be if
-he didn't. He knows about you, though, papa. He knows you're all
-right--that's one comfort.”
-
-“And he takes my word for it that you are,” said Mr. Harris; “so be sure
-you don't go back on me either of you. You will have to be on your good
-behavior every minute.”
-
-Marie-Celeste gave her mother a little significant look, which
-her mother answered as significantly, and which gave Mr. Harris
-to understand that good behavior would depend altogether upon
-circumstances.
-
-“It would be just as bad,” Marie-Celeste said thoughtfully, “if we
-didn't like Harold, wouldn't it? And there's Ted; we don't know much
-about him, do we?”
-
-“Excuse me, my little daughter,” said her father, laughing, “if I
-casually remark that young in years though you be, you are just like a
-woman. Who has said a word until now about any ifs in connection with
-this trip of ours? But no sooner are we actually off, scarce ten
-minutes from home, in fact, than the great, uncomfortable, intimidating
-creatures come trooping in from every quarter, and the particular one
-that comes to me is this, If you find you don't like it when you get
-there, don't forget where the blame lies. I remember a little maid who
-said that go to Cousin Harold she must, whether or no.”
-
-“So do I,” with a little shrug of her shoulders; “but you can't help
-thinking about things, all the same. What is Ted like, papa?”
-
-“Well, Ted's a handsome, overgrown, headstrong boy, I should say--at
-least, he was when I was in Windsor four years ago; but you see he's a
-young man by this time and quite another fellow probably.”
-
-“It is strange Harold didn't say anything about Ted in his letter,”
- remarked Mrs. Harris.
-
-“Oh, that was pure accident, I imagine! Ted must be all right, or Harold
-would have said something about it which was rather wide of the mark in
-'Uncle Fritz,' as you and I happen to know.”
-
-“Overgrown and headstrong doesn't sound very nice,” Marie-Celeste said
-slowly; “I'm really not a bit afraid about Harold--I love him already,
-but I don't feel sure about Ted, somehow.” And if the truth be told,
-neither did Mr. Harris nor Mrs. Harris, nor anybody else, for that
-matter.
-
-“Well, there's one thing, little girlie,” said her father; “there are
-wonderful places in England, which I mean you shall see; and how long we
-stay in Windsor depends--”
-
-“Entirely upon how they treat us,” chimed in Mrs. Harris.
-
-“Exactly; so it becomes us not to worry about any foolish little ifs.”
- And worry they did not from that moment, not one of the happy trio,
-about anything under the sun, or over it, and they sailed away with
-bright and happy faces. Tears were for eyes that left nearest and
-dearest behind, not for those who took them with them; and yet a wistful
-look, that was often to be seen on Mrs. Harris's expressive face,
-deepened as the Majestic steamed down the harbor. And when they reached
-the point where the white stones of Greenwood look down on the water,
-she stole alone to the rail of the deck, and the wistfulness turned to a
-mist that hid everything for a moment.
-
-“Mamma is saying good-by to Jack and Louis,” said Marie-Celeste softly,
-and her father pressed the little hand that lay in his, but did not
-answer.
-
-Marie-Celeste was up betimes the next morning--that is, if betimes means
-bright and early, and, stopping for a few minutes on her way to indulge
-in a savory cup of arrowroot, which the stewardess had made ready for
-her, she passed on up the stairs and out on to the saloon deek,
-looking as fresh and sweet in her dress of sailor-blue as a fair little
-morning-glory. The pity was there was nobody there to see, for there's
-nothing like the bloom of the very early morning-glory.
-
-The decks were still wet from their daily mopping, the folded steamer
-chairs were ranged five deep beneath the cabin windows, and nothing
-seemed to be quite in shape yet save her own tidy little self. She went
-forward as far as she could to the bow, and then turned her back toward
-everything, so as to see how it seemed to be _way out at sea_; and not
-being conscious of any remarkable sensations, was somewhat disappointed.
-“Out of sight of land” had always stood with Marie-Celeste for such an
-awe-inspiring condition of affairs that she expected to feel all sorts
-of chilly and creepy feelings when she fairly faced the thought; and yet
-here she stood, alone to all intents and purposes, and no land anywhere,
-and yet not so much as the suggestion of a chill or a creep. She turned
-round and looked at the ship, and smiled at the man at the wheel, and
-guessed she knew what the trouble was, and guessed right. She wasn't a
-bit afraid; that was the secret of her disappointment, if it could in
-truth be called a disappointment. It was such a beautiful, stanch,
-great ship, with its large masts and spars and network of interlacing
-halyards, that its wideness meant more to her just then than even the
-wideness of the sea; and she felt so safe and at home on it withal, that
-all the expected uncanny sensations had need to be postponed to some
-more favorable occasion. With this cherished illusion so soon disposed
-of, she decided to take a little turn on the deck. The steamer was
-pitching a good deal--“pitching horribly,” some of the passengers
-below would have told you, but all the more fun for Marie-Celeste; and
-plunging her hand deep in her reefer pocket, she set off at a swinging
-gait. Now it was all up-hill, and the wind blowing such a gale that she
-had need to bend way over, holding firmly to her sailor hat the while,
-to make any headway whatever; and now in a trice it was very much
-down-hill indeed, and the little knees had to be stiffly braced to
-prevent her ladyship from bowling along at a dangerously rapid pace.
-
-[Illustration: 0029]
-
-But it was all fun. She didn't see how people, inclusive of certain near
-relatives of her own, could be willing to keep their state-rooms after
-seven o'clock on such a glorious morning. She only wished she had some
-one to enjoy it with her; and a few minutes later the wish came true,
-and in such delightfully surprising fashion. Just as she was nearing the
-break in the saloon deck that grants an open sky space to the
-steerage, she discovered some one coming toward her on the deck of the
-second-class cabin--some one who looked familiar, notwithstanding the
-absence of gray coat and brass buttons.
-
-“Why, Chris Hartley!” she cried, and standing stock-still from sheer
-surprise. At the sound of the cheery voice, a lady, who was so fortunate
-as to have a deck state-room, and so unfortunate as to sorely need
-it, peered out and tried to smile a good-morning to the happy little
-stranger outside her window. Marie-Celeste smiled back again, but at the
-sight of the white face realized in a flash why some people keep their
-state-rooms at sea in the early morning. But of course there was only
-the merest little suggestion of a sympathetic thought to spend on the
-poor, white lady, with Chris Hartley but just discovered, and after
-that one instant of transfixed surprise she sped toward him, both hands
-extended; and over the gate that divides the first from the second cabin
-they indulged in the heartiest shaking of hands possible, while hats for
-the moment were expected to look out for themselves. Indeed, there is
-no telling how long the hand-shaking might have lasted but that the hats
-proved untrustworthy in the stiff northern wind that was blowing, Chris
-catching his on the fly and Marie-Celeste's saved almost as narrowly.
-
-“Did you know we were on board, Chris?” were the first words that formed
-themselves into a sentence after the “Well, _well_, well!” of their
-first meeting.
-
-“Of course I knew, and so I chose this steamer on purpose.”
-
-“Who told you, Chris? You know I haven't seen you since the day you
-brought the English letter.”
-
-“Bridget told me the next morning how that you had had a letter that was
-going to take you all to England, and then in a day or two I learned you
-were going on the Majestic, and I hurried right over to the office and
-secured the last berth they had left in the second cabin. But now I'm
-here I'm thinking I'll not see much of you, after all,” and Chris looked
-decidedly crestfallen.
-
-“Why not, I should like to know?”
-
-Chris glanced significantly at the gate between them.
-
-“Oh!” beginning to understand; “don't they allow that to be opened?”
-
-“No, they don't,” and Chris colored up a little in spite of himself;
-“but of course it's all right. I couldn't afford to travel first class,
-and I don't belong there anyway.”
-
-“But you could easily get over that little gate,” said Marie-Celeste
-mischievously, and yet soberly too, for she foresaw what innumerable
-good times would be interfered with if Chris must stay in one place and
-she in another.
-
-“No,” said Chris gravely, “that wouldn't do; but--”
-
-“But what, Chris?”
-
-“Oh, never mind! I guess we'll just have to have little talks right here
-when we can.”
-
-“Well, I guess we won't just have to have anything of the sort,” making
-up her mind on the instant precisely what steps she would take. “I'll
-manage that; and now tell me, Chris, how you happen to be on this
-steamer at all. I thought you were going home this summer?”
-
-“And where do you think home is?”
-
-“Where?” far too eager to waste any time in mere thinking.
-
-“In England, of course.”
-
-“Why, then, I suppose you're English,” she said, with surprise and
-unconcealed disappointment.
-
-“Why, then, I suppose I am,” Chris answered; “but really, I don't see
-why you should mind, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Oh, I expected they would be different, the real English
-people--different from us. I had heard they were, and it isn't so
-interesting to have all the world alike.”
-
-“Well, I wouldn't give up hope quite yet,” said Chris, very much amused;
-“you see, I'm not exactly real English, I've been in the States so
-long;” and when Marie-Celeste came to think of it, there was some
-comfort in that.
-
-Meantime, a number of passengers had come on to the decks of
-both cabins, and a few moments later the little buglers appeared
-simultaneously on both sides of the saloon, and the call for breakfast
-rang out on the still sea air.
-
-“There's something English for you,” said Chris.
-
-“What do you mean?” with puzzled frown.
-
-“Why, that's the English mess call,
-
-               “'Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,
-
-               Soldiers' wives eat skilly'
-
---those are the words that go to it.”
-
-“Why, so they do!” for the little buglers were obligingly repeating
-their strain, and Marie-Celeste discovered for herself that they fitted
-the notes exactly.
-
-“What's 'skilly?'” she asked presently, as Chris expected she would.
-
-“Well, it's a kind of stew that the soldiers' wives make. It's cheap and
-nourishing. We don't have anything just like it in America that I know
-of.”
-
-“Well, you are English, after all, Chris,” with evident gratification;
-“there must be lots of more things you can tell me, and there's no end
-to the good times we'll have together; but I guess I'd better go now. I
-shouldn't wonder if mamma felt rather ill this rough morning--she
-isn't a very good sailor. Good-by, Chris; you'll come to the gate after
-breakfast?”
-
-Chris promised, and watched the trim little figure till it disappeared;
-then he turned and paced the deck with a somewhat troubled look on his
-kind face. Somehow he had not given much thought to this subject of
-first and second class till on that first morning out, when he found
-the low iron gate imposing itself so resolutely between himself and his
-little friend; but then he realized at a bound how much there was in it.
-It might well happen that the father and mother, who were quite willing
-that their little daughter should have an occasional chat with the
-postman at home, would prefer not to recognize him in the role of a
-second-cabin passenger; and good Chris Hartley felt inclined to call
-himself all manner of names for thoughtlessly allowing himself to be
-put in such a position. If Mr. Harris should forbid Marie-Celeste to see
-him, or should just calmly ignore the fact that he was on board at all,
-it would be pretty hard to bear. And so Chris suddenly found himself
-face to face with the class distinctions that seem inevitable in this
-social world of ours, and in a way that might turn all the bright
-anticipations for this voyage into the reality of a most disagreeable
-experience. Yes, there was no doubt about it, he had acted like a fool;
-and rather than run the chance of being “made to know his place,” as
-the phrase has it, he believed he would have kept out of the way of
-Marie-Celeste all the way over if he had thought of it in time; but we,
-of course, believe nothing of the sort. How could he ever have had the
-heart to carry out such a doleful resolution, and what a pity if he
-had tried to! The truth was, Chris had too low an opinion of
-himself altogether. He had an idea, for instance, that he was a very
-plain-looking sort of a fellow, whereas there was something about him
-that made him distinctly noticeable everywhere he went. It was hard
-to tell just what it was--a brimming-over kindliness, I think, best
-describes it. It shone plain as day in his friendly eyes and hovered
-under his light mustache, and his head even seemed to be set on his
-shoulders in a most kindly fashion. But Chris himself was oblivious to
-all his charms, personal or otherwise, and in this modesty of his, and
-in many other ways as well, proved himself the gentleman; and the beauty
-of it was that Mr. Harris, being a true gentleman himself, had long ago
-recognized the article in his postman. It was a pity Chris should not
-have known this. It would have spared him a wretched hour or so that
-first morning at sea. Indeed, this _not knowing_ is responsible for a
-great deal of this world's fret and worry, and yet _too much knowing_
-would be just as sorry a thing sometimes; so perhaps it would be as well
-for us to leave matters as they are for the present.
-
-Meantime, Marie-Celeste had made her way to the bow, and to the doorway
-of a room there, which she had chanced to notice the afternoon before.
-
-“Passengers are not allowed in here, are they?” she asked timidly.
-
-[Illustration: 0035]
-
-“Not ordinarily,” said the captain, looking up from a chart spread out
-on a table before him.
-
-Marie-Celeste could not possibly discover whether the tone was
-encouraging or no, but in any case she had no words with which to
-continue, so awe-inspiring proved the blue coat, gold braid, and the
-other insignia of the captain's office. Besides, it had taken so much
-courage to nerve herself up to the mere asking of the question, that she
-found she had none in reserve, and stood transfixed in the doorway, her
-little face aflame with embarrassment. Now, if there is a class of men
-anywhere who believe in what we were speaking of a minute ago (that is,
-a man's knowing his place), they are the captains of the ocean steamers.
-It is of course nothing but the enforcement of this very rule that
-renders ocean travel the safe and comfortable thing it is, and that
-assures you, even in case of accident, that the strictest discipline
-will be preserved. Indeed, I have an idea that Captain Revell inclines
-to apply the same rule to every one aboard of his great steamer, to
-passengers as well as to officers and crew, and so perhaps regarded the
-advent of Marie-Celeste in the light of an intrusion. And when you
-come right down to it, there was that in his tone, when he answered
-her question, that made her feel that he thought she should not have
-ventured it.
-
-“Passengers having special business are admitted at any time, however,”
- added the captain, after what seemed an interminable silence, “and
-perhaps you have come on some special errand. If so, I should be glad to
-have you come in,” and the captain stood up and motioned Marie-Celeste
-to a seat on the other side of the table. I think he was beginning to
-discover what an unusually attractive little personage his visitor was,
-and to regret the moment's discomfiture he had caused her.
-
-Marie-Celeste gave a very audible sigh of relief as she stepped up the
-two steps into the room, but she refused the proffered seat with the
-dignity of a little princess.
-
-“No, I only want to stay for a moment,” she said; “I am quite sure now
-I oughtn't to have interrupted you, and I know papa will be angry; but I
-had a favor to ask, and--”
-
-“And what, my little friend?” said the captain, quite won over to
-whatever the favor might be.
-
-“And you looked so kind I dared to speak to you.”
-
-“Kind, did I?” laughed the captain, immensely pleased. “Well, then, you
-must sit down, else, you see, you'll keep me standing; too, and tell me
-right away what the favor is, and I'll try to act up to the kindness for
-which you give me credit.”
-
-“Well, it's just this, Captain Revell: first, _could_ you let me
-sometimes go over into the second-class cabin?”
-
-“Certainly I could; but what for, may I ask?”
-
-“To see Chris Hartley; he's a second-class passenger, and he's the
-postman in our street; but it wouldn't do, would it, to undo the gate
-for me?”
-
-“No, hardly, I think,”
-
-“And it wouldn't do any better for me to climb over it, would it? I
-could do it easily.”
-
-“No, I'm afraid that wouldn't answer.”
-
-“Then, what are we going to do? There isn't any other way, I suppose,”
- with very evident despair.
-
-“Oh, yes, there is, and I'll show it to you myself.”
-
-Whereupon Marie-Celeste laid one little brown hand upon the captain's
-sleeve from an impulse of sheer gratitude, and the captain straightway
-laid a big brown hand atop of it.
-
-“Now, that is what you wanted to ask first,” he said; “I am anxious to
-know what comes second.”
-
-“No, I guess I won't bother you any more; I--”
-
-“No, you shall not go till you have told me;” and the captain detained
-the little hand a prisoner beneath his own.
-
-“Well, I was going to ask--you see, it is very much more interesting
-up here near the bow and the bridge and the crow's-nest--I was going to
-ask, if once in a while Chris could come over to the first cabin. You
-see, Chris doesn't know any one on board, excepting just me, and we're
-such good friends at home.”
-
-“Well, that's a little different,” for the captain was puzzled to know
-how to answer, “and it's against the regulations; but it's very hard to
-refuse a little maid like you.”
-
-Mr. Harris was on a search for Marie-Celeste, and chancing to pass the
-captain's room, glanced in, and glancing in, beheld his little daughter,
-and heard these last words.
-
-“Excuse me, Captain Revell,” he said, touching his hat, and apparently
-much annoyed, “but I cannot imagine how my little daughter has found her
-way in here, or what favor she has made so bold as to ask. I trust you
-will not suspend any of the ship's regulations on her account.”
-
-“Oh, that's all right,” laughed the captain, “I shall be only too glad
-to do what I can.”
-
-“Oh, please don't bother any more about it--please don't,” entreated
-Marie-Celeste; “I was afraid papa would not like it. We'll go now, won't
-we?” looking up at her father with a most woful and beseeching little
-face.
-
-“Yes, we will; but don't you think, Marie-Celeste, we would better ask
-the captain's pardon for intruding?”
-
-“Not a bit of it,” answered Captain Revell; “there's no pardon to be
-asked of anybody, and I shall hope to have a call from you both
-very soon again,” he added cordially as his two visitors took their
-departure, and he settled back to his inspection of the chart.
-
-“Don't say a word, papa, please, I don't want to cry here,” and
-Marie-Celeste held her father's hand very tightly.
-
-“But you want some breakfast, dear, don't you?” Marie-Celeste shook her
-head, but as she seemed to know perfectly well what she did want, he
-suffered her to lead him over the high sill that keeps the water from
-rushing indoors in rough weather, and past the main stairway, and into
-a far corner of the library. There she pushed him gently into one of the
-corner sofas, and seating herself in his lap, looked straight into his
-eyes.
-
-“Papa,” she said, with a little sob in her voice, “you are angry.”
-
-“I am annoyed, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“You spoke pretty cross, papa; if you hadn't said 'my little daughter,'
-I should have cried right there--I know I should.”
-
-“Well, you are my little daughter always, you know, no matter what
-happens, and that's one reason I cannot bear to have you do anything
-that seems the least mite bold.”
-
-“Yes, you said something like that to the captain;” and as though she
-would have given all the world if he hadn't, “but I didn't mean to be
-bold really, only I felt so sorry for Chris;” and then she proceeded
-to tell, as coherently as her emotions would allow, of her unexpected
-encounter with her old friend, and how dreadful it would have been if
-they could not have seen anything of each other just because Chris was a
-second-cabin passenger, and of how she had mustered all her courage and
-gone straight to the captain to see what could be done about it.
-
-“And he said it would be quite against the regulations, did he?” said
-Mr. Harris, immediately becoming interested in the situation.
-
-“Oh, no; he said I could go to see Chris in the second cabin--he'd
-easily manage that--and then he said he knew I had something more on my
-mind, and made me tell him, and that was whether Chris could come to the
-first cabin sometimes, so as to look off at the bow. Do you think it was
-so very, very bold to ask that when he said I could not go till I told
-him?”
-
-“No; that puts it in a different light, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“But I think--I think (for whatever her faults Marie-Celeste was
-fastidiously honest) the captain himself did not quite like it when I
-first spoke to him.”
-
-“He got over his not-liking very quickly, then,” said her father, glad
-to be able to give a grain of comfort to his troubled little daughter,
-“but it would have been better to come to me first. It's one thing to be
-fearless and another thing to be--”
-
-“I know, papa,” putting her finger to her father's lips; “please don't
-say that dreadful word again; I'll remember;” and Mr. Harris, knowing
-that she would, gave the little girl on his knee a good, hard hug, and
-bundled her off for a word with her mamma, comfortably tucked up in a
-steamer-chair on deck, and then hurried her down to the saloon for the
-breakfast that she stood in sore need of after such an eventful morning.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV.--A FRIEND BY THE WAY.
-
-[Illustration: 9040]
-
-Hartley,” called a cheery voice from somewhere forward. Chris was
-on his feet in an instant, and turning in the direction of the voice,
-discovered Mr. Harris and Captain Revell. It is astonishing how much
-can be couched in the ring of a word when one looks carefully to it; and
-the tone in which Mr. Harris called “Hartley” was enough to put Chris
-at his ease in an instant, and to make him hurry to the little gate with
-all fears as to his reception skurrying to the winds. Mr. Harris at
-once introduced him to Captain Revell, and Captain Revell as speedily
-informed him of the call with which Marie-Celeste had favored him and
-of her errand. “We are good friends, Marie-Celeste and I,” said Hartley
-proudly, “and I was counting on seeing something of her on the way over,
-but I understand now, of course, how it cannot be, and that we must
-content ourselves with a word now and then here at the gate, if Mr.
-Harris is willing.”
-
-“But you are mistaken, Hartley,” said the captain cordially, for he
-took to the man the moment he saw him. “There is nothing to prevent your
-little friend from making you a visit whenever she likes. I have shown
-her the way myself through the passage below decks, and you are welcome
-to come forward in the same fashion whenever the bow has any attraction
-for you. As you are alone, you will hardly be missed from the second
-cabin, and it will be unnecessary to inform anyone of your special
-privileges;” and then the captain, who had an aversion to being thanked,
-moved hurriedly away before Chris had had a chance to put his gratitude
-into words.
-
-“She's a fearless little body, that little daughter of ours,” said Mr.
-Harris at the close of the long talk he and Chris had been having at the
-gate. “I sometimes wonder what we had better do about it. She arrives
-at decisions so quickly and acts so promptly and is so outspoken,
-that she'll get herself and all of us into serious trouble some day, I
-imagine.”
-
-“Never you fear, Mr. Harris,” said Chris warmly; “that kind do more good
-than harm;” and Mr. Harris believed in his heart that Chris was right.
-On thinking it over, he wondered too if he had not been rather easily
-annoyed with Marie-Celeste that morning, and if, on the whole, she had
-not been more brave than bold in her call upon the captain.. He would
-have been quite sure on that score had he known how the little heart
-had thumped and the little knees trembled as she made her way to the
-captain's room. But in any case he did not regret having put the little
-daughter on her guard. It would help rather than hinder that little
-woman's numerous projects should she learn to think twice before putting
-her quick resolves into action.
-
-Meantime, Marie-Celeste herself had been making a new friend. A
-gentleman, entered on the passenger list as Mr. E. H. Belden, sat just
-at the entrance of the main stairway, a cigar poised in his left hand,
-a book balanced in his right; the book closed for the moment, with his
-forefinger marking the place, and his elbow resting on the arm of his
-steamer-chair. To all appearances, Mr. E. H. Belden was absorbed in
-meditation, and presumably in a line of thought suggested by the book be
-had temporarily suspended reading--a line of thought, at any rate, that
-made him wholly oblivious to his surroundings. It was somewhat of a
-surprise, therefore, for him to find his book flying out of one hand
-with a momentum that swept the cigar out of the other; but he did not
-need to look far or long for an explanation. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” gasped
-a breathless little body, as quickly as she could reverse engines and
-bring herself in front of the offended party. “It was very careless of
-me. I slipped because I tried to turn too short a corner. Please let me
-get the book for you,” and she bounded to the spot where it had landed,
-while Mr. Belden, detecting a faint scorching odor, hastened to rescue
-the lighted cigar from the folds of a steamer rug lying on the next
-chair.
-
-“I hope it hasn't strained the cover,” said Marie-Celeste, looking the
-book over carefully before returning it. “They are a little too fine for
-steamer use, aren't they?” for it was a volume from the ship's library,
-and boasted a costly half-calf binding.
-
-“Yes, rather too fine,” attracted and pleased by the child's
-friendliness; “but you have not done it any harm, I think.”
-
-“There was no use in my being in such a hurry. I think I will make
-myself sit right down here a few moments for punishment.”
-
-“I would, by all means,” said Mr. Belden, smiling at the inference to be
-drawn from the remark.
-
-“I was only on my way to our state-room for a book,” Marie-Celeste
-further explained. “It is called 'The Story of a Short Life.' Did you
-ever read it?”
-
-“No, but I think I should like it, for I find life rather too stupidly
-long myself.”
-
-“Why, how is that?” Marie-Celeste exclaimed, as though nothing could
-possibly have more interest for her, as indeed, for the moment, nothing
-could.
-
-“Oh, I fancy I cannot exactly make you understand how. I haven't very
-good health, that's one reason; and too much money, that's another; and
-not very much faith in human nature, for a third; besides, no one in
-the world that I care very much for; so you see I am in rather a bad
-plight.” Marie-Celeste sat and stared at Mr. Belden, and Mr. Belden, all
-intent, closely watched the effect of this somewhat unusual declaration.
-
-“What is your family motto?” she queried, after a moment's serious
-reflection.
-
-“Why in Heaven do you ask that?” for Mr. Belden, who was not in the
-habit of talking to children, was not as wise as he might have been in
-his choice of words.
-
-Marie-Celeste straightened up a little, as though to show she did not
-quite approve, and then she replied, with an air of childish dignity
-that was vastly amusing, “Because it was his family motto that helped
-Leonard (he's the boy in the story I spoke about) ever so much, and that
-taught him to be cheerful and contented, and it seems to me”--this last
-very slowly and thoughtfully--“that you are very much like Leonard,
-only grown up. I suppose, as you're English, you've surely got a family
-motto.”
-
-“How do you know I'm English?”
-
-“Oh, because papa said, when you were walking on the deck last evening,
-that 'you were very English indeed.'”
-
-“Well, do you think, on the whole, that your father meant to be
-complimentary?”
-
-“1 do not know exactly, but papa likes almost everything in England, and
-we have some English relatives whom we are very fond of. They live in
-Windsor, and we are going to spend the summer with them.”
-
-“In Windsor?” with evident surprise; “and what is their name, may I
-ask?”
-
-“Harris, the same as ours;” for Marie-Celeste detected nothing unusual
-in the question.
-
-“So?” and then, as Mr. Belden seemed suddenly to retire into himself and
-his own thoughts, she made a move to go.
-
-“Oh, don't go yet; seems to me you ought to talk to me a while longer,
-if only for punishment, as you said.”
-
-“Oh, no, I didn't say quite that,” for the first time appreciating the
-situation; “but anyhow I shall not bother about it, because you know
-what I meant.”
-
-“Of course I do,” more touched than he would have cared to admit by her
-confiding friendliness; “but I want you to wait,” he added, “while I try
-to answer your question about our family motto. I've never thought much
-about it, but it's 'Dwell as though about to depart,' or some cheerful
-stuff like that. It's the kind of a motto, you see, to give one an
-unsettled sort of feeling, instead of making him contented.”
-
-“It's queer,” said Marie-Celeste, “but I believe--yes, I'm sure that
-very motto stands at the head of one of the chapters in my book.”
-
-“Indeed? Why, then, I should like to read it. Will you have finished
-with it before the voyage is over?”
-
-“Oh, I'm through with it now really. I'll get it for you right away,”
- and suiting the action to the word, she was off one moment and back the
-next with the book in her hand.
-
-“Tell me a little what it's about, please,” urged Mr. Belden, unwilling
-to let this new little friend give him the slip, and nothing loath,
-Marie-Celeste settled comfortably back in the steamer-chair beside him.
-
-“You think it won't spoil it for you?” she asked, by way of preface.
-
-“Not a bit of it.”
-
-And thus reassured, she launched out upon a detailed narration of Mrs.
-Ewing's beautiful story, graphically describing little Leonard's
-fortunes and trials, and his heroic self-mastery at the last.
-
-[Illustration: 0044]
-
-“You see he wasn't a goody boy at all,” she said, when all was told,
-“just brave and grand.”
-
-“I see,” said Mr. Belden, which was quite true, notwithstanding a
-strange and wholly new sensation in his eyes. “And now if you will
-excuse me,” he added, “I will go down to the smoking-room and commence
-the book at once.”
-
-Marie-Celeste was rather surprised to find herself left thus abruptly
-alone. Happily for her, however, she did not know how sadly akin to
-Leonard's had been some of Mr. Belden's experiences, or she would have
-flinched a little in the telling. It was the realization of this kinship
-of experience and yet of the widely different effect upon soul
-and character that had impelled him to take his sudden leave of
-Marie-Celeste, and then, pausing a moment at the smoking-room door, he
-went on and down to his state-room, for he had much to think over, and
-a long, long time he sat there, his elbows resting on his knees and his
-face buried in his hands.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V.--AND STILL ANOTHER.
-
-Although a transcendent interest in grown-up people is one of the
-traits that make it worth while to tell this story of a summer in the
-life of little Marie-Celeste, yet she was none the less a friend
-of children of her own age, or over it or under it for that matter,
-provided they seemed to stand in want of a friend. Otherwise, it must
-be confessed, she concerned herself very little about them. Born with
-a positive genius for spending and being spent, the claims and
-opportunities of ordinary child friendships seemed hardly to give her
-enough breathing room; and so it chanced that she passed very little
-time with the faultlessly dressed and somewhat overcared-for children of
-the steamer, who did not seem to need her, and a great deal of time with
-Chris and Mr. Belden, who did. Be it said to the credit of the latter
-gentleman that, after that first conversation with Marie-Celeste, he was
-far more careful in the way he talked with her, and Mr. Harris was
-quick to discover the fact, or the new friendship would have ended
-as unexpectedly for Mr. Belden as it had begun. There was about
-Marie-Celeste at all times the same implicit childish confidence that
-unnerved the bold robber in “Editha's Burglar,” and yet she herself
-was always quick to discover when this same confidence was being taken
-advantage of, and when she would best fly to cover. More than once she
-had shown in her contact with people an inerrancy of intuition (if
-my youngest readers will excuse two such big words) that had greatly
-gratified her father and mother, who had a theory of their own about
-the education of children, and gave her rather more rein than some would
-consider either safe or advisable. At the same time, every movement of
-the little daughter was carefully watched and every project followed up
-by a certain paternal relative, and never more so than during those days
-of steamer life, when so many hours were passed with the new friend and
-the postman. When with Chris it was forward clear to the bow to lean
-over the rail and see the magnificent prow cut the water; or way to the
-stern, to watch the far-shining train, the screws churned into white
-foam behind them; or an hour 'midships, where the ever-varying amusements
-with which the steerage passengers beguile the weary hours can be looked
-down upon from the saloon deck of either first or second cabin. Then, at
-five every clear day, afternoon tea with the captain, for which they had
-a standing invitation, and by means of which both she and Chris came to
-be on terms of wonderful intimacy with that august officer, so that they
-joked over the rare souchong and delicious little toasted cakes (the
-secret of whose making was kept close-guarded by the steward) with a
-familiarity that, to themselves at least, never ceased to be a wonder.
-With Mr. Belden everything was different. It was generally after an hour
-or so of prowling about with Chris, and when she was a little tired and
-in the mood for a quiet talk, that she would seek him out; and, as a
-rule, she would find him comfortably tucked up in a steamer rug, with
-another awaiting her coming on a chair beside him. Then Chris, after
-carefully tucking her in, in most approved fashion, would be off, with
-a touch of his hat, and with profound gratitude in his heart for the
-strength of limb and muscle that made him regard Mr. Belden's inactive
-life in the light of a sorry burden. That the latter often so regarded
-himself was evident in the ever-deepening lines of weariness that seamed
-his pale and handsome face.
-
-“Well, what have you and your good Chris been up to to-day?” would be
-invariably Mr. Belden's first question; and after Marie-Celeste had told
-the little or much there was to tell, they would as invariably drift
-round to talking about books, for they both loved them. One day it was
-“Little Lord Fauntleroy” and “Hans Brinker,” and then Marie-Celeste “had
-the floor”; and the next it was “The Story of a Short Life,” when honors
-were even, as they used to say in whist, because both had so lately
-read it. And then for three days together, during the hour for the daily
-chat, Marie-Celeste sat an entranced listener, while the wonderful story
-was told of beautiful little Isabel of Valois, the child-queen whom
-Richard of Bordeaux brought to England at the age of nine, and whose
-childish reign was so soon concluded. It had chanced that the book that
-had been brushed so summarily from Mr. Belden's hand when Marie-Celeste
-made his acquaintance had proved to be Dixon's “Royal Windsor;” and as
-soon as the terms of their friendship were unquestionably established,
-she made so bold as to ask many questions regarding its contents; for
-what could have more interest for a Windsor-bound little maiden than
-the story of the Royal Castle? And the best part of it was that the book
-happened to be the second volume, and therefore contained the history
-of Madame la Petite Reine, as the little French Isabel was called. Never
-proved fairy tale more charming than this true story as it fell from
-Mr. Belden's lips. Over and over he told it, adding each time some
-delightful new touch of detail, till at last Marie-Celeste knew it quite
-by heart, and rested therein contented.
-
-But not all of their little daughter's time, that Mr. and Mrs. Harris
-were willing to spare to others, was spent with these grown-up friends
-of hers. On the second day out Chris had made a most interesting
-and pathetic discovery. A little sick bugler was stowed away in an
-undesirable second-cabin state-room that had remained unengaged; and
-Chris, noticing that a bowl of broth or some sort of nourishing food was
-carried thither three times a day, but that apart from this no one ever
-entered or left the state-room, questioned the steward, and as soon as
-he learned the facts, made his own way in, to the great delight of the
-lonely little fellow. Then the next morning he interested Mrs. Harris
-(who was proving a far better sailor than any one had dared to hope)
-in his new little _protégé_, and after that, as a matter of course,
-Marie-Celeste and the little bugler became the best of friends.
-
-“Donald,” she said on her second visit, for the one preceding had
-naturally been limited to the ordinary themes of first acquaintance, “I
-wish you would tell me a little more about yourself. Mamma says you
-have been ill a long time in New York with a fever, but that now you are
-quite over it and are on your way home; and that's all we know.”
-
-“That's all there is,” running one little white hand through his hair as
-he spoke, in an apparent effort to make himself more presentable.
-
-“Oh, you're all right,” said Marie-Celeste, smiling; “curly hair like
-yours looks better when it's mussed.”
-
-“Would you like me to come and straighten you up a bit?” called Chris,
-who had really established himself as Donald's nurse, and sat whittling
-in his own state-room just across the passage.
-
-“No, Chris, he doesn't need you at all,” Marie-Celeste volunteered;
-“he looks very fine as he is” (which gracious compliment brought a very
-becoming color to the little blanched face). “Besides, Chris, he is
-going to tell me something about himself--aren't you, Donald? Just what
-you choose, though, you know, because mamma said I must not seem to be
-inquisitive, and I'm not, Donald, really--just interested, that's all.”
-
-“What kind of things do you want to know?” as though quite willing to be
-communicative, but at a loss where to begin.
-
-“Why, how you happened to be a bugler, and how you happened to be ill in
-New York, and where your home is?”
-
-“No home,” said Donald, laconically, and with an unconscious little sigh
-that went straight to Marie-Celeste's heart; “I was in the Foundling
-Hospital all my life till I came on the Majestic.
-
-“Ill all your life!” exclaimed Marie-Celeste.
-
-“Oh lands, no! I never was ill a day that I know of till that fever got
-hold of me.”
-
-“Then why did you stay in an hospital?”
-
-“It was more what we call an asylum in America,” explained Chris, who,
-as a permitted eavesdropper, felt at liberty to join in the conversation
-on occasion.
-
-“It's a place,” explained Donald, “where children are cared for who
-haven't any particular fathers or mothers.”
-
-“Oh!” said Marie-Celeste, but in a bewildered way, as though she could
-not quite take in the idea.
-
-“It isn't very pleasant not knowing who you belong to, but it isn't
-such a bad place to stay. They keep things scrubbed up to the nines, and
-everything's as neat and well ordered as a ship. I think being trained
-that way was one thing that made me want to go to sea.”
-
-It was easy to see, from the grave look on Marie-Celeste's face, that
-she was still pondering the sad predicament of “no particular father or
-mother,” but she asked, “Where was the hospital, Donald?”
-
-“In London; and like as not if you go there you'll go out to see it.
-They always have lots of visitors on Sundays. They dress the girls up
-awful pretty in black dresses with short sleeves, and mitts that come
-way up over the elbow, like ladies' gloves at a party, and caps and
-kerchiefs folded crosswise round their shoulders, like this.”
-
-“You've seen a picture of them singing out of a book, haven't you?”
- called Chris, by way of illustration.
-
-“Why, so I have,” said Marie-Celeste; “we gave an artist-proof of it to
-our minister one Christmas.”
-
-“I've seen it too,” continued Donald, wondering whether an artist-proof
-and a waterproof had anything in common; “but the girls aren't often
-so handsome as that; but I'll tell you when they do look pretty as a
-picture: that's on a clear Sunday morning, just about midway in the
-service, when the sun comes streaming through one of the choir windows
-in a great white shaft of light, I think they call it. It just goes
-slanting across the benches, and then the girls it happens to strike, no
-matter how homely they are, really look just beautiful, with their white
-caps and kerchiefs all lighted up in the sunshine. I used to think they
-put the girls on that side to show them off, for the boys just look
-pretty much as boys always do.”
-
-“But you have a home now, haven't you, Donald, that you're going to when
-we reach England?”
-
-“No; I don't know where I'm going; I haven't decided,” he added, with
-studied indifference; for Donald preferred not to burden these new
-friends of his with his trials and perplexities. Likely as not he would
-be able to find some decent enough place in Liverpool, and he thought,
-if he managed very carefully, his savings might be made to hold out till
-he could put to sea again on his dear old Majestic.
-
-“And now I'd like to know all about you,” said Donald, by way of
-changing the subject; “there must be a deal more to tell when you've had
-your father and mother to help you remember things, than when you've had
-to do all the remembering yourself. Getting your start in a foundling
-hospital is sort of like being led into the world blindfold.”
-
-“Pretty old talk for a youngster,” thought Chris; “but I suppose it
-comes along of his being alone half the time, with so much chance to
-think.”
-
-“Would you like me to commence at the very beginning,” asked
-Marie-Celeste, “when I was just a mere scrap of a thing?” Donald nodded
-assent.
-
-“Well, then, I was rather good-looking, if you don't mind, and a real
-sunshiny little body, papa says.” Donald looked as though he could
-readily believe it, and Chris, in the retirement of his stateroom, shook
-his head, as though he felt sure of it.
-
-“But of course I soon got over that, and almost as soon as I was in
-short dresses I began to show I had quite a little will of my own, and
-then for two or three years they had a pretty hard time with me. I would
-have regular tantrums, and just kick and scream if I couldn't do
-just what I wanted to. I had two dear little brothers then, and I
-remember---yes, I remember this myself--how they used to amuse me and
-try to make me good. And sometimes they seemed very proud of me, and
-sometimes, Donald, I was proud of myself, too. Mamma used to dress me in
-white dresses with short sleeves that came just to my elbow, tied round
-with pink or blue ribbons, and a sash to match, tied on one side in
-front, and I knew it was pretty and stylish, and used to walk around
-with my head in the air, and people would laugh and say I was awfully
-cunning. Somehow or other I was rather spoiled, you see; but when I
-was only five years old Louis and Jack died, both in one week, of
-diphtheria, and mamma says from that week I have never given her any
-real trouble. It seemed as though I remembered how Louis and Jack wanted
-me to be good, and so I did try very hard. And now I almost always think
-of them when I am getting into a temper, and if I get the best of it, I
-feel that they know and are glad.”
-
-“It must have been hard for your mother to do without them,” said Donald
-a little awkwardly, but with his face full of sympathy.
-
-“Very hard, Donald; and oh, how she used to cry; but mamma is very good
-and sweet, and is so thankful that she has papa and me left. You know,
-Jack and Louis used to say, 'Jesus, gentle Shepherd.' at bedtime every
-night, just as I do, and mamma says she thinks of them now, just as
-little lambs safe-folded by the dear Shepherd they used to pray to every
-night. I think it's that that makes her brave and bright.”
-
-“That's a beautiful way to think,” said Donald warmly, and Chris thought
-so too, and stopped whittling.
-
-“Have you no brothers or sisters now?” questioned Donald.
-
-“No, none; so, you see, it would be a shame if I didn't try to be all
-the comfort I could; and now you know all there is about me.”
-
-“Why, no, I don't,” said Donald, surprised, folding his hands behind his
-head by way of a change of position; “I don't know where you live, or
-where you are going, or how you came to know Mr. Hartley, or what
-you are going to do this summer;” whereupon Marie-Celeste straightway
-proceeded to give all the desired information, and more besides.
-
-Watchful Chris thought he began to detect signs of weariness in Donald's
-occasional answers, and as soon as he felt sure of it he bundled
-Marie-Celeste off in a hurry, and pinning a shawl over the port-hole,
-left the little convalescent for a nap undisturbed in his darkened
-state-room.
-
-And now you have at least an idea of how Marie-Celeste passed her time
-on the steamer, and you can understand how there might have been some
-people rather less glad than sorry when they felt the machinery stop at
-two o'clock one morning, and knew that the Queenstown passengers were
-being transferred to the tender, and that before sunset all the people
-aboard the great steamer would be separated to the four winds. Chris was
-sorry, because he had looked forward with so much pleasure to the
-voyage across with Marie-Celeste, and it had all so far exceeded his
-expectations.
-
-Donald was sorry, because he never had met “such lovely people” as
-the Harrises and Mr. Hartley, and never expected to again, and I half
-believe Mr. Belden was sorriest of all. He was going right up to his
-club in London, to lead the same old loveless, self-centred life, and
-somehow the glimpse of something very different he had had through
-Marie-Celeste made it appear more vapid and colorless than ever. But the
-steamer did not mind how any of her passengers were feeling--she must
-make the best possible record, no matter who was glad or sorry; and on
-she steamed, past lonely and beautiful Holyhead, and then through the
-wide Irish Sea (that seems indeed a veritable ocean in its wideness),
-until land once more was sighted and the harbor reached, and the
-anchor dropped off the wonderful docks at Liverpool. And then, in a few
-moments, the tender that was to land them was bearing down upon them,
-and a handsome, eager-faced little fellow, in an Eton jacket, was
-standing as far forward as possible in her bow, and an older fellow,
-who resembled the younger one closely, was standing, I am happy to say,
-close beside him.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI.--THE CASTLE WONDERFUL.
-
-[Illustration: 9054]
-
-It was marvellous what a change came over the pretty little house where
-Ted and Harold lived almost as soon as Aunt Lou, as they called Mrs.
-Harris, came to feel at home there. The servants were the same that
-had been with them at the time of their mother's death, and had been
-as faithful as they knew how to be, even when their patience had been
-well-nigh exhausted by “Mr. Theodores” unreasonable demands of the
-previous summer; and, indeed, unreasonable had been no word for it.
-There are boys and girls everywhere who know, to their sorrow, what it
-means to have the big brother come home from college. How he does lord
-it over the rest of us! And if he chances to bring a new chum along with
-him, whom he rather wants to impress, then heigh-ho! for a hard time for
-everybody. He pays little or no heed at all to the ordinary regulations
-of the household, and meals must wait for an hour, or be served in a
-jiffy, as best suits his humor or convenience. Of course there are some
-good fellows of whom this is not true at all, and even those of whom it
-is, as a rule, in time get over it; but meanwhile the mothers grow quite
-worn out sometimes, and the mischief fares on past mending. So much for
-our little protest against a tendency of college life. The bother of it
-is, it is not likely in the least to help matters. As for Ted, you can
-imagine the life he led those servants of his, with four college-men his
-guests for the summer, and no one to gainsay him. Early and late they
-were kept slaving away, with never a spark of consideration shown them,
-and nothing but the love they had borne their mistress and an occasional
-kind word from Harold, proving how he felt in the matter, had carried
-them through it. Still faithful as they had been, something had gone out
-of the house with its sweet little mistress, that had happily come in
-again with Aunt Lou, and Harold was quick to recognize it.
-
-“Is it possible you've been here only a week?” he asked as they all
-sat together one evening in the library--that is, with the exception of
-Theodore, whose spring term still kept him at Oxford.
-
-“Just a week to-day, Harold,” said Aunt Lou, looking up from a great
-mass of crocheting, that would soon be a full-grown afghan; “I hope it
-hasn't seemed more like a month to you, dear.”
-
-“It has seemed as though mother was back--that's the way it has seemed,
-and it's been like a bit of heaven and if ever Mrs. Harris felt repaid
-for anything in her life, she felt repaid that moment for their journey
-across three thousand miles of water.
-
-“I wonder what it is makes such a difference with a woman--that is,
-a lady--in the house?” Harold added. “I suppose you can't exactly
-understand it, but even the books, and things on that table there, have
-a different look since you came, Aunt Lou.”
-
-Aunt Lou crocheted away for dear life, and looked very happy, and Uncle
-Fritz laid aside his book, and announced wisely, “I can tell you what
-makes the difference if you want to know, Harold; it's the countless
-little touches here and there. You notice now and then, and you'll see
-that Aunt Lou is forever changing the position of something, if it's
-only a chair as she passes or the lowering of a window-shade by the
-fraction of an inch. It's a sort of intuitive--”
-
-“It's just mamma's own self, that's what it is,” interrupted
-Marie-Celeste, since her father seemed to be at a loss for a word, and
-she put her two arms around her mother's neck, as much as to say, “Isn't
-a mother like mine the darlingest thing?” and then a little fellow, who
-didn't have any mother, quite unconsciously to himself, drew a great
-deep sigh, and Mrs. Harris gave her little daughter a furtive push from
-her. Marie-Celeste looked puzzled a moment, and then she understood.
-
-“Remember, my little girl,” Mrs. Harris had said to her more than once,
-“that there's nothing but sin itself has so many heavy hearts to answer
-for as thoughtlessness; and thoughtfulness, next to love, has lightened
-and brightened more hearts than anything else in the world and
-Marie-Celeste knew how thoughtless she had been to press home upon
-Harold in any way a keener sense of his own great loss. Resolved that it
-should never happen again, and annoyed at herself beside, Marie-Celeste
-moved away to the window on the other side of the room. There was
-somebody sitting at the window--somebody half asleep in a great
-arm-chair, and all but purring with contentment, and it was no one else
-than Donald, if you please. It had all come about so beautifully,
-that morning that Harold had come out to meet them on the tender, at
-Liverpool. It had taken nearly two hours to transfer the baggage after
-the steamer had come to anchor, and during that time Marie-Celeste had
-stolen away to have a last chat with Donald. He sat propped up in Mr.
-Belden's steamer-chair, whither two of the stewards had carried him, and
-lying out there in the open air, he seemed to look paler than ever.
-
-“Who is your little white-faced friend?” Harold had asked at the first
-opportunity.
-
-“Oh, that is Donald you heard mamma speak about!”
-
-“Donald who?”
-
-“Oh, I don't really know who, and nobody does! He is called Donald
-Brown. He was brought up in the Foundling Hospital, in London, and
-hasn't any particular father or mother.”
-
-“My! but that's hard; and he's been awfully ill, hasn't he?”
-
-“Yes, for weeks and weeks in New York with a fever; and he hasn't gained
-a bit of strength on the voyage, either.”
-
-“He's going home, I suppose?”
-
-“He's going: somewhere, but I don't believe he knows where. The steamer,
-he says, seems most like home to him. He's one of the cabin boys and
-buglers when he's well.”
-
-“I say,” said Harold, “let's bring him home to Windsor!”
-
-“Oh, could you?” cried Marie-Celeste, who had thought of the selfsame
-thing herself, but had not dared to suggest it.
-
-“I wonder if Ted will mind?” as though thinking the matter over. “I
-think I'd better ask him; but I shall do it anyway, since this is my
-summer.”
-
-“Your summer?” but Harold had no time to explain, and hurried over to
-Ted, who was talking with Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou, and who was gracious
-enough to say, “Do as you like, Harold and as that, you see, was just
-what Harold had meant to do, there was no trouble at all about it. And
-this was the beautiful way it had happened, and Donald was being built
-up and strengthened with all sorts of nourishing food, and was gaining
-strength every day.
-
-“Donald,” said Marie-Celeste, curling up on the window bench beside his
-chair, “just how do you feel this morning?”
-
-“First-rate; better than any day yet,” said Donald, who, by the way,
-never called Marie-Celeste by any name whatsoever--“Marie-Celeste”
- seemed quite too familiar, and “Miss Harris” was out of the question.
-
-“Well, then, do you want to hear about _it_ now?” she asked eagerly.
-
-“You bet I do,” and then Donald begged her pardon with a blush.
-
-“It's quite a long story; are you sure you feel strong enough?”
-
-“Sure;” and forthwith Marie-Celeste sailed away on the wings of a
-marvellous story. It had been a wonderful week, that first week at
-Windsor, and Marie-Celeste had tried to see it all with two pairs of
-eyes; for born little Englishman though Donald probably was, it had
-been only since he had actually come to Windsor that he knew anything
-whatever about it. Coming out in the train from London, the beautiful
-castle had first flashed upon our little party, through the perfect arch
-of the frequent English rainbow, and Donald had straightway asked, “Oh,
-what is that?” and Marie-Celeste had straightway replied, “Why, Donald,
-of course that's the castle!”
-
-“Whose castle?”
-
-“The _Queen of England's, Donald!_” as though such a lack of knowledge
-was simply incredible. So, you see, there was a vast amount of ignorance
-to be enlightened, and Marie-Celeste was fairly revelling at the
-prospect of being the one to do it.
-
-“You know,” she said, commencing in a low tone, so as not to disturb
-the others, and with the introductory long breath of the conventional
-story-teller, “we have been through the castle three times, so I really
-know a great deal about it, and it is very fortunate that the Queen
-happened to be in London, or we shouldn't have seen some of the rooms at
-all.”
-
-[Illustration: 0059]
-
-“In the first place, Donald, you know how the castle looks from the
-outside--the beautiful gray stone walls and the towers with the turrets
-everywhere you turn.”
-
-“What are turrets?” asked Donald, giving evidence at once of such an
-eager desire to acquire information as Marie-Celeste feared in the long
-run might prove rather annoying.
-
-“Oh, I believe it's a round wall that goes like that on the top!”
- tracing an imaginary line in the air with one finger. “Well, you go in
-at one of the gates, and it's just as though you were in a little city
-of itself. There are roadways and sidewalks and street lamps, and a big
-church right in front of you, and people coming and going, just like a
-city. And there's a guard at the gate, and there are guards everywhere.
-They didn't look very fine, though, for every time they've had on their
-coats for fear of rain, and seemed all coat and gloves. You know how
-horrid white cotton gloves are?”
-
-For the sake of agreement Donald nodded assent, but he should have
-thought himself that white gloves of any sort would have been quite
-imposing, and above all on a soldier.
-
-“Well, the first place we went into was the Albert Chapel; and oh,
-Donald, but it's beautiful! There's a marble floor shaped in diamonds
-and circles, and there are such beautiful stained-glass windows, and
-under each window a picture of something from the Bible, and these
-pictures are made of different sorts of marble, somehow, and there's a
-great deal of gold in them, that makes them more beautiful still. But,
-best of all, because I love anything that has to do with real people,
-there is a portrait in marble right underneath each window of one of the
-Queen's children. They are raised, you know, from a flat background, not
-cut all round like a statue.”
-
-“Yes, I understand,” really very much interested; “but why do they call
-it the Albert Chapel?”
-
-“I was just going to ask you if you knew,” with an extremely
-patronizing air, which Donald noticed, but was quite too courteous to
-resent.
-
-“It is called that because Albert was the name of the Queen's husband,
-the Prince Consort, and after his death the Queen built it to his
-memory. No, she didn't exactly build it, either. There was a king built
-it long ago for his tomb, and it has quite a history, I believe; but it
-was the Queen who made it beautiful as it is now. And underneath is a
-great big tomb, where ever so many royal people are buried--kings and
-queens and princes and princesses.”
-
-“Is Prince Albert buried there?”
-
-“No; I was going to tell you he is buried in a mausoleum (very proud of
-the word) at Frogmore, just beyond the Long Walk, as they call it, where
-we drove you, you remember, day before yesterday.”
-
-“Well, I guess I shall always remember it; I never saw anything so
-lovely in my life. It looked just like a picture they used to have in
-a book called 'Pilgrim's Progress at the hospital.” Impatient of the
-interruption, Marie-Celeste shook her head, as much as to say, “Oh,
-yes, of course anybody knows about 'Pilgrim's Progress;'” but Donald,
-stopping merely to catch his breath, continued: “The name under it was
-Beulah Land, and it meant a sort of heaven; and the Long Walk looked
-to me as though it might be a straight road to Beulah Land.” And older
-people than Donald have thought the selfsame thing, as they have looked
-down the same matchless avenue, with its wonderful far-reaching vista of
-branching elms, and its perfect driveway diminishing to a thread in the
-distance, with here and there a flock of grazing sheep roaming its ample
-grass-grown borders, and finding rich and abundant pasture.
-
-“Yes, it does look like that,” said Marie-Celeste, merely by way of
-politeness, and then at once resumed eagerly: “But although the Prince
-is not really buried in the chapel, there's a beautiful tomb to his
-memory right in front of the chancel. You must surely see it some day,
-Donald. The figure of the Prince lies right along the top of it, and
-he has on wonderful armor, and at his feet is a carved statue of his
-favorite hound. I think it was fine in them to put it there, don't you?
-It seems as though faithful dogs ought to be remembered just as well
-as people. Then there's another beautiful tomb to Prince Leopold. He is
-really buried there, and he--but I suppose you'll be more interested
-in the castle even than in the chapel.” and as Donald looked as though
-he thought he might, and as that was exactly the way he was expected
-to look, Marie-Celeste complacently continued: “Well, first you go up
-a flight of steps, and you find yourself in a sort of vestibule; and
-there's a splendid portrait of the architect there--the man who restored
-the old parts of the castle and added new parts to it and made it all
-beautiful as it is now; and from this vestibule you go on and on from
-one grand room to another. They call them the State Apartments; and they
-are stately, I can tell you, and some of them have very high-sounding
-names that I cannot remember. There are wonderful tapestries on the
-walls--pictures made in a loom somehow--and portraits everywhere of
-royal people. Then there's a room they call the Guard Room, where they
-have suits of ancient armor; and there's a great oak writing-table in it
-made from the wood of the old Arctic ship Resolute; and it tells in an
-inscription on it how she was abandoned by the English, and how she was
-found by an American whaling-ship captain three years afterwards, who
-got her free from the ice. And after that the American Government
-fitted her out and gave her to Her Majesty Queen Victoria as a token of
-friendship; and then, when she was broken up, a few years ago, they made
-the table out of the wood. Then there's a chair besides, that's made
-from an elm-tree that grew where the English beat Napoleon on the field
-of Waterloo; and in another part of the room, on a piece of a mast,
-there's a great colossal bust of Lord Nelson; and I'm ashamed to say I
-don't know anything about him, but we ought to, Donald.”
-
-“And what's more, we do,” interrupted Donald, with a little mischievous
-smile of satisfaction; “I guess you can't find a sailor boy on land or
-sea too young to know about Lord Nelson. If you'd ever been to London
-you'd know something about him yourself, for one of the grandest squares
-there is called after the great battle he won at Trafalgar, and there's
-an ever-so-high column in the centre of it, with a statue of Lord Nelson
-on top of it. Oh, you ought to see Trafalgar Square, I can tell you!”
-
-“And I shall, of course. No one would come to England without going up
-to London, would they? But I think you have told me very little about
-Lord Nelson for Marie-Celeste was somewhat suspicious of Donald's
-ability in that direction. She soon found to her sorrow, however,
-that she was mistaken: for Donald forthwith launched forth into such a
-detailed account of Lord Nelson's history, from his voyage as a boy to
-the North Pole, to his last great, glorious battle, that the patience
-of that young lady, who was rather more eager at all times to impart
-information than to receive it, was sorely tried. Donald, nevertheless,
-was greatly advanced thereby in her estimation, since it seemed that
-marvellous ignorance in one direction was unquestionably offset by an
-astonishing amount of information in another.
-
-“Well, I am rather glad to know about him,” said Marie-Celeste at the
-first opportunity; “and now I'll go on with the castle, shall I?” And
-Donald, somewhat exhausted by his efforts, was altogether willing that
-she should.
-
-“Let me see! Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember--the Guard Room. Well, the
-next room to that is the Banqueting all, a wonderful, great, big place,
-and the ceiling is covered with the crests of the Knights of the Garter.
-Do you know anything about the Knights of the Garter, Donald?”
-
-Donald, looking utterly mystified, shook his head.
-
-“I do, then,” chimed in Harold, who had been listening to the latter
-part of the conversation; and over he came to the window, dragging his
-chair after him. “Those old Knights are great favorites of mine. Do you
-want me to tell you about them?”
-
-“Yes,” said Donald very cordially; and Marie-Celeste said “yes” as
-cordially as was possible, considering it meant she should again
-relinquish her province of story-teller; but Harold, wholly unconscious,
-proceeded.
-
-“You see,” he said, “you stumble across the Order of the Garter
-everywhere you turn here at Windsor, and so I've read up a good deal
-about them, and it's all just as interesting as any story you ever
-heard. The Order was founded--”
-
-“What do you mean, 'The Order was founded?'” interrupted Donald, who was
-not going to have anything taken for granted.
-
-“Oh, the Brotherhood of Knights! That is what an Order is, you know, and
-this one was founded way back in the fourteenth century, in the time of
-Edward the Third; and they say the way it came to be called the Order of
-the Garter was this: That King Edward was dancing with the Countess of
-Salisbury, when she had the misfortune to lose her garter; and then
-as he stooped to pick it up, and saw every one smiling, he gallantly
-announced, 'that they should shortly see that garter advanced to so high
-an honor and renown as to account themselves happy to wear it.'”
-
-“Oh, that was elegant!” cried Marie-Celeste; “that is just my idea of a
-Knight.”
-
-“Oh, they were truly elegant old fellows in ever so many ways, and
-they wore elegant clothes, I can tell you; and they do still, for that
-matter.”
-
-“Why, are there any Knights nowadays?” questioned Donald, incredulously.
-
-“Why, of course there are; and it's a very high honor, indeed, to be
-made a Knight of the Garter.”
-
-“Made a Knight?” for Marie-Celeste had an idea that the article was
-born, not made.
-
-“Why, of course, Marie-Celeste; that is, when a man is a great man to
-start with, and then does something to make himself greater, the Queen
-may reward him by permitting him to become a member of the Order, if
-there happens to be a vacancy; and there's nothing much finer can happen
-to a man than that.”
-
-“But there isn't any real garter business about it now, is there?” asked
-Donald.
-
-“Indeed there is. To every new Knight made the Queen gives a dark blue
-velvet garter, and what's more, they are never to appear in public
-without them, unless booted for riding, and then they are allowed to
-wear a ribbon of blue silk under their left boot instead. And there's
-lots more that's awfully interesting about the Knights; and I tell you
-what, some day, when Donald's stronger, we'll go up to the castle and
-St. George's Chapel, and sort of spend the day with the Knights, looking
-at everything that belongs to them. But now you know something of what
-the crests on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall mean, and the shields
-in the panels along the sides, that are waiting for the crests of
-the Knights that may hereafter be admitted into the Order. In fact,
-everything in that room has to do with the Knights. The Garter and the
-Cross of St. George are even woven into the pattern of the carpet.”
-
-“Oh, dear me!” sighed Marie-Celeste; “I know very little, indeed, about
-St. George; and was there ever any place like Windsor for showing you
-how little you do know, anyway?”
-
-“No, Marie-Celeste, there never was,” chimed in Mrs. Harris; for both
-she and Mr. Harris had been listening with interest to Donald; “but you
-ought not to mind that as much as we older folks, who are expected to
-know a great deal more than you little people. Why, when we first went
-through the castle the other day with Canon Allyn, I was half afraid to
-open my lips, for fear of betraying some new ignorance.”
-
-“Well, I wouldn't be afraid any more; you know twice as much as most
-ladies;” for Harold was already the devoted champion of Aunt Lou, and
-lost no opportunity for proving his devotion.
-
-“Now, go on with the castle, please,” urged Donald, secretly hoping
-there would be no more interruptions.
-
-“Oh, well,” said Marie-Celeste with a sigh, as though becoming oppressed
-with the greatness of her undertaking; “besides the Banqueting Hall
-there's the Grand Reception-Room, with a beautiful plate-glass window
-forming almost all of one end of it, and there's the Waterloo Room,
-filled with portraits of officers who fought there, and then, in a place
-they call the Grand Vestibule, there's a splendid statue of the Queen.
-Everything's grand, you see, wherever you turn.”
-
-“Well, Oueen or no, I'm sure I shouldn't like to have everything so
-tearing grand,” said Donald, more expressively than elegantly.
-
-“No, nor I; and the Queen doesn't really live in these grand rooms,
-either. You can only see her very own rooms from the outside, and you
-can only imagine what they are like; but they point out which is the
-drawing-room and which is her sitting-room, and they don't call them
-grand anything, for a comfort, so I suppose they're lovely and homelike,
-like other people's; but they do look out on a grand garden--the East
-Terrace they call it. You saw it the same day we drove down the Long
-Walk. You remember the bushes all trimmed up to a point, and the
-flower-beds and the statues, and the fountains playing in the centre.
-And near the Terrace, Donald, is the Photographer's Studio. Think of
-having a place all fitted up just to take the pictures of the Queen's
-own family! That's kind of regal, isn't it? But the finest thing of
-all is the Royal Pantry. I would give a good deal to look in it. It is
-crammed full of all sorts of gold things and a gold dinner service of
-one hundred and fifty pieces.”
-
-Donald's eyes opened as wide at this as extreme drowsiness would let
-them, so that it was easy to discover that the little convalescent was
-growing pretty tired.
-
-“Well, you must just see it all for yourself some day,” Marie-Celeste
-wisely concluded; “and you had better go to bed now, Donald.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII.--“AND NOW GOOD-MORNING,”
-
-[Illustration: 9066]
-
-Never in all this world was there a happier little host than Harold
-Harris when he found how kindly his guests from across the water were
-taking to the life at Windsor; but who would not have taken kindly to
-it, I should like to know? The Queen herself, in her great castle on the
-hill, could not have planned more for the comfort of her guests than did
-Harold in his little castle beneath it; and, indeed, this name of Little
-Castle had somehow attached itself to the pretty stone house, with its
-round tower and moat-shaped terrace.
-
-It had been an idle bachelor's fancy to build after this unique fashion
-some ten years before; but when Harold's mother had come seeking a home
-in Windsor, he was already tired of it, and she found the house was “To
-be let,” provided desirable tenants could be found; and “desirable” the
-little widow proved in the eyes of the discriminating agent. “None more
-so,” he thought complacently when he called for the first quarter's
-rent, and saw what a gem of a place she had made it. All the contents of
-the house in London, which after her husband's death had seemed too sad
-a place to live in, had been brought into the ivy-covered little castle,
-and under her transforming touch it had soon become as cheery and cosey
-as possible. But it was not enough for Harold that he was able to invite
-his friends into such an attractive home. A room in the top story, with
-a fine north light, was fitted up as a studio for Uncle Fritz, who,
-though a business man by circumstance, was an artist through and
-through. For Aunt Lou an up-stairs sitting-room was converted into a
-little study; for although Aunt Lou herself was rather loath to confess
-it, it was nevertheless somewhat generally known that she was very fond
-of writing stories for children. For Marie-Celeste there seemed nothing
-in particular that could be done, save to make her own little room as
-inviting as could be. To accomplish this, Harold conferred with a friend
-of Ted's, Canon Allyn's daughter. Miss Allyn, who had been a great
-favorite of Harold's mother, was only too glad to have him turn to her,
-and entered into all the preparations with an enthusiasm that was very
-delightful. She suggested, among other things, a valance and curtains
-for the little brass bedstead, already purchased, and then went herself
-and selected a soft, white material and superintended their making. At
-her suggestion, too, the couch and chairs were upholstered with a pretty
-flower-patterned cretonne, and some lovely white-framed etchings were
-hung upon the tinted walls. Then, by grace of his own idea of fitness,
-Harold had added to the other furnishings a Dresden china toilet-set,
-and in this he was perhaps far wiser than he knew, for is there anything
-so well calculated to captivate at sight the heart of a dainty little
-maiden as the mysterious round-topped boxes that compose the dainty
-outfit of the ideal dressing-table? Then, to crown it all, a pair of
-ponies and a basket-phaeton had been purchased for the exclusive use of
-the guests that were to be. Of course, all this meant money; but with
-the exception of the previous summer, when Theodore's guests had cost
-him such a pretty penny, Harold had conscientiously lived a good way
-inside his income, so that there was a reserve fund to draw on, on
-demand. As I said, then, who would not have taken kindly to the life
-at Windsor under such conditions, and have lost no time in stowing
-themselves happily away in the special niche prepared for them? So Mr.
-Harris painted as for dear life in all weathers, indoors or out, as the
-fancy struck him, and Mrs. Harris turned her leisure to account for a
-bit of writing now and then, and in between times they drove hither and
-thither in the basket-phaeton, and, one by one, took in all the sights
-of old and delightful Windsor. And Marie-Celeste did likewise, as far
-as the driving and sight-seeing were concerned; but having no greater
-responsibility than the arrangement of the Dresden boxes on the little
-dressing-table, wandered about at her own sweet will, in the hours while
-Harold was at school and when every one else was busy. And the place to
-which she wandered most often was to St. George's Chapel, which at the
-time of her talk with Donald she had not yet had the good fortune to
-visit. But with Marie-Celeste, as with some of the rest of us, to
-know St. George's was to love it, and she had soon gained a standing
-permission to go there whenever she liked; and that was very often--so
-often, in fact, that any one who saw her one lovely May morning tripping
-down the walk from the Little Castle, as though bent upon some special
-errand, could easily have guessed her destination. It was a matter of
-five minutes to reach the corner of High Street, and of three minutes
-more to climb Castle Hill; then a smile to the guard who happened to be
-on duty at the gate, and she was within the castle walls. And once there
-she stopped to take it all in, for it had never seemed so beautiful
-before; and then in a moment she knew what new touch had been added to
-the scene. The sun had shone as brilliantly, and the gray round tower,
-with its grass-grown terraces, had stood out as clearly against the blue
-of the English sky, but never before--for Marie-Celeste, that is--had
-those terraces been abloom with great masses of lilacs. Two days
-had come and gone since her last visit, and the showers and sunshine
-intervening had flashed the myriad tiny buds of every cluster into full
-and transcendent bloom. No wonder the child held her breath, spellbound
-from sheer delight, and no wonder, too, that the spell lost its power
-to hold her the moment she spied a darling, new little friend of hers
-standing in the chapel doorway. “And--and now good-morning,” rang out a
-cheery little voice as she had hastened up the path.
-
-“Good-morning, Albert,” answered Marie-Celeste, smiling at the expected,
-“and now,” with which, by way of getting the best of a tendency to
-stutter, Albert was accustomed to preface many of his remarks; “1
-thought I should find you here,” she added; “and _have_ you seen the
-lilacs, Albert?”
-
-“Yes; and our bushes are out too,” with an emphatic little nod of the
-head, as much as to say, that the Queen's lilacs were not specially
-privileged in that direction.
-
-“Is your sister going to play this morning?” asked Marie-Celeste, with
-an eagerness on her face that gave place to intense satisfaction as
-Albert answered, “Yes; she's comin' in a little while;” since to have
-Miss Allyn at the organ during these visits of hers to the chapel
-was just the most delightful thing that could possibly happen for
-Marie-Celeste. “And now let's have a little chat,” said Albert, seating
-himself on the step, and making room for Marie-Celeste beside him.
-
-“And what shall we talk about?”
-
-“The weather;” for with Albert this topic was always of paramount
-importance. “And first, I'll see what kind of a day we are going to
-have;” and suiting the action to the word, he stepped off a little
-distance to take an observation. He was always the embodiment of dainty
-freshness, this little four-year-old Albert, and thanks to his mother's
-preference, boyish percale dresses still kept the Lilliputian trousers
-of the period at bay. He was a cunning little object as he strode a few
-feet down the path, his hat on the back of his golden curls, a soft, red
-silk sash knotted soldier-like at his side, and his hands folded behind
-him, in evident and precise imitation of some older observer of the
-elements. His observations, however, were so exceedingly cursory and so
-impartially comprehensive, including the path at his feet every whit
-as carefully as the sky above him, that Marie-Celeste had difficulty in
-preserving proper decorum.
-
-[Illustration: 0070]
-
-“We are going to have a fine day,” Albert asserted, resuming his seat
-on the steps, and with the authority of one who knows; and the matter of
-the weather being thus satisfactorily disposed of, Marie-Celeste made
-so bold as to introduce another subject; and as it chanced to meet
-with Albert's approval, they chatted merrily together for ever so long.
-Meantime, a party of tourists, with Marshall's familiar pink guide-hook
-open in the hands of one of them, had been surveying the chapel at
-a distance, and now, after a word or two with the children on the
-doorstep, made their way within.
-
-“Is Mr. Brooke in the chapel, Albeit?” asked Marie-Celeste.
-
-“Yes,” sighed Albert; for he knew that his answer meant an end to their
-chat; for whenever during these visits of hers a party of tourists
-were so fortunate as to secure the services of the verier, Mr. Brooke,
-Marie-Celeste invariably followed in their train, listening to every
-word as it fell from the good old man's lips. She already knew many of
-the monument inscriptions by heart, but that made no difference; for
-her the old chapel possessed a never-ending fascination, and she rarely
-crossed the threshold of the choir--which was a beautiful chapel
-in itself--without an actual thrill of pleasure. So, as Albert had
-expected, this morning proved no exception, and he was unceremoniously
-left to communion with his own thoughts upon the doorstep; but it did
-not prove a long separation. In their tour of the chapel the travellers
-from across the water had but reached the wonderful cenotaph of the
-Princess Charlotte, when a sweet single chord from the great organ broke
-upon the air, as though the player simply wanted to make sure that the
-instrument would respond when the time came. But in that single chord
-lay a summons for Marie-Celeste and for Albert; at least, they chose so
-to regard it, and meeting at the foot of the organ-loft stairway, they
-climbed it hand-in-hand.
-
-“So here you are!” said a very sweet-looking young lady, turning to
-greet the children from her seat on the organ-bench. “Seems to me I
-would have waited for more of an invitation than that, just that one
-chord.”
-
-“You needn't mind 'bout inwiting us ever, Dorothy,” said Albert, climbing
-on to a cushioned bench at his sister's side, “'cause we'd tome anyhow,
-wouldn't we, Marie-Celeste?”
-
-“Yes, Albert, I think we would; but you really don't mind having us, do
-you, Miss Allyn?”
-
-“No, I _really_ don't,” in imitation of Marie-Celeste's frequent use
-of the word. “In fact, I rather like to have two such every-day little
-specimens near me here in this chapel, where so many great people lie
-buried; and now I shall not say another word, because I want to have a
-good practice.”
-
-“But you'll--” and then Marie-Celeste thought perhaps she had better not
-ask it.
-
-“Stop in time for your favorites,” laughed Miss Allyn, finishing the
-sentence. “Yes, of course I will. Perhaps you'd like them now, you and
-Albert?”
-
-“No, no, Dorothy,” said Albert firmly; “we want to think they are
-tomin', and not dat dey're over.” And as Marie-Celeste was evidently of
-the same mind, that settled the matter. Then for the first time the tone
-of the organ rang out full and strong; and the visitors in the chapel
-below looked up with rapt faces to the gallery, as though for them, as
-for Marie-Celeste, the sweet music seemed to lend the last perfecting
-touch to the holy enchantment of the place. For over an hour, with
-scarce an interruption, Miss Allyn played on and on, and Marie-Celeste
-never stirred from the choirmaster's chair, in which she sat absorbed
-and entranced. Albert, it must be confessed, had made more than one
-mysterious _sortie_ down the gallery stairs, as though bent on an
-important errand which had just occurred to him; but in each case
-he brought up in rather aimless fashion in some remote corner of the
-chapel; so it was easy to comprehend that the only real purpose in view
-was to give his restless little four-year-old self the benefit of a
-change. He was absent on the third of these little excursions of his,
-and was surreptitiously amusing his audacious little self by seeing how
-it seemed to sit in the Oueen's own stall, when hark!--yes, that was
-going to be “The Roseate Hues,” and with a bound that came near bringing
-the royal draperies with him he was out of the stall in a trice and
-fairly scrambling up the organ stairs.
-
-“Bedin aden; it isn't fair; bedin aden, Dorothy, _please_,” he urged
-with all the breath hurrying and excitement had left him; and Dorothy,
-at sight of his anxious, entreating face, resolved to “begin again,”
- first bringing the interrupted measure to a close with a brief
-concluding improvisation of her own. Albert understood, and brooked the
-momentary delay as best he could, but he confided to Marie-Celeste, in
-highly audible whisper, that he didn't see why Dorothy couldn't stop
-short off in the middle of a piece if she chose to: he could, anyway--he
-knew he could.
-
-“Perhaps,” said Marie-Celeste, far wiser than she knew, “you couldn't
-if you were really a great musician.” And then instantly both children
-stood still and motionless, for there was the familiar melody again.
-
-[Illustration: 0073]
-
-“De roseate hoos of early dawn,” hummed Albert in a cunning, to-himself
-sort of way,
-
-                   De biteness of de day,
-
-                   De kimson of de sunset sky,
-
-                   How fast dey fade away,”
-
-and then the same verse through again and still again, as Dorothy
-was good enough to repeat the brief, sweet strain for his special
-delectation. It is doubtful if Albert appreciated the pathos of the
-lines. It was the rose hue of the sunrise and the crimson of the sunset,
-wedded to the lovely melody of the refrain, that brought such rapture of
-delight to his color-loving soul.
-
-And now it was Marie-Celeste's turn, and the martial strain of “The Son
-of God goes forth to war” woke the old chapel echoes. Three times, as
-for Albert, the air was played effectively through, and then Miss Allyn
-slipped down from the organ-bench and into the nearest chair.
-
-“I wish I had strength just once,” she said, “to play as long as I
-should like to.”
-
-“Then you'd never stop, Dorothy, not even at the ends,” said
-
-Albert, looking comically doleful at the mere prospect of such an
-undesirable state of affairs.
-
-“I remember Mr. Belden told me on the steamer,” said Marie-Celeste, with
-the air of one who settles down for a good talk with a familiar friend,
-“of some musician who heard some one strike two or three chords and then
-suddenly stop, and after that he; could not get a wink of sleep till
-he jumped out of bed and rushed to his piano and struck the chord that
-belonged at the end of the others.”
-
-“Yes; that was Handel, I think,” said Miss Allyn.
-
-“Handel!” repeated Marie-Celeste; “I want to remember that name and
-everything else besides, if I can, that Mr. Belden told me.”
-
-“Who was this Mr. Belden, Marie-Celeste?”
-
-“Oh, he was the queerest English gentleman--an English gentleman that I
-met on the steamer. I don't think many people liked him--he said himself
-they didn't, anyway; but I liked him, and we grew to be great friends,
-and we had a long chat together almost every day.”
-
-“What about?” asked Albert eagerly, since chats were just in his line.
-
-“Oh, often about books, and a great deal about the castle here, for
-he seemed to know all about it. Besides, he was reading a book called
-'Royal Windsor,' and that was how I came to know him, because I knocked
-it out of his hands accidentally, and then I had to ask him to excuse
-me, and that's the way we commenced to be friends. After that he told
-me a great deal about what he had been reading. And did you ever hear,
-Albert, about a little French girl who was made Queen of England, and
-came to live in the castle when she was only eight years old, and who
-used to come to this very chapel?”
-
-“No, never,” with eyes as big as saucers.
-
-“Well, some day, Albert, I'll tell you all about her, and some other
-things that happened right here in St. George's. You know, about her,
-don't you, Miss Allyn?”
-
-“Yes, a little--Madame La Petite Reine, I believe they called her; but
-tell me more, Marie-Celeste, about your steamer friend. He must, as you
-say, have been a queer sort of a person to tell you people didn't like
-him.”
-
-“I guess it was true, though. He seemed kind of a selfish man, and
-looked so cross until you came to know him, that I was really very much
-frightened the day I knocked the book out of his hand. He isn't ever
-very well, and he has to keep travelling about for his health. I think
-that's one reason he looks cross; but he's very handsome, and papa says
-very aristocratic.”
-
-“I would radcr hear about de little Queen,” remarked Albert demurely.
-
-“Hush, dear!” said Dorothy; “I want to hear more about this Mr. ------
-did you say his name was Belden, Marie-Celeste? Are you sure it was
-Belden?”
-
-“Yes, sure; I have it at home in the printed list of passengers. And
-another queer thing about him”--for there was real pleasure in enlarging
-on a subject in which her listener took such undisguised interest--“was
-that he told me one day that he had too much money. That was funny,
-wasn't it? And he said he thought life was very stupid. He just seemed
-all out of sorts with everything, and I got him to read the 'Story of a
-Short Life;' I thought it would do him good, and I'm sure it did.”
-
-“I don't know about that story, either,” said Albert aggressively, and
-as though such constant allusion to very interesting things was really
-more than could be patiently endured; but he found to his sorrow that
-his gentle protest seemed to make no impression whatsoever.
-
-“I fancy it was Mr. Belden, too,” continued Marie-Celeste, as though
-wholly unconscious of any interruption, “who asked them to sing 'The Son
-of God goes forth to war' at the service in the saloon Sunday morning. I
-think anybody who reads the 'Story of a Short Life' must love that hymn,
-don't you? That's the reason I'm fond of it. Whenever I hear it I seem
-to see the soldiers in the church at Asholt and the V.C. out on the
-door-step, singing the beautiful words loud and clear, so that dear
-little Leonard would hear; and then the hand pulling down the curtain
-at the barrack master's window, so that the V.C. knew at once that the
-little fellow had gone to heaven at last.”
-
-“Yes, it's a beautiful story,” said Miss Allyn thoughtfully. But
-meantime, matters had reached a climax in little Albert's heaving
-breast. If nothing was to be explained, there was no use staying any
-longer, and he summarily took his departure; and but for his childish
-reverence for the sacred place would doubtless have stamped his
-indignant way down the steps of the spiral stairway. Miss Allyn smiled
-significantly and rose to follow.
-
-“From all you have told me, Marie-Celeste, your friend might well be
-Theodore's uncle,” said Miss Allyn, as they made their way down the
-stairs; “he and Harold have an uncle--their mother's brother--a Mr.
-Harold Selden, who was very much the sort of man you describe.”
-
-“Oh, no; I'm sure that couldn't be, Miss Allyn! Because I talked about
-Harold often, so that he would have known and told me, and he would have
-told me, too, if his name had not been Bel-den, you know.”
-
-Miss Allyn was not so sure of that; but Albert was mounting the wall of
-the terrace, to which he had led the way, in rather dangerous fashion,
-and Miss Allyn hurrying to lift the little fellow to a safer level, the
-conversation ended abruptly.
-
-“Isn't it beautiful!” she said, as Marie-Celeste joined her, at the same
-time lending a hand toward a less ambitious bit of climbing with which
-Albert was fain to content himself.
-
-Marie-Celeste looked away over the tops of the fine old trees that just
-reach to the terraces from the steep decline of the slopes below, way
-to the lovely meadows, and then turned to look up at the castle, leaning
-comfortably against the wall at her back.
-
-“Yes,” she said seriously; “I can't find any words for it all”--her face
-fairly aglow with enthusiasm as she spoke--“everything is so perfectly
-lovely: the views, and the towers, and the castle itself, and the
-chapels, and the wonderful Long Walk, so that it seems as though I was
-just dreaming it all, even to the little room Harold has fitted up so
-beautifully for me.”
-
-“I was sure it would look very prettily when it was finished,” said Miss
-Allyn complacently. “Why, did you see it?”
-
-“Why, of course I did! Hasn't Harold told you that I selected the
-curtains, and the valance, and the hangings, and went with him to buy
-the set for the toilette-table?”
-
-“Oh, yes, of course he did. I don't know what I was thinking of. You
-used to know Aunt Grace very well, didn't you?”
-
-“Yes; and loved her with all my heart; and I used to spend a great deal
-of time at the dear Little Castle.”
-
-“Do you know much about Ted, Miss Allyn?”
-
-“No, not much, dear--not nowadays; but why do you ask?”
-
-“Oh, because--well, I suppose I ought not to say it, but we're awfully
-disappointed in Ted. He wasn't ever half so nice as Harold, was he?”
-
-“Oh, yes, he was--just as nice every bit; though we English people
-think that word nice of yours is so very queer. You have heard, haven't
-you”--for Miss Aliyn was quite willing to change the subject--“of the
-Englishman who said to a young girl whom he met on the steamer, 'You
-Americans use _nice_ so much, I think it's a nasty word;' and of how she
-turned and archly said, 'And do you think _nasty_ is a nice word?'”
-
-“Dood for her,” said Albert, thankful that the conversation had once
-more grown intelligible.
-
-“But nobody thinks Ted is so nice now, do they?” for Marie-Celeste
-preferred to keep to the main point.
-
-“No, I'm afraid not; but they would if he would let them, I'm sure, for
-he had the makings of a splendid fellow in him.”
-
-“He used to be Dorothy's best friend, didn't he, Dorothy?”
-
-“Yes, he did, Albert, and I miss him very much. He and Harry are great
-friends still. Harry's my big brother, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Why doesn't he tom to see us now, Dorothy?” Albert questioned.
-
-“He's tired of us, perhaps;” and Marie-Celeste, looking up at Miss
-Allyn's sweet face, wondered how that could be, and then asked very
-seriously, “Do you know what has changed him, Miss Aliyn?”
-
-“Oh, yes, it is easy enough to tell: Oxford and popularity and more
-money than is good for him, like your friend, Mr. Belden. It takes
-pretty strong stuff to withstand that combination.”
-
-“Well, I know one thing,” said Marie-Celeste, “and that is that he isn't
-at all nice to Harold, and that he comes home very seldom, and is very
-high and mighty when he does come.”
-
-“High and mighty?” queried Albert, with a whimsical little smile. “That
-must be a funny way to be;” and then Miss Allyn, more impressed than
-ever with the doubtful propriety of discussing Mr. Theodore Harris's
-shortcomings under existing conditions, looked at her watch, and
-discovering it was time to go home, asked Marie-Celeste to come with
-them to luncheon.
-
-“No, not to-day, thank you. Mamma will be sending to look me up if I
-don't hurry home myself. So, good-bye; good-bye, Albert (with a kiss,
-which the fast-maturing, little fellow was half inclined to resent), and
-thank you ever so much for the music. Shall you play on Thursday, Miss
-Allyn?”
-
-“Yes; at this same time, probably.”
-
-“Then I shall surely come.”
-
-“So s'all I,” chimed in a little voice with even firmer determination.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII.--SOMETHING OF A SCRAPE.
-
-[Illustration:0079]
-
-It certainly would seem a very unceremonious proceeding to escort a
-little party across the great, wide sea, and then follow the fortunes of
-some of the group, to the utter exclusion of others; so if you please we
-will just take a look right away at the snug little English cottage to
-which Chris Hartley hurried the same April morning that he reluctantly
-took leave of Marie-Celeste at the steamer. The cottage itself is just
-such a dear little place as you find nowhere else save in England. It is
-straw-thatched, and thatch and walls alike are mellow with the same soft
-grav of time and weather. The cottage stands close to the river Thames,
-on the outskirts of the town of Nuneham. In front is an even hawthorn
-hedge, that reaches round to the back as well, and encloses a quaint
-little kitchen garden. Beyond the hedge lies a pasture meadow, where
-a flock of sheep are grazing, and encircling the meadow another hedge,
-less closely clipped, and so making bold to riot here and there in a
-snowy wealth of hawthorn blossom, A fine Alderney cow, with coat as well
-cared for as the gray mare's in the stable, is also enjoying the sweet
-grass of the meadow, and the shining milk, pans ranged beneath the
-kitchen window bear witness to the generous service she renders. Within
-the little cottage all is as prim and dainty and neat as without, for
-the sweet-faced old housewife gives as close heed to the household as
-the “gudeman” of the house to the flock and the cow and the hedgerows.
-And this was the home to which Chris had come--to the grandparents who
-had cared for his orphaned boyhood, and whom he never would have left
-but for the more certain prospect of well-paid work across the water.
-And now five years have gone by, and having grown strong and manly,
-meantime, through his contact with the world, Chris is back on his first
-home visit, and you may be sure he has not come empty-handed. For the
-grandfather there is a new wallet with twenty five-pound notes
-laid between its leather-scented covers, and for the grandmother a
-labor-saving gift that will never cease to be a marvel--a wonder-working
-churn that turns Bess's milk to butter in just twelve seconds over
-a minute. And best of all, Chris himself is just the same thoughtful
-fellow he left them, and at once settles down to a general supervision
-of the farm, that leaves the old man free to smoke his brier-wood pipe
-and read the news from morning till night, if he cares to.
-
-“You are spoiling us, Chris,” old Mrs. Hartley would say every time
-Chris chanced to be within hearing distance, when she brought the golden
-butter to the surface from the depths of the uncanny churn; and Chris
-as invariably remarking, “There is no fear of that, granny dear,” would
-look as pleased and surprised as though she had not known she could
-count upon every word of his answer. And now, you see, you have an idea
-of the quiet, eventless life Chris led on this home visit until one
-evening in the latter part of June, when something happened. The lane
-that ran past the meadow and up to the Hartley cottage branched out from
-the road that led directly to Nuneham from Oxford, and in fine weather
-there was much driving out that way, so that toward evening Chris would
-sometimes take a seat on a low gate-post that marked the entrance to the
-lane and watch the people as they passed. There were always more or less
-college men among them, driving in stylish drags behind spirited horses
-or in shabby livery turn-outs, according to their station in life, or
-rather the condition of their pocket-books. And so it chanced that Chris
-noticed on this particular June evening--as, in fact, no one could help
-noticing--a very merry party who rolled by in a dog-cart. They were far
-too merry, in fact, and so noisy that teams in front of them were glad
-to make way for them, and those they met most desirous to give them a
-wide berth. It was evident, however, that the young fellow who held
-the reins knew perfectly well what he was about, and how to handle his
-horses, so that no danger was actually to be feared in that direction.
-But what was true at five o'clock in the afternoon was not true a few
-hours later, and any one who had seen the same party turn their faces
-toward home, after a rollicking supper and no end of good cheer at
-Holly-tree Inn, would have prophesied disaster before they reached it.
-Wondering if they would make their return trip in safety, Chris himself
-happened to favor them with his last waking thought, ere he fell asleep
-in his little room under the eaves--a cosey little room that still was
-bright even at ten o'clock with the glow of the long English twilight.
-It was this last conscious thought, no doubt, that made him quick to
-waken two hours later, when a low, penetrating “Helloa there!” broke the
-stillness. Springing to the window, he was able to discern two or three
-men supporting some heavy burden and standing in front of the cottage.
-
-“Be as still as possible, please,” he said in a loud whisper, mindful of
-the old people; “I will be down in a moment,” and instantly recalling the
-party he had seen drive past to Nuneham, there seemed no need to ask who
-they were or what had happened.
-
-But expeditious as Chris had been, Mrs. Hartley, in gray wrapper and
-frilled night-cap, was at the door before him.
-
-“Some mishap on the road, Chris,” she said, her hand trembling on the
-bolt.
-
-“Yes, sure, granny; but you'd best let me open the door.”
-
-“We've had an ugly accident,” said one of the men, as the light from
-within fell upon them; and then as Chris held the door wide open they
-pressed into the little sitting-room with their gruesome burden.
-
-“Put him here,” Chris directed, clearing the way toward a low
-box-lounge. “He may be badly hurt,” he added, but speaking roughly, as
-though even his pity could scarce conceal his disgust that men should
-ever allow themselves to get into such a sorry plight.
-
-“We couldn't tell out there in the dark,” answered the only one in the
-party who seemed to have his wits about him. The other two had at once
-made their way to the nearest chairs, and with steps so unsteady that
-Chris wondered how they had been able to lend any aid whatsoever.
-
-“Was he unconscious when you got to him?” he asked, unfastening the
-clothing at the injured man's throat.
-
-“Yes; he hasn't seemed to know anything from the first. It looks almost
-as though he might be dying, doesn't it?” and the young fellow stood
-gazing helplessly down at his friend, the very picture of despair.
-
-“No; I don't think it's as bad as that. You've been run away with, of
-course,” for the whole party were covered with mud and dirt from head to
-foot, and there was evidence of two or three ugly cuts and bruises among
-them.
-
-“Yes,” said the other; “it was a clean upset, and Ted here was driving,
-so that the reins got tangled about him, and he was dragged full a
-hundred yards or so. If the horses hadn't succeeded in breaking away
-from the trap the moment that it went over, I should have been killed
-surely, for it fell on top of me in some way, and as it was, I could
-scarcely get from under it;” and the young fellow's blanched face grew
-a shade whiter as he realized how narrow had been his escape. Meanwhile,
-with a little maid to hold the light, Mrs. Hartley searched through a
-tiny corner cupboard for a flask that had been carefully stowed away
-behind some larger bottles, and then poured a generous share of its
-contents into a glass held in readiness in the little maid's other hand.
-
-“You give it to him, Chris,” she said, not daring to trust her shaking
-hands; and raising the poor fellow's head, Chris pressed the glass to
-his lips. As he swallowed the brandy his eyes opened for a moment, but
-there was no sign of returning consciousness.
-
-“Now, the next thing,” said Chris, “is to get a doctor, and I'll have to
-drive into Nuneham for him. Do you suppose one of your friends there
-can help me harness?” but one of the friends was already asleep, and the
-attitude of the other showed that no assistance was to be looked for in
-that direction.
-
-“What's to be done with them, mother?” asked old Mr. Hartley, who,
-enveloped in an old-fashioned, large-patterned dressing-gown, had
-arrived rather tardily upon the scene, and had stood for several seconds
-glaring down at the two disgraceful specimens.
-
-“Martha is making the guest-room ready,” replied Mrs. Hartley, showing
-she was not too old to think ahead in an emergency, and yet drawing a
-deep sigh with the next breath at the thought of that best spare-room
-being put to so ignoble a service. Chris had himself been thinking it
-was rather a serious question to know how to dispose of them, and was
-glad to have Mrs. Hartley herself suggest the way.
-
-“Thank goodness you've got your senses left,” said Chris, turning to
-the young fellow, who really seemed anxious to render every possible
-service; “and if we get them into the room there you can put them to
-bed, can't you? while I go for the doctor;” and in a voice scarcely
-audible from mortification the young fellow replied that he thought
-he could; so after some difficulty in making them understand the move
-impending, the two men were successfully landed in the best spare-room.
-
-“You'll need this,” said Chris, pushing a clothes-brush and a
-whisk-broom on to a chair, “and you'll find plenty of water on the
-stand yonder;” then he came out and closed the door, to the infinite and
-audible relief of the serving-maid Martha. Indeed but for the all too
-serious side of the whole affair, it would have been amusing to watch
-that little maid. So great was her horror, either by education or
-intuition, of the state of inebriety, that the moment she surmised that
-at least two of these midnight visitors were bordering on the same, she
-could conceive of no means strong enough to express her disapproval.
-Every time she had come anywhere near them she had gathered her skirts
-about her as though in fear of actual contamination, and with her pretty
-head high in the air, as she moved away, would look askance over
-her shoulder as though not at all sure even then of being at a safe
-distance. Indeed, Chris himself could not quite suppress a smile as he
-saw the relief expressed in every line of Martha's face at the click of
-the closing door.
-
-“How did it happen, mother?” asked Mr. Hartley, after a long interval in
-which no word had been spoken.
-
-“I have not heard yet, Peter; but I don't believe we had better talk. He
-seems to be growing uneasy. Oh, I do wish Chris would come!”
-
-[Illustration: 0084]
-
-“Now, don't you get flustered, mother--_don't_ get flustered,” bending
-over the freshly lighted fire and spreading his hands to its blaze.
-
-Meanwhile, Mrs. Hartley had taken her station at the side of the
-senseless fellow on the couch and, her old face tense with anxiety, was
-rubbing the ice-cold hands.
-
-“And now the doctor, Chris, as quick as ever you can,” she said gravely;
-and Chris, realizing the need for haste, was out of the house before she
-had finished the sentence, and the gray mare made better time that night
-into Nuneham than for many a year before.
-
-“You've done splendid, so far. 'Tain't likely a strong-looking fellow
-like that's going to go under easy.”
-
-“There's no tellin', Peter--there's no tellin'; strength don't count for
-much if one's head is hurt past mending.”
-
-Just then the door of the spare-room opened, and the young man, closing
-it gently after him, was just in time to hear the last words.
-
-“Oh, you don't think it's so bad as that?” he said in an almost agonized
-whisper, as he came to the side of the couch.
-
-“There's no tellin',” repeated Mrs. Hartley very seriously; and then as
-she looked up and saw, now that dust and grime and the stains from two
-or three slight cuts were removed, that the face above was a good face,
-after all, her heart went out in sympathy, and she added gently, “but
-we'll hope for the best, dear--we'll hope for the best. Chris must come
-with the doctor very soon now whereupon, for some reason or other, the
-poor fellow broke down utterly, and sinking into the nearest chair,
-buried his face in his hands.
-
-“The heart knoweth its own bitterness,” said Mr. Hartley solemnly,
-turning over the back-log of the fire and shaking his head gravely from
-side to side.
-
-“I doubt if that's what the young man's needing just now, father,”
- remarked Mrs. Hartley dryly; and although evidently resenting the
-implied reproof, Mr. Hartley wisely determined to keep his own counsel;
-and for many minutes thereafter the heavy breathing of the men asleep in
-the next room and the crackling of the wood upon the andirons were the
-only sounds that broke the silence. Now and then Martha came in with
-a cloth freshly wet with cold water from the well--for Mrs. Hartley
-suspected some form of injury to the brain--and then slipped as
-noiselessly out again. At last the sound of wheels in the lane without,
-and then for the first time the young man raised his face from his
-hands and hurried to meet the doctor. As they came in together he
-was apparently explaining just how the accident had happened, and the
-doctor's face looked grave with apprehension.
-
-“What is your friend's name?” he asked as he reached the lounge.
-
-“Theodore---Morris,” after a second's hesitation. Convinced that he had
-not given an honest answer, the doctor looked keenly into his face a
-moment; “and yours?” he added.
-
-“Allyn, sir,” returning his glance as keenly, and then not another word
-was spoken, while the doctor carefully looked his patient over. Close
-beside him stood Mrs. Hartley, trying to read his conclusions in
-advance, and Martha stood just beyond, eager to render the slightest
-service, while Chris, with steady hand, held the light now high, now
-low, according to the signal from the doctor.
-
-“It is a case, doubtless, of concussion of the brain,” he said at last;
-“just how serious I cannot at once determine, but, first thing, Mrs.
-Hartley, we must get this poor fellow to bed.”
-
-“It will have to be in my little spare-bedroom, then, doctor; my best
-room is already appropriated. Bring clean linen from the chest quickly,
-Martha;” and hurrying into the little room, mistress and maid soon had
-everything in readiness for the unexpected guest.
-
-Tenderly and carefully they lifted and then carried the unconscious man,
-and as they laid him gently down in the cool bed he drew a long, deep
-breath, as though in some vague way appreciative of a grateful change.
-Then one thing and another was done at the doctor's bidding, until at
-last there was need of nothing further, and old Mrs. Hartley, first
-sending the little maid to her room above stairs, crept off to bed, more
-utterly worn out and exhausted than for many a weary day. Chris threw
-himself on the living-room lounge, and was soon fast asleep, and the
-doctor, sitting near the bed, and where he could closely watch his
-patient, motioned young Allyn to draw a chair close to his side.
-
-“Now, my friend,” he said, “I want you to tell me the real name of your
-friend here, for I am convinced you have not done so, and then I want
-you to give me a true account of this whole deplorable affair. It will
-not disturb him in the least if you keep your voice carefully lowered.”
-
-Young Allyn did not answer for several seconds. He sat leaning way
-forward in the chair he had drawn to the doctor's side, his elbows on
-his knees and his chin resting on his tightly clasped hands. He was
-evidently thinking hard, and it was easy to read the play of intense
-emotion on his face.
-
-“Dr. Arnold,” he said finally, as though he had slowly thought his way
-out to a decision, “my friend's name is Theodore Harris, but it is
-the first time he has ever been mixed up in anything of this sort, and
-should he get over it, I wanted to spare him the mortification of
-its being known if I could. Do you think he is so much hurt that his
-family--that his brother--ought to be sent for?”
-
-“We can't tell about that to-night. The opiate I have given him will
-account for this heavy sleep. Everything will depend upon how he comes
-out of it in the morning.”
-
-“And if it does prove not as serious as you feared”--trying to steady a
-voice that trembled in spite of him--“what then?”
-
-“Two or three weeks of careful nursing.”
-
-“Will they let us stay here, do you think?”
-
-“They'll have to for a while. It would be out of the question to move
-him.”
-
-“Oh, but it's a crying shame, this whole business!” and young Allyn,
-leaning back in his chair, looked the picture of anger and chagrin.
-
-“You seem like a self-respecting fellow,” said the doctor, scrutinizing
-him closely; “perhaps it is your first time, too.”
-
-“Yes, it does happen to be but, as though there was little or no credit
-in that, there is some excuse for Ted--he is younger than I and easily
-led; but for me there is none whatever.”
-
-“You ought to know,” said the doctor dryly. “And your friends in the
-room yonder, are they at all responsible for this first time of yours
-and young Harris's? Come, Mr. Allyn, don't wait for me to question you.
-If you are as anxious as you claim to hush this affair up, you must make
-a clean breast of things with me. I can, of course, be of service to you
-in the matter.”
-
-“Really, Dr. Arnold, there is not much to tell beyond what you already
-know. We belong up at Oxford, of course, and Harris here has plenty of
-money and plenty of friends--not always the best, I am sorry to say.
-The two men in the other room there are known around town as jolly good
-fellows; neither of them are college men, but they have dogged Harris's
-footsteps ever since they came to know him, a year or so ago, and have
-done all in their power to drag him down. To-night they have come pretty
-near making an end of both of us. I've warned Harris against them time
-and again, but when they planned this afternoon to drive up to Nuneham
-in Harris's trap for a champagne supper, I took to the scheme, and I
-hadn't the moral courage to decline myself or to persuade Ted to do so.”
-
-“How do you and Harris happen to be in Oxford anyway, now that the term
-is over?” queried the doctor.
-
-“We thought we were having too good a time to go home.”
-
-“And you have found out your mistake?”
-
-“Yes, sir;” and the pain and mortification on young Allyn's face assured
-the doctor that the lesson of the hour was being well taken to heart.
-
-“Where does Harris live, Mr. Allyn?”
-
-“We both live at Windsor, sir; Harris has a younger brother, but no
-father or mother; and if Ted only gets over this, he need never know
-anything about it. We were going to start on a long driving trip
-to-morrow; so we're not expected up at Windsor, and Ted's the kind of
-fellow, Dr. Arnold, that if he found out that people knew about a scrape
-like this, I believe he'd grow perfectly reckless, and there wouldn't be
-any such thing as saving him;” and there was such suppressed earnestness
-in the young fellow's voice that no one could have doubted his sincerity
-for a moment.
-
-“But the accident to-night, just how did that happen?”
-
-“I think--yes, I'm sure--Ted had taken a little too much; but we would
-have gotten home all right but for”--nodding in the direction of Mrs.
-Hartley's best room. “There was no doing anything with them, and finally
-one of them tried to get the reins from Ted, and then the horses, that
-need to be carefully handled at best, broke into a clean run. Where they
-are now, land knows!”
-
-“Mr. Allyn,” said Dr. Arnold, after several minutes of suspense, “if
-Mr. Harris's condition proves not to be serious I will do what I can to
-shield you both.”
-
-“Oh, don't bother about me,” as though he honestly felt he was not worth
-it.
-
-“Yes, I will bother about you, for since you told me you live at
-Windsor, I begin to suspect you are Canon Allyn's son.”
-
-“The more's the pity, Dr. Arnold.”
-
-“The more's the reason for my doing all in my power to give both of you
-another chance But we won't talk any more. Now wrap yourself in that
-comforter Chris has laid in the chair for you, and try and get a little
-sleep.”
-
-All this while poor wayward Ted, whose name you must have guessed almost
-from the first, was lying wholly oblivious to everything about him,
-muttering now and then a few delirious, incoherent words, and yet by
-degrees subsiding into a gentle, regular breathing that the professional
-ear was quick to detect, and that was full of good omen for the waking
-in the morning.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX.--GETTING OUT OF IT.
-
-[Illustration: 9090]
-
-A whole chapter just with grown-up people, and not a very pleasant
-chapter at that! For one, I had a deal rather be with certain little
-friends of ours up at Windsor, but we cannot go yet a while; and having
-seen the little Berkshire cottage turned inside out, as it were, there
-is nothing for it but to wait and see it put to rights again. Besides,
-when all is said, Ted is Harold's brother, so that, scapegrace or no,
-we ought not to deliberately turn our backs, at a time too when matters
-have reached a crisis, and one wonders how they will go with him. But
-fortunately they went far better than even the doctor dared to hope, and
-with the morning came consciousness, and all the dazed bewilderment as
-well, of one who finds himself in wholly new surroundings, with no idea
-whatever of how he came there. Everybody was early astir in the cottage,
-and quite ready to forget the anxiety and excitement of the night in the
-doctor's glad assurance that the young gentleman certainly was not “done
-for.” As for the other young gentlemen, who had been allowed to sleep
-off their indisposition in Mrs. Hartley's best room, it was agreed
-between the doctor and Harry Allyn that the sooner they took their
-departure the better. Breakfast for two was therefore first made ready,
-and the young fellows, who had gotten up and dressed--somewhat against
-their will, it must be confessed--finally took their seats at the
-places set for them. Martha, who had no notion of waiting on such sorry
-customers, was careful to place everything within arm's reach on the
-table and then to disappear, and the meal was eaten in silence, with no
-one in the room save the doctor, who kept pacing up and down in a manner
-that was intended to expedite their departure. The two fellows seemed
-to realize that they were considered responsible for the whole unhappy
-affair; indeed, the doctor had told them so pretty plainly, and they
-were themselves rather anxious to be off and away from such an accusing
-and uncomfortable atmosphere.
-
-“I suppose the old lady ought to be paid something,” said one of them,
-pushing back his chair.
-
-“You can't very well pay for such trouble as you have given,” said the
-doctor curtly. “It might not be out of the way though for you to thank
-Mrs. Hartley for the night's shelter and your breakfast,” but Mrs. Hartley
-was nowhere to be found--indeed, to all appearances the cottage was
-quite deserted; and, accompanied by the doctor, they made their way out
-of the house and down the lane. Not a word was spoken until they reached
-the road, and then Dr. Arnold, stopping squarely in front of them, said:
-“I have one thing to say to you two fellows, and that is this--that
-you are not to tell a living soul of last night's adventure. You have
-deliberately set about to entrap and disgrace two men vastly your
-superiors, but so far as in me lies I am going to do all in my power
-to free them from your clutches and save them from the scandal of this
-thing, and if I hear of its becoming known through you I'll--”
-
-“There isn't any use in your threatening us like that,” interrupted the
-older, his heavy face glowing angrily. “We'll tell as much or as little
-as we like.”
-
-“Hadden,” said the doctor sternly, “I know more of your history than you
-think. You were mixed up in a more shameful scrape than this not
-long ago up at Nuneham, and if you and your friend here do not keep
-close-mouthed about this whole affair, I will tell some of the Oxford
-officials just what I know as sure as my name is Joseph Arnold. Does
-that alter the case any?”
-
-“Yes, rather,” drawled the other with cool effrontery; and knowing he
-had scotched his man, the doctor turned on his heel, and the two men
-started off in the direction of the Nuneham station, neither sadder nor
-wiser, it is to be feared, for the lesson of the night's experience. No
-sooner had these two unwelcome guests vanished from the precincts of the
-little cottage than Mrs. Hartley reappeared from some mysterious corner
-and Martha from another, and preparations were at once put forward
-for the most inviting breakfast the little house could command.
-Notwithstanding the wretched company in which they had been found, Mrs.
-Hartley was confident that her remaining guests were surely “gentlemen;”
- and as, in addition to this, no one through all the countryside was
-as widely loved and honored as Dr. Arnold, was not there occasion for
-elaborate preparation? All this, of course, involved considerable delay,
-which Chris and the doctor would have gladly foregone; but it gave Harry
-Allyn a sorely coveted opportunity for an early talk with Mrs. Hartley.
-
-“Is your mistress in the kitchen?” he asked of Martha, who was arranging
-some sweet peas in a celery glass as a decoration for the table.
-
-“Yes, Mr. Allyn,” very respectfully, for in the mind of the little maid,
-as in the mind of all the others, there was the conviction that this Mr.
-Allyn had very little in common with the company in which he had been
-found. “Shall I call her for you?” she added.
-
-“Would there be any harm in my going in there?” as though he were
-entreating a favor of a queen.
-
-“Not a bit in the world, Mr. Allyn;” and thus reassured Harry at once
-made his way into the sunny and spotless little kitchen.
-
-Mrs. Hartley was so preoccupied in giving the final stirring to a golden
-mixture in a great yellow bowl that she did not hear Harry as he came
-toward her, and so gave a little start when he spoke.
-
-“Martha told me it would be all right,” he explained.
-
-“Oh, yes, certainly,” quickly recovering herself, “you'll excuse me if I
-go right on.”
-
-“You never can know, Mrs. Hartley,” he said, taking his stand at the end
-of the table, and leaning a little wearily against the wall at his
-back, “how mortified I am about what has happened, and how sorry that we
-should have put you to all this trouble; and the bother of it is, Mrs.
-Hartley, it isn't over yet. The doctor says Ted will not be able to
-get about for two or three weeks at least. Do you think”--a world of
-entreaty in his voice--“you can ever manage to keep him as long as that?”
-
-“Yes--I think--I can,” but very slowly and thoughtfully, as though half
-afraid of promising more than she could perform.
-
-“It will be a great care for you, Mrs. Hartley.”
-
-“There's no denying that, Mr. Allyn; I doubt if I could get along with
-it but for Chris being home this summer. Has Mr. Harris any folks?”
-
-“No father or mother, only a younger brother, and I want him never to
-know about last night's business if I can help it.”
-
-“I am glad you're ashamed of it, Mr. Allyn. It's the best sort of a
-sign, sir.”
-
-“Ashamed!” sighed Harry; and Mrs. Hartley, looking at the white face,
-with the great dark circles under eyes that during the night had known
-no wink of sleep, felt sorry in her heart of hearts that she had uttered
-a single word that would seem to imply reproof.
-
-“Of course you will let us pay you liberally for the expense we shall
-put you to, but I cannot bear to speak of money in connection with
-something that can never be paid for at all, in any true sense.”
-
-“The board will not come amiss,” and then, straightening herself up a
-little, “though we have no need of being beholden to anybody.”
-
-“That is very evident, Mrs. Hartley, and makes it all the kinder for you
-to take us in. Does Mr. Hartley know,” he asked after a pause, “that
-Ted ought not to be moved? Will he be willing that he should stay?”
- for Harry stood in considerable awe of the master of the house, who, it
-could not be denied, was conducting himself through this whole affair
-with no little austerity of deportment.
-
-“Never you fear,” answered Mrs. Hartley, with a significant smile
-that was very becoming to the dear old face; “I think I can manage Mr.
-Hartley.”
-
-[Illustration: 0093]
-
-By this time the contents of the yellow bowl were not only in the oven,
-but sending out of it the most savory of odors; and a few moments later
-the little household sat down to such a delicious breakfast as the
-doctor and Harry repeatedly declared they never before had eaten; so
-that Mrs. Hartley sat proud and radiant behind the plated coffee-urn,
-and Martha passed the Sally Lunn with indescribable complacency.
-Indeed, there was reaction on every side from the night of anxiety and
-foreboding. Even Mr. Hartley could not hold out against the general
-atmosphere of good cheer, and falling into a friendly discussion with
-the doctor, forgot to wear for a while a certain uncompromising
-look, intended to impress Mr. Allyn with the simple enormity of his
-transgression. But happily Harry Allyn needed no such impressing. It was
-impossible for any one to regard this adventure in any graver light than
-he, and yet, strange to say, he was happier than he had been for many
-a day. It had taken a pretty terrible experience to bring him to his
-senses; perhaps nothing less terrible would have answered; but he saw
-plainly enough now what a down-hill road he and Ted had been travelling,
-and with the realization came the decision to “right about face,” and
-with the decision an old-time sensation began to assert itself, and
-there lay the secret of the happiness. It is an intangible, uplifting
-something, that sensation that men call self-respect, and when they lose
-it they seem to lose the capacity for any happiness worth the name, and
-when they cannot be persuaded to make an effort to get it back again,
-there seems to be little enough that they're good for. Harry, however,
-with grateful heart found himself ready for the effort, and, fully aware
-at last of how much he had been risking, was resolved that regain his
-self-respect he would, let it cost what it might. He only hoped, from
-the bottom of his heart, that Ted would come to see matters in the same
-honest light, and be ready to make the same effort.
-
-Soon after breakfast the doctor took his departure, and then Harry had a
-quiet little talk with Ted.
-
-“You're not to speak a word, old man,” he said, as he stood beside the
-bed; “the doctor says so; but there are one or two things he is willing
-I should say to you. In the first place, Ted, we've had a very narrow
-escape, and we've no one to blame but ourselves. And the truth is, Ted,
-we've been a pair of incomparable fools, you and I, and if we don't take
-this lesson to heart, there's no hope for either of us. In the second
-place, we can't be too thankful we've fallen into the hands of these
-good people here. You couldn't be better cared for anywhere, and the
-best of it is, no one need know where you are, and they need never hear
-of this disgraceful adventure up at Windsor. Indeed, for the sake of
-shielding you, I have told the Hartleys that your name is Morris, and it
-rests with you to tell them your right name some day if you choose;
-hut the doctor knows the truth about things--he had to know.” A look of
-inexpressible relief had been stealing over Ted's face, and he started
-to make some reply, but Harry shook his head in most determined fashion,
-and was off before the words could get themselves into line. Ted found,
-too, that his brain responded very slowly to any sort of demand upon it,
-and was willing enough to be spared the exertion.
-
-A little later Harry set off for Oxford, to bring certain necessities
-for Ted and himself down to Nuneham, for he meant to take up his abode
-at the inn, so that he would be near the Hartleys, and be able to render
-every possible service to them and to Ted. Before he started, however,
-he underwent quite an ordeal. Feeling he had no right to assume that Ted
-would stay until he had that permission from Mr. Hartley personally, he
-sought him out, where he was at work in a corner of the meadow, and the
-result, as he had anticipated, was a very plain talk--so unsparingly and
-pointedly plain that Harry winced a good deal in the process, and once
-or twice came near resenting a mode of procedure that seemed very much
-akin to knocking a fellow when he's down. But, after all, what did he
-not deserve, and as Mr. Hartley said, among other things, that he was
-not the man to turn a body out of his house, and that Mr. Morris was
-welcome to stay, he felt he ought to be able to bear with the rest,
-no matter how humiliating and, in a measure, unmerited. Mrs. Hartley,
-standing in the kitchen door, imagined from Harry's flushed face, as
-well as from life-long acquaintance with Mr. Hartley's temperament, that
-he had been pretty severely dealt with, and so said as he passed,
-“My gude man's a gude man, though,” Mr. Allyn and Harry, amused at the
-loyalty to her husband and kindliness to him combined in the speech, had
-the grace to answer, “Indeed I believe you, Mrs. Hartley.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X.--A KNIGHT-OF-THE-GARTER PARTY.
-
-[Illustration: 0097]
-
-And now,” as Albert would say, here we are, for a comfort, back at
-Windsor, and just in time, too, for there is something special on
-hand. And somebody else is just in time as well--somebody who was not
-expected, and who, I fear, is not wanted. Marie-Celeste, seated in
-the library window, and busy in transferring some great luscious
-strawberries from a plate on the seat beside her to a basket in her
-lap, is the first to discover a familiar little figure turning in at the
-gate. “Bother!” she exclaims, her pretty face all of a scowl.
-
-“What's the matter?” asks Harold, who is on his knees on the floor,
-trying to make some very stiff wrapping-paper accommodate itself to
-the edges and corners of a generous box of luncheon, and is: quite too
-preoccupied to look up.
-
-“Bother enough! Who do you suppose is coming up the path as large as
-life? Albert, if you please, and he's all alone, and that means that
-Margaret has left him at the corner, and that he has come _to spend the
-day_.”
-
-“Bother I say too,” exclaims Harold; “we can't send him home, and with
-Aunt Lou up in London, there's no one to leave him with here, and of
-course we can't take him. Oh, why did he happen to come to-day!”
-
-But the truth of it was that Albert had not happened to come at all. His
-visit had been deliberately planned for precisely this hour. Could any
-one suppose for a moment, that he could hear all the beautiful plans
-fora Knight-of-the-Garter day discussed in his presence, and never make
-an effort to have a hand in it? To be sure, the children had tried to
-keep the date a close-guarded secret, but Albert had got wind of it, all
-the same; and here he was, bright and fresh as the day itself, marching
-up the path, his little blue sacque folded carefully over one arm,
-and an inviting luncheon hamper swinging from the other. Fortunately,
-considering the ungracious mood of the two children in the library, his
-first encounter chanced to be with Donald, who, arrayed in the white
-and blue of his summer sailor-suit, was bending over the pansy bed,
-gathering a few “beauties” into a bunch for Marie-Celeste; and so
-absorbed in his task was he that he did not hear Albert's tread upon the
-walk. “Why, where did you come from?” he said, looking up surprised.
-
-“Of course you knowed where I tum from, Donald,” Albert replied in his
-literal fashion; “but where do you s'pose I'm doin'?”
-
-“To London Town,” laughed Donald, to whom it had not occurred to regard
-Albert's arrival as likely to interfere with the day's programme.
-
-“No; I'm doin' on your Knight-of-de-Garter party.”
-
-“Well, that's cool,” whispered Marie-Celeste, concealed by the curtain,
-and yet near enough to hear all that was said through the open window.
-
-“Who asked you?” queried Donald.
-
-“Dat's de only trouble, Donald; dey didn't ask me,” his little face
-growing sorely worried as he spoke; “but I guess it was a mistake, don't
-you?”
-
-“I shouldn't wonder,” for the little fellow's aggrieved look was really
-piteous to see; “but how did you get permission to go, Albert?”
-
-“Oh, I jus' told mamma you were all doin', and I jus' begged and begged
-till she said I could do too; and, Donald, I didn't zackly tell her I
-wasn't invited, 'cause I knowed it must be a mistake.”
-
-“Bless his heart!” whispered Harold, who was also listening by this time
-under screen of the curtain.
-
-“The cunning thing!” said Marie-Celeste; and so it was easy to see that
-two hard hearts were slowly but surely relenting.
-
-“Perhaps dey tought I was too little, but I'm not, Donald, really; I can
-walk all day an' carry my own coat an' basket. Besides, I don't believe
-Harold will ever have anudder Knight-of-de-Garter day, do you?”
-
-“No; now's your chance, I guess,” said Donald kindly, slipping a great
-purple and yellow pansy into one of the buttonholes of Albert's little
-frilled shirt as he spoke.
-
-“Where are de children, anyway?” asked Albert, wonderfully reassured
-by Donald's courteous reception; “won't you fin' dem for me, please,
-Donald, and tell dem I won't be a badder, nor ask queshuns, and I'll
-jus' eat my own lunch and--”
-
-At this the hard hearts relented altogether, and Harold rushed out and
-gave Albert a toss in the air that was very threatening to the eggs
-in the luncheon basket; and as soon as he was on _terra firma_ again
-Marie-Celeste gave him a good hard hug, and both begged his pardon
-half a dozen times over for ever assuming for a moment that he was “too
-little,” and intimated that they felt very small indeed themselves to
-think they had been so unfeeling as to plan not to include him in
-the expedition. And so matters were beautifully adjusted, and the
-Knight-of-the-Garter party set out with Harold Harris, student and
-devoted admirer of the grand old knighthood, filling the important
-_role_ of interpreter and guide. And where did they go first but to the
-castle, preferring to save until the last, because the best, the choir
-of St. George's, where the banners of the knights are hung and where the
-knights are duly installed. On the way Harold held forth, Marie-Celeste
-and Donald walking one on either side of him, and Albert, determined
-not to miss a word, trotting along at a sort of sidewise angle just in
-front, and yet careful to keep well out of the way, too, for fear of the
-remotest chance of “boddering.”
-
-“Now to begin,” said Harold, “you know a knight at first was just a
-young man who had proved himself strong enough and brave enough to
-wear armor and be a soldier, and after that there came to be orders of
-knights. You remember I told you the other day what an order was, and
-how the Order of the Knights of the Garter happened to be started.” Yes,
-they remembered that, but no one remembered that poor little Albert had
-not been present on that occasion, and so knew nothing whatever about
-it; but Albert, so very thankful in his heart that he had been allowed
-to come at all, did not dare to make mention of the same.
-
-“Where are we going first?” asked Marie-Celeste, who, unlike poor
-Albert, felt herself at perfect liberty to ask every question that
-occurred to her.
-
-“To the Banqueting Hall, because it has more to do with the knights than
-any other room in the castle.”
-
-“Oh, yes, that's where they have the Garter and the Cross of St.
-George woven even into the pattern of the carpet! And what about St.
-George--who was he?”
-
-[Illustration: 0100]
-
-“Nobody knows, Marie-Celeste. He is supposed to have been a soldier in
-the Roman Army, and to have killed a monstrous dragon that no one else
-could overcome, and at last, after being dreadfully tortured for his
-faith in Christianity, he is also supposed to have died a martyr's
-death.”
-
-“'Is supposed' isn't very satisfactory, Harold.”
-
-“No, it isn't; but it can't be helped. Indeed, they knew so little about
-him way back even in the fifth century, that one of the popes, when he
-made up a list of the saints, said 'he was one of those whose names are
-justly reverenced among men, but whose actions are known only to God.'”
-
-“You talk just like a book,” remarked Donald, to whom Harold, with his
-knowledge of men and things, was a never-ceasing wonder.
-
-“And good reason why, for I got it out of a book. Don't you remember I
-told you I'd studied up about it?”
-
-“Oh, yes,” as though thankful there was some sort of explanation for
-such uncanny erudition.
-
-“But how does this St. George come to be mixed up with the Knights of
-the Garter?” asked Marie-Celeste.
-
-“This is the way of it. You know what the Crusades were?” Marie-Celeste
-nodded yes, but intimating, with a significant glance in the direction
-of Donald and Albert, that probably they did not, Harold took the hint,
-and began over again.
-
-“Well, ever so many years ago great armies of men went out from England
-to try and get possession of the Holy Land, and each time an army went
-out they called it a crusade, and on the first one the leader of the
-army prayed to St. George to help him, and as he was very successful,
-that made St. George's name very famous. Then afterward Richard Cour
-de Lion, when he went to the Holy Land, put himself under St. George's
-protection, and from that time he became the patron saint of England,
-and that means, Albert” (for Albert looked the question he longed to
-ask), “that England regarded him as the saint who would help her most
-and be her special guardian.”
-
-“Yes,” said Marie-Celeste, since Harold apparently considered he had
-come to a natural pause in the narrative; “but you haven't told us what
-St. George and the Knights of the Garter have to do with each other.”
-
-“So I haven't; well, all the connection that I know of is, that every
-year a feast in honor of St. George was ordered to be kept as a holiday,
-and that the Order of the Garter was founded on that day--St. George's
-Day--and that so the Cross of St. George and the Garter of the Knights
-came to be a sort of double emblem for the order.”
-
-By this time the children had reached the Norman Gate, and crossing the
-quadrangle, Harold led the way into the State apartments, and being well
-known to most of the guides of the castle, was allowed, with his little
-party, to pass on unattended, and to make his way straight to the Grand
-Banqueting Hall. From the moment they entered the castle, Donald was
-of no use as far as receiving instruction was concerned. This being his
-first visit to any castle whatever, he was far too much astonished and
-overawed by everything he saw to be able to think of applying his mind
-to mere historical detail.
-
-Let Harold hold forth as eloquently as he chose about this old knight
-or that old armor, for him there might never be another visit to this
-wonderful place, and he was going to see it all in his own way. Harold
-and Marie-Celeste were at first very much disgusted at his utter
-disregard of the object of their visit, but disgust gradually gave
-way to amusement, and the tale of the chivalrous old knights was even
-suspended for awhile, that they might watch the little fellow's peculiar
-methods of letting nothing escape him. Gazing in rapt wonder, he moved
-from one point to another, wholly absorbed in his surroundings, and
-oblivious to the presence of any one beside himself. Now he was standing
-in admiration before the great oak chair of State beneath the organ
-gallery, and now nothing loath he mounts the steps that lead to it and
-runs a finger along the curves of its elaborate carving, and then, with
-a most reverent air, touches the embroidered cross and garter with which
-it is decorated. All this is making very free with State belongings, and
-one of the guides, in charge of a small party of visitors, starts
-toward him in a decidedly menacing manner; but Harold intercepts him
-and explains, and the guide, himself much amused, decides to leave
-unmolested this gallant little tar of Her Majesty's. And now Donald
-seeks out a corner of the room and deliberately stretches himself on the
-floor, clasping his hands under the back of his head. This is done the
-better to take in the elaborate ceiling, decorated as it is with the
-armorial bearings of the knights of five centuries, and now, with arm
-upraised and extended finger, he is entering into some mathematical
-calculation of his own in connection with the banners that hang just
-beneath the ceiling. And now what does the boy do but suddenly exchange
-his vertical position for one quite the reverse, and turn all his
-attention to the carpet; for did not Harold say it was woven in some
-special way on purpose? Yes, sure enough! here is the Cross of St.
-George in the centre of each little panel, and here--crossing to the
-edge of the room--the beautiful circle of the gaiter worked into the
-design of the border. Oh, but it is a wonderful place! and there are
-probably other rooms just as wonderful; so a little closer look at
-the brass shields and the helmets, and the portraits of the sovereigns
-ranged along one side, and then, wholly unsuspicious of any disapproval,
-he walks over to the children and remarks “that now he would like to
-see the other rooms, please.” His delight in it all, and naïve
-unconsciousness of anything unusual in his behavior, are altogether
-irresistible, and Harold and Marie-Celeste, after a whispered
-conference, decide to suspend Knight-of-the-Garter reminiscences for the
-time being, and make the tour of the castle with him. Albert, who has
-found much of Harold's narration quite beyond him, but has “never let
-on” for one moment, hails the announcement with great inward rejoicing,
-and the little quartette make their way to the Guard Chamber, as the
-place next in interest. In every room Donald brings his own peculiar
-methods of investigation to bear, not in the least minding a good
-deal of mirthful laughter at his expense on the part of Harold and
-Marie-Celeste; and Albert, feeling privileged to join in the
-general merriment, though evidently half the time without in anywise
-appreciating the situation, only helps on the jollity of things. Then
-when at noon, by special permission of a very lenient guardsman, the
-children establish themselves for luncheon on a terrace beneath the
-shade of the Round Tower, Marie-Celeste and Albert and Harold agree that
-they had never had such fun--never!
-
-“Well, you may call it fun,” says Donald, quite willing that they
-should, “but I call it something better than that. The grandest time I
-ever had, that's what I call it.”
-
-But all the sights were not seen yet, and for the members of the little
-party who still adhered to the Knight-of-the-Garter research the best
-was yet to come, in St. George's Chapel. Entering at the door at the
-south front and crossing to the centre, the children passed directly
-into the choir, which is really a chapel in itself, and to them
-of special interest, because the very place where the ceremony of
-installing' the knights is performed. Harold led the way to the farther
-end, and they took their seats on the steps of the chancel. Behind them
-the light fell softly through the stained glass of the window over the
-altar; above them waved the knights' silken banners, and just below each
-banner hung the sword, mantle, and helmet of the knight whose crest
-it bore, mounted against a background of elaborate carving. It was
-of course the spot of spots for any one who, like Harold, had been
-initiated into all the mysteries by being present at an installation,
-and he did justice to the occasion. By this time even Donald, whose
-powers of endurance were not yet of the strongest, was content to sit
-by, an apparent listener; but much that Harold had to tell having
-little interest for him, he resorted to that little trick to which
-some discriminating ears readily lend themselves, of listening to
-what appealed to him and letting the rest go. With Albert matters
-were reversed. He had completely lapsed from his humble estate of
-the morning, when he felt in duty bound to at least pretend to be an
-attentive listener, and when they reached the chapel, already such a
-familiar place to him, he no longer even tried to keep up appearances.
-A great big collie belonging to the verger, Mr. Brown, sometimes made
-so bold as to steal in “unbeknownst” and curl up on the cool marble in a
-dark corner of the choir, and Albert, who knew the corner well, at once
-slipped away in the hope of finding him.
-
-Yes, there he was in the old place--dear, audacious old Timothy,
-stretched close along the wall in the deep shadow of the Oueen's own
-stall, as though well aware that it was the one spot where he might
-reasonably expect to escape observation.
-
-[Illustration: 0105]
-
-“Hush, Timothy,” said Albert, approaching him on tiptoe; but the warning
-was quite unnecessary. Nothing was farther from Timothy's thoughts than
-to make any disturbance whatever--why should he? Were they not the best
-of friends, he and that blessed little Albert? so he never raised his
-head from where it rested upon his outstretched paws, only looked up
-with that gaze of implicit confidence peculiar to the kind eyes of the
-Laverick setter, and which made Albert lose not a second in spreading
-his little coat out beneath him, throwing his two arms around Timothy's
-neck, and pillowing his head on his beautiful silky coat. Now, it is not
-granted to Laverick setters to purr in pussy's demonstrative fashion,
-but they have a subdued little grateful purr of their own, distinctly
-audible to an ear placed as close as Albert's chanced to be, and Timothy
-at once indulged in the same. Outwardly, however, not a sound was to
-be heard. Only the experienced eye and ear could appreciate how intense
-were the depths of his canine satisfaction.
-
-“We've had an awful good time this morning, Timothy,” Albert confided in
-a whisper; “we've been all over the castle, learning 'bout Knights of the
-Garter. Harold knows an awful lot about 'em, but I'm tired of 'em, an'
-I don't care to hear any more. I'd rather stay here wid you, Timothy.
-There, please move that paw a little--that's it; now, Timothy, keep
-very still! Please, please don't snap for that fly, or they'll hear
-you; still! still, Timothy, while I stroke your head like this, till,
-till--” and the subject was dropped indefinitely.
-
-“Now, if there are any questions you would like to ask?” said Harold,
-for, dear as was the subject to him, he really could think of nothing
-more to tell.
-
-“Indeed there are,” said Marie-Celeste, who had conscientiously tried
-not to interrupt, though there were a dozen lines along which she
-desired information.
-
-“First, will you tell me if they ever let the ladies have any part in
-all the feasting and good times you have told about?”
-
-“Oh, yes! There was a time when the wives of the knights were called
-Ladies of the Society of the Garter, and they used to be allowed to wear
-violet-colored or white cloth robes 'furred,' as one old book says, and
-embroidered with garters. The number of garters depended on their rank.
-But in the reign of King Henry the Eighth, for some reason that branch
-of the order was given up. By the way, Henry the Eighth is buried just
-yonder,” pointing a few feet away. “There's a royal vault right under
-those tiles, and Charles the First, whose head Cromwell cut off, is
-buried there too.”
-
-“You don't mean it!” for Donald was all attention the second there was
-anything so thrilling as cut-off heads in the wind.
-
-“Now, there's another thing I'd like to know,” said Marie-Celeste, “and
-that is, how long do they let a knight's banner hang there? because when
-a new knight is made his banner has to be put up somewhere.”
-
-“Yes, of course; and so when a man dies they take away everything except
-the brass plate at the back of the stall that belonged to him, and that
-has his name on and all his titles.”
-
-“I like the American way of not having any titles,” said Donald; “seems
-to me they're an awful fuss and bother. Of course _you_ don't believe in
-them, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Well, I don't exactly care for the titles and such a ridiculous lot of
-letters coming after one's name, but I should think it would be nice to
-know who your greatest grandfather was, and that he was a gentleman into
-the bargain, for that's what some of the titles mean, you know. They've
-come down from father to son for centuries.”
-
-“I'd be satisfied just to know who my own father was,” said Donald with
-a sigh, and Marie-Celeste wished she had not said anything to bring that
-sad fact to mind.
-
-“Did you say, Harold,” she asked, by way of quickly changing the
-subject, “that Edward the Third, who founded the Order of the Carter,
-built this chapel?”
-
-“No; but I said that the chapel that he did build and dedicated to St.
-George stood right where this choir is now. This chapel was commenced a
-hundred years later, and the old one torn down.”
-
-“Well,” said Donald, getting onto his feet, “one way and another I've
-learned a great deal to-day--just about as much as I can hold, seems to
-me.”
-
-“Yes, I'm tired, too,” Marie-Celeste admitted; “but we're ever so much
-obliged, it's been very interesting; but look here, Donald, before we
-go, I want to show you something,” and she led the way to a stall of one
-of the knights.
-
-“See,” said Marie-Celeste, pushing the seat of the stall from beneath,
-so that it folded up against the back, thereby bringing to view a queer
-little wooden projection about six inches wide.
-
-“Now, Donald, will you believe that is all the seat the old knights used
-to have in these stalls? They've preserved them in this way just as a
-curiosity. Things are more comfortable for them now, you see, but in
-the old times they were afraid the knights would go to sleep during the
-service, and so made them uncomfortable to keep them awake.”
-
-“Not a bad idea,” mused Donald, as though he had more than once in his
-life experienced a similar temptation.
-
-“Well, I think it was, then,” said Marie-Celeste decidedly. “This church
-is enough in itself to keep a man awake if he has any thoughts to think,
-no matter how dull the sermon might happen to be; but then I know”--with
-an insinuating shrug of the shoulders--“some men, and boys too I
-suppose, never do have any thoughts to think. If they're not eating or
-being amused, sleep's the only thing for them.”
-
-There was a whimsical little look in Donald's face, which an American
-street gamin would have interpreted as “what are you giving us?” He did
-not say anything, however; and just then Harold, who had strolled on
-by himself, came toward them, his face aglow with merriment. “I
-believe”--speaking to Donald--“you said you'd like to see a live Knight
-of the Garter; now come right along quickly and I'll show you one.”
-
-What could he mean? Donald and Marie-Celeste elbowed each other in their
-haste to discover, and in the next moment sure enough there he was right
-before them. He was only a little knight, to be sure, not over four, and
-sound asleep at that, with one arm thrown around a big dog, who was also
-sound asleep. A knight he was, however, beyond all dispute, for there
-was the unmistakable blue garter plainly visible, and in exactly the
-right place, too, on the left leg just below the knee. He had not meant
-that any one should know it, such a modest little knight was he; but
-alas! the weakness of drowsiness had overtaken the valiant little
-fellow, and in the disorder thereon attendant the shapely little limb
-had thrust itself forth from the folds of the protecting kilt, and there
-was the garter plainly visible to the most casual passer-by.
-
-“Yes, will you believe it?” said Marie-Celeste, stooping down for closer
-inspection, “'Honi soit qui mal y pense,' as large as life in gold
-letters running all round it--just as near the real thing as possible.”
-
-Donald and Harold were on the eve of laughing outright, but
-Marie-Celeste, detecting a suspicious blinking in the long curling
-lashes of the eyelids, kept them still by an imperative gesture.
-
-“Yes, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, imitating exactly old Brown's
-tone and accent when showing visitors through the chapel, “this is a
-monument erected to the memory of a knight who was killed in battle,
-together with his noble palfrey. It represents him as he was found, one
-arm around the neck of his faithful charger” (at this the knight's lips
-also betrayed a certain uncontrollable twitching). “The smile upon his
-face is considered one of the chief charms of the statue; but the way
-that we know that he is a knight--in fact, the only way--is by this blue
-garter around his knee.” At this the little limb was suddenly drawn
-up, that the tell-tale garter might be hid from view; and then, able to
-stand it no longer, Albert looked up entreatingly to the children above
-him, and blushingly explained, “Dorothy made it for me, just for a bit
-of fun, you know;” and then sure to a certainty that he never, never
-would hear the end of that blue garter, buried his blushes in Timothy's
-long silky coat, and rued the hour when Dorothy had so merrily abetted
-his desire for this particular “bit of fun.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI.--WHAT CAME OF A LETTER.
-
-[Illustration: 9109]
-
-I am convinced this is not the best sort of life for Donald. It would
-be vastly better for him to have something to do.”
-
-“But surely he is not yet in a condition to go to sea again, and it is
-next to impossible to find any temporary position for him in Windsor.”
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Harris were out for a drive behind Harold's chestnut
-ponies, and, as usual, when something important had need to be talked
-over, the ponies did pretty much as they liked, and that meant, I am
-ashamed to say (for they were quite too young to so much as think of
-being lazy), keeping up the merest pretence of a trot for a while, and
-then subsiding into a walk altogether.
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Harris, apparently none the wiser, talked on and on, and
-the ponies put their heads together, as though actually conferring as to
-the advisability of stopping to graze a little while by the way.
-
-“You see, this sort of life is too luxurious for the fellow,” argued Mr.
-Harris. “It was well enough while he needed care and nursing, but the
-boy has always had to rough it, and he'll have to rough it again; and I
-think we're unfitting him for it.”
-
-“But what can we do? It is better for him to be idle here with us, it
-seems to me, than in some ordinary lodging-house, where things, to be
-sure, are not by any means luxurious, but where a boy who is not at work
-meets with so many temptations.”
-
-“I wonder if it would not be a good idea to write Chris Hartley? He told
-me his grandfather has a snug little place and several head of stock,
-and, like as not, Donald would make himself of use, or, at any rate,
-Chris could keep him occupied in some way, and we could pay his board
-for him there. He won't be strong enough to put to sea before September,
-that's certain.”
-
-“That's a splendid idea, Fritz; you always seem to be able to construct
-some sort of a highroad out of every difficulty;” and Mr. Harris said,
-“Thank you, madam,” with an affectation of profound gratitude; but for
-all that he was none the less truly grateful. We are a little too apt,
-most of us, to assume too much with our nearest and dearest--to take for
-granted that they know all the thoughts of our heart, and so seldom put
-our praise of them into words. But what a mistake! Is there anything
-so precious in all this world as the openly expressed admiration of
-the people we really love? No matter how one pretends to receive it, it
-makes one feel very happy at heart all the same, and humble and grateful
-as well. You'd forgive this bit of what the critics call moralizing--it
-is all the outcome of that remark of Mrs. Harris's; nothing was further
-from my thoughts until she put it into my head by giving Mr. Harris that
-unexpected little compliment. It was the truth, however. He did have a
-genius for overcoming difficulties, instead of being overcome by them;
-and the particular difficulty of what had best be none with Donald being
-temporarily settled, they proceeded to give themselves wholly to the
-pleasure of the drive. They readjusted things in the comfortable little
-phaeton and tucked the lap-robe about them in trimmer fashion, and then
-the ponies, feeling a tightening grasp on the lines, and intuitively
-conscious of a whip poised at an easily descending angle, wisely saw fit
-to make up for lost time. Along the perfect English road they scampered,
-and out to Virginia Water, at the merriest pace, and then home again at
-a better pace still, so alluring to their pony imaginations were the
-box stalls and oats that lay in that direction. They only wished so much
-time did not have to be wasted after they reached there. How thoughtless
-it was to walk a pony, who had just come in from a long drive, up and
-down a lane for half an hour, just for the sake of giving a groom a
-little exercise! They did protest with their heels now and then, but
-that only meant a closer, more uncomfortable grip on the halter, and
-made matters rather worse than better. And so what wonder, with all
-this fuss and senseless bother, that Mr. Harris had written and mailed
-a letter to Mr. Christopher Hartley before the ponies had gotten so much
-as their noses within their own box stalls! As for the letter, you would
-have thought it harmless enough could you have looked over Mr. Harris's
-shoulder as he wrote it. It simply related the facts about Donald, and
-asked if old Mr. and Mrs. Hartley would not be good enough to take him
-to board for the rest of the summer, and if Chris would not contrive to
-keep him occupied about the farm in some way that should not overtax his
-newly gained strength. That was all there was in it, and yet can you not
-surmise how even that letter was calculated to work great consternation
-in the mind of some one in the little thatched cottage--some one who
-never saw the letter itself, and who did not so much as know of its
-existence until it had been read and re-read and thought over and
-answered, but who when one day he was made acquainted with its contents
-felt as weak as a kitten for hours afterward? He happened to be lying on
-the lounge in the living-room at the time, the same lounge to which
-he had been carried more dead than alive apparently, just four weeks
-before. He looked very pale and white still, but the doctor said he was
-getting on as fast as could be expected, only Ted--for of course it is
-Ted we are talking about--wished he might have been expected to get on
-just five times faster. He had had a great deal of time to think during
-the first part of his illness--in fact, he had had nothing else to do,
-for the doctor would not let him use his eyes--and he had made up his
-mind that when he was himself once more he was going to begin life all
-over again, and naturally he was anxious to get to work. There was
-that in his face, however, that showed plainly enough that he had
-begun already, though he did not in the least suspect it; an earnest,
-thoughtful look that even bluff old Mr. Hartley was quick to detect.
-
-“Seems like, to look at our new lodger, that he's mendin' in more ways
-than one,” he had said to his wife as they walked to the parish church
-on a sunshiny Sunday morning, the second after Ted's accident. “There's
-a kind of a light in his eye, as though he was meditatin' turnin' over a
-new leaf when he gets a chance.”
-
-“He's turned it already, I'm thinking, Thomas,” answered Mrs. Hartley,
-with a woman's clearer discernment.
-
-And it was on that same Sunday morning, just two weeks before, that Ted
-had made a discovery. Chris had staid home from church to take care of
-him, Harry Allyn, who had constituted himself Ted's nurse, having gone
-for a day or two up to Oxford, where some matters needed his attention.
-Ted was still in bed at the time, but tired enough of it, and glad to
-draw Chris into conversation.
-
-“It is queer to think of you as in the employ of 'Uncle Sam,'” said Ted,
-who by this time had come to be on most friendly terms with Chris.
-
-“I look as though I belonged right here, don't I?” said Chris, glancing
-down at his English suit of homespun. “But you ought to see me in my
-gray uniform and brass buttons. Really, Mr. Morris, fond as I am of the
-old people here, I often wish I were back at work again. It seems like
-my own country over there now, and I've grown to love it.”
-
-[Illustration: 012]
-
-“When are you going back, Chris?”
-
-“I don't know exactly--somewhere about the first of October. Same
-steamer, if I can manage it, with Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Marie-Celeste!” exclaimed Ted; and then, bethinking himself, he asked
-quite casually, “Who is Marie-Celeste, I should like to know?”
-
-“Well, she's just a dear child, Mr. Morris--a little American of twelve
-or thereabouts--but there isn't a little girl in all England can hold a
-candle to her.”
-
-“Can it be possible there are two little American Marie-Celestes in
-England this summer?” thought Ted; and then, trying with all his might
-not to betray his excitement, he asked further, “How did you come to
-know her, Chris?”
-
-“She's on my route, Mr. Morris. Along of my being fond of children, I
-know all of the boys and girls pretty well at the houses where I call;
-but Marie-Celeste is different from the rest. She just takes your heart
-by storm, with her confiding, little trusting ways and her interest
-in you. Here's a picture of her, that her mother let her give me last
-Christmas,” and Chris began a search through many papers in his wallet
-for the cherished photograph. Meantime, Ted realized how weak he was,
-that such a matter as this should put him into a tremble; and later,
-when Chris gave him the photograph, he could only manage by the greatest
-effort to keep his hand from shaking as he held it, but the picture
-settled matters. From beneath the curve of a wide-brimmed hat looked
-forth the familiar face of his own little cousin, Marie-Celeste, and the
-color rushed up into his forehead.
-
-“I guess I'm tiring you with talking so much,” said Chris; “I'll tell
-you all about her some other time;” and Ted, replying, “Well, somehow
-or other, I do seem to get exhausted precious easily,” turned over and
-closed his eyes.
-
-“A nap'll do wonders for you, Mr. Morris;” and lowering the shades at
-the two ivy-grown windows, and adjusting the screen that stood near
-the bed, Chris left the room. But a nap, as often happens, would not do
-anything at all for poor Ted just then. It did not have the ghost of a
-chance, in fact. How could it with so many queer thoughts and sensations
-chasing each other pell-mell through his mind. Wouldn't Chris be
-surprised, he thought, if he knew that Marie-Celeste was his own cousin,
-and living that moment in Ted's own home was one of the precious company
-from whom he was anxious to keep all knowledge of this worst and last
-scrape. But he felt like a fraud, lying there in the Hartleys' dear
-little cottage, and letting them think him another man altogether from
-the fellow he really was. Indeed, he experienced the same sensation
-every time any one called him by the name of Morris, which had been the
-first name to occur to Harry Allyn, in his desire to shield his friend
-on the night of the accident. “And yet,” argued Ted, “I'm doing it to
-save the folks at home the disgrace of it, and Harry and Dr. Arnold
-seem to think it all right; and yet, I declare if I know myself what to
-think. And what a remarkable thing it is that I should have fallen right
-into the hands of this old friend of Marie-Celeste's! Like as not my
-secret will out some day in spite of me. It would have been out at once
-if Chris had not been so considerate as to keep himself out of the way,
-so that we did not meet that morning on the steamer. I wonder if I ought
-not to tell just Chris, anyway; but somehow or other I do not seem to
-have strength enough even to make up my mind, and I'll give up trying
-for the present;” and so, ceasing to make any effort whatever, the
-little nap that would not come for the asking stole quietly in and
-laid its blessed touch of oblivion upon poor, troubled Ted. Now, this
-discovery of Ted's, that Chris was a friend of Marie-Celeste, and the
-perplexing state of mind that followed, had transpired, you understand,
-two weeks previous to this particular chapter, and Ted, you remember,
-is lying on the chintz-covered lounge in the living-room, having gained
-strength enough in the mean time to walk from his bed to the lounge
-unaided. Mr. Hartley is reading his morning paper, sitting in the shade
-just outside the cottage door, with his chair tipped back against the
-shingles. Now and then, as he comes across anything he thinks will
-interest Ted, he lets the chair drop on to all-fours, shifts his
-position so as to bring himself into line with the door, and reads the
-article or paragraph aloud. Ted, amused, and grateful as well at the
-manner in which the old keeper has gradually softened toward him, always
-listens attentively, and courteously feigns interest, when he finds
-he cannot command the real article. Mrs. Hartley, still busy about her
-morning household duties, occasionally flits in and out of the room, and
-Ted's eyes follow her devotedly every moment that she is there. He has
-grown to love the dear old grandmother with the whole of his wayward
-heart, and she seems to him the embodiment of all that is calm and
-loving and benignant. Indeed, it were difficult to tell how much of the
-blessed change that has been gradually coming over Ted is due to her
-noble, placid face. He has sufficient knowledge of human nature to
-realize that nothing but years and years of noblest thinking and doing
-will bring that look into a face, and he finds his soul fairly bowing
-down before her. On one of these busy flittings of Mrs. Hartley's, Ted
-has detained her for a moment, to ask some trifling question, and just
-as she is about to make a reply, Chris, returning from his daily
-ride into Nuneham for the mail, swings into the room with his breezy,
-postman-like air, and empties the contents of the little Hartley
-mail-bag upon the table.
-
-[Illustration: 0115]
-
-“It's all settled, granny dear,” he says, as he picks out two letters
-and hands them to Ted; “I've had a letter from Marie-Celeste and one
-from Mr. Harris, and he'll be down to-morrow on the three-o'clock
-train.”
-
-“My goodness!” mutters Ted under his breath, staring at Chris a moment
-in blank astonishment, and then straightway pretends to be all absorbed
-in his own mail. One or two college bills, forwarded by Harry Allyn from
-Oxford, were all there was to it, for, alas! there were no home letters
-for Ted in these days of self-imposed exile from kith and kin. The
-bills, however, gave him a chance to pull himself together, as he made
-a ruse of carefully examining them, while his heart thumped like a
-trip-hammer at the thought of Uncle Fritz coming down to Nuneham and
-finding him stranded there, helpless, good-for-nothing fellow that he
-felt himself to be.
-
-“You say you saw a great deal of him on the steamer, Chris?” said Mrs.
-Hartley, who had seated herself in the nearest chair, awaiting the
-budget of news that Chris always endeavored to bring out from Nuneham,
-for the enlivening of the old people.
-
-“Yes, granny, a great deal. I really don't know how he would have
-managed but for me.”
-
-“That's cool,” thought Ted; “I'm sure Uncle Fritz seems quite able to
-take care of himself.”
-
-“And he's a good-looking little fellow, is he, Chris?”
-
-“Good-looking and good-natured, granny dear; you'll take to him right
-from the start.”
-
-Well, this was passing comprehension! Uncle Fritz a good-looking,
-good-natured little fellow; and forgetting everything else in his
-amazement, Ted turned from Chris to Mrs. Hartley, and back again
-to Chris, in hopeless bewilderment, while they, wholly unobservant,
-continued to converse in what seemed to him most idiotic fashion.
-
-They talked about his illness, and of how kind Marie-Celeste and her
-Cousin Harold had been to him, and of what wonders they hoped Nuneham
-would do for him, and of how, for his own sake, they must continue to
-keep him busy in little matters about the farm.
-
-“Really,” said Ted at last, able to stand it no longer, and looking
-pathetically toward Chris, “I don't mean to be inquisitive, but do I
-understand you that the father of your friend, Marie-Celeste, is coming
-here to your cottage to recruit from some illness, and that you plan to
-entertain him by putting him to work on the farm?”
-
-If either Chris or Mrs. Hartley had been close observers of human
-nature, they would have been almost alarmed at the expression on Ted's
-face. It was as though he felt himself in some way impelled to ask a
-question which proclaimed him a pitiful lunatic on the face of it.
-
-“Oh, dear, no!” laughed Chris; “I--”
-
-“Well, that's exactly what you said,” interrupted Ted. “You said you had
-a letter from Marie-Celeste and one from her father, and that he'd
-be down on the three-o'clock train to-morrow.” Ted spoke petulantly,
-feeling it was inexcusable to scare a fellow half to death in that
-manner.
-
-“Well, _he_, Mr. Morris,” ascribing Ted's petulance to the nervousness
-of slow convalescence, “happens to mean a little sailor boy who crossed
-on the steamer with us, and about whom Mr. Harris and I have been
-corresponding. It was funny enough that you should have applied all I
-have said to a man like Mr. Harris.”
-
-Ted did not think it so very funny, and his face showing it, Chris
-continued in a half-apologetic tone, “I ought to have told you about
-him, Mr. Morris, and I thought I had and then, by the way of making
-amends, Chris proceeded to narrate all the details of Donald's various
-experiences in a way that was somewhat of a bore to one who knew it all
-as Ted did.
-
-“Well,” he thought, when he was finally left to himself once more, it's
-out of the frying-pan and into the fire,' or something very much like
-it. Of course I'll have to take Donald into my confidence; but like as
-not he'll come suddenly upon me, and blurt out just who I am before I
-get a chance to give him a point or two. There's no doubt about it, 'the
-way of the transgressor _is_ hard'--very hard indeed and with a grim
-sort of smile on his face, Ted gathered his dressing-gown about him, and
-with rather shaky steps sought the seclusion of his own little room.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII.--DONALD'S NEW QUARTERS.
-
-[Illustration: 9119]
-
-The day for Donald's departure had arrived--that is, to the extent that
-the sun, rising clear and bright at four o'clock, shone alike upon the
-big castle on the hill and the little one beneath it. In the big castle,
-let us hope, since we may not know, that even crowned heads were resting
-easily, and that the level rays were powerless at that early hour to
-waken them to that sense of great uneasiness supposed to be inseparable
-from the lot of the “nobly born.”
-
-But alas! I for one know to a Certainty that in the little castle there
-was rebellion almost amounting to mutiny, and that one curly, uncrowned
-head, that need not have had a care in all the world, was tossing
-uneasily on its pillow. It was behaving, indeed, like the most unruly
-little head imaginable, and obstinately refusing to accept a course of
-action which heads far older and wiser than the little head in question
-had agreed upon as in every way desirable. Indeed, the little queen,
-whose realm was the hearts of her nearest and dearest, would have been
-obliged to abdicate, for a while at least, I fancy, had she not chosen
-before nightfall of that same day to bury her head in the lap of her
-very most loyal subject, and with tears and sohs confess to her extreme
-unreasonableness and avow her determination not soon again to be
-overtaken by such a sorry state of mind and temper. Even Donald stared
-at Marie-Celeste in grieved and reproving wonder, and yet to all
-appearances it was all for Donald's sake, this defiant, protesting
-attitude of hers, and Donald knew it. The trouble was that Marie-Celeste
-did not see or would not see either rhyme or reason in Donald's being
-sent down to Nuneham.
-
-She gave full rein to a certain “little member,” and working herself up
-to the highest pitch of excitement, gave vent in very aggressive
-fashion to such sentiments as these. For her part, she thought it was
-a downright shame to send a little fellow, who was just getting over
-a fever, away to work himself to death on an old farm, where he would
-surely be ill again before a week was over. And then it seemed so mean
-not to be willing to pay his expenses outright for just one summer, till
-he should be able to go to sea, instead of making him go to work and
-earn money in the mean time.
-
-For her part, too, when somebody (which was Harold) stood ready only
-too gladly to pay Donald's way on the trip they were to take through
-the Lake Country, and was just longing to invite him, she thought it was
-_cruelly unkind_ in somebody else (which was her father) to say he did
-not think best that he should be invited. If she were Harold, she just
-believed she would go right ahead as she thought best herself. She
-should think he had a right to do what he chose with his own without so
-much as asking “by your leave” of anybody.
-
-And this unqueenly state of mind lasted, I am sorry to say, for three
-whole days together, to the dire distress of the truest hearts in
-her kingdom. And all this while the wilful little queen was trying to
-convince herself that it was ready for Donald's sake, when the truth
-was that the long walks with Donald, when Harold--who was making up some
-necessary back work at college--was not at her service, were what she
-was determined not to give up, and the reading aloud in the evenings,
-when Donald was such a delightful listener; and, in fact, the hundred
-and one little amusing things that Donald was continually doing, and
-that made the days go by in such happy, merry fashion.
-
-If only at the outset some good little fairy might have held a magic
-mirror close to her defiant little mind, and she could have seen
-“selfishness” written large, right straight across all her motives,
-there perhaps need never have been this dark chapter in her reign. But
-lacking the fairies, some of us have to learn a good many things from
-experience; and though hard enough in the learning, the lessons are
-worth their weight in gold. Even queens have to goto the same school,
-and it is a blessed thing for everybody when its lessons are learned _by
-heart_ and in a way to be always remembered.
-
-But at sunset on the fourth day Marie-Celeste relented, and coming into
-the house with a white flag of truce at her eyes, threw herself at the
-feet of her dearest subject, and burying her head, as I have already
-hinted, in the lap of the same, capitulated body and soul.
-
-Donald was gone. They had seen him off at the station--Harold and
-she--and Donald, never allowing himself for a moment to regard this
-whole affair in any light but the true one, kept a stiff upper lip
-to the last, and smiled the cheeriest good-by as the guard banged the
-carriage-door and the train glided out from the depot. Before he jumped
-on the train, however, he had whispered, as the last of many entreaties:
-“I know it's all for my sake, Marie-Celeste, but all the same, it's an
-awful grind on me the way you're acting; and if you don't come to see it
-so pretty soon, your father and mother will wish they had never let you
-do anything for me. Honor bright, Marie-Celeste, you're not fair to them
-or to me at all. Please give in as soon as you go home, and say you're
-sorry, because you are--you _know_ you are.” And it was the “yes, I
-am” in Marie-Celeste's eyes, though her lips still firmly pressed each
-other, that made Donald's heart a thousand-fold lighter. And so, as you
-have read, Marie-Celeste did really give in, without so much as a mental
-reservation, and other hearts than Donald's were wondrously lightened,
-and there was joy throughout all the kingdom that the queen had come to
-her senses.
-
-Meantime, Donald's train made good time to Nuneham; and there was Chris
-at the station waiting with open arms to receive him, and, what was
-more, he took Donald into them in a way that nipped in the bud those
-queer little misgivings that spring up unbidden when one chances to
-be leaving old scenes for new. And then when they reached the cottage,
-there stood dear old Mis, Hartley, looking the picture of motherliness
-in her snow-white cap and kerchief; and the welcome that she gave Donald
-made him feel beyond all doubting that he had but exchanged one dear
-home for another; and that meant worlds to a boy who had come to know
-for the first time what a dear place home might be.
-
-[Illustration: 0122]
-
-In the hour that intervened between Donald's arrival and supper he had
-had a chat with Mr. Hartley, in which the old keeper had taken to the
-boy immensely; had made friends with Martha, as she showed him to the
-little room under the eaves and helped him to stow away the contents of
-his sailor chest, and had won his way straight to Mrs. Hartley's
-heart, who was but a woman, after all, and gratified by the undisguised
-admiration in his frank, honest eyes. There remained only one inmate of
-the cottage yet to be encountered--the gentleman about whom Chris had
-told him, and who had met with the driving accident a few weeks back;
-but the gentleman in question bad his own ideas as to the time and place
-when that dreaded encounter was to be gotten through with, and Donald
-was not to be favored with an interview that evening.
-
-“If it's not too much bother, Mrs. Hartley,” Ted had said, “I'll have my
-supper here in my room to-night. I think for a first drive Harry took me
-a little too far this afternoon.”
-
-“I was afraid of that--afraid of that,” said Mrs. Hartley, looking at
-Ted with the deepest solicitude, so that Ted felt like a fraud, for
-though tired indeed from the drive, he had quite strength enough to take
-his seat at the table with the rest but for the presence of that new and
-undesired guest, Donald.
-
-“Your sailor-boy arrived all right?” asked Ted, partly by way of
-diverting conversation from himself and partly because there was the
-possibility of meeting him to be provided against.
-
-“Yes, indeed,” her face lighting up as she spoke; “and he seems the
-most attractive little fellow. I want you should meet him after--”
-
-“Not to-night, I think, Mrs. Hartley, if you don't mind. I'll just see
-Harry a few moments when he comes and turn in very early. The little
-sailor-boy will keep all right till morning, won't he?'”
-
-Deeply annoyed that Ted's strength should have been so apparently
-overtaxed, Mrs. Hartley paid no attention to this last remark.
-
-“I shall take Mr. Allyn to task when he comes to-night,” she said
-severely (that is, for her); “he should have known better; but if I
-leave you now perhaps you'll get a good sleep before ever it's time for
-your supper;” and then as she went out Ted drew a long sigh, and had
-half a mind to call the dear old lady back and take her right into his
-confidence. But no; on the whole, he thought he would wait and once more
-consult Harry, and, besides, he was really too tired to enter upon any
-explanations just then.
-
-“Why, where's Ted?” asked Harry Allyn with real concern, as at his usual
-hour he brought up at the doorway of the little cottage and peered into
-the room beyond. The evening meal over, the old couple were seated on
-the settle just outside the door, and Mrs. Hartley made room for Harry
-between them.
-
-“You've quite used Mr. Morris up!” she said reprovingly; “you ought not
-to have gone so far; all these weeks of nursing ought to have taught you
-better than that, Mr. Allyn.”
-
-“Why, Mrs. Hartley!” for from any one so mild this was indeed censure.
-“Really I think you are a little hard on me. It was Ted's own fault. I
-wanted to turn back two or three times, and Ted wouldn't hear of it.”
-
-“You should have turned, all the same. Invalids never know what is best
-for them.”
-
-“Well, how used up is he?” asked Harry with a sigh, more concerned at
-the thought of harm done to Ted even than at Mrs. Hartley's disapproval.
-“It is an awful pity if he's going to have a regular set-back.”
-
-“Oh, it's not so bad as that, I fancy;” for sooner or later, Mrs.
-Hartley always felt self-reproachful, no matter how justly she had taken
-any one to task; “but Mr. Morris wants to see you for a few moments, so
-you can go in and judge for yourself.”
-
-“So, you're a wreck,” said Harry, entering Ted's room and closing the
-door gently after him.
-
-“Well, I'm pretty tired, but I'm here for a reason, you know.”
-
-“Oh!” evidently relieved; “I thought possibly that was it; you didn't
-get any chance, then, to have a word with Donald?”
-
-“No; there didn't seem to be any way to manage, so I just kept my room.
-Some day soon I'm going to tell them here all about myself, but I want
-to do it in my own time and way, and not seem pushed to it because of
-Donald's coming, and as though I only told because I thought I couldn't
-keep them longer from knowing.”
-
-“Look here, Ted, I'll manage this thing for you,” said Harry, after a
-few moments' silence. “I'll drop in to breakfast in the morning, and
-I'll contrive somehow to get the boy in here for a word with you as soon
-as he shows his face below stairs.”
-
-“Agreed,” answered Ted.
-
-“Well, then, good-night, and do you get a good rest, so that Mrs.
-Hartley will not think me wholly unfit in future to act as guardian on
-your drives.”
-
-True to his word, bright and early the next morning Harry unbolted the
-outer door of the inn at Nuneham, where no one was yet stirring, and
-started for his two-mile walk to the Hartleys'. It was a glorious July
-morning, the air clear as a bell, and a bird here and there carolling
-with all the abandon of June in the hedgerows.
-
-One after the other he passed the typical little English farms that
-skirt the roadway, seeming in their trim perfection and miniature
-proportions more like toys to unaccustomed eyes.
-
-It was only half-past six by the time he reached the Hartleys', and
-Donald, as good fortune would have it, had just come downstairs and was
-standing right in the doorway. Donald, who had been absent on a tour
-of the farm with Chris when Harry was at the house the night before, at
-once surmised who the new-comer was, but gazed in blank amazement,
-none the less, as Harry, calling him by name, commanded him rather
-imperatively to stay just where he was for a moment. Then opening Ted's
-door, Harry said in a loud whisper:
-
-“He's just outside here, and there's no one else within gun-shot; shall
-I bring him in?”
-
-“Yes,” sighed Ted, since the thing was inevitable.
-
-No sooner said than done. Donald found himself in the stranger's room
-and with his face aflame with the strangeness and suddenness of the
-manner of his introduction. But behold! he was no stranger. In bed
-though Ted was, and pale and white from his illness, one glance was
-sufficient, and Donald stood transfixed, his hands on his hips in sailor
-fashion and absolutely speechless.
-
-“You know me, Donald?” said Ted, raising himself on one elbow.
-
-“Yes, sir,” getting the words out with difficulty; “you're Mr. ------”
-
-“Yes, but stop right where you are, for you're not to mention here who I
-am. Do you think you can keep a secret?”
-
-“If I choose I can for this was a very queer proceeding, and he was not
-going to be led blindfold.
-
-“Well, then, will you please be good enough to choose to keep it till
-matters can be explained to you?”
-
-“When will that be?” in a business-like way that was rather amusing.
-
-“Till we can go for a walk after breakfast, and I can enlighten you,”
- said Harry.
-
-“And you mean that now, just for a little while, I am not to let the
-Hartleys know that we've met before?” but as though he did not in the
-least take to the idea.
-
-“Exactly,” said Ted.
-
-“Well, of course I can't refuse to do that much; but up at Windsor, you
-know, they think you are off on a driving trip, and are wondering that
-you don't write.”
-
-“There's nothing to wonder at in that,” Ted answered a little sadly;
-“Harold knows I've never been in the habit of writing, or of doing some
-other things, for that matter, that might perhaps have been expected of
-me.”
-
-“Yes, I know,” was Donald's frank answer; “it's an awful pity.”
-
-“'Nough said, my young friend,” remarked Harry, and fearing what next
-might follow, marched him out of the room with a “Now be on your guard,
-young man, and be sure and remember your promise.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII.--MADAME LA GRANDE REINE.
-
-[Illustration: 9127]
-
-They had spent a most interesting hour at the Royal Mews, and, rare
-good fortune, the best was yet to come. They means Mr. Harris and
-Marie-Celeste and Albert, and the Royal Mews--since to the average
-little American the words doubtless are wholly unintelligible--means the
-royal stables. Mr. Harris and Marie-Celeste had called by appointment
-in the phaeton lor Albert, and then leaving the ponies in the care of a
-groom at the entrance to the stable courtyard, in company with another
-groom they had visited the royal horses. The place as a whole was rather
-disappointing to our little party. Harold, who had been all through the
-stables of the Duke of Westminster at Eton Hall, had described something
-much finer than this--imposing buildings surrounding a courtyard paved
-with bevel-edged squares of stone, with not so much as a whisp of hay
-or straw to be seen anywhere, and in the centre a noble statue of a
-high-spirited horse, rearing and pulling hard at the bridle, held in the
-hand of a stalwart groom, who seems fully equal to the occasion. Here
-there was nothing of the sort, and yet these were the Queen's stables.
-Ah, well! these were old and the Duke's were new, and perhaps the royal
-family were trying to avoid extravagance, and that was of course very
-commendable. But what seemed lacking in elegance of appointment was made
-up in the number of horses; and happening to enter one of the courtyards
-just as three of the court carriages were about to be driven out of it,
-the children were intensely interested. Marie-Celeste opened her eyes
-wide for wonder at the novel sight of a coach and four, but with no
-reins anywhere about the harness, and not so much as the suggestion of
-a scat for the coachman. The mystery of how they were to be driven was
-solved in a moment, however, when a faultlessly equipped groom threw
-himself astride of one of the leaders, and the stablemen, standing at
-the bridles of the four-in-hand, at one and the same moment let go
-their hold, and sprang quickly out of the way. It was very inspiring and
-exciting to see the three coaches, that were to convey some royal guests
-to the depot, leave the courtyard one after the other, the horses in
-each case prancing in wildest fashion and perfectly free, apparently,
-with the exception of the one mounted leader, to do any outlandish thing
-that they chose.
-
-“I don't see that there's anything at all to keep them from running
-away,” pondered Marie-Celeste gravely, “or how they ever manage them at
-all.”
-
-“But dey do,” said well-informed Albert; “I've seen dem often. Dat
-cuttin' up is jus' for fun at de start. Dey're trained to behave jus' of
-dere own selves without any driver, and when dey get out on de road
-dey always do behave;” and then in the moment's pause that followed,
-Marie-Celeste, remembering certain recent performances of her own,
-wondered if her father wished that a certain little girl, of whom he
-had some knowledge, more closely resembled these royal ponies, who, once
-trained to behave, according to Albert, never dreamed of taking the bit
-in their teeth or of kicking over the traces.
-
-But the best that was yet to come was something of a highly exclusive
-and highly privileged order--something in which even Mr. Harris could
-have no part. From the moment that Albert had climbed into the phaeton
-at his own door he had held a small square envelope firmly in one hand.
-Mr. Harris had advised him to put it in his pocket or to consign it to
-him for safer keeping but to no avail. Albert considered the grip of his
-own right hand the safest place by far for the valuable little square
-of cardboard, and which was nothing else than the open sesame to the
-Queen's own garden, called the East Terrace, and to which the general
-public only occasionally were admitted. Exception, in this instance, had
-been made for Marie-Celeste and Albert. It had all been managed in some
-way by Albert's father, Canon Allyn, apropos of Albert's having repeated
-a remark of Marie-Celeste's, “that she should be happy as a queen
-herself if just once she could be allowed to walk in that garden.”
- Whether the powers that rule the entrance to the same came to the
-conclusion that to a little girl of twelve and a little boy of four the
-term of general public could not honestly be applied, or whether all
-rules of procedure and precedence were magnanimously waived in
-their favor, certain it is that the little card in question bore the
-incredible inscription: “Admit Master Albert Allyn and his little
-friend, Miss Marie-Celeste Harris, to the East Terrace between the hours
-of twelve and three on Thursday. By order of ----------”
-
-And this was Thursday, and by Mr. Harris's watch, long ago carefully
-adjusted to English time, it was precisely five minutes to twelve. The
-skies were blue above them and a delightful little breeze was blowing
-out of the west; so that everything was just as it should be when two
-pairs of eager little feet were to be allowed to tread the paths of the
-Queen's own garden. And such a garden as it proved! with its fountains
-and statues and vases, and the orangery on one side, and on the other
-three sides a beautiful sloping lawn, ascending from the level of the
-garden to the gray stonewall at the outer edge of the terrace; and
-to think that here they were actually walking about in this beautiful
-garden, instead of merely peering through the fretwork of the iron gate,
-as some other little children with envious eyes were doing that very
-moment. Marie-Celeste was so impressed with the greatness of the
-privilege accorded them, that for the first five minutes or so she kept
-Albert's hand tight in her own, and spoke never a word save a whispered
-“yes” or “no” to Albert's questions. But to Albert, who had been
-born beneath the castle walls, it must be confessed royalty was less
-awe-inspiring, and to walk about hand in hand in that stately fashion
-and talk in suppressed whispers was not his idea of the way to enjoy the
-Queen's garden.
-
-[Illustration: 0129]
-
-Finally he resolved to take matters into his own hands by suddenly
-slipping away from Marie-Celeste's grasp; and then drawing off a little,
-and folding both hands behind his back, as though neither of them were
-to be longer at anybody's disposal, he said aggressively: “And--and now
-what are you afraid of, Marie-Celeste? Do you sink somebody's goin' to
-soot you from de top of one of de towers if you speak out loud?”
-
-“Why no, of course not,” with a little nervous laugh; “really, I didn't
-know I was just whispering; but it seems such a wonderful place to me,
-as much for what has happened here as for what is here now.”
-
-Albert looked at Marie-Celeste a little whimsically, and then said
-dryly: “Well, I don' know much about what's happened here, and I
-s'ouldn't sink jus' an American little girl would know so very much
-eider.”
-
-“Perhaps not,” said Marie-Celeste, half angry at Albert's insinuation;
-“but 's'ouldn't sink' or no, I could tell you a good deal if I chose to
-about one little queen who lived here--”
-
-“Oh, yes, I remember. You did promise to tell me 'bout her some
-day. Right here, where she used to live, would be a good place,
-Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Yes, it would,” but in a tone as though nothing was farther from her
-thought than the telling of it. She would show this presuming little
-Albert that “jus' American little girls” were not to be so easily
-conciliated.
-
-Albert looked crestfallen, but hoped still to win by strategy.
-
-“She was a little French girl, wasn't she?” he asked, quite casually.
-
-“Yes, she was.”
-
-“Do you s'pose she used to play in this garden?”
-
-“I'm sure I don't know,” with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders.
-
-“Her name was Isabel, wasn't it?”
-
-“Yes, her name was Isabel.”
-
-“And she was only nine when she was a queen.”
-
-“Only nine.”
-
-Albert gave Marie-Celeste a look which said as plainly as words: “That
-jus' American little girls could be awful mean,” and evidently deciding
-it would be best to leave that kind of a girl to herself, turned on his
-heel and walked straight off toward the castle with a consequential air,
-and as though bent on reporting such unseemly conduct to Her Majesty in
-person.
-
-Marie-Celeste looked after him a moment with a most amused smile, and
-then growing to feel more at home amid royal surroundings, turned to
-investigate the little miniature elephants that flank the steps leading
-down from the eastern terrace. Then she wandered on, making a partial
-circuit of the garden, stopping here and there to gaze at some statue
-that struck her fancy or to touch with reverend hand the rich carving of
-the vases, and finally bringing up at the fountain in the centre.
-
-Meantime, what had not that audacious Albert ventured! The rapid and
-indignant pace at which he had sought to put as much space as possible
-between the offending Marie-Celeste and himself had brought him in a
-trice to the foot of the double flight of steps that ascend from the
-garden to the terrace. And what more natural, when you find yourself at
-the foot of a flight of steps, than to walk up them, no matter if the
-place does chance to be Windsor Castle; and then if at the top you
-find an open door confronting you, what more natural than to walk in,
-particularly if there happens to be no one to say you nay, and you have
-half a mind, besides, to seek an audience of the Queen, and report
-the ungracious conduct of an ungracious little American, who has been
-unworthily permitted to tread the paths of the royal garden. A few
-moments later he was bounding down the stone stairway, flying toward
-Marie-Celeste with the breathless announcement: “She wants us to come
-in.”
-
-“Who?” screamed Marie-Celeste, half stiff with fright; “not the Queen?”
-
-“No,” called Albert, who was not to be delayed by explanations, and was
-already half-way back to the steps again; “the Queen's mother.”
-
-“The Queen's mother!” thought Marie-Celeste; “she must be very old.” But
-this was time for action rather than thought.
-
-“Please wait for me, Albert;” for Albert had scaled the stairs, and
-in another second would be out of sight; and for a wonder, Albert
-waited--touched, perhaps, by the entreaty in her voice, and perceptibly
-enjoying the turn of affairs that left him master of the situation.
-
-“Did the Queen's mother come out and ask you to come in?” whispered
-Marie-Celeste, detaining Albert by main force, while she straightened
-his necktie and gave his hopelessly frowsy curls a rearranging touch.
-
-“No, I went in and asked her to tome out; nes I did, really,” in
-refutation of the astonished incredulity on Marie-Celeste's face.
-
-“The door was open, an' I jus' walked in, an' I dess dey sought I was
-jus' a little prince or somethin', cause nobody said anythin' to me till
-I tame to the room where de Queen's mother was; an' I asked her wouldn't
-she tome out in de garden an' see you; an' she said no, she did not feel
-able to walk very much, but for me to go an' bring my little friend in.”
-
-And nothing could, by any possibility, have been more patronizing than
-the tone in which Albert uttered the words “my little friend.” And this
-was all the light that was ever thrown on Albert's unsolicited _entree_
-into Windsor Castle. If he met with a rebuff from any quarter or had to
-push his way in the face of any difficulties, he has never owned up to
-them.
-
-Be that as it may, a very sweet-faced lady met them at the door as they
-entered, and saying reassuringly, “Come this way, children,” led them
-through a corridor resplendent with statues and portraits, and thence by
-a wide folding-door into a large room, with windows looking out over the
-Long Walk and away to the grand old Windsor Forest.
-
-Albert, who had already become familiar with the appointments of this
-apartment, stepped at once to the table, near which an elderly lady was
-sitting, and laying his sailor-hat, nothing loath, atop of a miniature
-of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, announced cavalierly,
-“And--and now, this is my little American friend, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“How do you do, dear?” said the lady, extending her hand, which
-Marie-Celeste, her cheeks aflame with the unexpected abruptness of
-Albert's introduction, took in hers, in a pretty deferential sort of
-way, as though fully conscious of the dignity of her surroundings.
-Albert, on the other hand, apparently as much at home in the Queen's
-private sitting-room as anywhere else in the world, had worked himself
-way back into a deep-seated, gilded armchair, so that his dusty
-little feet stuck straight out into the air before him. Meanwhile, the
-sweet-faced lady had drawn a little _tête-a-tète_ sofa nearer the table,
-and invited Marie-Celeste to take a seat beside her, and then there
-followed a few general remarks as to the warmth of the weather and the
-beauty of the garden, etc., while Marie-Celeste gazed in unconcealed
-admiration at everything about her.
-
-“It is very beautiful,” she said in the first pause of the conversation,
-“to be allowed to see the inside of this part of the castle, but I am
-afraid it was very rude in Albert to walk right in the way he did.”
-
-“Very rude?” Indeed! Albert's eyes flashed, and there is no telling what
-rejoinder he might have made but that the sweet-faced lady gave him no
-opportunity.
-
-“Oh, that's all right,” she said cordially; “Albert told us he was Canon
-Allyn's little boy, and that made us very glad to see him, for the Queen
-has a very high regard for Canon Allyn; and then when he told us he
-thought you would like to come in too, the Queen sent for you.”
-
-“That was very kind of the Queen,” said Marie-Celeste gratefully, while
-Albert looked mystified, for he was not at all aware of the Queen's
-having had any part in the transaction; but he thought it was a good
-time to gain a little useful information.
-
-“I suppose de Queen is always very busy,” he said, addressing the young
-lady, “and never has any time jus'--jus' to sit around like dis?”
-
-The young lady hesitated a moment before she answered, and glanced
-toward the Queen, for the elderly lady was none other, if you please,
-than Victoria herself, though it never entered the children's heads for
-one moment to suspect it. A Queen in black silk and a lace cap! Why, the
-thing was simply incredible. Albert had not passed the statue on Castle
-Hill almost every day since he learned to walk for nothing.
-
-[Illustration: 0135]
-
-He guessed he knew how a queen ought to look in her robes of velvet and
-ermine, and with characteristic self-sufficiency had at once settled
-it in his venturesome little mind that this was the Queen's mother; and
-Marie-Celeste, presuming he knew whereof he spoke, simply took him at
-his word. And so both the children almost at once betraying their utter
-unconsciousness of the Queen's presence, the Queen and her companion
-were naturally greatly amused, and by an interchange of glances decided
-not to enlighten their unsuspecting little visitors.
-
-“Her Majesty,” said Miss Belmore, the lady-in-waiting, after hesitating
-a moment, not knowing how to answer, “has of course many things to
-occupy her mind, but still she often spends a quiet hour or so in this
-very room.”
-
-“Oh, does she?” for this fact at once added a new lustre to everything
-for Marie-Celeste; “where does she generally sit?”
-
-“Generally where I am sitting,” answered the Queen.
-
-“And--and I know jus' how she looks sitting dere,” said Albert; “she has
-a beautiful crown on her head and a long kind of veil coming down from
-de crown, and a kind of gold stick in her hand dat papa says is called
-a--a--”
-
-“Sceptre,” suggested Marie-Celeste, coming to the rescue; “and then she
-wears”--for Marie-Celeste had studied the statue too--“a beautiful broad
-ribbon coming from one shoulder, crosswise this way to her belt, doesn't
-she?”
-
-“Yes, sometimes,” said Miss Belmore.
-
-“And on it she wears the badge of the Order of the Garter, doesn't she?”
-
-“Yes, that is right, too; but what do two little people like you know
-about the Order of the Garter?”
-
-“We know all dere is,” said Albert grandly; “we had a
-Knight-of-the-Garter day las' week;” and then recalling the matter
-of the foolish little garter, his face grew crimson, and he begged
-Marie-Celeste not to tell.
-
-“What do you mean by a Knight-of-the-Garter day?” said the Queen,
-smiling at Albert's embarrassment and keenly enjoying the novelty of the
-situation.
-
-“Why, it was a day,” Marie-Celeste explained, “when we came to the
-castle here and went into the different rooms and then into St. George's
-Chapel, and Harold Harris, my cousin, who lives here, and who has read
-up a great deal about the knights, told us all he knew about them. But
-there is one thing,” added Marie-Celeste, changing the subject, because
-unwilling that so important an occasion should be to any extent devoted
-to any mere narrating of their own childish doings, “I would very much
-like to know, and that is, if Victoria is ever called Madame La Grande
-Reine?”
-
-“Why no, my dear, I don't know that she is,” said Her Majesty; “but what
-a little French woman you seem to be.” At this Albert rudely clapped one
-little hand over his mouth, as though to keep from laughing outright.
-Marie-Celeste a little French woman! Why he didn't believe she knew more
-than a dozen French words to her name.
-
-“But why do you ask if she is ever called by that title?” continued the
-Queen.
-
-“Oh, because on the steamer coming over I learned all about the Queen
-whom they used to call Madame La Petite Reine.”
-
-“What are you saying, Marie-Celeste?” said Albert impetuously; “I
-don't understan' you at all;” for not for one single moment was this
-conversation in the Queen's own sitting-room to rise above the level of
-his comprehension, if it lay in his power to prevent it.
-
-“I am talking about the little French Queen, Isabel.”
-
-“Oh!” greatly relieved that the matter could be so easily explained; and
-then he added, turning beseechingly to Her Majesty, “Won't you please
-make her tell it? Se always says se knows a great deal about her, but se
-never tells what se knows.”
-
-It was Marie-Celeste's turn to color up now, and she looked at Albert,
-considering for a moment in what way she should proceed to annihilate
-him, when Her Majesty happily put to rout all such revengeful
-intentions. “I should love to talk with you about the little Isabel,”
- she said, “for I know all about her too, and there are some things here
-in the castle that used to belong to her that I should be glad to have
-you see. It seems to me you two little people will have to remain to
-luncheon, and afterward we will have a good talk about the little French
-Isabel.”
-
-“Oh, thank you,” said Marie-Celeste, “but I don't believe we can,”
- the idea of actually sitting down to the royal table being almost too
-overpowering.
-
-“Oh, nes we can, too,” said Albert, “if you sink the Queen won't mind.”
-
-“On the contrary,” said Her Majesty, with difficulty concealing her
-amusement, “I am confident she will be most glad to have you entertained
-at the castle; and now, Miss Belmore, will you summon Ainslee, that she
-may show our little friends through the private apartments?”
-
-Ainslee proved to be a motherly-looking, middle-aged woman with a bunch
-of keys hanging from her ample girdle. After she had received a word
-or two of direction from Miss Belmore, the children set off under her
-guidance, with unconcealed delight on their faces at the prospect of
-seeing with their own eyes these mysterious apartments, and with a
-deep-seated hope in each quick-beating heart that in all the full
-regalia of crown and sceptre and ermine they might somewhere encounter
-the marvellous Queen.
-
-Meantime, imagine the astonishment of the inmates of the Little Castle
-to have a finely mounted groom, in the royal livery of the big Castle,
-ride up to their door, and with that indescribable condescension
-inherent in even the most ordinary of grooms, hand in a communication,
-which on being opened imparted the rather astounding information “That
-Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, having accidentally made the
-acquaintance of the little visitors to the East Terrace, had invited
-them to remain for luncheon at the Castle, and would see that they
-reached home safely under proper escort later in the afternoon.” The
-note also mentioned that similar word had been sent by special messenger
-to Canon Allyn.
-
-“Gad, but they're lucky!” said Harold: and then he sent for his pony
-and started off for a long gallop, hoping thereby to get the better of
-certain absurdly jealous feelings that would not down at his bidding.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV.--MADAME LA PETITE REINE.
-
-[Illustration: 9139]
-
-Oh, the wonder, for Marie-Celeste, of that tour through the private
-apartments! As for Albert, it is to be doubted if he quite rose to
-the occasion. Nothing could be more awe-inspiring or majestic than the
-picture of the Queen he had formed in his mind; but as they were shown
-from room to room and failed to encounter her, his interest began to
-flag a little. There were apartments more grand than these, with which
-he was already familiar, in the other part of the Castle; and when
-Ainslee hurried them past two or three rooms with the explanation that
-some of the royal family were in them, he felt some-the very object
-of their of them, and he thought Ainslee might at least have told them
-which one, even though they were not to be permitted to have a sight
-of her. But with Marie-Celeste it was very different, She stood
-in worshipful admiration before all the royal belongings, and when
-permitted to gaze into one or two of the bedrooms where royalty actually
-put itself to bed, behind beautiful embroidered draperies, her sense
-of the privilege accorded her fairly made her hold her breath. At last,
-when Ainslee announced that they had made the tour of all the private
-apartments, they were ushered into a little boudoir where a maid waited
-in readiness to assist them in making their toilettes for luncheon. The
-maid, however, standing stiff and straight, with a towel thrown over
-her arm and a whisk-broom in hand ready to attack them, looked so very
-formidable that Marie-Celeste begged Ainslee not to leave them; and
-Ainslee, herself appreciating the overbearing self-importance of
-the maid Babette, was good enough to accede to her request. And then
-followed such a freshening of toilette as was fairly humiliating in its
-thoroughness. The trying feature of the proceeding lay in the fact that
-they were in no way taken into the confidence of the party officiating,
-or told what move was impending. Side by side they were thrust on to a
-little low seat, and their shoes and pumps being quickly removed, were
-consigned to the keeping of a condescending boots, who, summoned by
-the touch of an electric bell, carried them away at arm's length.
-Marie-Celeste was never more thankful in her life than that every button
-was on, and that Albert's little patent leathers were just as good as
-new; in fact, that nothing could be urged against those little articles
-of foot-wear save the grievous offence of dust from the royal garden.
-Their faces and hands were scrubbed with wholly unnecessary vigor, and
-in Albert's case even ears, and then both children were thrust on to
-the little low seat again, and drawing a stool in front of them, Babette
-laid an elaborate manicure set open upon her lap, and gave her whole
-mind to the shaping and polishing of their nails--a process in which
-Albert took great interest, and which was accomplished, it must be
-confessed, most dexterously and with great expedition.
-
-“You have beautiful nails, child,” said Babette, the instant she took
-Marie-Celeste's extended hands in hers; and this compliment from so high
-and experienced an authority made Marie-Celeste at once feel repaid for
-all the dainty care her mother had always insisted upon. At last the
-little toilettes were completed, even to the reformation of Albert's
-curls around an ivory curling stick; and with embroidered dress and
-well-starched kilt none the worse for the decorous experiences of the
-morning, they emerged from the little boudoir as “spick and span” as
-from the depths of the traditional bandbox. Luncheon being served, they
-found a most imposing butler awaiting them in the hallway, and therefore
-were obliged, but with evident reluctance, to turn their backs on
-Ainslee. When they reached the dining-room, Miss Belmore was already
-seated at the table, ready to receive them; but as places were set for
-only three, two little hearts were again doomed to disappointment,
-for two little minds, without any sort of consultation, had separately
-arrived at the conclusion that all that elaborate preparation could
-certainly mean nothing less than luncheon with Her Majesty in person.
-Otherwise it is to be doubted if they would have put up half so civilly
-with the uncompromising treatment they had received at Babette's hands.
-Their disappointment, however, could not long hold out against the odds
-of their immediate surroundings. The butlers--for there were two of
-them--could not have seemed more anxious to please or more obsequious to
-a veritable little prince and princess; the luncheon was delicious,
-and no one could possibly have been more kind and friendly than Miss
-Bel-more. Therefore it happened that to their own surprise they became
-almost at once at their ease, and Albert chattered away in such a
-cunning, irresistible fashion that the royal dining-room rang with the
-merriest peals of laughter.
-
-“And--and now,” said Albert, when the luncheon at last was concluded,
-and having clearly in mind the talk about the little Queen that was to
-follow, “where sail we find de old lady?”
-
-“We shall find her in the sitting-room, Albert,” said Miss Bel-more, her
-kind gray eyes dancing with the amusement which she was making such an
-effort to conceal. So it was quite plain that these little uninvited
-visitors to Windsor Castle were mistaking Her Majesty for Her Majesty's
-mother! She wondered for the moment if she ought not to tell them of
-their absurd mistake; and yet no--she hardly had the right to do that
-either; for had not a little conference with Her Majesty resulted in
-the conclusion that they would not disillusionize their little guests
-if they could help it? If possible they should leave the Castle as
-they entered it--the Queen of England still the dream-queen of their
-imagination, regal and stately always, and perennially arrayed in
-crown, ermine and jewels, and all the royal insignia of her office.
-They, at any rate, would not be the ones to acquaint them with the fact
-that even queens sometimes grow to be grandmothers, taking more comfort
-in rocking-chairs than thrones, vastly preferring lace caps to crowns,
-and behaving in general like other dear grandmothers the world over.
-And, in the mean time, what a pleasure to talk familiarly with these
-same bright little visitors, who more likely than not would have retired
-into speechless embarrassment had anyone ventured the announcement that
-the great Queen of England was none other than the friendly “old lady”
- with whom they were taking all the liberties of commonplace, every-day
-acquaintance! And so, happily, no doubt, for their ease of mind, no one
-felt called upon to make the announcement.
-
-“Have you been here ever since?” asked Albert, the moment they reached
-the sitting-room and descried the Queen in the same chair in which they
-had left her.
-
-“Ever since,” answered Her Majesty.
-
-“And haven't you had any luncheon?” in a tone of real concern, and going
-close to her side, so that he leaned against her knee.
-
-“Oh, yes, I have had my luncheon served right here, to save me the
-trouble of moving; and now I am ready and waiting to have our talk about
-little Isabel de Valois.”
-
-“Did these belong to her?” asked Marie-Celeste, standing in open-eyed
-wonder before a mosaic table, which had been cleared to make room for a
-quaint collection of foreign-looking, childish possessions--a mandolin,
-a well-worn little missal, a remarkable doll, a necklace or two,
-numerous little childish trinkets, and thrown over a chair, standing
-close to the table, a little gown of white silk and exquisite
-embroidery, yellow and limp with age, but none the less dainty and
-lovely.
-
-“Yes, all of them,” answered the Queen, keenly enjoying the child's
-undisguised pleasure.
-
-Albert, who preferred that everything should be done decently and in
-order, placed a chair for Marie-Celeste on the other side of the Queen's
-little table, and then seated himself on the gilded sofa beside Miss
-Belmore, in such a comfortable, snuggling-up way that Miss Belmore had
-to put one arm right round him and give him a sound little kiss by
-way of punishment, which Albert was courteous enough not to resent,
-notwithstanding he considered that sort of treatment somewhat
-humiliating for a boy of four.
-
-“Now tome, please, Marie-Celeste,” he pleaded; “let's hear about de
-tings before we look at dem and Marie-Celeste, feeling that they were
-all waiting for her, reluctantly did as she was bid, and dropped into
-the chair Albert had placed for her.
-
-“And now,” said Albert modestly, considering himself master of
-ceremonies, “please have Marie-Celeste tell what she knows first,” for
-the suspicious little reprobate was keenly anxious to put her boasted
-knowledge to the test.
-
-“Yes, I should love to hear the story as she has heard it,” answered
-the Queen. “Will you tell it to us, Marie-Celeste?” And Marie-Celeste,
-nothing loath, and willing at last to substantiate her claims in the
-ears of doubting Albert, rested a hand comfortably on either arm of her
-chair, and commenced, preceding her narration with the request, “You
-will correct me, won't you, if you find I do not tell it right?” to
-which Her Majesty smilingly acceded, first asking Miss Belmore to hand
-her a little jewelled miniature case from among the other treasures on
-the table.
-
-“Well, this little queen,” began Marie-Celeste, “was the child of a
-French king, and she was born in the Louvre, the King's palace in Paris,
-and she was born in a very troubled time--such a troubled time, that her
-father, the King, went crazy; and then the little Isabel spent most of
-her time in the Hotel de St. Pol, on the Seine, that belonged to one of
-her father's ambassadors.”
-
-“I wonder that you remember such a queer name as St. Pol and such a long
-word as ambassadors,” said Miss Belmore incredulously.
-
-“Oh, I have tried very hard to remember all the names, because you can't
-tell the story very clearly without them. Besides, I wrote them all down
-in my journal one day on the steamer, and because I was coming here to
-Windsor to-day, I read them over only last night.”
-
-“You haven't tol' us de name of de king den,” said Albert.
-
-“The king was Charles the Sixth of France,” explained the Queen, who was
-not going to have her little story-teller disconcerted if she could help
-it; but Marie-Celeste confessed with perfect honesty, “I am afraid I had
-forgotten that name;” and Albert felt ashamed of himself, and confided
-in a whisper to Miss Belmore “dat he dessed he wouldn't be so mean
-aden.”
-
-“Well,” continued Marie-Celeste, pausing thoughtfully a moment to think
-out the order of the story, “at that time and all the time in those days
-there was war between France and England, and the French wanted to have
-peace; and so the ambassador, St. Pol, who had married the sister of
-King Richard in England, went to Richard and told him if he would sign
-a truce with France Charles would give him his daughter Isabel for his
-queen, and with a larger dowry than was ever given to a royal
-bride.” (Albert was becoming too deeply impressed with the extent of
-Marie-Celeste's knowledge to venture the question as to what a dowry
-might be.) “And King Richard agreed to that; but it must just have been
-because he thought it would be a wise thing to do, for Isabel was only
-eight years old, and it would be so many years before she could really
-reign as a queen at all. But that's the way with kings and queens; they
-always have to do the things that's wise, no matter how they may feel
-about it, don't they?” for Marie-Celeste, to whom even the motives of
-royal conduct were of deepest interest, felt one could hardly ask for a
-more reliable source of information than the Queen's own mother.
-
-“It is certainly true,” said Her Majesty a little gravely, “that the
-rulers of a great country like England have often to set aside their own
-preferences; but these are better times than those in which the little
-Isabel lived, and the idea of a king marrying a little girl of eight, no
-matter for what reason, would hardly be tolerated now, you know.”
-
-“Oh, is that so?” with a look of real surprise, for Marie-Celeste's idea
-of royalty had come to her largely through her knowledge of the little
-Isabel; and her childish mind did not readily lend itself to the thought
-that royalty, as well as everything else in the world, was subject to
-change and possible improvement. Indeed, she did not care to realize
-anything of the sort, choosing, rather, to think of the Windsor of
-Isabel's time as much the same as the Windsor of Victoria's, and she
-would have been not a little grieved and surprised had any one insisted
-on pointing out to her in how many, many ways the old differed from the
-new.
-
-[Illustration: 0145]
-
-“But the beauty of it was,” she continued, after meditating a moment
-over the Queen's answer, “that little Isabel was really a darling, and
-that the King called her 'his dear little sister,' and really loved her;
-because sometimes kings and queens do not love each other at all.”
-
-“And sometimes they do and Her Majesty spoke so seriously, and with such
-a depth of earnestness, that Marie-Celeste, and Albert too, for that
-matter, looked up at her in wondering silence.
-
-“But go on with the story, dear,” the Queen added; “we shall make but
-slow progress if we allow too many interruptions.”
-
-“Well, it wasn't a bit strange that the King loved her, for even
-the King's men who were sent to bring her to England thought she was
-perfectly lovely, and indeed she was a most unusual little girl. They
-say that her father was very foolish, but good, and that her mother was
-wicked, but clever, and that the little Isabel was like her father for
-goodness and her mother for cleverness. And they say, too, that she was
-never twice alike; that sometimes she was grave and sedate as could be,
-and sometimes she was full of fun and frolic, but always so sweet and
-good and innocent that she was like a bright little star in those dark
-times, for there was war between England and France, and they say only
-the children can be light-hearted in war time.”
-
-“Have you any idea, Marie-Celeste, how this little Isabel looked?” asked
-the Queen, keeping the little jewelled case close covered in her hand.
-
-“Oh, yes; I think I know exactly. She was fair, but her eyes were black,
-with dark lashes curling over them, for her grandmother was an Italian,
-you know; and her head was put on her shoulders in a pretty sort of way,
-and she had a cunning, sweet look on her face that just made people love
-her.”
-
-“Would you like to see her picture?” and the Queen, attempting to open
-the case she held in her hand, both the children were instantly bending
-over it.
-
-[Illustration: 0147]
-
-“Se looks jus' as Marie-Celeste said,” remarked Albert proudly, his
-sceptical spirit of the morning wholly transformed into one of profound
-admiration; and Marie-Celeste, asking that she might hold the case in
-her own hand, and gazing entranced upon the dear little face looking out
-at her, said joyfully, “Yes, she does look as I said, doesn't she?” Then
-she reverently laid the miniature back upon the Queen's lap, as though
-counting it quite too precious to be long out of royal keeping. “It
-seems to me now I can just see,” she said, gazing fondly down at the
-picture where it lay, “the way she looked that day when the King's men
-went to bring her to England. One of them dropped on one knee and said,
-'Madame, if God pleases, you shall be our Queen and lady;' and then
-she made a little courtesy like this, and answered without a word from
-anybody, 'Sir, if it please God and my lord and father, I shall be
-most happy, for I am told the Queen of England is a very great lady.'”
-
-Nothing could have been prettier than the wholly unconscious way in
-which Marie-Celeste impersonated the grandeur and dignity of the little
-Isabel, courtesy and all; so that the Queen said admiringly, “My dear,
-you are a real little queen yourself, and your kingdom must lie in
-the hearts of all who know you;” and Albert, anxious at once to acquit
-himself as most loyal of her subjects, shook his head emphatically and
-remarked, “Marie-Celeste is a daisy, and she ought to live in a castle
-jus' as fine as anybody;” and then, to prove the wealth of his devotion,
-he threw his two arms around her waist, which was as high as he could
-reach, in most uncourtly fashion.
-
-“Hush, Albert,” said Marie-Celeste, blushingly pushing him from her, for
-this demonstration was as embarrassing as unexpected; “please go and
-sit down by Miss Belmore, for we are not half through, are we?” looking
-toward the Queen for confirmation of the fact.
-
-“Why, no indeed! Little Isabel isn't even married yet, Albert;” and
-Albert climbed back, just as he had intended to do, to his seat beside
-Miss Belmore, but with the most supercilious smile on his little face,
-as though he, to whom story-telling was the most delightful thing in the
-world, did not know whether a story was finished or not. But no matter,
-he did not mind being misunderstood, even by the Queen's mother, if
-Marie-Celeste would only go on; and Marie-Celeste, as eager to talk as
-her listeners to hear, went on.
-
-“And so it came about that they took the little Isabel to England, and
-Madame de Coucy, a lady whom Isabel dearly loved, came with her to be
-her governess; and next to Madame de Coucy, Isabel loved Simonette.
-Simonette was a poor little slave brought to France from one of the
-crusades, and I suppose they grew more fond of each other every day,
-because when they came to England both were so far away from their old
-home. On the way to England Richard came to meet the little Isabel at
-Calais, in France, and then she was escorted to London in fine style,
-and after that all her queen's fixings were taken off and she was
-brought here to this very Castle, that was to be her home, and everybody
-called her Madame La Petite Reine.” Albert would have given a good deal
-to know what those French words meant, and wished he had not made such a
-row when his mother had once suggested a French bonne; but he would
-not betray his ignorance for anything, and Marie-Celeste was allowed to
-proceed uninterrupted.
-
-“And here in this dear old Castle La Petite Reine had a beautiful time.
-She used to study with Madame de Coucy in the mornings and go for walks
-among the flowers out in the garden there in the afternoon, and way
-beyond it too sometimes, and Richard would often come down from London
-for a visit, and he taught her English courtly ways and to play the
-mandolin” (Albert looked significantly toward the quaint mandolin,
-with a faded blue ribbon attached to it, that was lying among the other
-treasures on the table); “and when the King could not come for a regular
-visit, he would just ride down for a word and kiss. And so the time
-went by, and sometimes Isabel would go to hear the canons preach in
-St. George's, and sometimes she would watch the knights riding in the
-tilt-yard from one of the Castle windows; only sometimes, when one
-knight hurt another with his spear or tumbled him from his horse, so
-that he was carried away stunned and bleeding, she saw more than she
-wanted to see, and would not go near those windows again for days. And
-then at last there came a sad time for Isabel, for the King had decided
-he must go himself and take charge of his army, which was trying to put
-down an insurrection in Ireland. But before he rode away from Windsor
-Castle, he said he would have a great tournament in the tilt-yard in
-honor of St. George, and he had a beautiful green uniform made, and he
-was to carry the Queen's device of a little white falcon, and Isabel
-and her maids were to be present and give the crown to whichever knight
-should be victorious. But very few came to the tournament, for there
-were very few who really cared for the King, and it was all a failure,
-and the Castle seemed a very sad place for La Petite Reine, because the
-King was going away.”
-
-“And now,” said Albert, appealing to the Queen, for he felt that quite
-too much was being taken for granted, “will you please tell me what is
-a tilt-yard? and what it was dat de knignts would not tome to? and
-what was dat little white ting of the Queen's dat de King carried?” and
-impatiently as Marie-Celeste brooked the interruption, there was nothing
-for it but to wait while Her Majesty explained that the tilt-yard was
-a sort of riding-school for the knights, where they practised for the
-tournaments, and that the tournaments were occasions when the knights,
-spear in hand, came together to ride against each other, with a great
-many people looking on, and when the one who unseated all those who rode
-against him won the prize. As for the little white thing of Isabel's,
-that was a falcon--that is, a pretty live white bird, which was Isabel's
-device or emblem; and when the King carried that he showed how he
-delighted to honor his own little child-queen.
-
-“I would be glad if you would go on and tell the rest,” said
-Marie-Celeste; “all that happened afterward was so doleful I do not like
-to tell it.”
-
-“Well, let me think,” said her Majesty. “I doubt if I can get all that
-followed quite straight and then there was silence for a few moments.
-
-“Will _somebody_ please go on,” remarked Albert, when he thought there
-had been quite enough time for thinking. The shadows were lengthening
-out there in the garden, and oh if they should have to go home before
-the story was done!
-
-And then “somebody”--that is, the Queen--(who, as you know, was a good
-deal more of a _somebody_ than Albert gave her credit for)--endeavored
-at once to allay the little fellow's impatience.
-
-“I remember,” she said, “how sad was the parting between the King and
-the little Queen! How he walked with her, hand in hand, from the Castle
-into the lower ward, at the head of a long procession of loyal servants,
-and then into St. George's Chapel for a farewell service, and how they
-kneeled down before the altar, side by side, while the choir sang very
-sweetly. And then how he lifted the little Queen in his arms, for to
-him she was just a darling little sister, and kissed her over and over
-again, while she sobbed and sobbed, and begged him not to leave her all
-alone. After that he led her into the deanery--those are rooms set aside
-for different uses in connection with the chapel--and there he gave her
-a royal box of candies, and sat down and ate some with her, and tried to
-joke with her, and sipped a little wine, and then another long farewell,
-and he was gone, never to see the little Queen again.”
-
-“Which died?” asked Albert, in a hoarse whisper.
-
-“Oh, neither of them died, dear; only as soon as Richard returned from
-Ireland he was taken prisoner by the English nobles and compelled to
-resign his crown, and so was never able to come back to claim his Castle
-or his little bride. But for all that Richard fared no worse than he
-deserved, for though he was kind and good to little Isabel, he was false
-and cruel to almost every one beside. Indeed, he was false to little
-Isabel too, for while he was still at Windsor he gave orders to have
-Madame de Coucy, whom Isabel loved as her own mother, dismissed and sent
-back to France soon after he should have gone, and he was not honest
-enough to tell little Isabel of the plan. But, as the old chronicles
-say, 'Madame de Coucy was a woman of spirit,' and when the time came
-refused to go. 'Holding her office from the King of France, she owned no
-master but the King of France;' and although driven from the Castle, she
-remained at Windsor, and succeeded in keeping up some connection with
-the little Queen. And now the misfortunes of the poor little Isabel
-followed thick and fast. The partings from Richard and her governess
-Madame de Coucy, had thrown the child into a fever, and Richard's uncle,
-the Duke of York, in whose care she had been left, was at his wit's ends
-to know what to do. Meantime, Henry Bolingbroke, a nephew of Richard's,
-and a brave prince, had landed in England, and the people, who loved
-him, were ready to receive him and make him King in Richard's place. And
-now the Duke of York, fearing that Windsor was no longer a safe place
-for the little Queen, moved her to a castle called Wallingford, which
-had been built only for defence, and was stronger than Windsor. But it
-was all to no purpose. Everything gave way before the march of Henry
-Bolingbroke and his army. Windsor surrendered to a blast of trumpets,
-and a few days later the little Queen was yielded up a captive into
-Henry's hands, and was carried with faithful Simonette, her Saracen
-maid, to the Castle of Ledes; but Ledes, fortunately, proved to be a
-beautiful castle, with a large garden, and she was not treated harshly
-or unkindly. Madame de Coucy, meanwhile, started for France posthaste,
-and was the first to carry the news to the court of Charles that Madame
-Isabel had been captured and dethroned, and then you may be sure all
-France was up in arms, as they say, in a moment, threatening to avenge
-La Petite Reine. But, notwithstanding the threats of the French, nothing
-could be done at once to release the little Queen, and so it was a
-comfort to know that all this while Henry was caring for her welfare
-most kindly.”
-
-At this point in the story the Queen, fearing that the long page from
-history might prove wearying to even so eager a little listener as
-Albert, suggested to Miss Belmore to bring some of the treasures from
-the table that they might have a closer look at them.
-
-[Illustration: 0152]
-
-“And was this her very own?” asked Marie-Celeste, handling the mandolin
-with reverent touch--“the very one on which Richard taught her to play?”
-
-“Yes,” said Miss Belmore; “and this pretty dress”--holding up the little
-short-waisted gown of lace and satin--“was the one she wore that day
-Richard took his last leave of her in the deanery of St. George's
-Chapel.”
-
-“Only to think,” Marie-Celeste said solemnly, “that I should hold in my
-own hands things that belonged to the little Isabel! Mr. Belden never
-guessed when he told me all about her on the steamer such a wonder would
-come to pass. I wish he could know about it some day.”
-
-“But who has kept all dese old tings so long, and how old are dey
-anyway?” asked more practical Albert, inspecting with curious, critical
-gaze a little necklace of hammered gold and silver which Miss Belmore
-had dropped into his lap as one of the few treasures his rather
-inquisitive touch would not damage.
-
-“The keepers of the wardrobe, one after another, have cared for
-them carefully, Albert, for nearly five hundred years,” Miss Belmore
-explained; “and it is only by a special order from the Queen that they
-can ever be taken out of the precious chest where they are stored for a
-single moment, except twice a year or so, to be cleaned and brushed.”
-
-“And did the Oueen give a special order for us to-day?” asked
-Marie-Celeste, more impressed than ever with the greatness of their
-privileges.
-
-“Certainly, my dear.”
-
-“Well, de Queen's a daisy too, den,” ventured Albert, who, alas! was no
-respecter of persons.
-
-“Hush, Albert,” said Marie-Celeste, blushing, but very thankful that
-Miss Belmore and the Queen's mother seemed more amused than shocked;
-and then she added, amid deeper blushes, “Oh, will you please tell Her
-Majesty for me that I never could thank her enough, never?”
-
-“Well, what happened to her next?” asked Albert, for there was no
-telling when the story would ever go on again, if Marie-Celeste was
-allowed to indulge too freely in these sentimental flights of hers.
-
-Her Majesty waited a moment, hoping Marie-Celeste would take up the
-thread of the story, which she did almost unconsciously.
-
-“Oh, she had a dreadful time, Albert. Richard left her in the care of a
-man named Huntington, and I don't believe there ever was a man so bad
-as he. Why, when Henry Bolingbroke was made king he had pardoned this
-Huntington, though he had been as untrue to Henry as he could be,
-because he was his sister's husband. But no sooner was he pardoned
-than he laid a deep plot with some other men as wicked as himself to
-overpower the King. As part of the plan, they were going to surprise
-Windsor Castle; and Huntington, if you will believe it, hoped to murder
-the four sons of Henry with his own hand; and they did march on Windsor
-Castle, but not before Henry and his sons had heard of the dreadful plan
-and ridden safely away. But Huntington could not believe that they had
-gone, and they searched everywhere in the castle here for them, and he
-was so angry at not finding them, that he let his soldiers in and they
-stove in doors and tore down curtains and cut up furniture and carried
-off silver, so that in five hours the castle was ruined.”
-
-“Is that true?” whispered Albert to Miss Belmore. It seemed so
-incredible that Windsor Castle, with its present state and grandeur,
-could ever have been in such a sorry plight.
-
-“Only too true, dear. There would be many more priceless treasures in
-the castle to-day but for the untold mischief of that terrible morning.”
-
-Marie-Celeste waited with a decidedly martyr-like air till this
-inexcusable whispering was through with, chiming in again at the first
-opportunity. “And then what did the wretch do but hurry to little
-Isabel, and tell her that he had freed Richard from the Tower, and
-that he would soon be kins: again; so that Isabel was glad to go with
-Huntington. But it was all a lie, for Huntington simply wanted to have
-Isabel for his own prisoner instead of Henry Bolingbroke's. And so
-the poor little thing was right in Huntington's camp, among his rough
-soldiers; and what was worse, as soon as Huntington found himself in
-a tight place, and had to fly for his life, he deserted her, and Henry
-Bolingbroke's men came and carried her up to London, and then she was
-Henry's prisoner once more. But Huntington got what he deserved at last”
- (and the smile of grim satisfaction with which Marie-Celeste adorned the
-statement showed how simply enormous to even her childish mind seemed
-the crimes of the fiendish Huntington), “for after he deserted Isabel he
-fell into the hands of some peasants, who knew what a wretch he was, and
-who took him and drove a chopper through his neck, and so made an end of
-him. And then what did King Henry do but decide that it would be a good
-thing for England to keep friends with France, if that were possible;
-and so he said, 'The Pope shall say Isabel is no longer the wife of
-Richard, and I will marry her to my son Harry.' Of course everybody
-thought that would suit little Isabel well enough, for Harry was tall
-and handsome, just Isabel's age, and would make a line man some day;
-but Isabel would not hear of such a thing. She still loved the weak, bad
-man, older than her own father, who had fed her on sugar-plums, called
-her his little sister, fingered her mandolin, and sung with her at
-morning mass. Then besides her own feeling, the French themselves did
-not seem to want to be friendly with England, or to have Isabel stay
-here; and so at last she was sent back to her own people, and she died
-at Blois in France, when she was only twenty years old.”
-
-“And--and now I think dat's a very sad an' interestin' story and Albeit,
-pondering over the remarkable tale, shook his head gravely from side to
-side.
-
-“And the saddest part,” said Her Majesty, “is that there would probably
-have been no Joan of Arc nor Agincourt nor siege of Rouen if only the
-little Isabel had chanced to fancy the little Prince Hal.”
-
-Agincourt and the siege of Rouen were only names to the children's ears.
-But there was time for no more questions; the flower garden was almost
-all in shadow now, and besides it had occurred even to Albert that the
-“old lady” might be growing a little tired.
-
-“We have had a beautiful time,” said Marie-Celeste, with a sigh, as
-though unable to give full expression to her appreciation; “but I hope
-we haven't stayed too long;” and then, as though reluctant to take
-final leave of the little Isabel, she added: “Don't you think it is more
-comfortable just to be one of the people, and be a regular little girl,
-and grow up always near your mother, like other children?”
-
-“Yes; there must be some nice things about belonging to the people,” Her
-Majesty replied, smiling; “but then, you know that poor little Isabel's
-history was very unusual, and that many little princes and princesses
-have grown up near their mothers, as you and Albert have, and have been
-just regular little children for ever so many years.”
-
-“Dat's good,” said Albert, apparently immensely relieved to have his
-fears as to the general fate of princes and princesses removed.
-
-Meantime, Miss Belmore had brought their hats, and after a most friendly
-parting with their kindly hostess and her lady-in-waiting, the children
-were conducted to another doorway from the one by which they had
-entered. There one of the court carriages, with a gallant outrider,
-stood in waiting, and the footman, after receiving directions as to the
-whereabouts of the Little Castle, sprang to his place, and they were
-off.
-
-[Illustration: 0156]
-
-“To think, Albert,” said Marie-Celeste, turning on Albert the moment the
-door was closed, and seizing his little wrist by way of emphasis, “we
-are in one of the Queen's own carriages, and we've been spending the
-day--spending the day, Albert, in Windsor Castle.”
-
-“Nes,” said Albert complacently; “we must do aden.”
-
-There was time for scarcely more than this before the carriage wheeled
-up at Canon Allyn's, and Albert was safely landed at his own door, and
-another three minutes brought it to the Little Castle.
-
-Harold, conjecturing that the children might be sent home in this
-courtly fashion, was on hand on the steps to receive the favored
-recipients of royal hospitality.
-
-“I suppose you feel too high and mighty to speak to a fellow,” he said.
-“I don't believe you'll ever get over it, Marie-Celeste.”
-
-“Well, we have had a magnificent day”--allowing herself to be detained
-for a moment, notwithstanding her eagerness to rush straight to the
-bosom of her family--“we spent the whole afternoon with the Oueen's
-mother.”
-
-“The Oueen's mother! Marie-Celeste, she's been dead ever so many years.”
-
-“Who was she, then?” almost angrily; “she was an old lady.”
-
-“The Queen herself, of course.”
-
-“The Oueen an old lady?”
-
-“Why not? She has a host of grandchildren.”
-
-“But she wore no crown, Harold.”
-
-“Oh, you goosey, of course not! She does not put her crown on once in an
-age. Who told you she was the Queen's mother?”
-
-“Only Albert, Harold;” and then realizing at a bound Albert's positive
-genius for jumping to wrong conclusions, Marie-Celeste leaned against
-the door from very weakness.
-
-“Marie-Celeste,” said Harold, who, like other boys, was rather inclined
-to rub a thing in, “it's the very best joke I have heard in all my
-life.”
-
-“You are very unkind, Harold,” answered Marie-Celeste accusingly. “It
-is the most mortifying thing that ever happened, if she really was the
-Queen,” and then, trying to gather a little new courage, she added, “but
-I am not going to believe it till I have to. There must be a mistake
-somewhere. The lady we saw is not one bit like the pictures or the
-statues,” and yet all the time Marie-Celeste felt that she was clinging
-to a forlorn hope. During their stay at the castle there had been an
-occasional exchange of glances between their royal hostess and Miss
-Belmore and a frequent amused look in their eyes, which she had been at
-a loss to account for; but this would explain it all. Ah, yes! she knew
-almost to a certainty that their long talk about Petite Reine of other
-days had been with none other than La Grande Reine of to-day, and the
-crimes of the dreadful Huntington seemed hardly worse, for the moment,
-than that of that most audacious Albert!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV.--A DARING SUGGESTION.
-
-[Illustration: 9159]
-
-It was a close foggy morning in London, and Mr. Everett Belden, having
-breakfasted a whole hour earlier than usual, stood gazing out upon the
-street from one of the windows of the Reform Club. It is two months
-now since we let him go his lonely way from the steamer; and this
-may surprise you, for what with the doings up at Windsor and the
-complications in the cottage at Nuneham, you may not have kept any track
-of the time. None the less is it true that in all this while we have not
-given so much as a thought to Mr. Belden or to aught that concerns him;
-and for all I know it is just as well. The little “buttons” who keeps
-guard during the day at the door of the Reform Club and the smartly
-liveried Irishman who takes his place at night would both tell you that
-Mr. Belden has come in and out all the while with great regularity,
-having his saddle horse brought around at precisely the same hour every
-clear morning, and going out for a walk at precisely the same hour every
-afternoon. There is no evidence that in all these weeks he has been
-of the least real use to anybody, or that, notwithstanding his recent
-encounter with a little girl who had set him thinking rather seriously
-for a time, he had in any way altered or modified his selfish way of
-living. They are creatures of habit these self-centred old bachelors,
-and it takes a great deal to start them out along any new line of
-action, and doubly so when, like Mr. Belden, they do not know what it
-is to feel buoyantly well and strong. And so to all outward appearances
-there was no change whatever in this particular old bachelor, and the
-little sermon Marie-Celeste had unconsciously preached on the steamer
-and the reading of the “Story of a Short Life” had only given him a
-glimpse of what a noble thing life might be, without awakening any real
-determination to make his own life noble. But outward appearances, as
-often happens, are not by any means the infallible things the world
-would have us believe, and deep down in Mr. Belden's heart had dropped a
-little seed of unrest that made itself felt that sultry August morning;
-not but that his heart was all unrest for that matter, for there is no
-restlessness in the world like the restlessness of doing nothing; but
-this little seed was of a new and different character, and with such
-power of growth in it that, tiny though it was, it finally compelled Mr.
-Belden to take it into account.
-
-“How queer it is,” he said to himself, “that I should feel constrained
-in this way to run out to Windsor! Land knows! I have no desire to come
-to be on intimate terms of acquaintance with Evelyn's boys; and what
-would be the satisfaction of prowling around just to see where they
-live? Their father gave me up after that time he spoke his mind so
-freely about my aimless life--as he was pleased to call it--and there
-is no reason whatever why I should bother myself about my sister's
-children, since she, poor thing! is dead and gone, and they have enough
-of this world's goods to make them comfortable. But I would give--yes,
-I would give a great deal for another glimpse of that child
-Marie-Celeste--for another talk with her, too, before she goes sailing
-back to the States, if only that were possible without my coming in
-contact with any of the rest of the household. Well, there seems to be
-nothing for it but to go to Windsor to-day, for it looks as though I
-should not get the best of this state of mind till I do.” Then he turned
-from the window, put on his coat, which was lying in readiness beside
-him, strolled out from the club, called for a hansom, directing the
-driver to take him to the station, and never for one minute admitted to
-himself that he had risen a whole hour earlier in order to do this very
-thing, or that he was acting on any stronger impulse than that of
-a passing fancy, born of the midsummer day, and desire for a little
-variety. So, out to Windsor he went, and choosing from among the
-carriages at the depot one that was manned by a respectable-looking old
-party, took his place on the front seat beside him, remarking that he
-had simply come down to see the town, and would first like to drive
-about for an hour.
-
-The driver, judging from Mr. Belden's faultless attire and distinguished
-bearing, had rated him at once as one of those high and mighty
-Londoners, and had expected that he would of course entrench himself on
-the back seat of the little turnout and, preserving a dignified silence,
-condescendingly allow himself to be driven about and to be very much
-bored into the bargain--all of which, it must be confessed, would
-have been more in keeping with Mr. Belden's usual manner of conducting
-himself. To-day, however, he had an axe to grind, and the friendly
-intercourse of the front seat would prove more conducive to the end in
-view.
-
-“Ever been ere before?” questioned the coachman, ready to prove himself
-friendly with the friendly.
-
-“I was at Eton half a term when a boy, but I didn't take to the old
-place, and cut and run away the first chance.”
-
-“And 'aven't you 'ad any schoolin' since, sir?”
-
-“Oh, yes; I tutored awhile at home--just enough to wriggle my way into
-Cambridge; and I studied just enough there to get my degree--no more,
-I can tell you. I have been one of those fellows who didn't believe in
-taking unnecessary trouble.”
-
-“You look it,” said the man honestly.
-
-“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Belden, thinking he was willing to face
-the music.
-
-“Well, you 'ave a lazy, listless sort of look--begging your pardon,
-sir--like most of those men who loaf their lives away at the clubs up in
-London.”
-
-Mr. Belden naturally felt irritated at the fellow's blunt honesty,
-but there was no sense in resenting a state of affairs which he had
-deliberately brought down upon himself.
-
-“You look the perfect gentleman, all the same,” added the man; and
-endeavoring to extract a grain of comfort from this last remark, Mr.
-Belden thought best to change the subject.
-
-“Do you happen to know,” he asked quite casually, “of any people here in
-Windsor named Harris?”
-
-“Oh, yes, sir; there are two young gentlemen named 'Arris, whose mother
-died two years back, living in the Little Castle. Do you know them,
-sir?”
-
-“I know of them.”
-
-“Would you like to call there, sir?”
-
-“No; I'd rather like to see the house, though.”
-
-“It's a 'alf a mile back, sir, near the big Castle. We can take it in on
-our way 'ome.”
-
-“No; turn round; if it's all the same to you we'll go there now;”
- and this last a little gruffly; for one has to be a good deal of a
-philosopher to continue on the friendliest of terms with a man that has
-just informed you that you look listless and lazy.
-
-The driver was rather surprised at Mr. Belden's changed mood, but the
-little carriage was turned round promptly in obedience to orders, and
-the old horse whipped into a canter.
-
-“Don't do that,” said Mr. Belden sharply; “there's no need to hurry and
-the horse was instantly jerked down to a pace more in accordance with
-his own ideas of comfort and propriety.
-
-“Tell me what you know about these Harris boys,” said Mr. Belden
-imperiously.
-
-“I'm not in the way to know much, sir”--preferring to be civil at any
-cost than to lose the probable extra shilling “the young un is an Eton
-boy, and the older one studies up to Hoxford. The old un's a tough un,
-they say, but he seems a decent enough sort of fellow.”
-
-“Does the young one live alone here at Windsor?”
-
-“Don't know about that, sir; but I've 'eard they 'ave some company from
-the States this summer. That's the house yonder, with the pretty terrace
-and the tower. They calls it the Little Castle.”
-
-Mr. Belden looked in the direction indicated, and--could he believe his
-eyes!--was there not a familiar little figure coming leisurely down
-the path from the Little Castle, which when it reached the gate in the
-hedgerow turned in the same direction as they were driving?
-
-“Whip up,” ordered Mr. Belden impatiently, for he wanted to be a little
-more sure in the matter. Yes, it was certainly Marie-Celeste. There was
-no mistaking the free, quick step nor the alert bearing.
-
-“Stop!” commanded Mr. Belden, and the carriage came to a standstill with
-paralyzing abruptness “Now, turn your wheel and let me out. There's your
-money.”
-
-Instantly perceiving that he had been generously compensated, the man
-smiled an appreciative “Thank you,” and then watched Mr. Belden stride
-up the street, with the conclusion that he was “a little off;” but the
-more “off” the better, he thought, if it meant three half-crowns for a
-drive of a quarter of an hour.
-
-Marie-Celeste walked briskly on up the hill, and Mr. Belden would have
-given three half-crowns more with a will to any one who could have told
-him where she was going. He would prefer to come across her more by
-accident apparently than by running to catch up with her, and when so
-near, too, to the Little Castle as to suggest that he had probably come
-to Windsor purposely to see her. If she should happen to turn in at
-some house, he decided he would try to intercept her before she rang
-the bell, so that they might have at least a few moments' chat, but
-otherwise he would bide his time a little while and see what came of it.
-She had a sort of portfolio under her arm; it was not unlikely she was
-going to some lesson or other, and if so, alas! where would the chat
-come in? But, as you and I happen to know, nothing was farther from
-Marie-Celeste's thought that happy summer, withal she was learning so
-much, than any idea of lessons, and on she went till she vanished from
-sight through one of the castle gates. Then Mr. Belden quickened his
-steps, and arrived at the inner side of the same gate just in time to
-see her disappear within St. George's Chapel.
-
-“Which way did that little girl go?” he asked of the sexton, who was
-vigorously burnishing a brass memorial tablet just within the doorway of
-the chapel.
-
-“Do you mean Marie-Celeste, sir?”
-
-[Illustration: 0164]
-
-“Yes;” but naturally wondering that the man should know her name.
-
-“You are likely to find her right in there, sir,” indicating the
-direction by a nod of his head. “She was coming in some day to copy off
-part of the inscription from the Prince Imperial's tomb.”
-
-So this old sexton and Marie-Celeste were evidently on the best of
-terms, and the child, with her genius for making friends, was probably
-in the confidence of half of Windsor by this time; and Mr. Belden
-selfishly wished she would not be so indiscriminate in her friendships.
-
-The “right in there” of the sexton evidently referred to Braye Chapel,
-within a few feet of the door by which he had entered; and glancing
-in through the open-work carving of the partition enclosing it, he
-discovered Marie-Celeste seated on a cushion on the floor, her back
-against the wall, busily writing away on the portfolio on her lap.
-
-Mr. Belden moved noiselessly to the doorway, and stood unobserved,
-looking down upon her for several seconds, until glancing up for the
-next sentence in the inscription, she suddenly beheld him.
-
-“Why, Mr. Belden!” she cried, transfixed with surprise; “how long have
-you been there, and wherever did you come from?”
-
-“I have been here about a minute, I should say, and I ran out from
-London this morning to take a look at old Windsor, and, you see, I have
-had the good fortune, as I half hoped I should, to run across my little
-steamer friend.”
-
-“But you wouldn't have come down to Windsor without coming to see me,
-Mr. Belden?” and Marie-Celeste, suddenly realizing that her position
-was not the most dignified in the world, shut the portfolio together and
-stood up to receive him in more courteous fashion.
-
-“Well, to be quite honest, Marie-Celeste,” for the half-truths of
-conventional acquaintance did not enter into this friendship, “I think I
-might; I'm nothing of a hand at calling, you know, but I'm awfully glad,
-I can tell you, to have met you just in this way, only you mustn't let
-me interrupt you. You keep right on with your copying, and I'll wander
-about till you've finished.”
-
-“Oh, I had so much rather show you the chapel,” Marie-Celeste said
-eagerly. “I can finish the copying any time, and I know about it almost
-as well as the vergers themselves--_will_ you let me?” evidently afraid
-that he would express a preference for a professional guide.
-
-“Well, I can't imagine anything more delightful;” for which cordial
-endorsement Marie-Celeste blushed her thanks.
-
-“Well,” she said, very much impressed with the dignity of the
-opportunity afforded her, “suppose we commence right here with this
-monument to the Prince Imperial. Of course you will have to let me tell
-you which are my favorites, and this is one of them. Somehow it seems
-to me the very saddest monument in all the chapel; but I think it was
-beautiful in Queen Victoria to have it placed here out of sympathy for
-the poor French Empress, who had lost everything--husband and kingdom,
-and, last of all, this brave son; for I think he must have been brave,
-don't you, Mr. Belden? The same sort of bravery that Leonard--you
-remember the 'Story of a Short Life,' don't you?”
-
-“I do, indeed.”
-
-“Well, I mean the same sort of bravery that Leonard would have shown if
-he had lived to grow up, as he so longed to do, to be a soldier like the
-Prince. And yet Leonard was just as brave in his own way, wasn't he?
-It was the prayer that the Prince wrote in his mass-book that I was
-copying; it is very beautiful, isn't it?”
-
-There was no need for Mr. Belden to do aught but look and listen, and
-drop a word of assent now and then, when Marie-Celeste saw fit to impart
-her information in a somewhat interrogative form; and in this way they
-went on from monument to monument, giving of course but a passing glance
-to many and stopping longest, by tacit agreement, at those which had
-some special charm or attraction for Marie-Celeste.
-
-“This is one of my greatest favorites,” she exclaimed enthusiastically,
-as they came to the late Dean Wellesley's monument, in the north aisle;
-and she stood in rapt admiration looking down at the beautiful recumbent
-figure. “Isn't that a glorious face, Mr. Belden?” she said in an
-earnest, low voice; “and I love what it says about him here on the
-side--'_Trained_ in a school of duty and honor'--because his face bears
-it out, Mr. Belden. It shows, I think, how noble he must have been
-through and through all his life long.”
-
-“What a little hero-worshipper you are, Marie-Celeste,” said 'Mr.
-Belden, looking kindly and thoughtfully down at her glowing face.
-
-“Well,” replied Marie-Celeste as thoughtfully, “I don't see how anybody
-can help being a hero-worshipper, and doing all they can to be heroes
-themselves.”
-
-“Well, some people do, Marie-Celeste--I have helped it all my life
-somehow.”
-
-“Yes; I remember you told me something like that on the steamer; but
-it's a great pity, and it seems to me--”
-
-“What seems to you?” for Marie-Celeste hesitated.
-
-“Are you sure you will not mind, for I only mean to be friendly?”
-
-“Surely I will not mind.”
-
-“Well, then, it seems to me I would try to be a hero at one great jump,
-to make up for all the lost time.”
-
-“And how would you manage it, Marie-Celeste?”
-
-“I believe I would begin to think out some beautiful thing to do with my
-money before I died.”
-
-“There is a great deal in what you say, dear child,” Mr. Belden replied
-earnestly, “and I will think about it; and yet, do you know, I would
-not have let anybody else in the world make that suggestion to me;” but
-significant as this last remark was intended to be, Marie-Celeste, to
-Mr. Belden's surprise, paid little heed to it; for what difference did
-that make, so long as, without taking offence, he had allowed her to
-tell him what was for his own good?
-
-“Isn't this a beautiful inscription?” she said, pausing for a moment
-before the monument of George V., the last king of Hanover. “They say
-he was blind, and that after his death his kingdom became just a part
-of Germany, and that is the reason they wrote here, 'Receiving a kingdom
-which cannot be moved,' and, 'In thy light shall he see light.'”
-
-And so the tour of the chapel was at last made; and although his little
-guide had omitted much historical detail that the professional would
-have furnished, she had put in with telling force many little points of
-her own.
-
-When they reached the doorway of the chapel, Mr. Belden stood watch in
-hand, for he had decided he would take the two-o'clock train back to
-London, while Marie-Celeste ran on telling how Donald had gone to stay
-with Chris at Nuneham, and various other matters about Ted and Harold
-that were of more interest to Mr. Belden than she had any idea of.
-Finally, in breathless, excited fashion, she told of the visit to the
-Queen she and Albert had made, and of how she had handled with her own
-hands treasures that had belonged to Madame La Petite Reine. Of course
-it seemed almost incredible, but then the “incredible” was coming to
-seem rather a part of Marie-Celeste's make-up in Mr. Belden's mind. At
-last, when he felt that he must not delay another moment, he took leave
-of her, saying as he went, “Well, as usual you have set me thinking,
-my little friend,” but as though he were grateful for the same;
-and Marie-Celeste, turning back to finish the copying of the Prince
-Imperial's prayer, wondered in her practical little way if anything
-would come of the thinking, and if so, if she would ever happen to hear
-what it was; and yet at the same time not a little sceptical as to any
-tangible result whatsoever.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI.--MARIE-CELESTE'S DISCOVERY.
-
-[Illustration: 9169]
-
-Everything was ready for the start, but no one knew how much that meant
-as well as Harold and Uncle Fritz, for they had thought of nothing else
-for three whole weeks together. The others would find out by degrees
-what a delightful thing it was to have had everything so carefully
-arranged and well thought out beforehand. The start was to be for the
-English Lake Country, and the being ready meant that everything that
-could by any possibility be needed on a month's driving tour had
-been carefully stowed away somewhere. It was a select little party of
-six--Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou, Marie-Celeste, Miss Allyn, Harold and Mr.
-Farwell, a young American artist whom Uncle Fritz had come to know. Mr.
-Farwell was invited, if the truth be told, more to fill up than for any
-other reason; for three in a row is the invariable rule for an English
-break, unless you are willing to be shaken about rather more than is by
-any means agreeable. The back seat was reserved for the two grooms, and
-a bundle of wraps and rugs strapped to the cushion between them showed
-that they at any rate recognized the desirability of not having too
-much room at their disposal. The break that was brought into requisition
-belonged to Theodore, and was simply appropriated by Harold, for there
-was no saying “by your leave” to a fellow who went driving through the
-country himself without even taking the pains to enlighten you as to his
-whereabouts.
-
-“Who knows but we shall meet him somewhere?” thought Harold, knowing
-that Ted's trip was also to be through the English Lakes; “and if we do,
-I'll give him another piece of my mind, for he's been more than rude to
-Aunt Lou and Uncle Fritz, never putting himself out the least bit for
-them. Oh, if Ted were only a different sort of fellow! He ought to be
-the sixth one in this party instead of Mr. Farwell. But, heigho! it
-would be a shame to let Ted spoil this trip for me, and I'm not going
-to think of him again--that is, if I can help it--unless we happen to
-meet.”
-
-Harold was indulging in this meditation as he stood waiting by the break
-for the rest of the party, for thinking comes very easy when one has
-nothing to do; but wise are the folk, big or little, who, like Harold,
-resolve to banish uncomfortable thoughts from the mind when convinced
-that thinking is not in the least likely to better them.
-
-Of course, as you may imagine, there was one little heart sadly
-rebellious and envious over the setting out of this happy party. “Not
-quite big enough to fill up,” was the chief excuse given; but the little
-Knight of the Garter knew full well that he was considered too small
-every way to be for one moment taken into the calculation. Oh, what
-would he not have given if only his arrival in this world might have
-been timed in closer proximity to Harold's and Marie-Celeste's--it was
-such an insupportable thing to be seven long years behind! But, all
-the same, his time would come, and his little envious heart secretly
-cherished the revengeful hope that he, in turn, might have the grim
-satisfaction of informing other young hopefuls that their extreme youth
-and diminutive proportions excluded them from participating in this
-or that pleasure to which his riper age entitled him, all of which
-unknightly and most unchristian sentiments we trust will be put to rout
-when he comes to years of discretion. But this aside about Albert has
-been merely by way of parenthesis while the party from the Little Castle
-are mounting the steps to the break, and stowing themselves away in
-their places. Uncle Fritz, who had spent all his boyhood on a New
-England farm near Franconia, and taken many a trip on a White Mountain
-coach by the side of an indulgent driver, had early mastered the secret
-of competent four-in-hand driving, and was therefore first to take his
-seat on the driver's almost perpendicular cushion. Next to him sat
-Harold, who could also manage the four-in-hand whenever Uncle Fritz
-thought best to resign in his favor, and next to Harold, Marie-Celeste,
-grateful for the arrangement that accorded to her a seat on the outside
-edge. On the middle seat Aunt Lou sat alone in solemn grandeur, but only
-until they could cover the little distance to the White Hart Inn to take
-aboard Mr. Farwell, and then wheel round to Canon Allyn's for Dorothy.
-
-Dorothy Allyn was standing in the doorway ready and expectant, and
-looking as pretty as a picture in a gray costume and a hat with a
-wide-rolling brim, that in her case was vastly becoming. Albert's
-disconsolate face was pressed close to a window-pane, which was as near
-as he cared to come to such a joyous company. Marie-Celeste declared she
-could almost see the lump in the poor little fellow's throat, and the
-recollection of the utter hopelessness of the teary brown eyes lingered
-rather sadly for a while in the memory of all of the party.
-
-But who could long be grave at the outset of so promising an expedition!
-The idea of a leisurely driving trip through the lovely Lake Country,
-stopping here and there, as the spirit moved them, at the comfortable
-little inns and hotels that abound in the region, had been such a
-supremely delightful idea, even in mere anticipation, that now that they
-were actually off enthusiasm knew no bounds, and mirth was literally
-unconfined. Not that any very remarkable things were said, but one can
-laugh very easily, you know, and at almost nothing, when one's heart is
-light as a feather and the “goose hangs high,” as the queer old saying
-has it.
-
-And yet for all that, to all those happy hearts there might have been
-added one extra touch still of lightness. Mr. Farwell was no doubt a
-most desirable addition, and all were delighted that he could come; but
-the place belonged by rights to Ted--wilful, wandering, selfish Ted, who
-might have added so much to their pleasure if he had not chosen to turn
-his back upon them all and prefer any company in the world, apparently,
-to that of kith and kin and old friends at Windsor. The thought and half
-hope that they might meet him somewhere on the trip was in every mind
-but one. Dorothy knew better. Dorothy knew a great deal, in fact, for
-her brother Harry had made one surreptitious visit home; that is, he had
-arrived by night and left again by night, and no one outside of his
-own family had been a bit the wiser. And during that visit Harry, under
-pledge of perfect secrecy on the part of his mother and Dorothy, had
-told them everything.
-
-“You see, the reason why I want you to keep so dark about it all,”
- Harry had explained, “is because of Ted. I believe the fellow's just as
-ashamed of this last year at Oxford as I am, but you know, Dorothy,
-as well as I do (as, alas! Dorothy did know to her sorrow), that Ted's
-awfully touchy and sensitive, and it takes a very little thing to turn
-him one way or the other. Well, now, let Harold, who is pretty well out
-of the notion of Ted already, come to hear of this last scrape, and,
-youngster as he is, I believe he'd throw him over; and Ted, you know,
-wouldn't stand any nonsense of that sort and would tell Harold 'to go
-his own way and welcome,' and who knows what the upshot of that would
-be! If Ted does not feel he must make an effort to lead a different
-sort of life for Harold's sake, he may come to the conclusion that the
-thing's not worth trying. You see, you can't feel sure about a fellow's
-good resolutions till you have had a chance to test them, and Ted's
-haven't had to stand any strain as yet.”
-
-Now, to know all this was naturally a great comfort to Harry's mother
-and sister, for they had of course been not a little anxious on Harry's
-own account at the way things seemed to be going, but there was one
-thing they were content not to know for a while--for the reason that
-Harry strongly urged it--and that was where he and Ted were staying.
-There need be no difficulty on this account about their writing, because
-letters could be forwarded promptly from Oxford, whereas if they were
-able to say where Harry was, then Ted would have to be accounted for,
-too, and there was no telling where that would end. Now, this narration
-is simply by way of telling you how Dorothy had come to know that there
-was no sort of use in hoping to come across the two seniors, who, like
-themselves, were supposed to be enjoying all the delights of driving
-through the English Lake Country.
-
-It had been decided that Oxford was to be the first stopping-place of the
-driving party, and quite a stop it was to be. Mr. and Mrs. Harris and
-Mr. Farwell had never been there, and they planned to spend at least
-two days prowling about the dear old colleges. But Marie-Celeste and
-Harold had a scheme on foot in comparison with which all the colleges
-put together could not offer the least attraction. They were to be
-permitted to go down early Saturday morning to Nuneham, take Chris and
-Donald by surprise, and spend the whole day with them.
-
-[Illustration: 0173]
-
-Why, that plan in itself was worth all the rest of the trip; and
-when Mr. Harris, to whom the idea had first occurred, suggested it,
-Marie-Celeste had put her two arms round her father's neck, declaring
-“he was just a darling and yet, when you come to think of it, he was the
-very same old curmudgeon of a papa, and not one whit altered either, who
-had been so soundly berated for insisting that it would be better for
-Donald to have some easy work to do than to idle away the whole summer.”
-
-Ah, well! the little Queen had deeply repented that sorry episode; and
-endeavoring ourselves to forget it, let us agree never again so much as
-to allude to it.
-
-So down to Nuneham they went bright and early Saturday morning, and,
-feeling fine as a lark, or as two larks, to speak more correctly, they
-preferred doing the walking themselves over the mile and a half out
-from Nuneham to engaging a most unpromising horse attached to a little
-carry-all to do it for them. They would at least seem to be getting
-over the ground at a faster rate, and be able to work off considerable
-superfluous energy into the bargain. And it was really marvellous how
-soon they reached their destination. Far too excited to converse by the
-way, every breath was reserved for the exertion of walking, and so it
-happened that they made almost the best time on record. And when they
-reached the cottage, or rather the little lane that runs down between
-the hedgerows, who did they see at once but Chris himself, busy at
-work in the garden, and Donald, hoe in hand, close beside him, cutting
-vigorously at the weeds round some hop-vines, and both working away with
-such a will and such a farmer-like air that it looked as though both had
-mistaken their calling. But working with a will sometimes means nothing
-more than determination to do one's duty; and from what we happen to
-know, Chris would much have preferred setting cheerily forth on his
-round in Uncle Sam's far-away city, and Donald was probably dreaming of
-the blue boundless sea and the steamer ploughing its way in the teeth
-of a driving nor'easter. But wherever their thoughts may have been,
-they instantly both stopped thinking, for first they heard the familiar
-bugle-call of the steamer ring out on the air in the clearest sort of
-a whistle; and then--could they believe their eyes?--there stood
-Marie-Celeste and Harold right before them on the other side of the
-hawthorn.
-
-“Well, I never!” cried Chris, and in one bound was over the hedgerow.
-
-“My eyes!” was Donald's surprised exclamation, and then he took to his
-heels and ran to the cottage as fast as his legs could carry him.
-
-“Mr. Harris,” he panted, with what little breath his run had left
-him, “your brother has come--he's just out in the lane there with
-Marie-Celeste, and they'll both be right in here in a minute.”
-
-“What stuff you are talking, Donald,” for Ted could not believe his
-ears.
-
-“It's the truth, sir, and you've only a minute, unless you want to
-see him but it was so very plain that Ted didn't want to see him, that
-Donald, who more fully took in the need for haste, pressed Ted's hat and
-cane into his hand, and then throwing open one of the shutters of the
-back windows of his room, helped him to make the best possible time
-getting through it. It was rather heroic treatment for a convalescent,
-who was barely equal as yet to even commonplace modes of proceeding, but
-there was nothing else to be done if the secret was still to be kept.
-
-“Go down to the big apple-tree in the corner of the meadow,” directed
-Donald, half under his breath, “and, look here! you had better take this
-with you,” dragging a steamer rug from the couch, and flinging it out
-after him, “and I'll come down just as soon as ever I can and let you
-know how things are going and then Donald drew the shutters noiselessly
-to and sped back to the lane at as tight a run as he had left it. All
-this was accomplished in less time than it takes to tell it, and Donald
-found the children still chatting with Chris in the lane. Chris, having
-instantly surmised the object of Donald's disappearance, determined
-that he should have all the time needed; and nothing was easier, under
-conditions that called naturally for so many explanations, than to
-engage the children in such an absorbing conversation on the spot as to
-make no move toward the cottage; but the ring of Donald's feet on the
-path was the signal that it was safe to lead the way in that direction.
-
-“Well, you are glad to see a fellow,” said Harold, “to take to your
-heels and run in that fashion the moment you spied us.”
-
-“There was something I suddenly remembered that I had to see to that
-very minute,” stammered Donald, shaking bands with Marie-Celeste and
-Harold at one and the same moment; “but you may just believe I'm glad
-to see you and the warmth of Donald's welcome fully atoned for the few
-moments of unexplained delay.
-
-“Did you tell Granny they had come, Donald?” asked Chris, his face
-fairly beaming at the thought of being able to actually introduce
-Marie-Celeste to the dear old grandmother.
-
-“No; I stopped for nothing more than I just had to,” said Donald
-honestly; but Mrs. Hartley, who had been busy in the kitchen wing of the
-little cottage, and had not heard the commotion in Ted's room, but had
-happened to catch sight of Donald's flying heels, had come out to see
-what the matter was.
-
-“Why, you don't tell me this is Marie-Celeste?” she said, putting one
-hand on Marie-Celeste's shoulder and looking gladly down at the sunny,
-upturned face. “Why, do you know,” she said, shaking hands with Harold
-as she spoke, “you have succeeded, I am sure, in giving Chris the very
-best surprise in all his life.”
-
-“That they have, Granny,” said Chris warmly; “and they're not going back
-till late this afternoon, and we're going to make a beautiful day of
-it.”
-
-And a beautiful day of it they made; and early in the afternoon
-Marie-Celeste made something beautiful besides, quite on her own
-account--nothing else than the discovery which gives its name to this
-chapter, and which happened to be a beautiful discovery, because it was
-the means of making somebody take new heart and see things in general in
-a newer and truer light.
-
-They had been together the entire morning--all the little household,
-with the exception of the gentleman who, Donald had explained, had
-met with the accident, and who had gone off for the day. Donald had
-previously whispered to Mrs. Hartley that Ted was down under the big
-apple-tree, not feeling much like talking or caring to meet their
-unexpected company. You see, Donald, having been taken so unreservedly
-into Ted's confidence, had turned into a thorough diplomat, and had
-determined to aid and abet his plans in every possible way. Indeed, from
-what he himself knew of Harold's intense nature, he felt very sure that
-it would be far wiser and safer that he should never know of all that
-had happened--not, at any rate, unless Ted, having had a chance to prove
-the strength of his new resolutions, chose some day himself to tell
-him. Harold was so proud and Ted was so proud they simply mustn't come
-together yet awhile if it could in any way be helped. But we must not
-let this little aside about Donald's attitude toward the whole affair
-take another moment of our thoughts, for more important and vastly more
-interesting matters are awaiting our attention.
-
-Of course it goes without saying with those of us who have come to know
-Mrs. Hartley, that as regal a little dinner was served for the guests
-from Royal Windsor as the larder of the cottage could afford; but to
-Martha was due all the praise of actual performance. Mrs. Hartley simply
-took her knitting, and sat the entire morning right in the midst of the
-little party just outside the cottage-door.
-
-“You must manage somehow,” she had said seriously to Martha; “I must
-see all I can of Chris's little Marie-Celeste to-day, for you know it is
-hardly likely, Martha, that I shall ever see her again.”
-
-“I'm quite sure I can manage, Mrs. Hartley,” the little maid said
-proudly, confident that her long apprenticeship had made her fully
-equal to the occasion, and inwardly rejoicing in the full sense of
-responsibility.
-
-At the exact hour agreed upon as the best time for dinner, the little
-maid, turned cook and waitress, announced the meal as ready, and her
-reward came in the children's demonstrative approval. “Never tasted
-anything so delicious” was on their lips repeatedly; and Marie-Celeste
-having told, to the supreme delight of all who listened, the story of
-her visit to the Queen, even went so far as to declare that she was
-enjoying it more than the luncheon in the Castle. Mrs. Hartley said,
-“Oh, my dear!” in a most deprecating way; but there was no gainsaying
-the evident sincerity of the declaration.
-
-“Perhaps it's because I feel a little more at home in a cottage,”
- Marie-Celeste explained; “and then, besides,” looking affectionately
-toward Chris, “it's so fine to be with old friends, you know;” and Chris
-shook his head and glanced toward his grandmother as much as to say,
-“Well, now, Granny dear, did you ever see such a darling?”
-
-“Granny dear” shook her head as much as to say, “No, Chris, I never
-did;” and Marie-Celeste, daintily preoccupied with a drum-stick, was
-fortunately none the wiser for this exchange of open admiration.
-
-At the conclusion of dinner Chris took the boys off to a neighboring
-farm to show them some wonderful Jersey cattle that were expected to
-take the prize at a coming county fair; but Marie-Celeste, preferring
-Mrs. Hartley's society, decided to remain at home. No sooner were they
-gone, however, than Mrs. Hartley, arriving at the decision that she knew
-better than Mr. Harris himself what was best for him, and that it
-would doubtless do him good to meet this bright little girl, entered
-immediately into a bit of diplomacy on her own account.
-
-“Marie-Celeste,” she said, “will you do a little favor for me? Will
-you run and ask Martha if one of the cup-custards was left over from
-dinner?”
-
-“Martha says yes, Mrs. Hartley.”
-
-“Well, then, will you ask her to give it to you on a little tray, and a
-piece of sponge-cake besides, well powdered with sugar?”
-
-“Here it is, Mrs. Hartley,” carefully bringing the laden tray, and
-looking every whit as pretty as the picture of La Chocolatière, and not
-unlike her in her pose and gentle dignity.
-
-“And now do you think you could carry it to somebody way down under the
-apple-tree that you can just see the top of from here?”
-
-“Surely I could,” her pretty face glowing with the pleasure of the
-errand, “but I should like to know who the somebody is.”
-
-“Of course you would. Well, it's the gentleman, Mr. Morris, who met with
-the accident, and who's been staying with us these six weeks.”
-
-“Oh, all right, then,” and Marie-Celeste tripped away, at the same time
-taking care not to stumble, to the apple-tree down in the meadow. But
-since this chapter is growing rather long, and you have already surmised
-what it was that Marie-Celeste discovered, it may be as well to stop a
-moment, draw a long breath, and take another chapter to tell about it.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII.--INTO TED'S CONFIDENCE.
-
-[Illustration: 9179]
-
-Marie-Celeste!” gasped Ted, letting his book fall from his hands.
-
-“Cousin Ted!” gasped Marie-Celeste; and flop went the cup-custard over
-on one side, and then rolled off of the tray altogether. Perhaps you
-think gasped is a pretty strong word; but when you are fairly taken off
-your feet with surprise, you can't for the very first moment do much
-better with words than gasp them.
-
-“Where did you come from, Marie-Celeste?” Ted demanded almost roughly,
-and as though she had no right in the world to come from any place
-whatsoever.
-
-“How do you come to be here, Cousin Theodore?” parrying question
-with question, and drawing her little figure to its full height, in
-resentment of the tone in which Ted had spoken.
-
-“Oh, you need not make any pretence,” Ted said sarcastically. “Donald
-has been mean enough to go back on me, and you know all there is to
-tell. I can see through the whole thing, cup-custard, sponge-cake and
-all, and Harold 'll be down here in a moment to help lord it over the
-prodigal.”
-
-“What do you mean. Ted?” for she really did not understand all he said.
-“Donald hasn't told me anything, nor Harold, nor anybody. They've all
-gone off to see some cows somewhere, and Mrs. Hartley asked me if I
-would not take this little tray down to Mr. Morris, the gentleman who
-had met with the accident,” and Marie-Celeste gave a comprehensive
-glance through the little orchard, as though still expecting to discover
-the real object of her search under some neighboring tree.
-
-“I am the gentleman who met with the accident,” said Ted, smiling in
-spite of himself, “and my name is supposed to be Morris.”
-
-The smile relieved matters somewhat, and Marie-Celeste, setting the
-little tray on the ground, picked up the cup-custard, which had suffered
-nothing by its fall, and putting it back in its place on the tray, took
-a seat in the corner of the rug, to which Ted motioned her, and then
-clasping her two hands round her knees, asked in a tone of most earnest
-inquiry, “Now tell me, Cousin Theodore, why do you do things like this?”
-
-“You mean, why do I let myself be thrown out of my trap in a runaway
-accident, and then be foolish enough to let myself be almost killed into
-the bargain?”
-
-“Have you really had an accident, Ted?” with a solicitude that went
-straight to Ted's heart.
-
-“Yes, considerable of an accident. I fancy it would have done for me,
-Marie-Celeste, if I had not fallen into the hands of these good people
-here.”
-
-“But oh, Ted,” why didn't you send us word? Mamma and I would have come
-down and taken care of you every moment and she spoke as though they
-would have just loved to do it.
-
-“Marie-Celeste, you are a dear child;” and Ted, who was hungering at
-last for the love of kith and kin, could not keep his eyes from growing
-a little misty. He realized, too, how he had done absolutely nothing; to
-warrant this little affectionate outburst, and felt sorely humiliated--a
-sensation which had been very common to poor Ted of late.
-
-“How did the accident happen?” asked Marie-Celeste; and touched by his
-grave face, she moved a little farther up on the rug.
-
-“Oh, by being a fool, as usual! We were off on a lark, four of us, and I
-got into a fix so than I couldn't manage the horses, and--”
-
-“Ted, do you mean”--and then Marie-Celeste hesitated--“do you mean that
-you really took so much wine that you did not know what you were about?”
- for she wanted to understand the whole matter clearly, no matter how
-shocking it might prove.
-
-“Yes, that was it, Marie-Celeste;” but the child little guessed how the
-high-strung fellow winced under the confession, and how his self-disgust
-never reached quite such high-water mark as at that moment.
-
-“Well, go on,” said Marie-Celeste in a tone of utter hopelessness;
-and then she added, with the air of a little grandmother, “don't keep
-anything back, Ted; I would rather know all there is.”
-
-“Well, that's about all there is, Marie-Celeste, and it's enough, isn't
-it? I was caught under the trap as it went over, and they picked me up
-as good as dead and carried me into the Hartleys.”
-
-“But you told us all at Windsor you were going on a driving trip with
-Mr. Allyn.”
-
-“So I was before the accident.”
-
-Marie-Celeste paused a moment to straighten things out in her mind; then
-she asked, “But why, Ted, did you tell them your name was Morris?”
-
-“Harry Allyn did that. He knew I would feel awfully mortified, and he
-wanted Harold never to know.”
-
-“He never shall,” Marie-Celeste said slowly, giving her full endorsement
-to that part of the proceeding, and Ted inwardly pronounced her a dearer
-child than ever.
-
-“Where is Harry Allyn now?”
-
-“He stops up at the hotel at Nuneham, and comes down to look after me
-ever day.”
-
-“Do his people know?”
-
-“They know about the accident, but not where we are staying.”
-
-“Oh, well, that makes me understand why Miss Allyn said she hardly
-believed we would meet you on this driving trip. All the rest of us were
-hoping we would. Miss Allyn would have hoped so, too, if she had not
-known, I suppose.”
-
-“Well, I don't suppose anything of the kind,” said Ted, “but what's this
-about your driving trip, Marie-Celeste?”
-
-“Oh, we're on your break, Ted--Harold couldn't write to ask for it,
-you know, because we didn't know where you were, and we're stopping at
-Oxford now; but we left papa and mamma and Miss Dorothy and Mr. Farwell
-for to-day, because Harold and I preferred coming down here to surprise
-Chris and Donald to seeing all the colleges in the world.”
-
-“Who is Mr. Farwell?”
-
-“Oh, he's a very nice young artist, a friend of papa's.”
-
-“And he is taking a driving trip on my break, is he?” said Ted demurely,
-and not appearing exactly to fancy the idea.
-
-“Why, of course, as he's in our party, Ted.”
-
-“Yes, I understand; and now, Marie-Celeste, you are going to help me
-keep my secret, are you? But you know you're not to tell anybody for a
-while, not even your father and mother; do you think you can do it?”
-
-“I will surely do it, Cousin Theodore, if you will do something for me;
-will you promise me you will?”
-
-“If I can, little cousin;” for who could withstand the entreaty in the
-earnest childish voice?
-
-“Will you come home, Cousin Theodore, as soon as ever you can?”
-
-“What's the use, Marie-Celeste? Nobody cares for me there any more, I've
-been such a selfish, ungracious fellow this long while.”
-
-“We all care for you, Ted, really, very much--papa and mamma and Harold
-and I.”
-
-“Well, that's very kind indeed of you; but then I suppose, as you're my
-relations, it's only Christian for you to care a little.”
-
-“But people care who are not your relations--Miss Dorothy Allyn cares,
-and Albert.”
-
-“How do you happen to know that.”
-
-“Oh, because one day after Miss Allyn had been playing the organ in
-St. George's--and oh! doesn't she play beautifully!--we talked a little
-while on the Castle terrace, and we talked about you, and I asked her if
-you were ever so nice as Harold, because we couldn't help being a little
-disappointed in you, Cousin Ted, and she said yes, that you used to
-be every bit as nice, and if you had not been spoiled up at Oxford you
-would have turned out all right. She didn't say just those words, you
-know, but that was the meaning.” Ted was silent for a few moments,
-and when at last he spoke he said slowly, “Yes, I will come home,
-Marie-Celeste, as soon as I can; I promise.”
-
-[Illustration: 0183]
-
-“Thank you, very much,” as though Ted had done her the greatest personal
-favor; and then, seeming to feel that their talk had come to a natural
-end, she asked quite casually, “Will you have the custard now?” and Ted
-remarking quite as casually, “Yes, thank you, I will,” she lifted the
-tray carefully into his lap. “Don't take very long to eat it, please,”
- she urged, “for fear Mrs. Hartley should wonder why I do not come hack
-and Ted obeyed orders with an alacrity rather menacing to his digestive
-powers.
-
-“What shall I say to Mrs. Hartley?” Marie-Celeste asked with a puzzled
-frown.
-
-“Say everything, Marie-Celeste; tell her all about me. Explain to Donald
-first, and get him to take Harold off' somewhere, and then tell all the
-others--Mr. and Mrs. Hartley and Chris and Martha. It is not that I lack
-the courage to tell them myself, it's only that it will be easier
-for them to learn it from you, you have such an innocent way of going
-straight to the heart of a matter. Besides, how could they hear it
-better than from my good little angel?”
-
-“Your good little angel! Oh, you don't know me, Cousin Ted! I'm anything
-but an angel. I was bad as I could be for three whole days together a
-few weeks ago--you ask Donald! Listen! they are calling me up at the
-cottage. Take that last spoonful of custard quickly, please; it's good
-for you. Good-by, now,” printing a hearty little kiss on his grateful
-face, “and remember your promise;” and then, carefully lifting the tray,
-she sped back to the cottage, cheerily calling, “Yes, I'm coming,” to
-Donald, who was on his way to meet her.
-
-“Marie-Celeste, what have you done?” and Donald's face looked the
-picture of despair as he came toward her; nevertheless, he was gallant
-enough to relieve her of the tray, with its empty dishes.
-
-“You mean about my finding out about Cousin Ted?”
-
-Donald simply nodded yes; he had no heart for words.
-
-“Well, I couldn't help it, Donald; Mrs. Hartley asked me to carry some
-custard and sponge-cake to the gentleman under the apple-tree--was it
-my fault that the gentleman happened to be Ted, I'd like to know?” for
-never were there more accusing eyes than Donald's.
-
-“Oh, no; not your fault, but it's a pity to have the whole thing
-spoiled. We've kept the secret so carefully.”
-
-“And do you think it can't be a secret any longer because I happen to be
-in it?”
-
-That was exactly what Donald felt sure of, but he contrived to say, “I
-didn't suppose you'd see the need of its being kept--I'm glad if you
-do;” but there was no real gladness evident, for Donald's tone was
-hopeless in the extreme.
-
-“All the same, you don't think I'll keep it, Donald,” her little face
-really grieved. “You think because I'm a girl that I'll tell mamma, and
-then before I know it somebody else,” and therein Marie-Celeste proved
-herself a veritable little mind-reader. “Well, now, Donald, you'll see!
-and perhaps you'll come to understand girls better this summer, and have
-more respect for them in the future.”
-
-Donald took his lecture very meekly, knowing well that he deserved
-it, but still doubtful of Marie-Celeste's boasted ability in the
-secret-keeping line.
-
-“Cousin Ted has more confidence in me than you, Donald,” still
-exercising her mind-reading proclivities. “He's asked me to tell the
-Hartleys all about him this very day. He doesn't want any unnecessary
-secrets kept any longer, and you're to take Harold off somewhere while I
-tell them.”
-
-“It seems to me Ted ought to tell them himself,” said Donald, shaking
-his head in disapproval; for you see he really feared that Ted lacked
-the necessary courage, although he could understand how much it must
-mean to him to have the Hartleys realize that he had such a good friend
-as Marie-Celeste at court. But Donald afterward exonerated Ted from any
-lack of courage, and was of course delighted when he found that she had
-pleaded his cause so eloquently as to convince even the old keeper that
-Ted was fully justified in the course he had thought best to pursue.
-
-[Illustration: 0185]
-
-Never was fairy tale listened to with more rapt attention than
-Marie-Celeste's narration of the ups and downs of Ted's life as she
-knew them, and never was heart more gladly grateful than hers when she
-realized that these good friends were more than willing, for the sake
-of the end in view, to condone the deception practised upon them. It is
-such a fine thing when people show themselves fair-minded and reasonable
-under circumstances that put their fair-mindedness to so much of a test.
-
-“Well, well, well, it's a queer world,” said old Mr. Hartley, resting
-his elbows on his knees, and drawing circles and squares with his cane
-on the gravel beneath the old settle--“it's so remarkable that Mr.
-Morris (for he could not drop the name at once) should have fallen right
-into our hands here. Seems to me as though God never changed any of
-the real laws of things, but as though He ordered the working of them
-together for good in a very wonderful way, just as the Scripture says He
-do;” and a good many other people, who have not lived in this world more
-than half as long as old Mr. Hartley, are willing to go the whole length
-of this statement, and to defend it, if need be, with page after page
-from their own experience.
-
-It was just at this point in the conversation that Donald and Harold
-came upon the scene, and hearing all of Mr. Hartley's last remark,
-Donald felt sure that the old keeper, of whom he, as well as Ted and
-Harry Allyn, stood in not a little awe, was not going to take offence
-at the new turn affairs had taken; while Harold, to whom it sounded
-as though they had been having a somewhat prosy sermon, rather
-congratulated himself that Donald had carried him off to see a
-neighbor's kennels down the river. But now there was time for little
-more than good-bys, and Chris, who had slipped away to harness Jennie,
-was at the door; and with farewells as hearty as though they had been
-friends for a lifetime, Harold and Marie-Celeste climbed into the
-Saxon wagon, and amid much demonstration on every side were off for
-the Nuneham station; but Harold wondered that Donald did not drive into
-Nuneham with them, and said so.
-
-“I suppose,” said Marie-Celeste, addressing Chris with a knowing look
-in her eyes, “he has things to attend to about the farm this time in the
-afternoon?”
-
-“Yes, he has,” answered Chris, with a look just as knowing, for both
-were well aware that as soon as their backs were turned Donald would fly
-to Ted's rescue from his overlong quarantine down under the apple-tree,
-and all the significant glances went on right under Harold's eyes, with
-never a suspicion on his part. Indeed, Chris and Marie-Celeste, just for
-the fun of it, indulged in some decidedly pointed remarks, relying (and
-in Harold's case with considerable risk ) upon the literalness of the
-average boy of sixteen to let their real meaning escape him.
-
-“Custard and sponge-cake is not very staying,” said Ted, after Donald
-had told him the good news of how kindly the Hartleys had received
-Marie-Celeste's surprising revelations, and they were on their way to
-the cottage.
-
-“Why, you haven't had any dinner, Mr. Harris?” a paralyzing recollection
-coming over him.
-
-“Who promised to bring it to me, Donald?”
-
-“Oh, Mr. Harris, it's all my fault! Martha gave it to me just before
-our own dinner was ready, and I set it on the feed-box a moment, while
-I shook down some hay for Jennie in the barn, and Chris called me, and
-that was the last I thought of it, and it must be there now.”
-
-But Donald was mistaken; one of a litter of rather young setter puppies,
-but with the sense of scent well developed, had scaled the sides of
-the low feed-box, and now lay on its side by the empty plate, feeling
-somewhat the worse for its foraging expedition.
-
-“But dinners are not so reviving as good news, Donald,” said Ted
-excusingly; and indeed, notwithstanding diminished rations, he felt
-wonderfully toned up both in mind and body, now that the good friends
-in the cottage knew just who he was and there was no longer need for any
-sort of duplicity.
-
-With all Ted's faults he was as open as the day, and the part which
-Harry and discretion and the Doctor had mapped out for him to play had
-been harder than you can imagine.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII.--RATHER A BOOKISH CHAPTER.
-
-[Illustration: 9188]
-
-The old belfry clock was striking eight as Harold and Marie-Celeste put
-in an appearance at the lodgings where the little party were staying in
-Oxford, and of course there was a great deal to be told; but alas!
-too, for Marie-Celeste so much that must not be told, under any
-circumstances. If you think it easy to be sole possessor of a piece of
-news that would rejoice the hearts of your nearest and dearest, and yet
-for extreme precaution's sake have given your promise on no account
-to divulge it, why then all that can be said is that you were never in
-Marie-Celeste's shoes. If it had been an uncomfortable piece of news it
-would have been vastly easier. There ought to be no pleasure at all
-in conveying bad news to people, though here and there, it must be
-confessed, one sometimes meets individuals who seem to rejoice in any
-news whatsoever, and the more startling and surprising the better.
-
-But Marie-Celeste succeeded in getting through the first few hours
-without telling: the two hours with Harold on the train, a very trying
-half hour when she was all alone with her mother, and another trying
-half hour the next morning, when she was sitting in the breakfast-room
-with Dorothy; and after that the worst was over, so many delightful
-things came along to claim everyone's thought and attention. And one
-of the most delightful things of all--at least in the children's
-estimation--came with that Sunday afternoon in Oxford, and Dorothy was
-the one to be thanked for it.
-
-It seemed that in one of the colleges somebody lived who Marie-Celeste
-would have given more to see, next to the Queen (and, as you know, she
-had seen her without the asking), than any one else in England, and that
-was the man who calls himself Lewis Carroll, and who has written
-those incomparable books, “Through the Looking-Glass” and “Alice in
-Wonderland.” If it is possible that any little friend of these stories
-of mine has never happened to have read them, then let me urge you
-at once to give Aunt Bess or Uncle Jack no rest till both are in your
-keeping, with your name written very legibly across the fly-leaf of
-each, so that you can keep them for your very own till you've no more
-use for any books whatsoever. And while you are about it, why not put
-in a plea for Kingsley's “Water Babies,” too, which is of the same
-beautiful dreamland type; and please do not think for a moment that you
-are too old for any of the three. Why, some one I know, who is well on
-to forty, just revels in those same three books, and, for that matter,
-there are some things in them that you cannot fully take in even then.
-And in this connection perhaps it is fair to tell you, in case you do
-not happen to know it already, that it is twenty years and more since
-these books were written; but then of course you are sensible enough to
-see that that is ever so much more to their credit. Indeed, it was just
-because they were written so long ago that the visit of which I am about
-to tell you came to pass. Twenty years before Dorothy's father had been
-rector of a church there in Oxford, and though Dorothy was only two
-years old at that time, and her brother Harry but a year and a half
-older, they had been great pets, babies though they were, with the
-author of “Wonderland” and “Through the Looking-Glass,” and Mr.
-Dodgson--for that is Lewis Carroll's real name--had been in and out of
-Canon Allyn's house almost every day in the week. And what was true of
-Canon Allyn's house was true of many another house in Oxford where there
-were children; and so you see it was because of this old-time intimacy
-with Lewis Carroll that Dorothy had made bold to write and ask if she
-might bring Harold and Marie-Celeste to call upon him. But for some
-reason or other Mr. Dodgson no longer cares to see as much of the little
-people as formerly; in fact, he rather runs away from them when they
-seek him out; and when he received Dorothy's letter, what did he do but
-write her that he was very sorry to say that he would not be at home on
-the afternoon in question, but that if it would be any pleasure to her
-little friends to see his rooms, she might bring them there and welcome,
-and that he would leave some old photographs that he thought would
-interest them ready to her hand in a portfolio on the writing-table.
-
-And so they were not to see “Lewis Carroll,” which was of course
-considerable of a disappointment to Marie-Celeste and Harold, and
-to Dorothy as well; but all the same the recollection of that Sunday
-afternoon in Oxford will doubtless long hold its place among the most
-delightful memories of their lives.
-
-It was only two o'clock when they set out, and a walk up the beautiful
-High Street, past the spires and domes, brick windows and massive
-gateways of the old churches and colleges that line it, and then a turn
-at the corner of Aldgate Street, soon brought them to Christ Church. Mr.
-Carroll's rooms--for he prefers doubtless to be Mr. Carroll to those
-of us who know him only through his books--. were of course the first
-object of interest, and Dorothy, who remembered where they were from
-a more fortunate visit of a few years before, when they had not been
-obliged, as to-day, to count without their host, led the way through the
-Entrance Gateway, well worthy of its old name of “The Faire Gate.”
-
-Over this entrance looms the beautiful tower containing Great Tom, an
-old, old bell that tolls a curfew of one hundred and one strokes every
-night as a signal for the closing of the college. And Great Tom looks
-down on one of those quadrangles which at Christ Church, as indeed at
-all the colleges, forms one of the most attractive features. In many
-cases the walls of the buildings which surround the quadrangles on the
-four sides are almost hid beneath a luxurious growth of English ivy,
-while from April to December the lawns that carpet them are green with
-the wonderful depth of color peculiar to lawns that have been cultivated
-for centuries.
-
-The windows of Mr. Carroll's rooms open on the “Ton Quad,” as it
-is called, because of the nearness to Great Tom, and they found the
-janitor, who had been informed of their coming, ready to unlock the door
-for them.
-
-“Do you think we have driven Mr. Dodgson away by planning to come here
-this afternoon?” asked Dorothy, feeling that this invasion of a man's
-room in his absence bordered on intrusion, and hesitating to step over
-the threshold.
-
-“Like as not, mum,” replied the old janitor honestly, “he's grown that
-averse to mingling much with folk, be they big or little.”
-
-“But he wrote me very cordially to come, only that he had an engagement
-and would not be at home.”
-
-“Then he probably told you the truth, mum. He often goes off on a
-ten-mile tramp of a Sunday afternoon with one of the professors. He left
-word that he'd not be home till six, mum, so you needn't be thinking of
-leaving till half-past five, mum;” and so it was plainly evident that
-Lewis Carroll wanted to run no risk of seeing them at either end of
-their visit, and Dorothy could not help feeling a little piqued.
-
-“I am sorry Mr. Dodgson is so much afraid of meeting us,” she said with
-a sigh; “we used to live in Oxford, and he was a good friend of mine
-when I was a child. It seems strange he ceases to care for his little
-friends as soon as they are grown up.”
-
-“You must leave an old bachelor to his foibles, mum. It seems as though
-they must have them of one sort or another. I'm a bachelor myself, mum,
-and have me own little peculiarities, they tell me, mum.”
-
-“Oh, Miss Dorothy, please look here! These are the photographs Mr.
-Carroll wrote you about!” called Marie-Celeste, for she and Harold had
-had no misgivings whatever about making their way into a room to which
-they had been granted privileged entrance; and after a reconnoitring
-tour round its borders had naturally brought up at the portfolio, to
-which their attention had been specially directed in Mr. Carroll's note.
-
-“The door has a spring lock, mum,” explained the janitor; “will
-you kindly make sure to close it on leaving?” and with this parting
-injunction he left them to their own devices.
-
-It seems that in the old days, when Lewis Carroll loved to play host
-to the children, they would often come to take afternoon tea in his
-lodgings, and then likely as not, if the light were good, he would
-spirit them into a 'room fitted up for the purpose and take their
-pictures; and then, if they promised to be good and not to bother, they
-might follow him into the queer-smelling little room where he made the
-pictures come out, and they would be permitted to have a look at the
-dripping glass plate, from which they could seldom make head nor tail,
-held up against the dark-room's lantern for inspection. But, all the
-same, their faith in the result was supreme; for what could a wizard not
-do who could weave fairy-tales so wonderfully as not to have them
-seem like fairy-tales at all. And so this portfolio, extended to its
-uttermost, was literally stuffed with pictures; and what did they
-discover, to their surprised delight, lying right on the top of the
-pile, but three or four unmistakable photographs of Harry and Dorothy
-Allyn, which had evidently been placed there by design. Dorothy was
-pleased at this little attention, and partly forgave Mr. Carroll his
-antipathy to renewing old friendships.
-
-[Illustration: 0192]
-
-The pictures themselves were as funny as could be, and the Harry Allyn
-of those days was wonderfully like the Albert Allyn of these; so that a
-council was held on the spot, and the resolution carried that they would
-leave a little note on Mr. Carroll's table, humbly begging for one
-of the pictures, that they might have the pleasure of showing them to
-interested parties at Windsor.
-
-The inspection of the photographs once over, the little party settled
-themselves to “taking the little sitting-room in,” as they said, and
-there was little, you may be sure, that escaped them.
-
-The curious old fire-irons were noted, the subjects of the pictures on
-the walls, the books on the shelves, and a remarkable paper-knife and
-quaint old inkstand upon the table.
-
-Marie-Celeste, to whom this visit meant more than to Harold and Dorothy,
-even made so bold as to glance through an intervening portière to the
-bachelor bedroom beyond; and yet you must know that there was not a
-vestige of prying curiosity in this investigating mood of hers. The next
-thing, and sometimes a better thing than knowing your favorite author,
-is to know how and where he lives; and it was a matter of supreme
-delight to Marie-Celeste that henceforth when she should open Lewis
-Carroll's books she should be able to picture him working away here in
-his study, and just as he really looked, too, for by chance or accidents
-full-length photograph stood on the mantel, which Dorothy, from her
-visita few years before, was able to pronounce an excellent likeness,
-and very characteristic.
-
-“I would like to be able to say I had sat exactly where 'Alice'
-was written,” said Marie-Celeste, slipping into the chair at the
-writing-table. “Do you think I could honestly?”
-
-“Well, both table and chair look old enough,” Dorothy considerately
-replied; “but I don't believe books like those are written much in
-regular places at all. It seems as though 'Alice' must at least have
-been made up out on the river, even if there were not three little pairs
-of childish hands to steer and guide the boat, as the verses at the
-beginning would have us believe.”
-
-“Oh, but I do believe there were, Miss Dorothy!” said Marie-Celeste
-warmly; “don't you remember it says,
-
-               “' All in the golden afternoon
-
-                   Full leisurely we glide,
-
-               For both our oars with little skill
-
-                   By little arms are plied,
-
-               While little hands make vain pretence
-
-                   Our wanderings to guide.'”
-
-And then in another verse in just so many words, 'Thus grew the tale
-of Wonderland.' Oh, yes, I choose to believe everything in those two
-books.”
-
-“Well, I don't blame you,” laughed Dorothy, “for everything is told as a
-matter of course, and it seems the most natural thing in the world for
-a rabbit to carry white gloves, and for little girls to seek advice of
-caterpillars.”
-
-“Well, the parts I used to like best were the verses;” for Harold, after
-the manner of the genus who pride themselves on early outgrowing many
-of the best things of life, relegated the books to the days of his early
-childhood; “the stories themselves always seemed more meant for girls
-than for boys.”
-
-“Now, excuse me, Harold,” said Marie-Celeste, bristling up a little,
-“but I don't see why you boys are so afraid of peeping into what you
-call a girl's book. Of course there are books that tell only about girls
-that you wouldn't like. To tell the truth, I don't care much for them
-myself; but if a book ever happens to have a kind of girlish name to it,
-that settles it at once. Now, suppose it were possible for any one to
-write a story about me; I presume they would have to give a sort of
-girl's name to the story; but would that mean that it was all about
-girls? Well, I guess not;” and Marie-Celeste laughed as she realized how
-wide such an estimate would fall of the mark. “Chris would be in it,
-of course, and you and Donald and--” and Marie-Celeste was going to
-say Ted, but checked herself in time to make an exchange for Mr.
-Belden--“and Albert. Why, gracious, Harold, come to think of it, I
-haven't a girl friend this summer--only Miss Dorothy here, if she will
-excuse me.”
-
-“And it's a pity about me, isn't it, Marie-Celeste,” said Dorothy slyly,
-“for the author might feel that as I am your friend he ought to put mein
-somewhere, and that would make it a little more about girls, you see,
-and probably spoil the story.”
-
-“Oh, Miss Dorothy, you know what I mean; it isn't that I don't like
-girls, it's only that a book like 'Alice' ought to have just as much
-interest for boys as girls;” for all Marie-Celeste had in mind was the
-defence of the imputation that Lewis Carroll's books were “just girls'
-books.”
-
-“If all the remarkable things in those two stories,” she continued, “had
-happened to a 'Jack' instead of an 'Alice,' I should have loved it just
-as much, I am sure.”
-
-“Oh, well, you needn't be quite so hard on me,” Harold replied,
-improving the first opportunity to put in a word, and very much amused
-at Marie-Celeste's little tirade. “I fancy, on the whole, you don't know
-much more about 'Alice's' adventures than I do.”
-
-This last remark Marie-Celeste chose to regard as a challenge, and then
-followed such a rehearsal of Alice's varied experiences as would have
-done Lewis Carroll's heart good to hear. Both eager to show how much
-they remembered, the moment either paused for the fraction of a second,
-the other would take it up, and so the whole ground was pretty well
-gone over. Harold's principal achievement lay in “The Walrus and the
-Carpenter,” and Marie-Celeste's in the recitation of “Jabberwocky”
- from “Through the Looking-Glass;” for not only was she able to slip
-its almost unpronounceable words quite easily from her tongue, but she
-remembered the explanation of them given by Humpty Dumpty, when Alice
-appeals to him a little later on in the story, and he modestly informs
-her that he can explain all the poems that ever were invented, “and a
-good many beside that haven't been invented just yet.”
-
-“It's getting near four o'clock,” said Dorothy, feeling at last that she
-must interrupt the flow of conversation, no matter how interesting; “let
-us write the note asking for the picture, and then see something of the
-rest of the college.”
-
-So the note was written and left conspicuously upon the writing-table;
-and then with one long farewell glance about them, and a flower
-stolen from a vase by Marie-Celeste and laid between the leaves of her
-prayer-book, they turned their backs on all they would ever be permitted
-to know of Lewis Carroll, and the door with the spring lock swung to
-behind them.
-
-It had been part of the plan to attend the five-o'clock service in
-Christ Church Cathedral; and after spending a half hour or so in
-wandering through the cloisters and gaining something of an idea of the
-college as a whole, they went early into the cathedral, that they might
-also stroll for a while through the beautiful old church whose history
-dates as far back as the middle of the eighth century. At five o'clock
-promptly the beautiful choral service began, and the sweet music and
-the earnest spirit of the service seemed to round out to a fitting close
-that always to be remembered Sunday afternoon in Oxford.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX.--DONALD TURNS VALET.
-
-[Illustration: 9196]
-
-You might not care much for it, but to me it would be a delight to
-follow our friends on Ted's break as they rolled merrily out from town
-on the bright Monday morning succeeding their two days' stay at Oxford,
-and to keep with them all the way; not that anything momentous or wildly
-exciting happened on the trip, only that if it were possible to put
-all its charm onto paper, there is no question but you would enjoy it.
-Somebody has put it onto paper, however, and very successfully, too;
-so that I should advise you, in case a driving trip through the English
-Lake Country does not soon happen to come your way, to look between the
-covers of “The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton,” as soon as you grow a
-bit older, and see if you do not discover the charm of it for yourself.
-But whether we would or no, we have not the time just now to bowl
-quietly along in leisurely fashion through that lovely region of hills
-and lakes. Besides the party on the break are quite sufficient to
-themselves, while down at Nuneham there is a fellow who would be
-thankful enough for any advice that we could give him.
-
-“What had I better do?” is the question that Ted is turning over and
-over in his mind, for the time has come for Ted to do something, and
-there are more difficulties confronting him than any one has an idea of.
-He has not even taken Harry Allyn fully into his confidence, so proud
-is this same foolish Ted. Besides, Harry Allyn, who, as you know, is
-in dead earnest about his “new leaf,” is up at Oxford delving away,
-midsummer though it is, at some back work that was sadly neglected in
-the spring term, and has actual need to be made up.
-
-Finally Ted, who finds himself simply reasoning in a circle, decides
-to lay the whole matter before Donald; for Donald, boy that he is, has
-opinions of his own which he does not fear to express, and, what is
-more, Ted in desperation feels that he simply must turn to somebody. And
-so it comes about that at the close of an August afternoon, when Ted has
-the house to himself (Chris having taken the old keeper and his wife off
-for a drive), that he calls to Donald, who, coming up from a day's work
-in the kitchen garden, is on his way to put his tools away in the barn.
-
-“Well, what is it, Mr. Harris?” leaving rake and hoe against the cottage
-shingles and slipping into the chair nearest the door, out of regard for
-Mrs. Hartley's clean-swept carpet.
-
-“It's just this, Donald. I'm in a fix, and I want you to help me out.”
-
-“A new fix, Mr. Harris?” with a long breath, as though he thought there
-had really been rather too much of that sort of thing already.
-
-“No, an old one, Donald, and I fancy you know enough of my record these
-last four years to imagine what it is.”
-
-“I shouldn't wonder if you're in debt,” for Ted had hinted as much once
-or twice to Donald.
-
-“Exactly, head over heels in debt;” and although Ted's words were light
-enough, his manner was very serious.
-
-“And you want me to help you out?” said Donald, remembering the three or
-four sovereigns knotted up sailor fashion in a handkerchief with a few
-other treasures, and representing all his worldly store.
-
-“No, I'm not going to take any savings of yours,” said Ted, imagining
-that Donald might so have understood him; “but I want to put the case to
-you, and have you tell me what to do;” and Donald listened attentively
-while Ted “put his case” plainly and without any mental reservations
-whatever.
-
-“It's a terrible big sum,” said Donald, when all was told, “but you say
-you have money enough to pay it several times over if you could only get
-at it.”
-
-“Exactly; but I can't get at it any more than though it didn't belong
-to me--not till I'm twenty-five, and that's two years off. You see, my
-father thought he had given me a generous income, and he had--rather too
-generous for my good, it seems.”
-
-“I suppose the people you owe it to would wait two years if they felt
-sure they would get the money then for Donald, with the wisdom of an
-older head, was trying to look at the matter from all sides.
-
-“No, Donald, that wouldn't do. They're trades-people, most of them, and
-they've waited longer than they can afford to already. I must manage to
-borrow the money somewhere--but where, that's the question.”
-
-“Couldn't Harold help you a little?”
-
-“Not to any extent. Harold can't touch his money any more than I;
-besides, Harold is not to know,” and Ted spoke decidedly, as though in
-that direction his mind was fully made up, and he needed advice from no
-one.
-
-“Aren't there men up in London who make a business of lending money?”
- for Donald hadn't knocked about the world without gaining some knowledge
-of men and affairs.
-
-“Yes, there are, but I want to keep this thing just as quiet as
-possible. I do wish I had some friend to turn to.”
-
-“Mr. Harris,” said Donald, looking Ted squarely in the face, “it's an
-awful pity about you; there is no sense at all in your going on the way
-you have. When a fellow has a home and friends and money, there isn't
-any excuse for that sort of thing. Seems to me it would be so easy then
-to keep straight.”
-
-Ted winced a little under Donald's frankness, knowing all that lay
-beneath it. It had sometimes been very difficult for the boy there
-before him, to whom home and money had been always lacking, and friends
-as well until within these last few weeks, to live up to the best that
-he knew. No boy puts to sea, as Donald had done, without coming face to
-face with some sore temptations, but his whole look and bearing showed
-how manfully he had resisted them, and the earnest honesty of his eyes
-preached a sermon as they met Ted's.
-
-“It is an awful pity,” said Ted, echoing Donald's words, and hating his
-own record more than any one else could hate it; “but all that is left
-me is to try and mend matters. The only comfort is that I've come to my
-senses at last. A great many never do, you know.”
-
-“Mr. Harris,” said Donald, who had been listening to Ted and doing his
-own thinking at one and the same time, “there was an Englishman
-came over on the steamer with us, who grew to be great friends with
-Marie-Celeste, and Marie-Celeste told me all about him one of those
-afternoons when I was too weak to do anything but lie in my berth, and
-she tried to entertain me. She said he was a bachelor, and rich as could
-be, and she thought the best thing that could happen to him would be
-to do somebody a good turn with his money. If you feel that you want
-to keep this matter sort of quiet, just between gentleman and gentleman
-(which was a phrase Donald had heard Mr. Harris use, and was glad to be
-able to appropriate), why don't you go up to London and hunt him up? He
-lives at one of the big clubs. You could easily find him. His name was
-Belden.”
-
-At this Ted gave a start of surprise, as did Miss Dorothy Allyn when
-Marie-Celeste made the same announcement the day of their talk in St.
-George's Chapel. And then Ted asked, as had she: “Are you sure it was
-Belden? You see, Donald,” he continued, “I've an old bachelor uncle
-whose name is Selden--my mother's brother--and who answers to your
-description to a dot--a surly old customer, who would do little enough
-for me, or any one else, I imagine.”
-
-“No; it was Belden sure. Everybody called him Mr. Belden, and it was so
-on the passenger list; I've got one in my chest upstairs; I'll bring it,
-and you can see for yourself.”
-
-“Donald,” said Ted, when, the list having been produced, he felt that
-the balance of evidence was not in favor of Mr. Belden and Mr. Selden
-being one and the same, “that is a happy thought of yours, and up to
-London I will go.”
-
-“You oughtn't to go alone, Mr. Harris; you're not strong enough for that
-yet.”
-
-“I wonder if Chris would let you turn valet for me and go too.”
-
-“I'd give a great deal to see London again,” said Donald
-enthusiastically.
-
-“Would wages have to be taken into account?” laughed Ted; “you know the
-state of my finances, Donald.”
-
-“Board and expenses--that is all, sir,” and so the serious talk ended
-with this bit of pleasantry; and Ted realizing that he had not been
-disappointed in feeling that Donald would somehow be able to help him,
-found himself entering into the new scheme with rather more hope than
-circumstances would seem to justify.
-
-It was by no means a cheery announcement to the household in the little
-thatched cottage when Ted told them that evening, that two days later
-he must gather his belongings together and turn his back on the home and
-the friends that had formed his little world during all the long weeks
-of convalescence; and then when he asked if Donald might perhaps be
-permitted to go up to London with him, Mrs. Hartley felt that all the
-brightness of the summer was fast slipping away. No one could appreciate
-what new life had opened up for the old couple with the coming of Chris
-and Ted and Donald, and now two were proposing to go at once, and only
-five weeks more, and Chris would be bidding them farewell on his way to
-the Majestic down at Liverpool, and on which it had been arranged that
-Donald at the same time should once more put to sea. So no wonder that
-at first they all declared that the boy could not be spared; but the
-more they thought of it the more they felt that Ted really needed him.
-As a result, a telegram was finally sent to Mr. Harris, which caught the
-driving party at Windemere, asking if he would approve of Donald's
-going up to London with a convalescent gentleman who greatly needed his
-services. The telegram was signed Christopher Hartley; and Mr. Harris,
-concluding that Donald and Chris were quite able to decide what was best
-in the matter, telegraphed back, “No objection, of course, if you think
-it advisable;” and its welcome message brought more joy to the hearts of
-Ted and Donald than they could graciously give expression to in the face
-of Mr. and Mrs. Hartley's regret at their departure.
-
-It was astonishing with what celerity Donald had seemed to merge the
-sailor-boy in the farm-hand, and now in turn the farm-hand in the valet.
-He brushed away at Ted's clothes as vigorously as though that had been
-his calling from his youth up, and stowed away his belongings in the
-boxes that Harry Allyn had sent down from Oxford with an economy of
-space that was truly amazing. And now at last there was no more to
-be done, and Mrs. Hartley bade her boys God-speed with lips that from
-trembling could hardly frame the blessing, and on which face--Ted's or
-Donald's--loving gratitude found deeper expression it would have been
-difficult to have told. The old keeper pressed Ted's hands, and actually
-said something about feeling he had been a little hard on him at first;
-and then turning to Donald, made him promise to count Nuneham as his
-home ever afterward, and run down for a Sunday between voyages whenever
-he could manage it; and the words were about the most precious that had
-ever fallen on Donald's ears.
-
-The hotel to which the two travellers betook themselves in London was a
-modest one, as befitted their circumstances. Ted, however, who, in spite
-of himself, had still considerable regard for appearances, could not
-resist the temptation of investing--though Donald urgently protested
-against such extravagance--in a suit of clothes, somewhat less
-conspicuous than the nautical blue jersey and wide-flapping trousers of
-Donald's Sunday best, and better adapted to his new calling.
-
-“Now, Donald,” said Ted, who found himself relying on Donald's advice in
-truly remarkable fashion, “what's to be the first step in the programme?
-Shall we try to look up your Mr. Belden in the London Directory?”
-
-“As you say, sir,” said Donald, who was amusing himself and Ted as well
-by endeavoring to acquit himself as the most respectful of valets.
-So forth they fared together, for the little hostelry was by far too
-unpretentious to boast a city directory; but the morning was so fine,
-notwithstanding mid-August weather, that they were tempted to stroll on
-and on, deferring a little, by tacit consent, the immediate object of
-their expedition. Along the Thames embankment they strolled from their
-quarters up near Blackfriar's Bridge, past the Savoy Hotel, and keeping
-near the river until, reaching Northumberland Avenue, they turned in the
-direction of Trafalgar Square.
-
-“Mr. Harris,” said Donald, attracted by a sign over a doorway, when they
-had gone a few squares farther on, “I believe this is Mr. Belden's club.
-Marie-Celeste told me its name once, and I'm almost sure this is it.”
- Whereupon Ted straightway found himself feeling very much dismayed at
-the announcement, and his heart misgave him, as hearts have a way
-of doing when the time has come for mere intention to take the more
-definite form of action. The object of this search of theirs seemed
-all at once to Ted the most ridiculous thing imaginable. The idea of
-expecting that a stranger, to whom his only introduction was that of a
-cabin-boy of the White Star Line, would be likely to take an interest in
-him to the extent of making him a loan of a large sum of money at rather
-a low rate of interest; and then Ted realized what some of us have
-realized before, that all he had practically to build upon was
-Marie-Celeste's remark to Donald, “that she felt very sure that the best
-thing that could happen to this same rich Mr. Belden would be to do a
-good turn to somebody and Ted once more scored himself a fool to have
-seriously considered the thing for a moment. But it was too late now to
-retreat, for Donald was having an animated talk with the buttons of the
-door of the Reform Club; and Ted, who stood just out of earshot, was the
-victim of all sorts of uncomfortable sensations as to what the result
-might be.
-
-“It looks,” said Donald, coming down the steps and back to Ted, with a
-puzzled frown on his face, “as though there really might be a mistake
-somewhere. I am perfectly sure this is the name of the club, and the
-buttons says they have a Mr. Selden, but no Mr. Belden.”
-
-“Donald,” said Ted almost savagely “let us walk away just as quickly as
-possible. There is no doubt about it now. The man you mean is my uncle,
-and I wouldn't put myself in his way for all the world. Can't you walk
-faster, Donald?” But meantime, the uncle in question was hastening to
-put himself in Ted's way with all possible speed, or rather in Donald's,
-which, as it happened, was one and the same thing. It seemed that Mr.
-Selden (circumstances permitting, it is better to call people by their
-real names) had discovered Donald from the dining-room window just as he
-was descending the steps, and recognizing him instantly flung his napkin
-onto the table, and hurrying from the room seized his hat from the rack
-as he passed.
-
-“Bring that boy back!” was his breathless older to the buttons; but the
-door being open, he rushed through it himself, deciding that the matter
-was too important to be delegated to any one less interested than
-himself.
-
-“Donald,” he called, overtaking him at last, a whole square
-away--“Donald, were you looking for me?”
-
-Donald turned, and the next moment was shaking hands warmly with Mr.
-Selden, his face fairly beaming with glad surprise; but Ted stood by,
-the picture of hopeless despair. His first absurd impulse had been to
-run, for though first impulses are magnificent things as a rule, they
-do sometimes suggest the most outlandish performances. His second, which
-was fortunately the one upon which he acted, was to stand and see the
-thing through, giving himself over to his fate with an air of most
-woebegone resignation to whatever might be in store for him.
-
-“Who is your friend?” said Mr. Selden, politely lifting his hat to Ted;
-for his own greeting over, poor Donald was at his wit's end, not knowing
-whether Ted would wish to be introduced or no. What was his relief,
-then, when Ted, lifting his hat politely in return, said: “You don't
-recognize me then, Uncle Everett?”
-
-Why, yes I do, Theodore for although it was years since he had seen him,
-the momentarily uncovered head had at once established his identity;
-“but how do you and Donald happen to be in each other's company?
-Marie-Celeste told me Donald was on a farm down in Oxfordshire, and that
-you--well, that nobody knew where you were exactly.”
-
-“It's rather a long story,” said Theodore slowly; and then remembering
-his uncle's stolid indifference to things in general, he added coldly,
-“I doubt if it would have much interest for you.”
-
-Mr. Selden understood the case perfectly, knowing that his former record
-with Ted would justify his speaking in this fashion; but he only said:
-“All the same, I would like to know about it. Will you come back to the
-club with me?”
-
-The eyes of the valet waited upon his master, but they said very
-plainly, “Do let us go;” and the master, after hesitating a moment,
-accepted this most unexpected of invitations.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX--DOROTHY CALLS MARIE-CELESTE TO ACCOUNT..
-
-[Illustration: 9205]
-
-Marie-Celeste, here is a letter for you, and it is the third one you
-have received under cover of direction to me; and, if I am not mistaken,
-I recognize the handwriting on this one; I believe it is from Theodore
-Harris.”
-
-Marie-Celeste, with a meek little “thank you,” simply took the letter
-from Dorothy's extended hand.
-
-“And, Marie-Celeste,” Dorothy continued, “you are not showing them to
-your mother. They come enclosed in these envelopes, and that is so that
-she shall not know that you receive them, I suppose.”
-
-“Yes, Miss Dorothy,” but with her mind quite intent on the letter, and
-therefore rather absent-mindedly.
-
-“Well, then, do you know, I believe I shall tell her.”
-
-“Oh, Miss Dorothy,” with all the absent-mindedness gone in a minute,
-and with gravest reproach in the dark brown eyes, “you wouldn't--you
-wouldn't do that!”
-
-“Why, my dear child, I almost feel as though I ought to; it is such
-an uncommon thing for a little girl of twelve to be in surreptitious
-correspondence with at least three different people, for there has been
-a different hand on every letter. It seems wrong to me to-be helping
-on such a mysterious proceeding, with no idea whatever of what it all
-means.”
-
-“Miss Dorothy,” said Marie-Celeste, “I am in a great big secret, that's
-all, but I do wish--I do wish very much that you were in it too,” which
-was indeed the truth, for this not being able to talk over matters with
-anybody was almost more than she could longer endure.
-
-“Well, don't you believe it would do to take me in, then?” said Dorothy
-rather entreatingly. “I confess I would like to know what Theodore
-Harris is writing to you about; and besides it doesn't seem fair to put
-too much upon a little girl like you. You seem to be thinking so hard so
-much of the time.”
-
-“They are pretty nice thoughts, though,” Marie-Celeste replied, “as
-you'll see when I tell you, because I've about decided to tell you. I
-think it's right, too, and I don't believe they'll mind, and I am going
-up to the house to bring the other two letters and read them to you.
-It will make you happier than anything you ever heard,” and Marie-Celeste
-spoke truer than she knew.
-
-Meanwhile, Dorothy sat gazing out over beautiful Lake Coniston,
-wondering if she were really doing the right thing in persuading
-Marie-Celeste to confide in her, and unable to arrive at any decision.
-She was sitting on a little rustic seat down by the water's edge, which
-Marie-Celeste, with her passion for exploring new surroundings, had
-discovered the evening before, almost immediately upon their arrival
-at the Waterhead Hotel. It was here that Dorothy had counted on finding
-Marie-Celeste, and it was here that she was left alone with her thoughts
-while Marie-Celeste ran off on her self-imposed errand. It was a
-beautiful little sheet of water that lay there at her feet, with its
-densely wooded banks and its wilderness still uninvaded by civilization;
-and just across the lake the setting sun was crimsoning the chimneys and
-pointed gables of the only house upon that farther bank. It is this home
-that lends its own special interest to the little lake, for it is the
-home of that grand old idealist, Ruskin. It is just such a home as you
-would know that wise philosopher would choose, far from the haunts of
-men and all the devastating improvements of the age. A grand place, too,
-to work, you think; and then you recall with a sigh that the light of
-that glorious mind has well-nigh gone out, 'neath the weight of physical
-weariness and infirmity, and then the solitary home begins to look a
-little like a prison in your eyes, as you realize how glad its inmate
-would be to exchange it for the Palace of that King whose divine intent
-for the world he has so marvellously interpreted for us all in the days
-when soul was still master of hand and brain.
-
-But there was no room in Dorothy's mind just then for musings either on
-nature or Ruskin, and it is to be feared that the dancing blue of the
-water and the purple shadows on the hills and golden glow of the sunset
-made little impression on her wholly preoccupied mind. What could
-Theodore Harris be writing to Marie-Celeste about, and who could the
-other two letters be from? Those were the absorbing questions of the
-hour; and at last Marie-Celeste is back again on the little seat beside
-her, ready to unlock her precious secrets, and with the three mysterious
-letters spread, one upon the other, open in her lap.
-
-“Now, think a moment, Marie-Celeste,” said Dorothy seriously; “are you
-sure it is perfectly right to tell me?”
-
-“But you said you'd tell my mother if I didn't,” laughed Marie-Celeste.
-
-“Oh, no, dear! I didn't put it quite like that. I only wondered if,
-perhaps, it was not my duty. But I know from what you have already told
-me that everything is all right. You see, I did not quite like to have a
-hand in anything so very unusual without being taken just a little
-into your confidence. You remember, when the other letters came, you
-scampered off in most excited fashion to read them all by yourself
-somewhere, and then never opened your lips about them afterward, so that
-I could not help feeling that it was a very queer proceeding, and that I
-really ought to look into it.”
-
-“Yes, I understand perfectly, Miss Dorothy; and Ted says right here at
-the end of his letter: 'Tell Miss Allyn all about things if you think
-best.'” And of course that settled matters beautifully, quieting the
-last little suggestion of a compunction on Dorothy's part.
-
-“Now, the best way to tell you,” Marie-Celeste began, “will be to read
-the letters. This first one is from Donald. 'London, August 20th'”--
-
-“London, Marie-Celeste!”
-
-“Wait, Miss Dorothy; it will explain itself,” smiling with delight at
-the pleasant surprises contained in those three precious letters.
-
-“'London, August 20th. My dear friend' (you know, Donald has to begin
-that way, because he didn't like to say Marie-Celeste, and so never
-called me anything), 'you will be surprised to find I am in London, and,
-what is more, that I have come up to London as a valet for a gentleman,
-and the gentleman, let me tell you, is your cousin, Mr. Harris. You
-know we grew to be good friends all those weeks together down at the
-Hartleys', at Nuneham!'”
-
-“Do you mean to say,” interrupted Dorothy--for the letter was not
-explaining things quite as fully as might be desired--“that Donald has
-actually been staying in the same cottage with Theodore?”
-
-“You knew about Ted's accident, didn't you, Miss Dorothy? Ted said you
-did, that your brother had told you.”
-
-“Yes, I knew about that, but I do not know where it happened or where he
-has been staying all these weeks.”
-
-“You've heard me talk about Chris, our postman, haven't you, who came
-over on the steamer with us?”
-
-“Yes, certainly.”
-
-“Well, then, if you will believe it, it was just by his grandfather's
-cottage, just outside of Nuneham, where the accident happened, and
-they're the people who've been caring for him; and then when Donald went
-down there to work on the farm, of course he discovered him; and then
-when I went down the other day from Oxford, I discovered him too, and
-poor Ted's had a very hard time to keep his secret.”
-
-“But Harold was with you, Marie-Celeste,” said Dorothy eagerly; “does he
-know, too?”
-
-“No, Harold doesn't know; it's all on his account that there's any
-secret about it now; you know Ted wants to prove to Harold that he means
-to do the right thing before he lets him know the worst there is about
-him. He means to tell him everything some day.” And then Marie-Celeste
-proceeded to narrate at length her unexpected encounter with Ted under
-the apple-tree, so that Dorothy gradually came to a clear comprehension
-of how matters stood, and Marie-Celeste was free once more to let Donald
-speak for himself.
-
-“'And what we came up to London for,' continued the letter, 'was to see
-a gentleman about some business matters; and the gentleman we wanted to
-see was Mr. Belden--your rich old bachelor friend you know--and who did
-he prove to be but a Mr. Selden, Mr. Theodore's own uncle? His name was
-printed Belden by mistake on the passenger list, and when Mr. Selden
-made friends with you that first day out, and found out that you were
-going to visit his nephews at Windsor, he didn't tell anyone it was
-wrong, because he didn't want you or your father or mother to know who
-he was.'”
-
-“What did I tell you, Marie-Celeste,” interrupted Dorothy with a little
-air of superiority, “that time you told me about him in St. George's? I
-knew it must be the same man.”
-
-“But, Miss Dorothy, ever since this letter came I've been wondering why
-he didn't want us to know who he was.”
-
-“Because he has chosen forever so long not to have anything to do with
-any of his relations, for fear they'd bother him, I suppose.”
-
-“Well, he's gotten over that,” said Marie-Celeste; “you'll see when I
-read his letter.” And Dorothy looked as though she thought wonders would
-never end, which was exactly the way Marie-Celeste wanted her to look,
-and would have been vastly disappointed if she had not.
-
-“'Land knows,' read Marie-Celeste, resuming the letter, 'why he wanted
-to be so mum about things; that's his own affair, of course; but he's
-been awfully good to us, and he has fixed up some matters that were
-bothering your cousin a great deal just beautifully. All the same, he
-doesn't look a bit well, Marie-Celeste, and he's a sad sort of man. It
-seems as though he had something on his mind, but he's not going to let
-anybody know what it is--that isn't his way. We've been in London now
-nearly a week, stopping in lodgings in the same house with Mr. Selden.
-We've had to stay because of the business matters, but to-morrow we are
-going down to Oxford to see to some things there, and then in a day or
-two home to the Little Castle. You see, I've been able to make myself
-real useful to Mr. Harris, because, you know, he's not overstrong yet,
-and accustomed, besides, to having a valet--which is what I happen to
-be at present; but it's not going to be for long, and between us,
-Marie-Celeste, I'm not sorry. I half believe that father of mine, that I
-don't know anything about, must have been a sea-captain. There are times
-when it's all I can do to keep from running away from everything and
-putting to sea again as fast as ever I can on any old tub that'll take
-me; but, of course, I really wouldn't do anything so mean; and all
-told, I have had a beautiful summer. Chris has decided to go back to the
-States on the Majestic, sailing the first of October, and I'm to take my
-old place on that trip, too. It seems as though you all ought to be on
-board with us. Couldn't you get your father to bring it about somehow?
-Whew, what a long letter I have written!--the longest in my life, and
-I never wrote more than half a dozen, anyway. Don't stay away too long.
-It's going to be rather lonely at Windsor without you all, and there
-isn't so very much time left now. Won't Mr. Harold be surprised to find
-his brother in the Little Castle ready to receive him! Mr. Theodore's
-getting to be a brick, I can tell you. Good-by. As long as your people
-are not to know what's in this letter, Mr. Harris tells me to put it in
-an envelope addressed to Miss Allyn.
-
-“'Yours truly,
-
-“'Donald.'”
-
-[Illustration: 0211]
-
-“So much for Donald;” and Marie-Celeste, pausing to catch her breath,
-hesitated to which of the other two letters to give the preference. “I
-think I'll read Theodore's next, Miss Dorothy, because it's the latest,
-but really Donald's the most interesting of the three. This letter, is
-from Windsor, and it was written only yesterday morning. It is dated
-'The Little Castle.' 'Dear little Coz,' it says, 'here I am, you see,
-and I assure you I have kept my promise to the letter, and have come
-home as soon as ever I could.'”
-
-“Why were you so anxious to make him promise that?” asked M iss Dorothy
-wonderingly.
-
-“Why, because home's the best place for him; don't you think so? He has
-not been there half enough these last few years, and, besides, that's
-where he belongs--”
-
-“But having the Little Castle all to himself probably does not seem
-home-like,” suggested Dorothy sympathetically.
-
-“Yes, that's just what he says,” laughed Marie-Celeste; so that Dorothy
-thought her a trifle hard-hearted. “And now I'll begin over again. 'Dear
-little Coz, here I am, you see, and I assure you I have kept my promise
-to the letter, and have come home as soon as ever I could; but home
-doesn't seem a very cheery sort of place when all your relatives are
-off on a lark, and on your own brake at that, and you must fain content
-yourself with the companionship of your valet. He's a fine little valet,
-however, Marie-Celeste, and he tells me that he has stolen my thunder in
-a long letter he wrote you from London; so you know all about my going
-in search of your friend, Mr. Belden, and finding in his place my uncle,
-Mr. Selden. Well, this letter is just to tell you what I told you once
-before, you remember, and that is, that you are my good little angel, no
-matter how bad you may have been for three whole days together,” and
-to ask you not to forget that there is rather a lonely fellow here at
-Windsor, who hopes you are having a good time, but who honestly thinks
-that the sooner you come home the better. Tell Miss Dorothy all about
-things if you think best, but don't paint me any blacker than you feel
-you really have to.
-
-“'Yours faithfully,
-
-“'Theodore.'”
-
-“Well, I haven't painted him very black, have I?” said Marie-Celeste
-complacently; but Dorothy was far too absorbed in her own thoughts to
-make any answer, and Marie-Celeste looked at her a little curiously,
-wondering what was going on in her mind.
-
-“Perhaps you'd rather be left to yourself?” she added half
-mischievously, after a minute or more of unbroken silence.
-
-'Oh, no; you didn't paint him black at all for Dorothy was able
-instantly to bring her thoughts hack and say what was expected of her.
-
-“This other letter,” explained Marie-Celeste, looking askance at the
-note in her hand, “is rather spooney; I don't believe I had better read
-it.”
-
-“Mr. Selden write a spooney letter! that's impossible!” exclaimed
-Dorothy, who thought 'she knew her man,' as the saying goes; whereupon
-Marie-Celeste, of course, straightway read the letter in order to prove
-her premises.
-
-“'Reform Club, London, August 20.
-
-“'They tell me, dear Marie-Celeste (and they means, of course, your
-Cousin Theodore and Donald), that you are taking a driving tour through
-the English lakes, and that if I should address a letter to you, care of
-Miss Dorothy Allyn, no one would be any the wiser; and that's just what
-I've done, you see, as, for reasons of his own, your Cousin Theodore
-seems to prefer it. You know already that this same Cousin Theodore has
-been up here in London several days with me, and as a result we have had
-many a long talk together; but you do not know, perhaps, that we came to
-the conclusion that your coming to England this summer had been just the
-best thing that could have happened to both of us. Likely as not you do
-not exactly understand how that can be, and it is as well, perhaps, that
-you should not; only take my word for it, that it is true, and ask no
-questions. This much, however, I will tell you. Ted said to me one day,
-'I can tell you one thing, Uncle Everett, it was a talk I had with that
-dear child under an apple-tree, down at Nuneham, that made me feel that
-some people whom I care a great deal for still had faith in me, and it
-was she who gave me courage by what she told me to go home as fast as
-ever I could get there and then, Marie-Celeste, what do you suppose
-I said to him? Well, I just, told him that that same dear child had
-preached me two blessed sermons--one on the deck of the Majestic and
-the other exactly where a sermon should be preached, beneath the roof of
-dear old St. George's, and that what there was left of my life was going
-to be set in a new key.”
-
-“This letter will not make you proud, Marie-Celeste, I know, only very
-grateful, and one day I believe you will understand better than it is
-possible for you now to understand to-day how even in this world the
-prophecy comes true sometimes that “a little child shall lead them.”
-
-“You must write and tell me when you are going home, for somehow or other
-I must contrive to see you before you go, and what is more, I mean to
-seek out a chance for a good talk with your father and mother.
-
-“'Yours faithfully,
-
-“'Everett Belden.'”
-
-“And you call that a spooney letter! Marie-Celeste, you ought to be
-ashamed of yourself,” and Dorothy tried to look the reproach she felt
-the occasion called for.
-
-“I only meant, Miss Dorothy, that it said some nice things about
-me.”
-
-“Oh, is that all? Well, then, I'll forgive you; but that is not what
-people usually mean by spooney,” and Dorothy putting her arm about
-Marie-Celeste, they strolled up to the house together. “And you
-understand--don't you, dear?--that I did not mean to force your
-confidence in any way, only it did seem so mysterious?”
-
-“Oh, yes, I understand perfectly; and you understand too, Miss Dorothy,
-how I would have told you about it long ago, if I thought I could and
-everything at last being mutually understood, there was happily no need
-for further explanations.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI.--WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN ENGLAND.
-
-[Illustration: 9215]
-
-For some reason or other the spirits of our driving party seemed
-steadily rising. It was simply impossible to put anybody out of humor,
-no matter what happened. Everything was lovely and just as it should be,
-even to the pelting showers that came down with such swift suddenness
-as to almost soak them through before they could get under cover of
-waterproofs and umbrellas, and then a moment after left them stranded in
-brilliant sunshine, fairly steaming within the rubber coats which, with
-much difficulty, had but just been adjusted. Indeed, every day seemed
-more full of enjoyment than the one that preceded it and to call for
-more enthusiasm. If any one had asked Mr. Harris, for instance, how he
-accounted for this, he would probably have laughed good-naturedly at the
-question, and answered: “Why, easily enough! How could it be otherwise
-with this glorious weather, this beautiful country, and our jolly little
-party!” But the real secret of what made the party so jolly was, in
-fact, quite beyond Mr. Harris's ability to divine. The real secret lay
-with Marie-Celeste and Dorothy in the good news that had been committed
-to their keeping; and, strange to say, it seemed to mean as much to
-Dorothy, who was no relation of Theodore's, as to Marie-Celeste, who
-was. As a result, they were both brimming over with fun and merriment;
-and as there is, fortunately, nothing in the world more contagious than
-good spirits, the other members of the party were equally merry without
-in the least knowing why. Even Mr. Farwell, who had simply been invited
-to fill up and because he was a friend of Mr. Harris's, fell under the
-spell, and bloomed out in a most surprising and delightful manner, and
-by the time the first week was over felt as though he had known them
-all all his life, and, indeed, very much regretted that such was not in
-truth the case.
-
-From the Waterhead Hotel, at Coniston, the plan had been laid to retrace
-their way a few miles over the same road by which they had come from
-Windermere, make a stop for two or three hours at the Rothay Hotel,
-and then drive on to Keswick that same afternoon. But just as they were
-rolling into Grasmere, the off-leader, with the total depravity peculiar
-to animal nature, struck the only stone visible within a hundred yards
-on that perfect roadway, laming himself instantly and in most pronounced
-fashion. This chanced to be the first mishap; but then could you really
-call an accident a mishap that simply necessitated a three-days' stay
-in the beautiful Wordsworth district? Our sunshiny little party, at any
-rate, chose not so to regard it, and scoured the whole lovely region on
-foot, reading Wordsworth's poetry in their halts by the roadside, and
-growing familiar with every foot of the lanes he so dearly loved. Not
-content with their morning spent in the Grasmere Church, and beside
-his grave in the little churchyard without, they even made their way to
-Wordsworth's old home--beautiful Rydal Mount--hoping, on the strength
-of a card of introduction to the gentleman residing there, to possibly
-be allowed to see the house. The gentleman, however, when they presented
-themselves at his door, politely bowed them out instead of in, and they
-were fain to content themselves with the lesser privilege of inspecting
-the prettily terraced garden.
-
-When, after the three days' rest, the off-leader had been coaxed into
-proper driving condition, they started off once more, but rather late in
-the afternoon, planning to take things in quite leisurely fashion, out
-of regard for the same off-leader, and depending upon the wonderful
-English twilight to bring them into Keswick before ten o'clock. It
-happened to be a local holiday in Cumberland, and as a result here and
-there they encountered a solitary specimen of humanity prone upon his
-back or his face, just as it chanced, by the roadside, or, not quite
-so badly off as that, reeling along to wherever home might be in that
-apparently houseless region. At six o'clock, on one of the highest
-points on the road that leads to Keswick, they stopped at the Nag's
-Head, a typical roadside inn, for supper, the sounds of revelry in whose
-tap-room at once accounted for the sorry customers they had met upon
-the road before they reached it. It was exceedingly interesting to the
-American contingent of the party to gain a little insight into the life
-of the English “navvies;” and they passed the little tap-room, reeking
-with smoke and smelling of pipes and beer mugs, rather more often than
-circumstances would warrant, for the sake of looking in on the jolly
-fellows, and catching a sentence or so of their almost unintelligible
-dialect. A truce to all this, however, for fear you should imagine, and
-with reason, that even at this late stage I am going to fare so wide
-of my province of story-teller as to conduct you in guide-book fashion
-through the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland. But, nevertheless,
-up to this same Nag's Head Inn we simply had to come, because some one
-else, in whom we have an interest, is coming there too as fast as a good
-road-horse can carry him. It seems that opposite the Nag's Head Inn the
-Church of England has built a tiny edifice, and as though to apologize
-for the apparent unreasonableness of building any church there
-whatsoever, they have made a most miniature affair of it. A placard
-suspended within proclaims the fact that it is the smallest church in
-all England, and beneath it a contribution-box, of dimensions out of
-all proportion to the surroundings, invites spare shillings for the
-maintenance of the lonely little parish.
-
-The peculiar isolation of the place appeals to the average tourist in
-most pathetic fashion, and no sooner have our friends of the driving
-party crowded within the diminutive door than Mr. Harris, hat in hand,
-commences to take up a collection, with a view to making a radical
-addition to the contents of the roomy contribution-box. Just as he
-is concluding the exercise of this truly churchly function, and
-Marie-Celeste is dropping her very last sixpence into the depths of the
-appealing hat, the little doorway is suddenly darkened---as it has
-need to be when any one comes through it--and in the next second Ted is
-standing in their midst. The collection goes sliding on to the floor,
-to be re-collected at leisure, and everybody, with the exception of Mr.
-Farwell, is trying to seize Ted's hand at once. Precedence, however, is
-given to the claims of Marie-Celeste, and the upturned face is greeted
-with the most prodigious kiss.
-
-“I thought we should happen to meet you somewhere on this trip,”
- said Mr. Harris, when things had subsided enough for an attempt at
-conversation, groping the while on all-fours, and with Harold's help,
-for the fugitive shillings on the floor.
-
-“Well, you can hardly call it happening to meet, when I've been riding
-since early this morning to catch you. I expected to overtake you at
-Grasmere, but found you were well on your way to Keswick by the time I
-reached it.”
-
-“Well, where did you come from, anyhow, old fellow?” asked Harold,
-pleased beyond measure that Ted had seen fit to follow them up in this
-fashion. He could not imagine whatever had suddenly brought it about,
-after all the neglect of the summer; but that did not in the least
-diminish his delight.
-
-“I came from home, Harold,” Ted replied; “I went back there two weeks
-ago, but it was so lonely I couldn't stand it, and so when I found out
-through the Allyns about where you were, I came posthaste after you.
-Besides, you know, when I discovered that my brake had been walked off
-with in a rather cool fashion, I concluded I had some rights in the
-case, and came to look after them. I see it's been terribly abused,”
- glancing in the direction of the brake, which, minus the horses, stood
-in front of the inn across the narrow road; “it was as good as new when
-you started.”
-
-But these last remarks, so like the old Ted, but for the fact that
-he was not in the least in earnest, were hardly listened to at all by
-Harold. He was thinking his own glad thoughts. Five weeks yet till the
-Harrises would sail for home! Ted would have a chance to redeem himself
-in that time and make up for all his coldness and neglect; and the joy
-of it all was that it looked as though he was going to try to do it.
-
-“Half crown, please, for being permitted to join the party,” said Mr.
-Harris, presenting the hat to Ted, after making sure that none of the
-coins were still missing; and Ted, though wholly bent on practising
-close economy, felt the circumstances justified the outlay, and did as
-he was bid.
-
-There was only one person to whom Ted's coming was not a source of
-unalloyed pleasure. The addition of a seventh member to the party made
-it necessary that some one should occupy the vacant back seat on the
-brake between the grooms, and Mr. Farwell was gentleman enough to insist
-upon being allowed to take his regular turn in the matter. He would not
-have minded this much, however, only that, being endowed with average
-qualities of discernment, he soon realized he had been obliged to take
-a back seat in more senses than one. Dorothy continued to be most polite
-and friendly, but that Ted filled the role of an old and privileged
-friend was at once evident on the face of things, and Mr. Farwell
-endeavored to accept the situation with the best grace possible, and
-succeeded, be it said to his credit, remarkably well.
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Harris were soon taken into Ted's confidence--the very
-next day, in fact, as they were sitting in the garden of the hotel
-at Keswick--and listened as raptly to his narration of all that had
-happened these last few weeks as the little circle outside the cottage
-door had listened to Marie-Celeste. Ted, however, made no excuses for
-himself, whereas Marie-Celeste's account was full of them; and so one
-narration was naturally far less plausible than the other. The one fact
-that seemed to Mr. and Mrs. Harris to defy credulity was that Ted should
-have fallen into the hands of the Hartleys, for in what other little
-cottage in all England could such a transformation have been wrought?
-Where else could he have been brought into such close touch with all
-the old home interests as he had been there, first through Chris and
-afterward through Donald and Marie-Celeste, and where else could he have
-come to see so clearly that he had been wilfully trampling upon all that
-is truest and best in life? “Fritz,” said Mrs. Harris that evening,
-as in company with Marie-Celeste they were strolling home from an hour
-spent in the little churchyard where the great poet Southey is buried,
-“I think it is beautiful to realize what a grand part Providence plays
-in the world.”
-
-“Providence!” said Marie-Celeste thoughtfully; “really, I do not know
-just what people mean by Providence.”
-
-“The word is from the Latin,” said her father, who, with most college
-men, liked to bring his knowledge of derivations to the front now and
-then, “and the dictionary, I think, would tell you that it means God's
-thoughtful care for everything created.”
-
-“Exactly,” said Mrs. Harris, “only it seems to me that people are often
-in too much of a hurry to make use of the word, for you can't he certain
-until you are able to look hack upon a thing whether it was surely of
-God's ordering or man's short-sighted scheming. Still I am inclined to
-believe, even at this stage of the proceeding, that our coming over
-here this summer has indeed been a beautiful providence and a few weeks
-later, for good and sufficient reasons, there was not a shadow of doubt
-on that score left in the mind of any one.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII.--THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW INMATES.
-
-[Illustration: 9221]
-
-Nothing could have exceeded the air of importance with which Albert was
-striding along the streets of Windsor, and notwithstanding the shortness
-of his legs, his _valet de chambre_, in the shape of a newly acquired
-French nurse, had difficulty in keeping up with him. The fact was,
-Albert was intrusted with a most important piece of information--the
-bearer of a message that had cleared his own mental horizon from so much
-as the vestige of a cloud, and which he felt sure would bring equal joy
-to the others for whom it was intended. The destination toward which he
-steered, without deviation to right or left, and with great regard
-for economy of time and space at corners and crossings, was the Little
-Castle, and he marched up the path from terrace to terrace, and rang the
-bell with all the complacency of a drum-major.
-
-It was expected, of course, that faithful old Margaret, who was master
-in chief of affairs in the Little Castle, would, as usual, in the
-absence of the family, answer the bell, and the message intended for
-her was half way over Albert's lips before he took in the fact that the
-individual who had opened the door bore about as close resemblance to
-Margaret as the tower of the Little Castle to its door-mat.
-
-“Why--why, who are you?” asked Albert as soon as he could check the
-impassioned utterance of his message, and instantly demanded in the next
-breath, “and--and where is Margaret?”
-
-“Here I am, dear,” said Margaret, coming toward him as rapidly as an
-extra touch of rheumatism would permit, “and I suppose you wonder who
-this is who has let you in?”
-
-“Nes,” said Albert, whose anxiety as to who this intruder might be was
-somewhat allayed by Margaret's appearance on the scene.
-
-“Well, this is Mr. Everett Selden, Harold's uncle, who has come down
-from London to make us a little visit,” Margaret explained.
-
-“Oh, dat's all right den!” favoring Mr. Selden with a benignant smile;
-“and--and now, Margaret. I came round to tell you dat dey are coming
-home on Saturday. We've had a letter from Dorothy dis morning, and dey
-sent me down to tell you.” (Margaret fortunately was considerate enough
-not to take the wind out of the little fellow's sails by informing him
-that they had had letters of their own that morning.) “And, Margaret,
-dey will get here in time for luncheon, and I would have a very good
-luncheon, Margaret, and everything all b'ight and shiny.”
-
-“Just as you say, Master Albert,” making a little curtsey to this
-self-appointed master, and with difficulty restricting her emotions to a
-smile.
-
-Meanwhile, Mr. Selden stood on one side immensely entertained, for he
-had previously had no idea that executive ability ever made a showing at
-quite such an early age.
-
-“And now,” said Albert, free to turn his attention to less important
-matters, “did you open the door for me because you saw a little boy
-coming up the terrace?”
-
-“Yes, that was the way of it,” Mr. Selden replied.
-
-“But you did not know what little boy I was?”
-
-“Oh, yes, I did; Marie-Celeste told me about you one day when I had a
-good talk with her in St. George's.”
-
-“Elaine,” said Albert, turning abruptly to the French nurse, “I
-would like to talk to Harold's uncle, and I would like to stay to
-luncheon--I often stay to luncheon, don't I, Margaret?” Margaret's
-answer was that he often did, and Mr. Selden's assurance that nothing
-would give him greater pleasure at once settled the matter, and Elaine
-was compelled to return without her charge, but entrusted with the
-message to Albert's mamma that Mr. Selden would himself bring him home
-early in the afternoon.
-
-“I remember that Marie-Celeste told me,” said Mr. Selden, placing a
-comfortable chair for Albert opposite his own, near the open window,
-“that you were very fond of a good talk now and then; and I'm very glad
-of that, because there isn't anything else that I could do to amuse
-you.”
-
-“Why isn't there?” said Albert, noting Mr. Selden's dressing-gown, and
-impressed with his semi-invalid air; “aren't you strong enough to do
-anything but talk?”
-
-“No, I'm not so badly off as that yet, Albert; but you see I've lived
-alone so long; that I haven't much of an idea how to amuse little boys.”
-
-“Why did you tome down here when ev'rybody was away?” for Albert
-felt that the case needed to be still further investigated; “were you
-inwited?”
-
-“Oh, yes, indeed I was invited! Harold's brother Ted invited me--urged
-me, I may say, to come whenever I chose, and to stay as long as I
-liked.”
-
-“How long do you sink you will like to stay?”
-
-“I think I would like to stay always.”
-
-“Always till you die?”
-
-“Yes, I think I should--that is, if you don't mind, Albert;” for
-Albert's sense of proprietorship in the Little Castle was very evident.
-
-“Oh, no, I'll not mind--perhaps we'll grow to be friends, and often have
-long talks. Marie-Celeste said you had long talks on the steamer--that
-was how she came to know you so well.”
-
-“Yes, we did have beautiful talks on the steamer, but the very best one
-of all was in St. George's Chapel, a month or so ago.”
-
-“Nes, I know,” as though there was little of interest to Marie-Celeste
-that was not sooner or later confided to him. “Did she tell you dat
-time, Mr. Selden, 'bout our Knight-of-de-Garter day?”
-
-“Oh, yes, indeed.”
-
-“And 'bout dis?” groping in the side-pocket of his sacque, and producing
-a little circle of blue ribbon.
-
-“I can't quite make out what it is, Albert,” said Mr. Selden, peering
-anxiously at the rather indistinguishable little object.
-
-“Well, dat's what it is and drawing up his kilt and the trouser leg
-underneath, Albert slipped the garter over his foot and up to its right
-place, just above the knee. This brought the gold lettering partly into
-view, and enabled Mr. Selden to grasp the situation.
-
-“Oh, I see,” he said; “you made believe you were a little Knight of the
-Garter yourself.”
-
-“Nes; just for a bit of fun, I made believe I was a little knight all
-dat day; but of course I didn't tell anybody, only Dorothy, who made it
-for me. But do you know,” very confidentially, “dat I felled asleep in
-de church beside Timothy, so dat de garter showed, and den de children
-teased me awfully 'bout it, and Marie-Celeste calls me her little knight
-now almost always. But you won't ever tell dat I told you why she calls
-me dat, will you?”
-
-“No, I promise, Albert;” and Margaret coming in just then to announce
-luncheon, the blue garter was surreptitiously removed and left for the
-time being on the library table, and was not thought of again by its
-rightful owner. Mr. Selden, finding it there later in the afternoon,
-slipped it into his pocket, with an idea of the use he might some time
-make of it.
-
-For the next three days, to Mr. Selden's delight and amusement, Albert
-was a constant visitor at the Little Castle, and when Saturday came
-he put in an appearance at a prematurely early hour, for fear, by any
-chance, the driving party should reach home before the time appointed;
-and as that was exactly what they did do, he congratulated himself very
-highly for his extraordinary forethought. Not but what he had full three
-hours to spare, only the Allyns, who were invited to luncheon at the
-Castle, failing to reach there before the arrival of the brake, he felt
-that nothing but his own timely precaution had spared him a similar
-disappointment.
-
-[Illustration:0225]
-
-“Dat sounds like dem,” said Albert for about the fiftieth time to Mr.
-Selden.
-
-“Hardly, I think;” but humoring Albert to the extent of stepping out on
-to the door-step; “it is a whole hour ahead of time yet.”
-
-Hut Albert was right, and a moment later the four-in-hand wheeled up at
-the gate, and the glorious driving trip was over.
-
-“Who can that possibly be with Albert?” queried Harold, naturally
-mystified at the appearance of a gentleman, in the easy costume of house
-coat and slippers, standing complacently in the doorway of the Little
-Castle.
-
-“It's Uncle Everett, that's who it is;” and clambering down the side
-of the coach, Ted was up the path, and had him cordially by the hand in
-less than a minute.
-
-“Well, this beats all,” said Harold to himself; “what is going to happen
-next, I wonder?” But he had the graciousness to defer his own
-greeting to Uncle Everett until he assisted Aunt Lou and Dorothy and
-Marie-Celeste to dismount, by aid of the brake's steps, and which much
-practice, by the way, enabled them to accomplish very skilfully.
-
-Albert, you may be sure, was standing as close as possible to the foot
-of the steps, and tumbled curls and rumpled collar soon bore witness to
-an exceedingly hearty exchange of greetings. But the beauty of it was,
-that everybody seemed to have every whit as glad a welcome for Uncle
-Everett as Ted himself; and for Mr. and Mrs. Harris the surprise was in
-store of finding that Marie-Celeste's steamer friend and Uncle Everett
-were one and the same person; but surprises being the order of the
-day just then, everybody was coming to take them quite as a matter of
-course. Mr. Selden soon sought out an opportunity to tell why he had
-been so ungracious as not to reveal his identity on the steamer, though
-he felt naturally that his explanation did not reflect very much to his
-credit, as was indeed the truth; but Mr. and Mrs. Harris were not the
-people to bear a grudge against anybody if it could by any reasonable
-possibility be dispensed with, and of course other explanations were
-called for. Uncle Everett's presence had to be explained to Harold, and
-Ted told him all about their week together in London, but not yet about
-the borrowed money. That confession, together with all the rest, would
-be made a little later on, when Harold and he should have gotten a
-little nearer still to each other.
-
-Well, it was a merry luncheon they had in the Little Castle, but after
-luncheon the situation grew rather serious and pathetic. They had had
-such a good time together for four happy weeks, it seemed hard each to
-have to go his own way and realize that all the good times were over;
-and, happily, even Mr. Farwell felt very sorry, too, notwithstanding he
-had been obliged to concede rather more than was altogether agreeable
-after Ted made his advent among them.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII.--FOR LOVE OF MARIE-CELESTE.
-
-[Illustration: 9228]
-
-Among the letters that Mr. Harris found awaiting him was one from
-Chris, telling him that he and Donald were booked for the Majestic,
-sailing from Liverpool the first of October. “All right,” said Mr.
-Harris to himself; “we go, too, then, if we can,” which was somewhat of a
-question, considering the crowded state of autumn ocean travel. But
-good fortune still favored our little party, and Mr. Harris's telegram
-reached Liverpool just in time to secure state-rooms which, within
-the same hour, had been relinquished. So there was only one month
-more before them now, and one week of that Mr. and Mrs. Harris and
-Marie-Celeste were to spend in London. But the household in the Little
-Castle tried to make it a happy month--as happy as they could, that is,
-with the cloud of coming separation hanging over them. There was another
-cloud, too, that broadened and deepened as the month drew near its
-close; Uncle Everett was far from well. Just at first he had entered
-into the excursions and driving to which much of the time had been given
-over, but latterly he had preferred to stay at home, and now for a week
-he had been confined to his room. All the while, however, he was utterly
-uncomplaining, seeming to be bent upon making up for all the fretful
-moodiness of the selfish old bachelor days up in London. And so the
-first of October came round, finding him still in his room, and there
-was no help for it but for the Harrises to take leave of him there.
-
-Everybody tried to make the farewells as cheery as possible, and
-Mr. Selden promised to visit the States later in the fall if he grew
-stronger. “If not,” he said, “I'll see you all when you come over next
-spring to Ted's wedding”--for that was another beautiful outcome of the
-summer. Ted was to be married at the close of his senior year, and the
-Little Castle was again to have a dear little mistress--a mistress as
-like to Dorothy as you can possibly imagine.
-
-When, at last, the moment had come for turning their backs on the Little
-Castle, two carriages were waiting at the door, for quite a party were
-going up to see them off at Liverpool--Ted and Dorothy and Harry Allyn
-and Albert, but not Harold. His good-byes were said at the station, as
-it was planned they should be; and then dismissing the carriages, he
-hurried home as fast as ever he could and straight up to his Uncle
-Everett's room.
-
-“Why, Harold, boy, what does this mean?” glancing from his easy-chair
-toward the clock on the mantel; “can it be the train has gone without
-you?” and Uncle Everett's face could not possibly have looked more
-troubled.
-
-“I meant it should,” for Harold had “tied up,” as he called it, to Uncle
-Everett with all his heart these last four weeks, and he was not going
-to leave him alone and half ill in his room for even twenty-four hours,
-if he could help it.
-
-“Oh, Harold, you ought not to have done it!” but Uncle Everett showed
-how deeply he was touched by this strong mark of devotion; and Harold,
-drawing up a chair, sat silent for a few moments. The house had seemed
-so terribly bereft and lonely as he had come up through it, that he
-found he had hardly the heart to talk. And yet what had he stayed at
-home for if not to be, if possible, of some cheer and comfort? But there
-was no use in making an effort to talk about anything but exactly what
-was uppermost.
-
-“We're going to miss them a great deal, Uncle Everett,” he said at last,
-“and it will be a comfort to get right to work at the studying”--for it
-was high time that he and Ted were back at work again, for both had had
-to be excused from the opening days ol the term. “All the same, I shall
-manage to spare you, Uncle Everett, for your visit to the States when
-you get stronger;” for it was understood now that Uncle Everett's
-permanent home was to be within the walls of the Little Castle.
-
-Mr. Selden sat thoughtfully a moment looking into the air before him,
-and then arriving at a decision, he turned in his chair toward Harold:
-“It may not be kind,” he said quietly, “to tell you of it just now, when
-your heart is already heavy enough; but, Harold, I shall never be any
-stronger. The doctors told me what I had already suspected a month ago
-up in London.”
-
-“Never be any stronger!” exclaimed Harold, almost defiantly and almost
-overcome with intensity of feeling. “Well, I don't believe it, Uncle
-Everett, and they had no right to tell you that; it takes away half a
-man's chances.”
-
-“I made them tell me, Harold, I had so many things to arrange, and it is
-because they told me that I came post-haste down here to Windsor while
-you were all still away, for I felt, whenever it happened, I wanted to
-die in the Little Castle, in a place I could call home, if for only
-a little while. But, Harold, I cannot bear to sadden you. It may be I
-shall live ever so much longer than they think, and get the best of the
-doctors. I only wanted you to understand that you wouldn't get rid of me
-for any visit.”
-
-Harold tried to smile, but the situation was too serious.
-
-“The reason I've told you now, Harold, is because we may not have such
-another good chance for a talk; and the reason I have told you at all
-is because there is something more I want to tell you. I have been
-wondering naturally what I should do with my money, and I've decided to
-leave a fourth of it to you and a fourth to Ted. Yes, I know you don't
-need it, but you are my sister's children, and I want to do just this
-with it. But the other half, Harold--what do you suppose I am going to
-do with that?” his pale face glowing at the thought.
-
-“What, Uncle Everett?” Harold's interest to learn relieving for the
-moment the overmastering ache at his heart.
-
-“I am going to build a Home down in Sussex--that's where your mother
-and I were born, you know--and a lady up in London--a lady, mind you,
-Harold, but who has lost husband and children and everything else in the
-world, is going to take care of it for me. Then as soon as it is ready
-all the institutions for children in London are to be told about it, and
-whenever a little girl comes along who seems to be too fine, in the best
-sense of the word, for the life of the ordinary institution, down she is
-to go to Cranford, to be cared for in the Home; and it is to be a home,
-Harold, prettily furnished, with rooms for ten children, and everything
-as dainty as can be. You see, you can only keep it home-like if you
-limit it to rather a small number. And then when it comes to be well
-known with its family of dear little daughters, I hope that, once in a
-while, people who have had little children and lost them, and people who
-have never had them at all, and now and then a maiden lady, or even
-an old bachelor, will come down there and carry off one or more of the
-little girls, to bring them up as their own in their own homes, and so
-room will be made for others.”
-
-“Uncle Everett, that's the most beautiful”--
-
-“Wait a moment, Harold, for it isn't all told yet. In the living-room
-of the Home I am going to have a beautiful open fireplace (for of course
-there won't be any parlor)--the most beautiful that can be made--and
-right above the tiles and under the ledge of the mantel I am going to
-have the legend, in gold letters, that will shine even in the twilight,
-'For love of Marie-Celeste” and then Mr. Selden paused to see how the
-idea seemed to strike him.
-
-“Excuse me for a moment, Uncle Everett,” for when boys' hearts grow too
-full, they prefer to go off by themselves, and it is not a bad plan,
-by the way. “I was a goose,” he said, coming back in a few moments, and
-putting his arm lovingly along the back of Uncle Everett's chair;
-“but, you see, it was one thing coming right on the top of another so,”
- knowing that Uncle Everett understood. “Isn't there more to tell now?”
-
-“No, only this, Harold, and that is, that the orders are all given, and
-that whether I live or die, the Home will be ready by next autumn;” and
-who would have imagined, to look at the light in the two faces, that
-they were really standing face to face with the grave, mysterious
-thought of death.
-
-The Majestic is lying, with all steam up, out in the Mersey. Chris is
-leaning over the ship's side, and Donald, again in sailor rig, is close
-beside him; for Ted had dispensed with Donald's services when he decided
-to follow up the driving party, and he had at once hurried back to
-Nuneham to help Chris, who was trying to get everything into shape for
-the old people before leaving. The tender, with its second and last
-load of passengers, is bearing down on the steamer, and now they
-can distinguish the Harrises and Albert--of whom Chris has heard so
-much--mounted on Theodore's shoulder. Marie-Celeste holds in her two
-hands a generous bouquet, which was handed to her just as she stepped
-aboard of the tender. Its roses are bound together with a little blue
-garter, which she was quick to recognize, and she knows very well she
-has need to thank Uncle Selden for this priceless souvenir of that happy
-Knight-of-the-Garter party.
-
-Foremost among the number to leave the tender is a man in livery, which
-some of the passengers have at once identified as none other than that
-worn by the servants of the Oueen.
-
-“Whom do you want, may I ask?” questions Donald politely, since the man,
-once aboard, seems hesitating which way to turn. Inclined at first to
-resent the interference, the man stares at Donald a moment, and then,
-possibly conciliated by the semi-official aspect of his sailor costume,
-condescends to reply:
-
-“I have these,” motioning toward the articles in his hands, “for one of
-the passengers--Miss Marie-Celeste Harris.”
-
-“Here she is, then,” answers Donald, for the Harrises have that moment
-come aboard.
-
-[Illustration: 0233]
-
-“Are you Miss Marie-Celeste Harris?” asks the man, taken aback by the
-suddenness of her advent on the scene.
-
-“Yes, I am,” Marie-Celeste replies in a voice all but inaudible with
-surprise.
-
-“Then the Queen's compliments, miss, and a _bon voyage!_” and
-grandiloquently delivering himself of this little speech, he presses two
-packages into her hands and retreats to the tender before she has at all
-had time to take it in. Marie-Celeste stands a moment, the observed of
-all observers, and especially of those who have overheard the message.
-Then our little party, moving off a short distance by themselves, crowd
-close about her in breathless excitement while the papers are removed
-from a glorious bunch of orchids. There is a card attached that reads,
-
-                   For the Little Queen of Hearts,
-
-                        FROM
-
-                   Madame La Grande Reine.
-
-The other package proves to be a tiny velvet box, containing a curious,
-quaint necklace, and this bears the inscription on one of its ends of
-faded ribbon,
-
-                   For the Little Queen of Hearts,
-
-                        FROM
-
-                   Madame La Petite Reine.
-
-[Illustration: 0234]
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Queen of Hearts, by Ruth Ogden
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: A Little Queen of Hearts
-       An International Story
-
-Author: Ruth Ogden
-
-Illustrator: H. A. Ogden
-
-Release Date: February 26, 2017 [EBook #54133]
-Last Updated: April 27, 2018
-
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-    <div style="height: 8em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h1>
-      A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-    </h1>
-    <h3>
-      An International Story
-    </h3>
-    <h2>
-      By Ruth Ogden
-    </h2>
-    <h3>
-      Illustrated by H. A. Ogden
-    </h3>
-    <h4>
-      New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company
-    </h4>
-    <h3>
-      1893
-    </h3>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0004.jpg" alt="0004 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0004.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0005.jpg" alt="0005 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0005.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <h3>
-      A CONFIDENTIAL WORD.
-    </h3>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> few years ago,
-      when my first story saw the light, a little fellow, a stranger to me then,
-      but who has since proved himself the truest of friends, wrote me a most
-      welcome letter. He said, among other things: &ldquo;I have read the book
-      five times through. My nurse, Lily Jones, read the book to me twice, my
-      mamma read the book to me once, and my Aunt Lizzie read the book to me
-      twice, for I can only read in my reading-book.&rdquo; Now you can
-      understand, I think, how I have wanted to keep that boy for a friend,
-      together with the other children who have proved themselves friendly; and
-      so realizing they were all growing older each year, I have tried in the
-      books I have written since then to keep pace with them, that they might
-      not perhaps outgrow me for a little while yet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the same time, my heart, in a way, is still with the little people who
-      count their years by a single numeral; and so, if you please, I want to
-      take them aside for a moment, and just whisper in their ears that,
-      although &ldquo;A Little Oueen of Hearts&rdquo; may seem a trifle too old
-      for them at first, I have an idea they will not find that fault later on.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ruth Ogden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <b>CONTENTS</b>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS</b> </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.&mdash;HAROLD AND TED HAVE IT OUT. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II&mdash;GOOD-MORNING, MR. HARTLEY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.&mdash;ABOARD A WHITE STAR. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.&mdash;A FRIEND BY THE WAY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.&mdash;AND STILL ANOTHER. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI.&mdash;THE CASTLE WONDERFUL. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.&mdash;&ldquo;AND NOW GOOD-MORNING,&rdquo;
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.&mdash;SOMETHING OF A SCRAPE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.&mdash;GETTING OUT OF IT. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.&mdash;A KNIGHT-OF-THE-GARTER PARTY.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.&mdash;WHAT CAME OF A LETTER. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.&mdash;DONALD'S NEW QUARTERS.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.&mdash;MADAME LA GRANDE REINE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.&mdash;MADAME LA PETITE REINE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.&mdash;A DARING SUGGESTION. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.&mdash;MARIE-CELESTE'S
-      DISCOVERY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.&mdash;INTO TED'S CONFIDENCE.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII.&mdash;RATHER A BOOKISH CHAPTER.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.&mdash;DONALD TURNS VALET. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX&mdash;DOROTHY CALLS MARIE-CELESTE TO
-      ACCOUNT.. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.&mdash;WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SMALLEST
-      CHURCH IN ENGLAND. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII.&mdash;THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW
-      INMATES. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII.&mdash;FOR LOVE OF MARIE-CELESTE.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER I.&mdash;HAROLD AND TED HAVE IT OUT.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9011.jpg" alt="9011 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e was a thoroughly
-      manly little fellow&mdash;nobody questioned that for a moment, not even
-      Ted; and yet there he sat, his head bowed upon his folded arms, while now
-      and then something very like a sob seemed to shake the well-knit figure
-      and give the boyish head an undignified little bob.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When at last he looked up, behold proof positive. There were tears not
-      only in his eyes, but on the sleeve of his Eton jacket; and there was no
-      longer any question but that Harold Harris, sturdy little Englishman
-      though he was, had been having what is known on both sides of the water as
-      a good, hard cry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How old was he?&rdquo; asks Young America, a little mistrustful as
-      to the right sort of stuff; but what does it matter how old he was, since
-      this is certain, that he was not the boy to cry under any circumstances
-      without abundant reason. It was evident now, however, that he was fast
-      getting the better of himself. He sat up, and resting his head on one
-      hand, reached with the other for the paper-knife, and began cutting queer
-      little geometrical figures on the big silver-cornered blotter that half
-      covered the table. It was evident too that his thoughts were not at all on
-      what he was doing, and that the hard cry was being followed by a good,
-      hard think. But this did not last long; Harold was simply trying to make
-      up his mind, as the phrase goes, and that soon accomplished, he drew pen,
-      paper and ink toward him and commenced writing a letter, with his head on
-      one side and his lips tightly pursed together. Indeed, he never unpursed
-      them until that same letter was sealed and directed and the stamp affixed
-      with a very determined little air, as though firmly resolved that the
-      thing he had done should brook no undoing. Then he slipped into his coat
-      and hurried out to post it, and a few yards from the door he met Ted, who
-      was just coming home.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hello, there!&rdquo; cried Ted, coming to a halt with his hands in
-      his pockets; &ldquo;where are you going this time of night?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Out,&rdquo; replied Harold, starting off at a run, for it was wet
-      and damp, and, to use England's English, &ldquo;quite nasty.&rdquo;
-      Ted gave a low whistle of surprise, Harold as a rule was such a civil
-      fellow. But no matter. What did he care where he was going, and entering
-      the house with a latch-key, he tossed his hat on to a hook and started
-      upstairs, his thoughts already far afield from all that concerned his
-      younger brother. Back they came again, however, as he reached the landing,
-      and the old clock struck twelve. &ldquo;So late as that?&rdquo; he said to
-      himself, and deciding to wait for Harold, he turned and went down again to
-      the library. He hoped he should not have to wait long, for, since he was
-      rather counting on a good night's rest, nothing more exciting seemed
-      to offer. In the mean time, he would make himself as comfortable as
-      possible on the library lounge. Indeed, to make himself as comfortable as
-      possible had gradually grown to be the one thing worth striving for in the
-      estimation of this young gentleman. A beautiful portrait of his mother
-      hung over the library mantel, but it belonged to a closed chapter of his
-      life, and he had almost forgotten its existence. He had never dreamed this
-      would be so; he had never meant it should be; but that did not alter the
-      fact that, flattered and made much of ever since he went up to Oxford, he
-      had somehow had little time to think of his mother, and, sorrier than
-      that, little inclination. Death was such a desperately gloomy thing to
-      contemplate! Besides, to keep thinking about it did not bring any one
-      back. And yet, as much as in him lay, Ted had loved his mother, and been
-      very proud of her too. It seemed hard that she should not have lived a
-      great while longer. But then she had been so very sad sometimes, and life
-      of course wasn't worth very much under those conditions. When it
-      ceased to be awfully jolly, perhaps it was just as well to have done with
-      it. For him, thank his stars! that unhappy period had not yet arrived. To
-      be a Christ Church Senior, with plenty of money and plenty of friends and
-      a head that easily mastered enough learning to make a good showing, left
-      little to be desired, especially when already endowed with a handsome face
-      and a physique that every man envied&mdash;at least, so thought Theodore
-      Harris, and so thought and affirmed the half score of intimate friends who
-      enjoyed many of the good things of this life through his bounty. It was a
-      pity that there was not one among them with insight enough to gauge the
-      complacent fellow aright, and at the same time with honesty enough to take
-      him to task for the profitless life he was leading. But nobody did, and so
-      on he fared, thoughtless and selfish, and so wholly absorbed in the
-      present that even alone and at midnight, with his eyes resting full upon
-      his mother's portrait, he had no thought to give it nor the worthier
-      past that it stood for. Indeed, to judge from the discontented look on his
-      face, his mind did not rise for a moment above the level of his annoyance
-      at being kept waiting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why don't the fellow come back?&rdquo; he muttered angrily,
-      realizing, as he heard the clock strike half-past twelve, that he had been
-      actually inconvenienced for a whole half hour; and shortly after &ldquo;the
-      fellow did come back,&rdquo; the dearest little fellow in the world too,
-      by the way, and shut to the big front door and locked it as he had done
-      night after night during the last two years, while Ted was up at Oxford,
-      and he had been living alone with the servants in the pretty little home
-      there at Windsor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harold!&rdquo; rang out an impatient voice.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, you there, Ted?&rdquo; with unconcealed gladness; it seemed
-      so cheery to have some one awake in the house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; of course I'm here. You didn't suppose I'd
-      go to bed, did you, with you prowling the streets this time of night?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That is exactly what Harold had supposed, but he had the grace not to say
-      so as he threw himself into a great easy-chair opposite Ted and clasped
-      his hands behind his head in comfortable stay-awhile fashion, and as
-      though quite ready to be agreeable if Ted would only let him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I went out for a walk and to post a letter,&rdquo; he said, after a
-      moment, and with a perceptible little note of apology in his tone for his
-      uncivil answer of the half hour before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It must have been important,&rdquo; said Ted, apparently amused at
-      the thought of anything relating to that younger brother being in reality
-      of any importance: &ldquo;I should think though it possibly could have
-      waited for the morning post.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it could, but I couldn't.&rdquo; Surprised at this, Ted
-      elevated his eyebrows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was a letter to Uncle Fritz,&rdquo; Harold added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To Uncle Fritz!&rdquo; with evident annoyance. &ldquo;What in
-      creation have you been writing to him about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have asked him to come over with Aunt Louise and Marie-Celeste
-      and make us a visit this summer.&rdquo; It took Ted a moment to recover
-      from his astonishment; then he answered curtly, &ldquo;Well, you can just
-      write him another letter and take it all back. Did it occur to you I might
-      have other plans for this house for this summer?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought you might perhaps propose to have some of your friends
-      down here, same as last year,&rdquo; Harold answered frankly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0014.jpg" alt="0014 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0014.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's exactly what I do propose to do, and here you've
-      gone ahead in this absurd fashion. What did you do it for, anyway?&rdquo;
-      and Ted in his impatience got on to his feet and glared down at Harold as
-      though he would like to have eaten him up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Not a bit intimidated, Harold looked him straight in the face. &ldquo;If
-      you want to know what I did it for I'll tell you&mdash;I did it
-      because I'm tired of the lonely life here. You haven't any
-      more interest in me, Ted, than in a stick of wood; so I'm going to
-      take things into my own hands now and begin to enjoy life in my own way.
-      This little house is as much mine as yours, and I mean to have my turn
-      this summer. I didn't like your friends last year, and took myself
-      off. If you don't like mine this year you can do the same thing.&rdquo;
-      The role was such a new one for Harold to play that Ted stood utterly
-      nonplussed. That Harold should deliberately assert himself in this way was
-      such an unprecedented performance that he knew not what to say.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What did you tell Uncle Fritz about me?&rdquo; he asked presently.
-      &ldquo;I suppose you painted me as black as the ace of spades.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I didn't say a word about you. I wrote him it was awfully
-      lonely here the last two years, and that it seemed to grow worse instead
-      of better, and that if they'd only come over for the summer, we'd
-      do all in our power to make them have a pleasant time of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that is cool. Did you really say <i>we'd</i> do all in
-      our power?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I did. You like Uncle Fritz, don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I like him, but the cheek of it all,&rdquo; and Theodore
-      strode over to the window to think matters over. It was a fine thing
-      anyway in Harold, he admitted to himself, not to have run him down to
-      Uncle Fritz. If he was angry enough to take matters into his own hands in
-      this way, it was a wonder he stopped short of telling him the truth about
-      himself&mdash;not that Ted for a moment faced that truth in any honest
-      fashion; for he was a very good fellow still in his own estimation. He had
-      simply not taken Harold into account&mdash;no one could have expected that
-      he should; but now it seemed the boy was beginning to resent that state of
-      affairs. There was some show of reason in it, too, and he rather admired
-      his spirit. It was rather natural, perhaps, that he should want to have
-      &ldquo;his turn,&rdquo; as he said; very well, he should have it. For that
-      matter, he would be rather glad himself to see something of Uncle Fritz.
-      He had not really decided to ask any of the fellows down for the summer,
-      though he had angrily made a declaration to that effect. Indeed, there was
-      some talk of their going over the Continent together instead, which would
-      be a deal more fun. All this while Harold sat motionless and silent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The mean part of it is, that you didn't tell me beforehand
-      what you wanted to do,&rdquo; said Ted, as the upshot of the thinking.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I wanted to do has not made any difference to you this long
-      time. Besides, you would have told me I couldn't do it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I would&rdquo; (for, as it often happens, it is easier to
-      be reasonable in thinking than in speaking); &ldquo;and I can tell you one
-      thing, Harold, you'll be sick enough of your own bargain before it
-      is over. What do you know about Marie-Celeste? Ten to one she's a
-      spoiled, forward sort of youngster. American children are a handful
-      always.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'll risk it,&rdquo; answered Harold; &ldquo;and I only ask
-      one thing of you, Ted, and that is that you'll be decent to them
-      when they come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Like as not I won't be here.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold's face fell. It would seem such a breach of hospitality for
-      Ted not to be at home, at least to welcome them. But, never mind, he could
-      explain to Uncle Fritz, if he must, what an independent life Ted had led
-      these last few years. He would hurt himself more than any one else by
-      acting so ungraciously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who's going to pay for things here at home, I'd like to
-      know?&rdquo; said Ted, after another few minutes of meditation. &ldquo;There
-      isn't enough of my allowance left now to tide me over to the first
-      of the year, let alone running the house in fine style all summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You need not bother about that&mdash;there's enough of mine,
-      and I can look after my own guests, which is more than you did for yours
-      last year.&rdquo; It was a mean little thrust, perhaps, on Harold's
-      part, but Ted deserved it, for Harold had paid his half of the heavy
-      expenses of the previous summer without a murmur.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Be it said to Ted's honor that he appreciated the situation, and
-      colored up to the roots of his hair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know how to rub a thing in,&rdquo; he said, which was as wide
-      of the truth as could be, for Harold had never alluded to the fact before,
-      and made up his mind on the spot that he never would be mean enough to do
-      it again. A little later the boys had said goodnight to each other, and
-      not in an altogether unkindly spirit either. Ted had not been as angry as
-      Harold had expected, and Harold, sorry for his thrust about money matters,
-      had wound up by being rather conciliatory, and he was happier, on the
-      whole, than he had been any time for a twelvemonth. And so it happens with
-      the children, as with grown folk, that sometimes when there is a climax in
-      the heart the head rises to the emergency, and is able to think a possible
-      way out from besetting difficulties.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER II&mdash;GOOD-MORNING, MR. HARTLEY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9018.jpg" alt="9018 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9018.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is one thing to
-      extend an invitation. It is quite another to have it accepted. Harold
-      realized this with a sigh as he woke the next morning. Still, hope was in
-      the wind, where it had not been for a long time, and, what was more, the
-      first suggestion of spring was in it too, and every one knows what a tonic
-      that is; so the sigh, on the whole, did not have much of a show, and
-      Harold set off for school with a heart that he hardly knew for lightness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Besides, Ted had taken quite civil leave of him before going back to
-      Oxford, and had said he fancied would be down again next Sunday, and that
-      he would be on hand, like as not, if Uncle Fritz decided to come over&mdash;all
-      of which, for any one who knew Ted as Harold knew him, was graciousness
-      itself, and made Harold wish he had not waited so long before taking
-      matters into his own hands. And in addition to all this, the morning was
-      fine enough to brace anybody up, no matter what their troubles. The Eton
-      boys in their tall hats (atoning, as it were, for the extreme briefness of
-      their jackets) and wide-rolling linen collars were skurrying through the
-      streets as though they had the right of way, as indeed they have in dear
-      old royal Windsor; and here and there the flowing gown of a colleger
-      spread itself to the April wind and floated out behind, to all appearances
-      as glad as any peacock to show what it could do in that direction. Indeed,
-      who knows of a more inspiriting sight anywhere than Eton College on an
-      April morning? The quaint old buildings seem to bask in the broad spring
-      sunshine; the trees that dot the grass-bare turf where the Upper School
-      fronts the street are already casting tiny leaf-shadows, and on the other
-      side, where the garden slopes down to the Thames, many a little branch and
-      bush begins to glow with color. Even the old bronze statue of Henry VI. in
-      the outer quadrangle, with all its panoply of robes of state and globe and
-      sceptre, appears to look a little more chipper than ever and a trifle more
-      conscious of the distinction of being the &ldquo;munificent founder&rdquo;
-      of so glorious an institution. No wonder the boys love the old place, and
-      even the dingy recitation rooms, whose quaint, high desks and slippery
-      benches are notched with the penknives of many a boy, whose name, as a
-      man, has come to be known through the length and breadth of England. To
-      Harold it was a matter of no small pride, I assure you, that his
-      particular seat on the form during that spring term was the same that had
-      once been Gladstone's&mdash;&ldquo;the prettiest little boy,&rdquo;
-      by the way, in the mind of his partial teacher, that ever went up to Eton.
-      But all this, as you can plainly see, has nothing whatever to do with the
-      title of this chapter, so it &ldquo;behooves us,&rdquo; as the preachers
-      used to say, to turn our back on Harold and the charms of the renowned old
-      college, and our faces toward the ocean and a far-off land&mdash;far off,
-      that is, as far as Windsor and the English are concerned, but very near
-      and dear to the hearts of some of the rest of us. Of course it is the
-      letter that is turning our thoughts that way at this particular moment. It
-      is tied firmly in a packet within a great leather bag, and, having been
-      just in time to catch the mail-train, is being spirited down to
-      Queenstown, where one of the great White Star steamers has been waiting
-      full four long hours, so important are these reams upon reams of letters
-      we and our English cousins keep sending one to the other across the water.
-      Wind and tide favor the huge, swift ship, and early in the morning, the
-      sixth day out, Fire Island light is sighted. It is a cloudless morning,
-      the white sands of the South-shore beaches shine like silver in the
-      sunlight, and the fresh sea breeze that is stirring holds its own the
-      whole length of Long Island, and blows its purifying way into every street
-      and alley of the vast city that lies at its farther end. A most
-      uninteresting city, this city of Brooklyn, some people affirm; even those
-      of us who love it best cannot claim that it is great in anything but
-      &ldquo;bigness&rdquo; but there are homes there we will match against
-      homes the world over, not for show or for luxury, but for pure and
-      transcendent comfort. It is only a corner of the wide-spreading city of
-      which we are speaking, and a little corner at that, but the charm of it
-      lies in the fact that many of the streets open right to the harbor, and
-      that many of the houses, as well, command the same glorious view. To be
-      sure, one has need to overlook, in quite too literal fashion, the
-      warehouses that front the water below the bluff, and here and there an
-      unsightly elevator, but why let the eye rest on these, with the dancing
-      blue water beneath you, and the Jersey hills beyond, and beyond that
-      again, like as not, a glorious sunset. To be sure, the houses that line
-      these streets stand most of them shoulder to shoulder, in barbarous,
-      city-like fashion, and with far too much sameness in their general make-up
-      and plan. But that is neither here nor there; we simply are claiming&mdash;we
-      who love it&mdash;that it is a region of ideal homes. And more than this,
-      there is a rare kindliness of spirit and an open-handed hospitality
-      prevalent among the people. They are friends and neighbors in the best
-      sense of the word; too high-minded and preoccupied to be gossipy or
-      prying, they are interested in each other's affairs with the
-      interest that means a sharing of each other's joys and sorrows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So much for the corner&mdash;let who will gainsay it&mdash;and more for a
-      little maid who lives there, and who is none other, as you may have
-      imagined, than Marie-Celeste, the little Queen-Pin of this story. And
-      Marie-Celeste she is always. For some reason or other neither she nor the
-      friend of her mother for whom she is called is ever known by any shorter
-      title. Indeed, the two names have even become to be written with a hyphen,
-      and seemingly to belong to each other, and to be quite as inseparable as
-      the three syllables of Dorothy or the four of Dorothea. At the time of our
-      introduction to the little maid in question she has donned the prettiest
-      of white embroidered dresses and a broad white sash (which she first tied
-      in a great bow in front and then pulled round to where it belongs in the
-      back), and has come down to the front steps to watch for somebody. She
-      knows almost to a minute how long she will have to wait, for she heard the
-      signal&mdash;three little, short, sharp whistles&mdash;about five minutes
-      ago. She decides it is worth while to make herself comfortable, and also
-      worth while, looking askance at the doubtful doormat, to bring a
-      well-swept rug from within. Then she seats herself, and, clasping two fair
-      little hands round one knee, just waits, letting eyes rove where they will
-      and thoughts follow. That is a very pretty cage in the window across the
-      way, but she feels sorry for the bird. People oughtn't to leave a
-      canary hanging full in the sunshine on a warm day like this; and then she
-      meditates awhile on the advantages of living on the side of the street
-      that is shady in the afternoon. And now two or three gentlemen are coming
-      by from the ferry, all of whom she knows by sight, for the short terrace
-      where she lives is by no means a general thoroughfare, and just behind
-      them is Mr. Eversley, May Eversley's father. She wishes he would
-      look up, for she has a bow ready for him; but he doesn't, and she
-      must needs defer her social proclivities yet a little while longer. And
-      here comes a great yellow delivery wagon, with horses fine enough for a
-      carriage and two men in livery. What a deafening noise it makes on the
-      Belgian pavement! There! for a comfort it is going to stop for a minute at
-      the next house. My! what a lot of bundles! And now the street is quite
-      empty again, not a person on either side of the one, short block; but the
-      whistle that has been ringing out more and more clearly at quite regular,
-      three-minute intervals sounds very near indeed, and in another second a
-      gray-suited individual, with soldier-like cap to match and a glitter of
-      shining brass buttons, swings round the opposite corner, and makes a
-      bee-line across the street. Our little friend is instantly on her feet,
-      with one hand extended, and a &ldquo;Good-afternoon, Mr. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The same to you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; replies the gray-coated
-      newcomer, clasping the little, friendly hand in his.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And how did it come out?&rdquo; she asks in the next breath.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It came out all right,&rdquo; and Mr. Hartley leaned back and
-      rested both elbows on the rail behind him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew you would win,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste complacently;
-      &ldquo;I felt perfectly sure of it, Chris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what is more, Bradford came in second.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You don't mean it!&rdquo; for Bradford was assistant postman
-      on the route that included the Terrace, and Marie-Celeste was naturally
-      quite overwhelmed at the thought that both their men should have won. The
-      winning in question had occurred at a foot-race the night before, an
-      accomplishment somewhat in the line of the daily training of the average
-      postman, and for which Christopher Hartley in particular had long shown a
-      special aptitude.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0023.jpg" alt="0023 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0023.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was quite a big prize, wasn't it?&rdquo; questioned
-      Marie-Celeste, really longing to know the exact amount; but Mr. Hartley,
-      not divining that, simply answered, his kind face radiant as a boy's,
-      &ldquo;The largest yet, Marie-Celeste&mdash;enough to take me home for two
-      months this summer, and pay Bradford, besides, for doing double work while
-      I'm gone. He can manage the route easily; the mails fall off more
-      than half in the summer, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, isn't that splendid!&rdquo; with a world of meaning in
-      her inflection and a face every whit as radiant as Mr. Hartley's
-      own. &ldquo;And now won't you please tell me everything about the
-      race, from the <i>start</i> to the <i>finish</i>,&rdquo; proud to show
-      that she remembered the terms she had heard him use; and only too glad of
-      the opportunity, Chris proceeded to give a graphic narrative of all the
-      details of the exciting contest. Wide-eyed and interested, Marie-Celeste
-      sat and listened, furtively scanning the street now and then for fear of
-      interruption by some of the children of the neighborhood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you told any of the others?&rdquo; she asked eagerly, when the
-      story's end had been reached, and hoping in her heart of hearts that
-      she was to have the pleasure of imparting news of such paramount
-      importance to the neighborhood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never a one; I dodged a crowd of them round the corner there for
-      the sake of telling you first;&rdquo; wherefrom it was easy to discover
-      that Mr. Hartley had a somewhat partial regard for his earnest little
-      listener. It was a decidedly partial regard, for that matter, and with
-      reason. Had any other child friend along his route, no matter how
-      friendly, questioned him day after day as to how he was getting on with
-      his training for the race? Had any other among them promised to be on hand
-      at the latest delivery on the afternoon succeeding it, so as to learn just
-      what the issue had been, and at a time when he would be able to stop and
-      tell about it? Would any one else in the world have thought of suggesting
-      that he should give three short little whistles when he reached the Browns',
-      in Remsen Street, so that she should know just how near he was? Surely no
-      one; and it was just this surpassing interest in every living body, to the
-      utter forgetting of all that concerned herself, that made Marie-Celeste
-      different from other children, that made everybody love her, and that
-      makes it worth while for me to try to tell this story of one summer in her
-      blessed little life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I'm just as glad as I can be,&rdquo; she said joyously
-      when at last Mr. Hartley thought he had better be moving on, and thought
-      at the same time, too, I venture, that it was something to have won that
-      race, if only to have caused such gladness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You haven't any letters for us, have you?&rdquo; she added,
-      as he turned to go down the step and she caught sight of the leather bag
-      swung across his shoulder.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, yes, I have,&rdquo; diving into its depths, and angry at
-      himself for his forgetfulness; &ldquo;it's an important letter, too,
-      I reckon; it's from England.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so it is!&rdquo; her eyes fairly dancing with delight and
-      surprise. &ldquo;It's from Harold, and we haven't heard from
-      him in ever so long; but oh, dear, it's for papa, isn't it,
-      and he's out driving.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You won't have very long to wait,&rdquo; said Chris, smiling
-      at her impatience, &ldquo;if you're expecting him home to dinner.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But we're not, that's the bother of it. He and mamma
-      are going to dine at the Crescent Club afterward, and I shall have to be
-      sound asleep when they come home.&rdquo; Then she asked after a moment of
-      serious cogitation, &ldquo;Do you suppose, Chris, that any of the children
-      along your route open their fathers' letters, when they are sure
-      they're from their cousins?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can't say about that,&rdquo; laughed Chris, as he went down
-      the steps. &ldquo;You know best; good-night, I'm off now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-night, Chris,&rdquo; rather absent-mindedly, and with eyes and
-      thoughts still intent upon the letter. Would it be such a dreadful thing
-      to open it? It was so hard not to know right away what was in it. She had
-      never seen this English Cousin Harold, but when they had exchanged
-      photographs at Christmas-time he had sent such a beautiful letter that she
-      had come to feel that they were the best of friends. But no, hard as it
-      was, she felt certain it would really be best not to open it; so she would
-      put the letter in her pocket, and when she went to bed she would slide it
-      under her pillow, and then only take little cat-naps until her father and
-      mother should come home, and she could tell them about it, and hear what
-      was in it. But alas! for the little cat-naps; for the lights blinked
-      brightly in the harbor, and the ferry-boats whistled and let off steam in
-      deafening fashion, and the stars came out, and the moon came up, and papa
-      and mamma came home, and chatted gayly besides, with the door wide open
-      into her room, and yet Marie-Celeste never wakened, and Harold's
-      important letter lay sealed and unread, and as flat as a fluffy head could
-      press it until the light of another morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER III.&mdash;ABOARD A WHITE STAR.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0026.jpg" alt="0026 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0026.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here was commotion
-      in the Harris household, notwithstanding the very early hour&mdash;the
-      sort of commotion which means that somebody is off for Europe, somebody
-      who has preferred remaining at home, and rising as early as need he, to
-      boarding the steamer the night before and spending it tied to a noisy
-      dock. In this case there were three somebodies, and you can easily guess
-      who; for there was that in Harold's letter that had made Mr. and
-      Mis. Harris feel they really ought to go if they could, and that moved
-      Marie-Celeste to declare that go they must; that, in short, made the
-      hearts of all three go out very warmly to the lonely little fellow across
-      the water. And the best part of it all was that it had been the easiest
-      thing in the world to arrange matters, and that a cable bore to Harold the
-      glad word that they would come, so that he had not even to wait for a
-      letter. And now the one week of preparation was over, and the carriage was
-      at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Harris were in it, and Marie-Celeste was
-      taking effusive and affectionate leave of the maids, who were smiling and
-      crying all in one, after the manner of an Irish parting. And now even that
-      is done with, and the carriage rolls off, and the wagon-load of steamer
-      trunks and bags jogs after, and Mary and Bridget and Norah dry their eyes
-      on their respective aprons, and go back to a general cleaning up today,
-      and like as not to Coney Island to-morrow. And what if they do, thinks
-      their mistress. Indeed, she is altogether willing that they should, for if
-      there is ever a time when the contrasts in life will not be overlooked it
-      is when you are on your way to the steamer. It seems so pitiful to see men
-      and women on every hand plodding away at the same old, monotonous tasks,
-      when ahead of you are all the delights of novelty, travel, and leisure.
-      Oh! if only every one might have &ldquo;his turn&rdquo; in this world of
-      ours; but since that is out of the question, let there at least be as much
-      Coney Island for housemaids as is consistent with good morals and faithful
-      discharge of their duties; at least so thought one dear little mistress,
-      with more heart, perhaps, than discretion, but a heart, all the same, that
-      won every one to her and made life in her household move with infinite
-      smoothness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder, mamma, if Harold will like us?&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste,
-      when the excitement of immediate departure had sufficiently subsided for
-      her to find any words at all.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a little late in the day, dear, for you to do any
-      wondering on that score.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Somehow, I hadn't thought until now how dreadful it would be
-      if he didn't. He knows about you, though, papa. He knows you're
-      all right&mdash;that's one comfort.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he takes my word for it that you are,&rdquo; said Mr. Harris;
-      &ldquo;so be sure you don't go back on me either of you. You will
-      have to be on your good behavior every minute.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste gave her mother a little significant look, which her mother
-      answered as significantly, and which gave Mr. Harris to understand that
-      good behavior would depend altogether upon circumstances.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would be just as bad,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said thoughtfully,
-      &ldquo;if we didn't like Harold, wouldn't it? And there's
-      Ted; we don't know much about him, do we?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me, my little daughter,&rdquo; said her father, laughing,
-      &ldquo;if I casually remark that young in years though you be, you are
-      just like a woman. Who has said a word until now about any ifs in
-      connection with this trip of ours? But no sooner are we actually off,
-      scarce ten minutes from home, in fact, than the great, uncomfortable,
-      intimidating creatures come trooping in from every quarter, and the
-      particular one that comes to me is this, If you find you don't like
-      it when you get there, don't forget where the blame lies. I
-      remember a little maid who said that go to Cousin Harold she must, whether
-      or no.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; with a little shrug of her shoulders; &ldquo;but
-      you can't help thinking about things, all the same. What is Ted
-      like, papa?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, Ted's a handsome, overgrown, headstrong boy, I should
-      say&mdash;at least, he was when I was in Windsor four years ago; but you
-      see he's a young man by this time and quite another fellow probably.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is strange Harold didn't say anything about Ted in his
-      letter,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Harris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that was pure accident, I imagine! Ted must be all right, or
-      Harold would have said something about it which was rather wide of the
-      mark in 'Uncle Fritz,' as you and I happen to know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Overgrown and headstrong doesn't sound very nice,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste said slowly; &ldquo;I'm really not a bit afraid about
-      Harold&mdash;I love him already, but I don't feel sure about Ted,
-      somehow.&rdquo; And if the truth be told, neither did Mr. Harris nor Mrs.
-      Harris, nor anybody else, for that matter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, there's one thing, little girlie,&rdquo; said her
-      father; &ldquo;there are wonderful places in England, which I mean you
-      shall see; and how long we stay in Windsor depends&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Entirely upon how they treat us,&rdquo; chimed in Mrs. Harris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly; so it becomes us not to worry about any foolish little
-      ifs.&rdquo; And worry they did not from that moment, not one of the happy
-      trio, about anything under the sun, or over it, and they sailed away with
-      bright and happy faces. Tears were for eyes that left nearest and dearest
-      behind, not for those who took them with them; and yet a wistful look,
-      that was often to be seen on Mrs. Harris's expressive face, deepened
-      as the Majestic steamed down the harbor. And when they reached the point
-      where the white stones of Greenwood look down on the water, she stole
-      alone to the rail of the deck, and the wistfulness turned to a mist that
-      hid everything for a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mamma is saying good-by to Jack and Louis,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste softly, and her father pressed the little hand that lay in
-      his, but did not answer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste was up betimes the next morning&mdash;that is, if betimes
-      means bright and early, and, stopping for a few minutes on her way to
-      indulge in a savory cup of arrowroot, which the stewardess had made ready
-      for her, she passed on up the stairs and out on to the saloon deek,
-      looking as fresh and sweet in her dress of sailor-blue as a fair little
-      morning-glory. The pity was there was nobody there to see, for there's
-      nothing like the bloom of the very early morning-glory.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The decks were still wet from their daily mopping, the folded steamer
-      chairs were ranged five deep beneath the cabin windows, and nothing seemed
-      to be quite in shape yet save her own tidy little self. She went forward
-      as far as she could to the bow, and then turned her back toward
-      everything, so as to see how it seemed to be <i>way out at sea</i>; and
-      not being conscious of any remarkable sensations, was somewhat
-      disappointed. &ldquo;Out of sight of land&rdquo; had always stood with
-      Marie-Celeste for such an awe-inspiring condition of affairs that she
-      expected to feel all sorts of chilly and creepy feelings when she fairly
-      faced the thought; and yet here she stood, alone to all intents and
-      purposes, and no land anywhere, and yet not so much as the suggestion of a
-      chill or a creep. She turned round and looked at the ship, and smiled at
-      the man at the wheel, and guessed she knew what the trouble was, and
-      guessed right. She wasn't a bit afraid; that was the secret of her
-      disappointment, if it could in truth be called a disappointment. It was
-      such a beautiful, stanch, great ship, with its large masts and spars and
-      network of interlacing halyards, that its wideness meant more to her just
-      then than even the wideness of the sea; and she felt so safe and at home
-      on it withal, that all the expected uncanny sensations had need to be
-      postponed to some more favorable occasion. With this cherished illusion so
-      soon disposed of, she decided to take a little turn on the deck. The
-      steamer was pitching a good deal&mdash;&ldquo;pitching horribly,&rdquo;
-      some of the passengers below would have told you, but all the more fun for
-      Marie-Celeste; and plunging her hand deep in her reefer pocket, she set
-      off at a swinging gait. Now it was all up-hill, and the wind blowing such
-      a gale that she had need to bend way over, holding firmly to her sailor
-      hat the while, to make any headway whatever; and now in a trice it was
-      very much down-hill indeed, and the little knees had to be stiffly braced
-      to prevent her ladyship from bowling along at a dangerously rapid pace.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0029.jpg" alt="0029 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0029.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      But it was all fun. She didn't see how people, inclusive of certain
-      near relatives of her own, could be willing to keep their state-rooms
-      after seven o'clock on such a glorious morning. She only wished she
-      had some one to enjoy it with her; and a few minutes later the wish came
-      true, and in such delightfully surprising fashion. Just as she was nearing
-      the break in the saloon deck that grants an open sky space to the
-      steerage, she discovered some one coming toward her on the deck of the
-      second-class cabin&mdash;some one who looked familiar, notwithstanding the
-      absence of gray coat and brass buttons.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Chris Hartley!&rdquo; she cried, and standing stock-still from
-      sheer surprise. At the sound of the cheery voice, a lady, who was so
-      fortunate as to have a deck state-room, and so unfortunate as to sorely
-      need it, peered out and tried to smile a good-morning to the happy little
-      stranger outside her window. Marie-Celeste smiled back again, but at the
-      sight of the white face realized in a flash why some people keep their
-      state-rooms at sea in the early morning. But of course there was only the
-      merest little suggestion of a sympathetic thought to spend on the poor,
-      white lady, with Chris Hartley but just discovered, and after that one
-      instant of transfixed surprise she sped toward him, both hands extended;
-      and over the gate that divides the first from the second cabin they
-      indulged in the heartiest shaking of hands possible, while hats for the
-      moment were expected to look out for themselves. Indeed, there is no
-      telling how long the hand-shaking might have lasted but that the hats
-      proved untrustworthy in the stiff northern wind that was blowing, Chris
-      catching his on the fly and Marie-Celeste's saved almost as
-      narrowly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you know we were on board, Chris?&rdquo; were the first words
-      that formed themselves into a sentence after the &ldquo;Well, <i>well</i>,
-      well!&rdquo; of their first meeting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I knew, and so I chose this steamer on purpose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who told you, Chris? You know I haven't seen you since the
-      day you brought the English letter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bridget told me the next morning how that you had had a letter that
-      was going to take you all to England, and then in a day or two I learned
-      you were going on the Majestic, and I hurried right over to the office and
-      secured the last berth they had left in the second cabin. But now I'm
-      here I'm thinking I'll not see much of you, after all,&rdquo;
-      and Chris looked decidedly crestfallen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why not, I should like to know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Chris glanced significantly at the gate between them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; beginning to understand; &ldquo;don't they allow
-      that to be opened?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, they don't,&rdquo; and Chris colored up a little in spite
-      of himself; &ldquo;but of course it's all right. I couldn't
-      afford to travel first class, and I don't belong there anyway.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you could easily get over that little gate,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste mischievously, and yet soberly too, for she foresaw what
-      innumerable good times would be interfered with if Chris must stay in one
-      place and she in another.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Chris gravely, &ldquo;that wouldn't do; but&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But what, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, never mind! I guess we'll just have to have little talks
-      right here when we can.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I guess we won't just have to have anything of the
-      sort,&rdquo; making up her mind on the instant precisely what steps she
-      would take. &ldquo;I'll manage that; and now tell me, Chris, how you
-      happen to be on this steamer at all. I thought you were going home this
-      summer?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And where do you think home is?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo; far too eager to waste any time in mere thinking.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In England, of course.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, then, I suppose you're English,&rdquo; she said, with
-      surprise and unconcealed disappointment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, then, I suppose I am,&rdquo; Chris answered; &ldquo;but
-      really, I don't see why you should mind, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I expected they would be different, the real English people&mdash;different
-      from us. I had heard they were, and it isn't so interesting to have
-      all the world alike.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I wouldn't give up hope quite yet,&rdquo; said Chris,
-      very much amused; &ldquo;you see, I'm not exactly real English, I've
-      been in the States so long;&rdquo; and when Marie-Celeste came to think of
-      it, there was some comfort in that.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, a number of passengers had come on to the decks of both cabins,
-      and a few moments later the little buglers appeared simultaneously on both
-      sides of the saloon, and the call for breakfast rang out on the still sea
-      air.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's something English for you,&rdquo; said Chris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; with puzzled frown.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, that's the English mess call,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      'Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      Soldiers' wives eat skilly'
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &mdash;those are the words that go to it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so they do!&rdquo; for the little buglers were obligingly
-      repeating their strain, and Marie-Celeste discovered for herself that they
-      fitted the notes exactly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's 'skilly?'&rdquo; she asked presently, as
-      Chris expected she would.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it's a kind of stew that the soldiers' wives
-      make. It's cheap and nourishing. We don't have anything just
-      like it in America that I know of.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are English, after all, Chris,&rdquo; with evident
-      gratification; &ldquo;there must be lots of more things you can tell me,
-      and there's no end to the good times we'll have together; but
-      I guess I'd better go now. I shouldn't wonder if mamma felt
-      rather ill this rough morning&mdash;she isn't a very good sailor.
-      Good-by, Chris; you'll come to the gate after breakfast?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Chris promised, and watched the trim little figure till it disappeared;
-      then he turned and paced the deck with a somewhat troubled look on his
-      kind face. Somehow he had not given much thought to this subject of first
-      and second class till on that first morning out, when he found the low
-      iron gate imposing itself so resolutely between himself and his little
-      friend; but then he realized at a bound how much there was in it. It might
-      well happen that the father and mother, who were quite willing that their
-      little daughter should have an occasional chat with the postman at home,
-      would prefer not to recognize him in the role of a second-cabin passenger;
-      and good Chris Hartley felt inclined to call himself all manner of names
-      for thoughtlessly allowing himself to be put in such a position. If Mr.
-      Harris should forbid Marie-Celeste to see him, or should just calmly
-      ignore the fact that he was on board at all, it would be pretty hard to
-      bear. And so Chris suddenly found himself face to face with the class
-      distinctions that seem inevitable in this social world of ours, and in a
-      way that might turn all the bright anticipations for this voyage into the
-      reality of a most disagreeable experience. Yes, there was no doubt about
-      it, he had acted like a fool; and rather than run the chance of being
-      &ldquo;made to know his place,&rdquo; as the phrase has it, he believed he
-      would have kept out of the way of Marie-Celeste all the way over if he had
-      thought of it in time; but we, of course, believe nothing of the sort. How
-      could he ever have had the heart to carry out such a doleful resolution,
-      and what a pity if he had tried to! The truth was, Chris had too low an
-      opinion of himself altogether. He had an idea, for instance, that he was a
-      very plain-looking sort of a fellow, whereas there was something about him
-      that made him distinctly noticeable everywhere he went. It was hard to
-      tell just what it was&mdash;a brimming-over kindliness, I think, best
-      describes it. It shone plain as day in his friendly eyes and hovered under
-      his light mustache, and his head even seemed to be set on his shoulders in
-      a most kindly fashion. But Chris himself was oblivious to all his charms,
-      personal or otherwise, and in this modesty of his, and in many other ways
-      as well, proved himself the gentleman; and the beauty of it was that Mr.
-      Harris, being a true gentleman himself, had long ago recognized the
-      article in his postman. It was a pity Chris should not have known this. It
-      would have spared him a wretched hour or so that first morning at sea.
-      Indeed, this <i>not knowing</i> is responsible for a great deal of this
-      world's fret and worry, and yet <i>too much knowing</i> would be
-      just as sorry a thing sometimes; so perhaps it would be as well for us to
-      leave matters as they are for the present.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Marie-Celeste had made her way to the bow, and to the doorway of
-      a room there, which she had chanced to notice the afternoon before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Passengers are not allowed in here, are they?&rdquo; she asked
-      timidly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not ordinarily,&rdquo; said the captain, looking up from a chart
-      spread out on a table before him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste could not possibly discover whether the tone was encouraging
-      or no, but in any case she had no words with which to continue, so
-      awe-inspiring proved the blue coat, gold braid, and the other insignia of
-      the captain's office. Besides, it had taken so much courage to nerve
-      herself up to the mere asking of the question, that she found she had none
-      in reserve, and stood transfixed in the doorway, her little face aflame
-      with embarrassment. Now, if there is a class of men anywhere who believe
-      in what we were speaking of a minute ago (that is, a man's knowing
-      his place), they are the captains of the ocean steamers. It is of course
-      nothing but the enforcement of this very rule that renders ocean travel
-      the safe and comfortable thing it is, and that assures you, even in case
-      of accident, that the strictest discipline will be preserved. Indeed, I
-      have an idea that Captain Revell inclines to apply the same rule to every
-      one aboard of his great steamer, to passengers as well as to officers and
-      crew, and so perhaps regarded the advent of Marie-Celeste in the light of
-      an intrusion. And when you come right down to it, there was that in his
-      tone, when he answered her question, that made her feel that he thought
-      she should not have ventured it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Passengers having special business are admitted at any time,
-      however,&rdquo; added the captain, after what seemed an interminable
-      silence, &ldquo;and perhaps you have come on some special errand. If so, I
-      should be glad to have you come in,&rdquo; and the captain stood up and
-      motioned Marie-Celeste to a seat on the other side of the table. I think
-      he was beginning to discover what an unusually attractive little personage
-      his visitor was, and to regret the moment's discomfiture he had
-      caused her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste gave a very audible sigh of relief as she stepped up the two
-      steps into the room, but she refused the proffered seat with the dignity
-      of a little princess.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I only want to stay for a moment,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I am
-      quite sure now I oughtn't to have interrupted you, and I know papa
-      will be angry; but I had a favor to ask, and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what, my little friend?&rdquo; said the captain, quite won over
-      to whatever the favor might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you looked so kind I dared to speak to you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Kind, did I?&rdquo; laughed the captain, immensely pleased. &ldquo;Well,
-      then, you must sit down, else, you see, you'll keep me standing;
-      too, and tell me right away what the favor is, and I'll try to act
-      up to the kindness for which you give me credit.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it's just this, Captain Revell: first, <i>could</i> you
-      let me sometimes go over into the second-class cabin?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Certainly I could; but what for, may I ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To see Chris Hartley; he's a second-class passenger, and he's
-      the postman in our street; but it wouldn't do, would it, to undo the
-      gate for me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, hardly, I think,&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it wouldn't do any better for me to climb over it, would
-      it? I could do it easily.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm afraid that wouldn't answer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then, what are we going to do? There isn't any other way, I
-      suppose,&rdquo; with very evident despair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, there is, and I'll show it to you myself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Whereupon Marie-Celeste laid one little brown hand upon the captain's
-      sleeve from an impulse of sheer gratitude, and the captain straightway
-      laid a big brown hand atop of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, that is what you wanted to ask first,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I
-      am anxious to know what comes second.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I guess I won't bother you any more; I&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, you shall not go till you have told me;&rdquo; and the captain
-      detained the little hand a prisoner beneath his own.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I was going to ask&mdash;you see, it is very much more
-      interesting up here near the bow and the bridge and the crow's-nest&mdash;I
-      was going to ask, if once in a while Chris could come over to the first
-      cabin. You see, Chris doesn't know any one on board, excepting just
-      me, and we're such good friends at home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's a little different,&rdquo; for the captain was
-      puzzled to know how to answer, &ldquo;and it's against the
-      regulations; but it's very hard to refuse a little maid like you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Harris was on a search for Marie-Celeste, and chancing to pass the
-      captain's room, glanced in, and glancing in, beheld his little
-      daughter, and heard these last words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me, Captain Revell,&rdquo; he said, touching his hat, and
-      apparently much annoyed, &ldquo;but I cannot imagine how my little
-      daughter has found her way in here, or what favor she has made so bold as
-      to ask. I trust you will not suspend any of the ship's regulations
-      on her account.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; laughed the captain, &ldquo;I
-      shall be only too glad to do what I can.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, please don't bother any more about it&mdash;please don't,&rdquo;
-      entreated Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I was afraid papa would not like it. We'll
-      go now, won't we?&rdquo; looking up at her father with a most woful
-      and beseeching little face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, we will; but don't you think, Marie-Celeste, we would
-      better ask the captain's pardon for intruding?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit of it,&rdquo; answered Captain Revell; &ldquo;there's
-      no pardon to be asked of anybody, and I shall hope to have a call from you
-      both very soon again,&rdquo; he added cordially as his two visitors took
-      their departure, and he settled back to his inspection of the chart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't say a word, papa, please, I don't want to cry
-      here,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste held her father's hand very tightly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you want some breakfast, dear, don't you?&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste shook her head, but as she seemed to know perfectly well
-      what she did want, he suffered her to lead him over the high sill that
-      keeps the water from rushing indoors in rough weather, and past the main
-      stairway, and into a far corner of the library. There she pushed him
-      gently into one of the corner sofas, and seating herself in his lap,
-      looked straight into his eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; she said, with a little sob in her voice, &ldquo;you
-      are angry.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am annoyed, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You spoke pretty cross, papa; if you hadn't said 'my
-      little daughter,' I should have cried right there&mdash;I know I
-      should.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are my little daughter always, you know, no matter what
-      happens, and that's one reason I cannot bear to have you do anything
-      that seems the least mite bold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, you said something like that to the captain;&rdquo; and as
-      though she would have given all the world if he hadn't, &ldquo;but I
-      didn't mean to be bold really, only I felt so sorry for Chris;&rdquo;
-      and then she proceeded to tell, as coherently as her emotions would allow,
-      of her unexpected encounter with her old friend, and how dreadful it would
-      have been if they could not have seen anything of each other just because
-      Chris was a second-cabin passenger, and of how she had mustered all her
-      courage and gone straight to the captain to see what could be done about
-      it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he said it would be quite against the regulations, did he?&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, immediately becoming interested in the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; he said I could go to see Chris in the second cabin&mdash;he'd
-      easily manage that&mdash;and then he said he knew I had something more on
-      my mind, and made me tell him, and that was whether Chris could come to
-      the first cabin sometimes, so as to look off at the bow. Do you think it
-      was so very, very bold to ask that when he said I could not go till I told
-      him?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; that puts it in a different light, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I think&mdash;I think (for whatever her faults Marie-Celeste
-      was fastidiously honest) the captain himself did not quite like it when I
-      first spoke to him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He got over his not-liking very quickly, then,&rdquo; said her
-      father, glad to be able to give a grain of comfort to his troubled little
-      daughter, &ldquo;but it would have been better to come to me first. It's
-      one thing to be fearless and another thing to be&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know, papa,&rdquo; putting her finger to her father's lips;
-      &ldquo;please don't say that dreadful word again; I'll
-      remember;&rdquo; and Mr. Harris, knowing that she would, gave the little
-      girl on his knee a good, hard hug, and bundled her off for a word with her
-      mamma, comfortably tucked up in a steamer-chair on deck, and then hurried
-      her down to the saloon for the breakfast that she stood in sore need of
-      after such an eventful morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IV.&mdash;A FRIEND BY THE WAY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9040.jpg" alt="9040 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9040.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>artley,&rdquo;
-      called a cheery voice from somewhere forward. Chris was on his feet in an
-      instant, and turning in the direction of the voice, discovered Mr. Harris
-      and Captain Revell. It is astonishing how much can be couched in the ring
-      of a word when one looks carefully to it; and the tone in which Mr. Harris
-      called &ldquo;Hartley&rdquo; was enough to put Chris at his ease in an
-      instant, and to make him hurry to the little gate with all fears as to his
-      reception skurrying to the winds. Mr. Harris at once introduced him to
-      Captain Revell, and Captain Revell as speedily informed him of the call
-      with which Marie-Celeste had favored him and of her errand. &ldquo;We are
-      good friends, Marie-Celeste and I,&rdquo; said Hartley proudly, &ldquo;and
-      I was counting on seeing something of her on the way over, but I
-      understand now, of course, how it cannot be, and that we must content
-      ourselves with a word now and then here at the gate, if Mr. Harris is
-      willing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you are mistaken, Hartley,&rdquo; said the captain cordially,
-      for he took to the man the moment he saw him. &ldquo;There is nothing to
-      prevent your little friend from making you a visit whenever she likes. I
-      have shown her the way myself through the passage below decks, and you are
-      welcome to come forward in the same fashion whenever the bow has any
-      attraction for you. As you are alone, you will hardly be missed from the
-      second cabin, and it will be unnecessary to inform anyone of your special
-      privileges;&rdquo; and then the captain, who had an aversion to being
-      thanked, moved hurriedly away before Chris had had a chance to put his
-      gratitude into words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She's a fearless little body, that little daughter of ours,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris at the close of the long talk he and Chris had been having
-      at the gate. &ldquo;I sometimes wonder what we had better do about it. She
-      arrives at decisions so quickly and acts so promptly and is so outspoken,
-      that she'll get herself and all of us into serious trouble some day,
-      I imagine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never you fear, Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Chris warmly; &ldquo;that
-      kind do more good than harm;&rdquo; and Mr. Harris believed in his heart
-      that Chris was right. On thinking it over, he wondered too if he had not
-      been rather easily annoyed with Marie-Celeste that morning, and if, on the
-      whole, she had not been more brave than bold in her call upon the
-      captain.. He would have been quite sure on that score had he known how the
-      little heart had thumped and the little knees trembled as she made her way
-      to the captain's room. But in any case he did not regret having put
-      the little daughter on her guard. It would help rather than hinder that
-      little woman's numerous projects should she learn to think twice
-      before putting her quick resolves into action.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Marie-Celeste herself had been making a new friend. A gentleman,
-      entered on the passenger list as Mr. E. H. Belden, sat just at the
-      entrance of the main stairway, a cigar poised in his left hand, a book
-      balanced in his right; the book closed for the moment, with his forefinger
-      marking the place, and his elbow resting on the arm of his steamer-chair.
-      To all appearances, Mr. E. H. Belden was absorbed in meditation, and
-      presumably in a line of thought suggested by the book be had temporarily
-      suspended reading&mdash;a line of thought, at any rate, that made him
-      wholly oblivious to his surroundings. It was somewhat of a surprise,
-      therefore, for him to find his book flying out of one hand with a momentum
-      that swept the cigar out of the other; but he did not need to look far or
-      long for an explanation. &ldquo;Oh, I'm so sorry,&rdquo; gasped a
-      breathless little body, as quickly as she could reverse engines and bring
-      herself in front of the offended party. &ldquo;It was very careless of me.
-      I slipped because I tried to turn too short a corner. Please let me get
-      the book for you,&rdquo; and she bounded to the spot where it had landed,
-      while Mr. Belden, detecting a faint scorching odor, hastened to rescue the
-      lighted cigar from the folds of a steamer rug lying on the next chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope it hasn't strained the cover,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste, looking the book over carefully before returning it.
-      &ldquo;They are a little too fine for steamer use, aren't they?&rdquo;
-      for it was a volume from the ship's library, and boasted a costly
-      half-calf binding.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, rather too fine,&rdquo; attracted and pleased by the child's
-      friendliness; &ldquo;but you have not done it any harm, I think.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There was no use in my being in such a hurry. I think I will make
-      myself sit right down here a few moments for punishment.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would, by all means,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden, smiling at the
-      inference to be drawn from the remark.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was only on my way to our state-room for a book,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste further explained. &ldquo;It is called 'The Story of a
-      Short Life.' Did you ever read it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, but I think I should like it, for I find life rather too
-      stupidly long myself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, how is that?&rdquo; Marie-Celeste exclaimed, as though nothing
-      could possibly have more interest for her, as indeed, for the moment,
-      nothing could.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I fancy I cannot exactly make you understand how. I haven't
-      very good health, that's one reason; and too much money, that's
-      another; and not very much faith in human nature, for a third; besides, no
-      one in the world that I care very much for; so you see I am in rather a
-      bad plight.&rdquo; Marie-Celeste sat and stared at Mr. Belden, and Mr.
-      Belden, all intent, closely watched the effect of this somewhat unusual
-      declaration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is your family motto?&rdquo; she queried, after a moment's
-      serious reflection.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why in Heaven do you ask that?&rdquo; for Mr. Belden, who was not
-      in the habit of talking to children, was not as wise as he might have been
-      in his choice of words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste straightened up a little, as though to show she did not
-      quite approve, and then she replied, with an air of childish dignity that
-      was vastly amusing, &ldquo;Because it was his family motto that helped
-      Leonard (he's the boy in the story I spoke about) ever so much, and
-      that taught him to be cheerful and contented, and it seems to me&rdquo;&mdash;this
-      last very slowly and thoughtfully&mdash;&ldquo;that you are very much like
-      Leonard, only grown up. I suppose, as you're English, you've
-      surely got a family motto.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you know I'm English?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because papa said, when you were walking on the deck last
-      evening, that 'you were very English indeed.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, do you think, on the whole, that your father meant to be
-      complimentary?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not know exactly, but papa likes almost everything in England,
-      and we have some English relatives whom we are very fond of. They live in
-      Windsor, and we are going to spend the summer with them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In Windsor?&rdquo; with evident surprise; &ldquo;and what is their
-      name, may I ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harris, the same as ours;&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste detected nothing
-      unusual in the question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So?&rdquo; and then, as Mr. Belden seemed suddenly to retire into
-      himself and his own thoughts, she made a move to go.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, don't go yet; seems to me you ought to talk to me a while
-      longer, if only for punishment, as you said.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, I didn't say quite that,&rdquo; for the first time
-      appreciating the situation; &ldquo;but anyhow I shall not bother about it,
-      because you know what I meant.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I do,&rdquo; more touched than he would have cared to
-      admit by her confiding friendliness; &ldquo;but I want you to wait,&rdquo;
-      he added, &ldquo;while I try to answer your question about our family
-      motto. I've never thought much about it, but it's 'Dwell
-      as though about to depart,' or some cheerful stuff like that. It's
-      the kind of a motto, you see, to give one an unsettled sort of feeling,
-      instead of making him contented.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's queer,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;but I believe&mdash;yes,
-      I'm sure that very motto stands at the head of one of the chapters
-      in my book.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed? Why, then, I should like to read it. Will you have finished
-      with it before the voyage is over?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I'm through with it now really. I'll get it for you
-      right away,&rdquo; and suiting the action to the word, she was off one
-      moment and back the next with the book in her hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me a little what it's about, please,&rdquo; urged Mr.
-      Belden, unwilling to let this new little friend give him the slip, and
-      nothing loath, Marie-Celeste settled comfortably back in the steamer-chair
-      beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You think it won't spoil it for you?&rdquo; she asked, by way
-      of preface.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And thus reassured, she launched out upon a detailed narration of Mrs.
-      Ewing's beautiful story, graphically describing little Leonard's
-      fortunes and trials, and his heroic self-mastery at the last.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0044.jpg" alt="0044 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0044.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see he wasn't a goody boy at all,&rdquo; she said, when
-      all was told, &ldquo;just brave and grand.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden, which was quite true,
-      notwithstanding a strange and wholly new sensation in his eyes. &ldquo;And
-      now if you will excuse me,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I will go down to the
-      smoking-room and commence the book at once.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste was rather surprised to find herself left thus abruptly
-      alone. Happily for her, however, she did not know how sadly akin to
-      Leonard's had been some of Mr. Belden's experiences, or she
-      would have flinched a little in the telling. It was the realization of
-      this kinship of experience and yet of the widely different effect upon
-      soul and character that had impelled him to take his sudden leave of
-      Marie-Celeste, and then, pausing a moment at the smoking-room door, he
-      went on and down to his state-room, for he had much to think over, and a
-      long, long time he sat there, his elbows resting on his knees and his face
-      buried in his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER V.&mdash;AND STILL ANOTHER.
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>lthough a
-      transcendent interest in grown-up people is one of the traits that make it
-      worth while to tell this story of a summer in the life of little
-      Marie-Celeste, yet she was none the less a friend of children of her own
-      age, or over it or under it for that matter, provided they seemed to stand
-      in want of a friend. Otherwise, it must be confessed, she concerned
-      herself very little about them. Born with a positive genius for spending
-      and being spent, the claims and opportunities of ordinary child
-      friendships seemed hardly to give her enough breathing room; and so it
-      chanced that she passed very little time with the faultlessly dressed and
-      somewhat overcared-for children of the steamer, who did not seem to need
-      her, and a great deal of time with Chris and Mr. Belden, who did. Be it
-      said to the credit of the latter gentleman that, after that first
-      conversation with Marie-Celeste, he was far more careful in the way he
-      talked with her, and Mr. Harris was quick to discover the fact, or the new
-      friendship would have ended as unexpectedly for Mr. Belden as it had
-      begun. There was about Marie-Celeste at all times the same implicit
-      childish confidence that unnerved the bold robber in &ldquo;Editha's
-      Burglar,&rdquo; and yet she herself was always quick to discover when this
-      same confidence was being taken advantage of, and when she would best fly
-      to cover. More than once she had shown in her contact with people an
-      inerrancy of intuition (if my youngest readers will excuse two such big
-      words) that had greatly gratified her father and mother, who had a theory
-      of their own about the education of children, and gave her rather more
-      rein than some would consider either safe or advisable. At the same time,
-      every movement of the little daughter was carefully watched and every
-      project followed up by a certain paternal relative, and never more so than
-      during those days of steamer life, when so many hours were passed with the
-      new friend and the postman. When with Chris it was forward clear to the
-      bow to lean over the rail and see the magnificent prow cut the water; or
-      way to the stern, to watch the far-shining train, the screws churned into
-      white foam behind them; or an hour 'midships, where the ever-varying
-      amusements with which the steerage passengers beguile the weary hours can
-      be looked down upon from the saloon deck of either first or second cabin.
-      Then, at five every clear day, afternoon tea with the captain, for which
-      they had a standing invitation, and by means of which both she and Chris
-      came to be on terms of wonderful intimacy with that august officer, so
-      that they joked over the rare souchong and delicious little toasted cakes
-      (the secret of whose making was kept close-guarded by the steward) with a
-      familiarity that, to themselves at least, never ceased to be a wonder.
-      With Mr. Belden everything was different. It was generally after an hour
-      or so of prowling about with Chris, and when she was a little tired and in
-      the mood for a quiet talk, that she would seek him out; and, as a rule,
-      she would find him comfortably tucked up in a steamer rug, with another
-      awaiting her coming on a chair beside him. Then Chris, after carefully
-      tucking her in, in most approved fashion, would be off, with a touch of
-      his hat, and with profound gratitude in his heart for the strength of limb
-      and muscle that made him regard Mr. Belden's inactive life in the
-      light of a sorry burden. That the latter often so regarded himself was
-      evident in the ever-deepening lines of weariness that seamed his pale and
-      handsome face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what have you and your good Chris been up to to-day?&rdquo;
-      would be invariably Mr. Belden's first question; and after
-      Marie-Celeste had told the little or much there was to tell, they would as
-      invariably drift round to talking about books, for they both loved them.
-      One day it was &ldquo;Little Lord Fauntleroy&rdquo; and &ldquo;Hans
-      Brinker,&rdquo; and then Marie-Celeste &ldquo;had the floor&rdquo;; and
-      the next it was &ldquo;The Story of a Short Life,&rdquo; when honors were
-      even, as they used to say in whist, because both had so lately read it.
-      And then for three days together, during the hour for the daily chat,
-      Marie-Celeste sat an entranced listener, while the wonderful story was
-      told of beautiful little Isabel of Valois, the child-queen whom Richard of
-      Bordeaux brought to England at the age of nine, and whose childish reign
-      was so soon concluded. It had chanced that the book that had been brushed
-      so summarily from Mr. Belden's hand when Marie-Celeste made his
-      acquaintance had proved to be Dixon's &ldquo;Royal Windsor;&rdquo;
-      and as soon as the terms of their friendship were unquestionably
-      established, she made so bold as to ask many questions regarding its
-      contents; for what could have more interest for a Windsor-bound little
-      maiden than the story of the Royal Castle? And the best part of it was
-      that the book happened to be the second volume, and therefore contained
-      the history of Madame la Petite Reine, as the little French Isabel was
-      called. Never proved fairy tale more charming than this true story as it
-      fell from Mr. Belden's lips. Over and over he told it, adding each
-      time some delightful new touch of detail, till at last Marie-Celeste knew
-      it quite by heart, and rested therein contented.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But not all of their little daughter's time, that Mr. and Mrs.
-      Harris were willing to spare to others, was spent with these grown-up
-      friends of hers. On the second day out Chris had made a most interesting
-      and pathetic discovery. A little sick bugler was stowed away in an
-      undesirable second-cabin state-room that had remained unengaged; and
-      Chris, noticing that a bowl of broth or some sort of nourishing food was
-      carried thither three times a day, but that apart from this no one ever
-      entered or left the state-room, questioned the steward, and as soon as he
-      learned the facts, made his own way in, to the great delight of the lonely
-      little fellow. Then the next morning he interested Mrs. Harris (who was
-      proving a far better sailor than any one had dared to hope) in his new
-      little <i>protégé</i>, and after that, as a matter of course,
-      Marie-Celeste and the little bugler became the best of friends.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; she said on her second visit, for the one preceding
-      had naturally been limited to the ordinary themes of first acquaintance,
-      &ldquo;I wish you would tell me a little more about yourself. Mamma says
-      you have been ill a long time in New York with a fever, but that now you
-      are quite over it and are on your way home; and that's all we know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's all there is,&rdquo; running one little white hand
-      through his hair as he spoke, in an apparent effort to make himself more
-      presentable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you're all right,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, smiling;
-      &ldquo;curly hair like yours looks better when it's mussed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like me to come and straighten you up a bit?&rdquo;
-      called Chris, who had really established himself as Donald's nurse,
-      and sat whittling in his own state-room just across the passage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Chris, he doesn't need you at all,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      volunteered; &ldquo;he looks very fine as he is&rdquo; (which gracious
-      compliment brought a very becoming color to the little blanched face).
-      &ldquo;Besides, Chris, he is going to tell me something about himself&mdash;aren't
-      you, Donald? Just what you choose, though, you know, because mamma said I
-      must not seem to be inquisitive, and I'm not, Donald, really&mdash;just
-      interested, that's all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What kind of things do you want to know?&rdquo; as though quite
-      willing to be communicative, but at a loss where to begin.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, how you happened to be a bugler, and how you happened to be
-      ill in New York, and where your home is?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No home,&rdquo; said Donald, laconically, and with an unconscious
-      little sigh that went straight to Marie-Celeste's heart; &ldquo;I
-      was in the Foundling Hospital all my life till I came on the Majestic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ill all your life!&rdquo; exclaimed Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh lands, no! I never was ill a day that I know of till that fever
-      got hold of me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then why did you stay in an hospital?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was more what we call an asylum in America,&rdquo; explained
-      Chris, who, as a permitted eavesdropper, felt at liberty to join in the
-      conversation on occasion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a place,&rdquo; explained Donald, &ldquo;where children
-      are cared for who haven't any particular fathers or mothers.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, but in a bewildered way, as though
-      she could not quite take in the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It isn't very pleasant not knowing who you belong to, but it
-      isn't such a bad place to stay. They keep things scrubbed up to the
-      nines, and everything's as neat and well ordered as a ship. I think
-      being trained that way was one thing that made me want to go to sea.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was easy to see, from the grave look on Marie-Celeste's face,
-      that she was still pondering the sad predicament of &ldquo;no particular
-      father or mother,&rdquo; but she asked, &ldquo;Where was the hospital,
-      Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In London; and like as not if you go there you'll go out to
-      see it. They always have lots of visitors on Sundays. They dress the girls
-      up awful pretty in black dresses with short sleeves, and mitts that come
-      way up over the elbow, like ladies' gloves at a party, and caps and
-      kerchiefs folded crosswise round their shoulders, like this.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've seen a picture of them singing out of a book, haven't
-      you?&rdquo; called Chris, by way of illustration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so I have,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;we gave an
-      artist-proof of it to our minister one Christmas.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I've seen it too,&rdquo; continued Donald, wondering whether
-      an artist-proof and a waterproof had anything in common; &ldquo;but the
-      girls aren't often so handsome as that; but I'll tell you when
-      they do look pretty as a picture: that's on a clear Sunday morning,
-      just about midway in the service, when the sun comes streaming through one
-      of the choir windows in a great white shaft of light, I think they call
-      it. It just goes slanting across the benches, and then the girls it
-      happens to strike, no matter how homely they are, really look just
-      beautiful, with their white caps and kerchiefs all lighted up in the
-      sunshine. I used to think they put the girls on that side to show them
-      off, for the boys just look pretty much as boys always do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you have a home now, haven't you, Donald, that you're
-      going to when we reach England?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I don't know where I'm going I haven't
-      decided,&rdquo; he added, with studied indifference; for Donald preferred
-      not to burden these new friends of his with his trials and perplexities.
-      Likely as not he would be able to find some decent enough place in
-      Liverpool, and he thought, if he managed very carefully, his savings might
-      be made to hold out till he could put to sea again on his dear old
-      Majestic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now I'd like to know all about you,&rdquo; said Donald,
-      by way of changing the subject; &ldquo;there must be a deal more to tell
-      when you've had your father and mother to help you remember things,
-      than when you've had to do all the remembering yourself. Getting
-      your start in a foundling hospital is sort of like being led into the
-      world blindfold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pretty old talk for a youngster,&rdquo; thought Chris; &ldquo;but I
-      suppose it comes along of his being alone half the time, with so much
-      chance to think.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like me to commence at the very beginning,&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;when I was just a mere scrap of a thing?&rdquo;
-      Donald nodded assent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, I was rather good-looking, if you don't mind, and
-      a real sunshiny little body, papa says.&rdquo; Donald looked as though he
-      could readily believe it, and Chris, in the retirement of his stateroom,
-      shook his head, as though he felt sure of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But of course I soon got over that, and almost as soon as I was in
-      short dresses I began to show I had quite a little will of my own, and
-      then for two or three years they had a pretty hard time with me. I would
-      have regular tantrums, and just kick and scream if I couldn't do
-      just what I wanted to. I had two dear little brothers then, and I remember&mdash;-yes,
-      I remember this myself&mdash;how they used to amuse me and try to make me
-      good. And sometimes they seemed very proud of me, and sometimes, Donald, I
-      was proud of myself, too. Mamma used to dress me in white dresses with
-      short sleeves that came just to my elbow, tied round with pink or blue
-      ribbons, and a sash to match, tied on one side in front, and I knew it was
-      pretty and stylish, and used to walk around with my head in the air, and
-      people would laugh and say I was awfully cunning. Somehow or other I was
-      rather spoiled, you see; but when I was only five years old Louis and Jack
-      died, both in one week, of diphtheria, and mamma says from that week I
-      have never given her any real trouble. It seemed as though I remembered
-      how Louis and Jack wanted me to be good, and so I did try very hard. And
-      now I almost always think of them when I am getting into a temper, and if
-      I get the best of it, I feel that they know and are glad.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It must have been hard for your mother to do without them,&rdquo;
-      said Donald a little awkwardly, but with his face full of sympathy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Very hard, Donald; and oh, how she used to cry; but mamma is very
-      good and sweet, and is so thankful that she has papa and me left. You
-      know, Jack and Louis used to say, 'Jesus, gentle Shepherd.' at
-      bedtime every night, just as I do, and mamma says she thinks of them now,
-      just as little lambs safe-folded by the dear Shepherd they used to pray to
-      every night. I think it's that that makes her brave and bright.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's a beautiful way to think,&rdquo; said Donald warmly,
-      and Chris thought so too, and stopped whittling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you no brothers or sisters now?&rdquo; questioned Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, none; so, you see, it would be a shame if I didn't try to
-      be all the comfort I could; and now you know all there is about me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, no, I don't,&rdquo; said Donald, surprised, folding his
-      hands behind his head by way of a change of position; &ldquo;I don't
-      know where you live, or where you are going, or how you came to know Mr.
-      Hartley, or what you are going to do this summer;&rdquo; whereupon
-      Marie-Celeste straightway proceeded to give all the desired information,
-      and more besides.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Watchful Chris thought he began to detect signs of weariness in Donald's
-      occasional answers, and as soon as he felt sure of it he bundled
-      Marie-Celeste off in a hurry, and pinning a shawl over the port-hole, left
-      the little convalescent for a nap undisturbed in his darkened state-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And now you have at least an idea of how Marie-Celeste passed her time on
-      the steamer, and you can understand how there might have been some people
-      rather less glad than sorry when they felt the machinery stop at two o'clock
-      one morning, and knew that the Queenstown passengers were being
-      transferred to the tender, and that before sunset all the people aboard
-      the great steamer would be separated to the four winds. Chris was sorry,
-      because he had looked forward with so much pleasure to the voyage across
-      with Marie-Celeste, and it had all so far exceeded his expectations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald was sorry, because he never had met &ldquo;such lovely people&rdquo;
-      as the Harrises and Mr. Hartley, and never expected to again, and I half
-      believe Mr. Belden was sorriest of all. He was going right up to his club
-      in London, to lead the same old loveless, self-centred life, and somehow
-      the glimpse of something very different he had had through Marie-Celeste
-      made it appear more vapid and colorless than ever. But the steamer did not
-      mind how any of her passengers were feeling&mdash;she must make the best
-      possible record, no matter who was glad or sorry; and on she steamed, past
-      lonely and beautiful Holyhead, and then through the wide Irish Sea (that
-      seems indeed a veritable ocean in its wideness), until land once more was
-      sighted and the harbor reached, and the anchor dropped off the wonderful
-      docks at Liverpool. And then, in a few moments, the tender that was to
-      land them was bearing down upon them, and a handsome, eager-faced little
-      fellow, in an Eton jacket, was standing as far forward as possible in her
-      bow, and an older fellow, who resembled the younger one closely, was
-      standing, I am happy to say, close beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VI.&mdash;THE CASTLE WONDERFUL.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9054.jpg" alt="9054 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9054.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was marvellous
-      what a change came over the pretty little house where Ted and Harold lived
-      almost as soon as Aunt Lou, as they called Mrs. Harris, came to feel at
-      home there. The servants were the same that had been with them at the time
-      of their mother's death, and had been as faithful as they knew how
-      to be, even when their patience had been well-nigh exhausted by &ldquo;Mr.
-      Theodores&rdquo; unreasonable demands of the previous summer; and, indeed,
-      unreasonable had been no word for it. There are boys and girls everywhere
-      who know, to their sorrow, what it means to have the big brother come home
-      from college. How he does lord it over the rest of us! And if he chances
-      to bring a new chum along with him, whom he rather wants to impress, then
-      heigh-ho! for a hard time for everybody. He pays little or no heed at all
-      to the ordinary regulations of the household, and meals must wait for an
-      hour, or be served in a jiffy, as best suits his humor or convenience. Of
-      course there are some good fellows of whom this is not true at all, and
-      even those of whom it is, as a rule, in time get over it; but meanwhile
-      the mothers grow quite worn out sometimes, and the mischief fares on past
-      mending. So much for our little protest against a tendency of college
-      life. The bother of it is, it is not likely in the least to help matters.
-      As for Ted, you can imagine the life he led those servants of his, with
-      four college-men his guests for the summer, and no one to gainsay him.
-      Early and late they were kept slaving away, with never a spark of
-      consideration shown them, and nothing but the love they had borne their
-      mistress and an occasional kind word from Harold, proving how he felt in
-      the matter, had carried them through it. Still faithful as they had been,
-      something had gone out of the house with its sweet little mistress, that
-      had happily come in again with Aunt Lou, and Harold was quick to recognize
-      it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible you've been here only a week?&rdquo; he asked
-      as they all sat together one evening in the library&mdash;that is, with
-      the exception of Theodore, whose spring term still kept him at Oxford.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Just a week to-day, Harold,&rdquo; said Aunt Lou, looking up from a
-      great mass of crocheting, that would soon be a full-grown afghan; &ldquo;I
-      hope it hasn't seemed more like a month to you, dear.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It has seemed as though mother was back&mdash;that's the way
-      it has seemed, and it's been like a bit of heaven and if ever Mrs.
-      Harris felt repaid for anything in her life, she felt repaid that moment
-      for their journey across three thousand miles of water.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder what it is makes such a difference with a woman&mdash;that
-      is, a lady&mdash;in the house?&rdquo; Harold added. &ldquo;I suppose you
-      can't exactly understand it, but even the books, and things on that
-      table there, have a different look since you came, Aunt Lou.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Aunt Lou crocheted away for dear life, and looked very happy, and Uncle
-      Fritz laid aside his book, and announced wisely, &ldquo;I can tell you
-      what makes the difference if you want to know, Harold; it's the
-      countless little touches here and there. You notice now and then, and you'll
-      see that Aunt Lou is forever changing the position of something, if it's
-      only a chair as she passes or the lowering of a window-shade by the
-      fraction of an inch. It's a sort of intuitive&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's just mamma's own self, that's what it is,&rdquo;
-      interrupted Marie-Celeste, since her father seemed to be at a loss for a
-      word, and she put her two arms around her mother's neck, as much as
-      to say, &ldquo;Isn't a mother like mine the darlingest thing?&rdquo;
-      and then a little fellow, who didn't have any mother, quite
-      unconsciously to himself, drew a great deep sigh, and Mrs. Harris gave her
-      little daughter a furtive push from her. Marie-Celeste looked puzzled a
-      moment, and then she understood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Remember, my little girl,&rdquo; Mrs. Harris had said to her more
-      than once, &ldquo;that there's nothing but sin itself has so many
-      heavy hearts to answer for as thoughtlessness; and thoughtfulness, next to
-      love, has lightened and brightened more hearts than anything else in the
-      world and Marie-Celeste knew how thoughtless she had been to press home
-      upon Harold in any way a keener sense of his own great loss. Resolved that
-      it should never happen again, and annoyed at herself beside, Marie-Celeste
-      moved away to the window on the other side of the room. There was somebody
-      sitting at the window&mdash;somebody half asleep in a great arm-chair, and
-      all but purring with contentment, and it was no one else than Donald, if
-      you please. It had all come about so beautifully, that morning that Harold
-      had come out to meet them on the tender, at Liverpool. It had taken nearly
-      two hours to transfer the baggage after the steamer had come to anchor,
-      and during that time Marie-Celeste had stolen away to have a last chat
-      with Donald. He sat propped up in Mr. Belden's steamer-chair,
-      whither two of the stewards had carried him, and lying out there in the
-      open air, he seemed to look paler than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is your little white-faced friend?&rdquo; Harold had asked at
-      the first opportunity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that is Donald you heard mamma speak about!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald who?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I don't really know who, and nobody does! He is called
-      Donald Brown. He was brought up in the Foundling Hospital, in London, and
-      hasn't any particular father or mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My! but that's hard; and he's been awfully ill, hasn't
-      he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, for weeks and weeks in New York with a fever; and he hasn't
-      gained a bit of strength on the voyage, either.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's going home, I suppose?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's going: somewhere, but I don't believe he knows
-      where. The steamer, he says, seems most like home to him. He's one
-      of the cabin boys and buglers when he's well.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;let's bring him home to
-      Windsor!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, could you?&rdquo; cried Marie-Celeste, who had thought of the
-      selfsame thing herself, but had not dared to suggest it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if Ted will mind?&rdquo; as though thinking the matter
-      over. &ldquo;I think I'd better ask him; but I shall do it anyway,
-      since this is my summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your summer?&rdquo; but Harold had no time to explain, and hurried
-      over to Ted, who was talking with Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou, and who was
-      gracious enough to say, &ldquo;Do as you like, Harold and as that, you
-      see, was just what Harold had meant to do, there was no trouble at all
-      about it. And this was the beautiful way it had happened, and Donald was
-      being built up and strengthened with all sorts of nourishing food, and was
-      gaining strength every day.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, curling up on the window bench
-      beside his chair, &ldquo;just how do you feel this morning?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;First-rate; better than any day yet,&rdquo; said Donald, who, by
-      the way, never called Marie-Celeste by any name whatsoever&mdash;&ldquo;Marie-Celeste&rdquo;
-      seemed quite too familiar, and &ldquo;Miss Harris&rdquo; was out of the
-      question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, do you want to hear about <i>it</i> now?&rdquo; she
-      asked eagerly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You bet I do,&rdquo; and then Donald begged her pardon with a
-      blush.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's quite a long story; are you sure you feel strong enough?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sure;&rdquo; and forthwith Marie-Celeste sailed away on the wings
-      of a marvellous story. It had been a wonderful week, that first week at
-      Windsor, and Marie-Celeste had tried to see it all with two pairs of eyes;
-      for born little Englishman though Donald probably was, it had been only
-      since he had actually come to Windsor that he knew anything whatever about
-      it. Coming out in the train from London, the beautiful castle had first
-      flashed upon our little party, through the perfect arch of the frequent
-      English rainbow, and Donald had straightway asked, &ldquo;Oh, what is
-      that?&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste had straightway replied, &ldquo;Why,
-      Donald, of course that's the castle!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whose castle?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The <i>Queen of England's, Donald!</i>&rdquo; as though such
-      a lack of knowledge was simply incredible. So, you see, there was a vast
-      amount of ignorance to be enlightened, and Marie-Celeste was fairly
-      revelling at the prospect of being the one to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know,&rdquo; she said, commencing in a low tone, so as not to
-      disturb the others, and with the introductory long breath of the
-      conventional story-teller, &ldquo;we have been through the castle three
-      times, so I really know a great deal about it, and it is very fortunate
-      that the Queen happened to be in London, or we shouldn't have seen
-      some of the rooms at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0059.jpg" alt="0059 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0059.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In the first place, Donald, you know how the castle looks from the
-      outside&mdash;the beautiful gray stone walls and the towers with the
-      turrets everywhere you turn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What are turrets?&rdquo; asked Donald, giving evidence at once of
-      such an eager desire to acquire information as Marie-Celeste feared in the
-      long run might prove rather annoying.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I believe it's a round wall that goes like that on the
-      top!&rdquo; tracing an imaginary line in the air with one finger. &ldquo;Well,
-      you go in at one of the gates, and it's just as though you were in a
-      little city of itself. There are roadways and sidewalks and street lamps,
-      and a big church right in front of you, and people coming and going, just
-      like a city. And there's a guard at the gate, and there are guards
-      everywhere. They didn't look very fine, though, for every time they've
-      had on their coats for fear of rain, and seemed all coat and gloves. You
-      know how horrid white cotton gloves are?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For the sake of agreement Donald nodded assent, but he should have thought
-      himself that white gloves of any sort would have been quite imposing, and
-      above all on a soldier.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, the first place we went into was the Albert Chapel; and oh,
-      Donald, but it's beautiful! There's a marble floor shaped in
-      diamonds and circles, and there are such beautiful stained-glass windows,
-      and under each window a picture of something from the Bible, and these
-      pictures are made of different sorts of marble, somehow, and there's
-      a great deal of gold in them, that makes them more beautiful still. But,
-      best of all, because I love anything that has to do with real people,
-      there is a portrait in marble right underneath each window of one of the
-      Queen's children. They are raised, you know, from a flat background,
-      not cut all round like a statue.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand,&rdquo; really very much interested; &ldquo;but
-      why do they call it the Albert Chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was just going to ask you if you knew,&rdquo; with an extremely
-      patronizing air, which Donald noticed, but was quite too courteous to
-      resent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is called that because Albert was the name of the Queen's
-      husband, the Prince Consort, and after his death the Queen built it to his
-      memory. No, she didn't exactly build it, either. There was a king
-      built it long ago for his tomb, and it has quite a history, I believe; but
-      it was the Queen who made it beautiful as it is now. And underneath is a
-      great big tomb, where ever so many royal people are buried&mdash;kings and
-      queens and princes and princesses.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is Prince Albert buried there?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I was going to tell you he is buried in a mausoleum (very proud
-      of the word) at Frogmore, just beyond the Long Walk, as they call it,
-      where we drove you, you remember, day before yesterday.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I guess I shall always remember it; I never saw anything so
-      lovely in my life. It looked just like a picture they used to have in a
-      book called 'Pilgrim's Progress at the hospital.&rdquo;
-      Impatient of the interruption, Marie-Celeste shook her head, as much as to
-      say, &ldquo;Oh, yes, of course anybody knows about 'Pilgrim's
-      Progress;'&rdquo; but Donald, stopping merely to catch his breath,
-      continued: &ldquo;The name under it was Beulah Land, and it meant a sort
-      of heaven; and the Long Walk looked to me as though it might be a straight
-      road to Beulah Land.&rdquo; And older people than Donald have thought the
-      selfsame thing, as they have looked down the same matchless avenue, with
-      its wonderful far-reaching vista of branching elms, and its perfect
-      driveway diminishing to a thread in the distance, with here and there a
-      flock of grazing sheep roaming its ample grass-grown borders, and finding
-      rich and abundant pasture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it does look like that,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, merely by
-      way of politeness, and then at once resumed eagerly: &ldquo;But although
-      the Prince is not really buried in the chapel, there's a beautiful
-      tomb to his memory right in front of the chancel. You must surely see it
-      some day, Donald. The figure of the Prince lies right along the top of it,
-      and he has on wonderful armor, and at his feet is a carved statue of his
-      favorite hound. I think it was fine in them to put it there, don't
-      you? It seems as though faithful dogs ought to be remembered just as well
-      as people. Then there's another beautiful tomb to Prince Leopold. He
-      is really buried there, and he&mdash;but I suppose you'll be more
-      interested in the castle even than in the chapel.&rdquo; and as Donald
-      looked as though he thought he might, and as that was exactly the way he
-      was expected to look, Marie-Celeste complacently continued: &ldquo;Well,
-      first you go up a flight of steps, and you find yourself in a sort of
-      vestibule; and there's a splendid portrait of the architect there&mdash;the
-      man who restored the old parts of the castle and added new parts to it and
-      made it all beautiful as it is now; and from this vestibule you go on and
-      on from one grand room to another. They call them the State Apartments;
-      and they are stately, I can tell you, and some of them have very
-      high-sounding names that I cannot remember. There are wonderful tapestries
-      on the walls&mdash;pictures made in a loom somehow&mdash;and portraits
-      everywhere of royal people. Then there's a room they call the Guard
-      Room, where they have suits of ancient armor; and there's a great
-      oak writing-table in it made from the wood of the old Arctic ship
-      Resolute; and it tells in an inscription on it how she was abandoned by
-      the English, and how she was found by an American whaling-ship captain
-      three years afterwards, who got her free from the ice. And after that the
-      American Government fitted her out and gave her to Her Majesty Queen
-      Victoria as a token of friendship; and then, when she was broken up, a few
-      years ago, they made the table out of the wood. Then there's a chair
-      besides, that's made from an elm-tree that grew where the English
-      beat Napoleon on the field of Waterloo; and in another part of the room,
-      on a piece of a mast, there's a great colossal bust of Lord Nelson;
-      and I'm ashamed to say I don't know anything about him, but we
-      ought to, Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what's more, we do,&rdquo; interrupted Donald, with a
-      little mischievous smile of satisfaction; &ldquo;I guess you can't
-      find a sailor boy on land or sea too young to know about Lord Nelson. If
-      you'd ever been to London you'd know something about him
-      yourself, for one of the grandest squares there is called after the great
-      battle he won at Trafalgar, and there's an ever-so-high column in
-      the centre of it, with a statue of Lord Nelson on top of it. Oh, you ought
-      to see Trafalgar Square, I can tell you!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I shall, of course. No one would come to England without going
-      up to London, would they? But I think you have told me very little about
-      Lord Nelson for Marie-Celeste was somewhat suspicious of Donald's
-      ability in that direction. She soon found to her sorrow, however, that she
-      was mistaken: for Donald forthwith launched forth into such a detailed
-      account of Lord Nelson's history, from his voyage as a boy to the
-      North Pole, to his last great, glorious battle, that the patience of that
-      young lady, who was rather more eager at all times to impart information
-      than to receive it, was sorely tried. Donald, nevertheless, was greatly
-      advanced thereby in her estimation, since it seemed that marvellous
-      ignorance in one direction was unquestionably offset by an astonishing
-      amount of information in another.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I am rather glad to know about him,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste
-      at the first opportunity; &ldquo;and now I'll go on with the castle,
-      shall I?&rdquo; And Donald, somewhat exhausted by his efforts, was
-      altogether willing that she should.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Let me see! Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember&mdash;the Guard Room.
-      Well, the next room to that is the Banqueting all, a wonderful, great, big
-      place, and the ceiling is covered with the crests of the Knights of the
-      Garter. Do you know anything about the Knights of the Garter, Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald, looking utterly mystified, shook his head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do, then,&rdquo; chimed in Harold, who had been listening to the
-      latter part of the conversation; and over he came to the window, dragging
-      his chair after him. &ldquo;Those old Knights are great favorites of mine.
-      Do you want me to tell you about them?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Donald very cordially; and Marie-Celeste said
-      &ldquo;yes&rdquo; as cordially as was possible, considering it meant she
-      should again relinquish her province of story-teller; but Harold, wholly
-      unconscious, proceeded.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you stumble across the Order of the
-      Garter everywhere you turn here at Windsor, and so I've read up a
-      good deal about them, and it's all just as interesting as any story
-      you ever heard. The Order was founded&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean, 'The Order was founded?'&rdquo;
-      interrupted Donald, who was not going to have anything taken for granted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, the Brotherhood of Knights! That is what an Order is, you know,
-      and this one was founded way back in the fourteenth century, in the time
-      of Edward the Third; and they say the way it came to be called the Order
-      of the Garter was this: That King Edward was dancing with the Countess of
-      Salisbury, when she had the misfortune to lose her garter; and then as he
-      stooped to pick it up, and saw every one smiling, he gallantly announced,
-      'that they should shortly see that garter advanced to so high an
-      honor and renown as to account themselves happy to wear it.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that was elegant!&rdquo; cried Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;that is
-      just my idea of a Knight.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, they were truly elegant old fellows in ever so many ways, and
-      they wore elegant clothes, I can tell you; and they do still, for that
-      matter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, are there any Knights nowadays?&rdquo; questioned Donald,
-      incredulously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course there are; and it's a very high honor, indeed,
-      to be made a Knight of the Garter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Made a Knight?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste had an idea that the
-      article was born, not made.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course, Marie-Celeste; that is, when a man is a great man
-      to start with, and then does something to make himself greater, the Queen
-      may reward him by permitting him to become a member of the Order, if there
-      happens to be a vacancy; and there's nothing much finer can happen
-      to a man than that.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But there isn't any real garter business about it now, is
-      there?&rdquo; asked Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed there is. To every new Knight made the Queen gives a dark
-      blue velvet garter, and what's more, they are never to appear in
-      public without them, unless booted for riding, and then they are allowed
-      to wear a ribbon of blue silk under their left boot instead. And there's
-      lots more that's awfully interesting about the Knights; and I tell
-      you what, some day, when Donald's stronger, we'll go up to the
-      castle and St. George's Chapel, and sort of spend the day with the
-      Knights, looking at everything that belongs to them. But now you know
-      something of what the crests on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall mean,
-      and the shields in the panels along the sides, that are waiting for the
-      crests of the Knights that may hereafter be admitted into the Order. In
-      fact, everything in that room has to do with the Knights. The Garter and
-      the Cross of St. George are even woven into the pattern of the carpet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dear me!&rdquo; sighed Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I know very
-      little, indeed, about St. George; and was there ever any place like
-      Windsor for showing you how little you do know, anyway?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Marie-Celeste, there never was,&rdquo; chimed in Mrs. Harris;
-      for both she and Mr. Harris had been listening with interest to Donald;
-      &ldquo;but you ought not to mind that as much as we older folks, who are
-      expected to know a great deal more than you little people. Why, when we
-      first went through the castle the other day with Canon Allyn, I was half
-      afraid to open my lips, for fear of betraying some new ignorance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I wouldn't be afraid any more; you know twice as much
-      as most ladies;&rdquo; for Harold was already the devoted champion of Aunt
-      Lou, and lost no opportunity for proving his devotion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, go on with the castle, please,&rdquo; urged Donald, secretly
-      hoping there would be no more interruptions.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste with a sigh, as though becoming
-      oppressed with the greatness of her undertaking; &ldquo;besides the
-      Banqueting Hall there's the Grand Reception-Room, with a beautiful
-      plate-glass window forming almost all of one end of it, and there's
-      the Waterloo Room, filled with portraits of officers who fought there, and
-      then, in a place they call the Grand Vestibule, there's a splendid
-      statue of the Queen. Everything's grand, you see, wherever you turn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, Oueen or no, I'm sure I shouldn't like to have
-      everything so tearing grand,&rdquo; said Donald, more expressively than
-      elegantly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, nor I; and the Queen doesn't really live in these grand
-      rooms, either. You can only see her very own rooms from the outside, and
-      you can only imagine what they are like; but they point out which is the
-      drawing-room and which is her sitting-room, and they don't call them
-      grand anything, for a comfort, so I suppose they're lovely and
-      homelike, like other people's; but they do look out on a grand
-      garden&mdash;the East Terrace they call it. You saw it the same day we
-      drove down the Long Walk. You remember the bushes all trimmed up to a
-      point, and the flower-beds and the statues, and the fountains playing in
-      the centre. And near the Terrace, Donald, is the Photographer's
-      Studio. Think of having a place all fitted up just to take the pictures of
-      the Queen's own family! That's kind of regal, isn't it?
-      But the finest thing of all is the Royal Pantry. I would give a good deal
-      to look in it. It is crammed full of all sorts of gold things and a gold
-      dinner service of one hundred and fifty pieces.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald's eyes opened as wide at this as extreme drowsiness would let
-      them, so that it was easy to discover that the little convalescent was
-      growing pretty tired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you must just see it all for yourself some day,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste wisely concluded; &ldquo;and you had better go to bed now,
-      Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VII.&mdash;&ldquo;AND NOW GOOD-MORNING,&rdquo;
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9066.jpg" alt="9066 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9066.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ever in all this
-      world was there a happier little host than Harold Harris when he found how
-      kindly his guests from across the water were taking to the life at
-      Windsor; but who would not have taken kindly to it, I should like to know?
-      The Queen herself, in her great castle on the hill, could not have planned
-      more for the comfort of her guests than did Harold in his little castle
-      beneath it; and, indeed, this name of Little Castle had somehow attached
-      itself to the pretty stone house, with its round tower and moat-shaped
-      terrace.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been an idle bachelor's fancy to build after this unique
-      fashion some ten years before; but when Harold's mother had come
-      seeking a home in Windsor, he was already tired of it, and she found the
-      house was &ldquo;To be let,&rdquo; provided desirable tenants could be
-      found; and &ldquo;desirable&rdquo; the little widow proved in the eyes of
-      the discriminating agent. &ldquo;None more so,&rdquo; he thought
-      complacently when he called for the first quarter's rent, and saw
-      what a gem of a place she had made it. All the contents of the house in
-      London, which after her husband's death had seemed too sad a place
-      to live in, had been brought into the ivy-covered little castle, and under
-      her transforming touch it had soon become as cheery and cosey as possible.
-      But it was not enough for Harold that he was able to invite his friends
-      into such an attractive home. A room in the top story, with a fine north
-      light, was fitted up as a studio for Uncle Fritz, who, though a business
-      man by circumstance, was an artist through and through. For Aunt Lou an
-      up-stairs sitting-room was converted into a little study; for although
-      Aunt Lou herself was rather loath to confess it, it was nevertheless
-      somewhat generally known that she was very fond of writing stories for
-      children. For Marie-Celeste there seemed nothing in particular that could
-      be done, save to make her own little room as inviting as could be. To
-      accomplish this, Harold conferred with a friend of Ted's, Canon
-      Allyn's daughter. Miss Allyn, who had been a great favorite of
-      Harold's mother, was only too glad to have him turn to her, and
-      entered into all the preparations with an enthusiasm that was very
-      delightful. She suggested, among other things, a valance and curtains for
-      the little brass bedstead, already purchased, and then went herself and
-      selected a soft, white material and superintended their making. At her
-      suggestion, too, the couch and chairs were upholstered with a pretty
-      flower-patterned cretonne, and some lovely white-framed etchings were hung
-      upon the tinted walls. Then, by grace of his own idea of fitness, Harold
-      had added to the other furnishings a Dresden china toilet-set, and in this
-      he was perhaps far wiser than he knew, for is there anything so well
-      calculated to captivate at sight the heart of a dainty little maiden as
-      the mysterious round-topped boxes that compose the dainty outfit of the
-      ideal dressing-table? Then, to crown it all, a pair of ponies and a
-      basket-phaeton had been purchased for the exclusive use of the guests that
-      were to be. Of course, all this meant money; but with the exception of the
-      previous summer, when Theodore's guests had cost him such a pretty
-      penny, Harold had conscientiously lived a good way inside his income, so
-      that there was a reserve fund to draw on, on demand. As I said, then, who
-      would not have taken kindly to the life at Windsor under such conditions,
-      and have lost no time in stowing themselves happily away in the special
-      niche prepared for them? So Mr. Harris painted as for dear life in all
-      weathers, indoors or out, as the fancy struck him, and Mrs. Harris turned
-      her leisure to account for a bit of writing now and then, and in between
-      times they drove hither and thither in the basket-phaeton, and, one by
-      one, took in all the sights of old and delightful Windsor. And
-      Marie-Celeste did likewise, as far as the driving and sight-seeing were
-      concerned; but having no greater responsibility than the arrangement of
-      the Dresden boxes on the little dressing-table, wandered about at her own
-      sweet will, in the hours while Harold was at school and when every one
-      else was busy. And the place to which she wandered most often was to St.
-      George's Chapel, which at the time of her talk with Donald she had
-      not yet had the good fortune to visit. But with Marie-Celeste, as with
-      some of the rest of us, to know St. George's was to love it, and she
-      had soon gained a standing permission to go there whenever she liked; and
-      that was very often&mdash;so often, in fact, that any one who saw her one
-      lovely May morning tripping down the walk from the Little Castle, as
-      though bent upon some special errand, could easily have guessed her
-      destination. It was a matter of five minutes to reach the corner of High
-      Street, and of three minutes more to climb Castle Hill; then a smile to
-      the guard who happened to be on duty at the gate, and she was within the
-      castle walls. And once there she stopped to take it all in, for it had
-      never seemed so beautiful before; and then in a moment she knew what new
-      touch had been added to the scene. The sun had shone as brilliantly, and
-      the gray round tower, with its grass-grown terraces, had stood out as
-      clearly against the blue of the English sky, but never before&mdash;for
-      Marie-Celeste, that is&mdash;had those terraces been abloom with great
-      masses of lilacs. Two days had come and gone since her last visit, and the
-      showers and sunshine intervening had flashed the myriad tiny buds of every
-      cluster into full and transcendent bloom. No wonder the child held her
-      breath, spellbound from sheer delight, and no wonder, too, that the spell
-      lost its power to hold her the moment she spied a darling, new little
-      friend of hers standing in the chapel doorway. &ldquo;And&mdash;and now
-      good-morning,&rdquo; rang out a cheery little voice as she had hastened up
-      the path.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-morning, Albert,&rdquo; answered Marie-Celeste, smiling at the
-      expected, &ldquo;and now,&rdquo; with which, by way of getting the best of
-      a tendency to stutter, Albert was accustomed to preface many of his
-      remarks; &ldquo;I thought I should find you here,&rdquo; she added;
-      &ldquo;and <i>have</i> you seen the lilacs, Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; and our bushes are out too,&rdquo; with an emphatic little nod
-      of the head, as much as to say, that the Queen's lilacs were not
-      specially privileged in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is your sister going to play this morning?&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, with an eagerness on her face that gave place to intense
-      satisfaction as Albert answered, &ldquo;Yes; she's comin' in a
-      little while;&rdquo; since to have Miss Allyn at the organ during these
-      visits of hers to the chapel was just the most delightful thing that could
-      possibly happen for Marie-Celeste. &ldquo;And now let's have a
-      little chat,&rdquo; said Albert, seating himself on the step, and making
-      room for Marie-Celeste beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what shall we talk about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The weather;&rdquo; for with Albert this topic was always of
-      paramount importance. &ldquo;And first, I'll see what kind of a day
-      we are going to have;&rdquo; and suiting the action to the word, he
-      stepped off a little distance to take an observation. He was always the
-      embodiment of dainty freshness, this little four-year-old Albert, and
-      thanks to his mother's preference, boyish percale dresses still kept
-      the Lilliputian trousers of the period at bay. He was a cunning little
-      object as he strode a few feet down the path, his hat on the back of his
-      golden curls, a soft, red silk sash knotted soldier-like at his side, and
-      his hands folded behind him, in evident and precise imitation of some
-      older observer of the elements. His observations, however, were so
-      exceedingly cursory and so impartially comprehensive, including the path
-      at his feet every whit as carefully as the sky above him, that
-      Marie-Celeste had difficulty in preserving proper decorum.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0070.jpg" alt="0070 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0070.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We are going to have a fine day,&rdquo; Albert asserted, resuming
-      his seat on the steps, and with the authority of one who knows; and the
-      matter of the weather being thus satisfactorily disposed of, Marie-Celeste
-      made so bold as to introduce another subject; and as it chanced to meet
-      with Albert's approval, they chatted merrily together for ever so
-      long. Meantime, a party of tourists, with Marshall's familiar pink
-      guide-hook open in the hands of one of them, had been surveying the chapel
-      at a distance, and now, after a word or two with the children on the
-      doorstep, made their way within.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is Mr. Brooke in the chapel, Albeit?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Albert; for he knew that his answer meant an end
-      to their chat; for whenever during these visits of hers a party of
-      tourists were so fortunate as to secure the services of the verier, Mr.
-      Brooke, Marie-Celeste invariably followed in their train, listening to
-      every word as it fell from the good old man's lips. She already knew
-      many of the monument inscriptions by heart, but that made no difference;
-      for her the old chapel possessed a never-ending fascination, and she
-      rarely crossed the threshold of the choir&mdash;which was a beautiful
-      chapel in itself&mdash;without an actual thrill of pleasure. So, as Albert
-      had expected, this morning proved no exception, and he was unceremoniously
-      left to communion with his own thoughts upon the doorstep; but it did not
-      prove a long separation. In their tour of the chapel the travellers from
-      across the water had but reached the wonderful cenotaph of the Princess
-      Charlotte, when a sweet single chord from the great organ broke upon the
-      air, as though the player simply wanted to make sure that the instrument
-      would respond when the time came. But in that single chord lay a summons
-      for Marie-Celeste and for Albert; at least, they chose so to regard it,
-      and meeting at the foot of the organ-loft stairway, they climbed it
-      hand-in-hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So here you are!&rdquo; said a very sweet-looking young lady,
-      turning to greet the children from her seat on the organ-bench. &ldquo;Seems
-      to me I would have waited for more of an invitation than that, just that
-      one chord.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You needn't mind 'bout inwiting us ever, Dorothy,&rdquo;
-      said Albert, climbing on to a cushioned bench at his sister's side,
-      &ldquo;'cause we'd tome anyhow, wouldn't we,
-      Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Albert, I think we would; but you really don't mind
-      having us, do you, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I <i>really</i> don't,&rdquo; in imitation of
-      Marie-Celeste's frequent use of the word. &ldquo;In fact, I rather
-      like to have two such every-day little specimens near me here in this
-      chapel, where so many great people lie buried; and now I shall not say
-      another word, because I want to have a good practice.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you'll&mdash;&rdquo; and then Marie-Celeste thought
-      perhaps she had better not ask it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Stop in time for your favorites,&rdquo; laughed Miss Allyn,
-      finishing the sentence. &ldquo;Yes, of course I will. Perhaps you'd
-      like them now, you and Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no, Dorothy,&rdquo; said Albert firmly; &ldquo;we want to think
-      they are tomin', and not dat dey're over.&rdquo; And as
-      Marie-Celeste was evidently of the same mind, that settled the matter.
-      Then for the first time the tone of the organ rang out full and strong;
-      and the visitors in the chapel below looked up with rapt faces to the
-      gallery, as though for them, as for Marie-Celeste, the sweet music seemed
-      to lend the last perfecting touch to the holy enchantment of the place.
-      For over an hour, with scarce an interruption, Miss Allyn played on and
-      on, and Marie-Celeste never stirred from the choirmaster's chair, in
-      which she sat absorbed and entranced. Albert, it must be confessed, had
-      made more than one mysterious <i>sortie</i> down the gallery stairs, as
-      though bent on an important errand which had just occurred to him; but in
-      each case he brought up in rather aimless fashion in some remote corner of
-      the chapel; so it was easy to comprehend that the only real purpose in
-      view was to give his restless little four-year-old self the benefit of a
-      change. He was absent on the third of these little excursions of his, and
-      was surreptitiously amusing his audacious little self by seeing how it
-      seemed to sit in the Oueen's own stall, when hark!&mdash;yes, that
-      was going to be &ldquo;The Roseate Hues,&rdquo; and with a bound that came
-      near bringing the royal draperies with him he was out of the stall in a
-      trice and fairly scrambling up the organ stairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bedin aden; it isn't fair; bedin aden, Dorothy, <i>please</i>,&rdquo;
-      he urged with all the breath hurrying and excitement had left him; and
-      Dorothy, at sight of his anxious, entreating face, resolved to &ldquo;begin
-      again,&rdquo; first bringing the interrupted measure to a close with a
-      brief concluding improvisation of her own. Albert understood, and brooked
-      the momentary delay as best he could, but he confided to Marie-Celeste, in
-      highly audible whisper, that he didn't see why Dorothy couldn't
-      stop short off in the middle of a piece if she chose to: he could, anyway&mdash;he
-      knew he could.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, far wiser than she knew,
-      &ldquo;you couldn't if you were really a great musician.&rdquo; And
-      then instantly both children stood still and motionless, for there was the
-      familiar melody again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0073.jpg" alt="0073 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0073.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;De roseate hoos of early dawn,&rdquo; hummed Albert in a cunning,
-      to-himself sort of way,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      De biteness of de day,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      De kimson of de sunset sky,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      How fast dey fade away,&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      and then the same verse through again and still again, as Dorothy was good
-      enough to repeat the brief, sweet strain for his special delectation. It
-      is doubtful if Albert appreciated the pathos of the lines. It was the rose
-      hue of the sunrise and the crimson of the sunset, wedded to the lovely
-      melody of the refrain, that brought such rapture of delight to his
-      color-loving soul.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And now it was Marie-Celeste's turn, and the martial strain of
-      &ldquo;The Son of God goes forth to war&rdquo; woke the old chapel echoes.
-      Three times, as for Albert, the air was played effectively through, and
-      then Miss Allyn slipped down from the organ-bench and into the nearest
-      chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wish I had strength just once,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to play as
-      long as I should like to.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then you'd never stop, Dorothy, not even at the ends,&rdquo;
-      said
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, looking comically doleful at the mere prospect of such an
-      undesirable state of affairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember Mr. Belden told me on the steamer,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste, with the air of one who settles down for a good talk with a
-      familiar friend, &ldquo;of some musician who heard some one strike two or
-      three chords and then suddenly stop, and after that he; could not get a
-      wink of sleep till he jumped out of bed and rushed to his piano and struck
-      the chord that belonged at the end of the others.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; that was Handel, I think,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Handel!&rdquo; repeated Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I want to remember
-      that name and everything else besides, if I can, that Mr. Belden told me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who was this Mr. Belden, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, he was the queerest English gentleman&mdash;an English
-      gentleman that I met on the steamer. I don't think many people liked
-      him&mdash;he said himself they didn't, anyway; but I liked him, and
-      we grew to be great friends, and we had a long chat together almost every
-      day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What about?&rdquo; asked Albert eagerly, since chats were just in
-      his line.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, often about books, and a great deal about the castle here, for
-      he seemed to know all about it. Besides, he was reading a book called
-      'Royal Windsor,' and that was how I came to know him, because I
-      knocked it out of his hands accidentally, and then I had to ask him to
-      excuse me, and that's the way we commenced to be friends. After that
-      he told me a great deal about what he had been reading. And did you ever
-      hear, Albert, about a little French girl who was made Queen of England,
-      and came to live in the castle when she was only eight years old, and who
-      used to come to this very chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, never,&rdquo; with eyes as big as saucers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, some day, Albert, I'll tell you all about her, and some
-      other things that happened right here in St. George's. You know,
-      about her, don't you, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, a little&mdash;Madame La Petite Reine, I believe they called
-      her; but tell me more, Marie-Celeste, about your steamer friend. He must,
-      as you say, have been a queer sort of a person to tell you people didn't
-      like him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I guess it was true, though. He seemed kind of a selfish man, and
-      looked so cross until you came to know him, that I was really very much
-      frightened the day I knocked the book out of his hand. He isn't ever
-      very well, and he has to keep travelling about for his health. I think
-      that's one reason he looks cross; but he's very handsome, and
-      papa says very aristocratic.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would radcr hear about de little Queen,&rdquo; remarked Albert
-      demurely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, dear!&rdquo; said Dorothy; &ldquo;I want to hear more about
-      this Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; did you say his name was Belden,
-      Marie-Celeste? Are you sure it was Belden?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sure; I have it at home in the printed list of passengers. And
-      another queer thing about him&rdquo;&mdash;for there was real pleasure in
-      enlarging on a subject in which her listener took such undisguised
-      interest&mdash;&ldquo;was that he told me one day that he had too much
-      money. That was funny, wasn't it? And he said he thought life was
-      very stupid. He just seemed all out of sorts with everything, and I got
-      him to read the 'Story of a Short Life;' I thought it would do
-      him good, and I'm sure it did.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't know about that story, either,&rdquo; said Albert
-      aggressively, and as though such constant allusion to very interesting
-      things was really more than could be patiently endured; but he found to
-      his sorrow that his gentle protest seemed to make no impression
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fancy it was Mr. Belden, too,&rdquo; continued Marie-Celeste, as
-      though wholly unconscious of any interruption, &ldquo;who asked them to
-      sing 'The Son of God goes forth to war' at the service in the
-      saloon Sunday morning. I think anybody who reads the 'Story of a
-      Short Life' must love that hymn, don't you? That's the
-      reason I'm fond of it. Whenever I hear it I seem to see the soldiers
-      in the church at Asholt and the V.C. out on the door-step, singing the
-      beautiful words loud and clear, so that dear little Leonard would hear;
-      and then the hand pulling down the curtain at the barrack master's
-      window, so that the V.C. knew at once that the little fellow had gone to
-      heaven at last.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it's a beautiful story,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn
-      thoughtfully. But meantime, matters had reached a climax in little Albert's
-      heaving breast. If nothing was to be explained, there was no use staying
-      any longer, and he summarily took his departure; and but for his childish
-      reverence for the sacred place would doubtless have stamped his indignant
-      way down the steps of the spiral stairway. Miss Allyn smiled significantly
-      and rose to follow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;From all you have told me, Marie-Celeste, your friend might well be
-      Theodore's uncle,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn, as they made their way
-      down the stairs; &ldquo;he and Harold have an uncle&mdash;their mother's
-      brother&mdash;a Mr. Harold Selden, who was very much the sort of man you
-      describe.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; I'm sure that couldn't be, Miss Allyn! Because
-      I talked about Harold often, so that he would have known and told me, and
-      he would have told me, too, if his name had not been Bel-den, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Allyn was not so sure of that; but Albert was mounting the wall of
-      the terrace, to which he had led the way, in rather dangerous fashion, and
-      Miss Allyn hurrying to lift the little fellow to a safer level, the
-      conversation ended abruptly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Isn't it beautiful!&rdquo; she said, as Marie-Celeste joined
-      her, at the same time lending a hand toward a less ambitious bit of
-      climbing with which Albert was fain to content himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste looked away over the tops of the fine old trees that just
-      reach to the terraces from the steep decline of the slopes below, way to
-      the lovely meadows, and then turned to look up at the castle, leaning
-      comfortably against the wall at her back.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said seriously; &ldquo;I can't find any words
-      for it all&rdquo;&mdash;her face fairly aglow with enthusiasm as she spoke&mdash;&ldquo;everything
-      is so perfectly lovely: the views, and the towers, and the castle itself,
-      and the chapels, and the wonderful Long Walk, so that it seems as though I
-      was just dreaming it all, even to the little room Harold has fitted up so
-      beautifully for me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was sure it would look very prettily when it was finished,&rdquo;
-      said Miss Allyn complacently. &ldquo;Why, did you see it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course I did! Hasn't Harold told you that I selected
-      the curtains, and the valance, and the hangings, and went with him to buy
-      the set for the toilette-table?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, of course he did. I don't know what I was thinking
-      of. You used to know Aunt Grace very well, didn't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; and loved her with all my heart; and I used to spend a great
-      deal of time at the dear Little Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you know much about Ted, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, not much, dear&mdash;not nowadays; but why do you ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because&mdash;well, I suppose I ought not to say it, but we're
-      awfully disappointed in Ted. He wasn't ever half so nice as Harold,
-      was he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he was&mdash;just as nice every bit; though we English
-      people think that word nice of yours is so very queer. You have heard,
-      haven't you&rdquo;&mdash;for Miss Aliyn was quite willing to change
-      the subject&mdash;&ldquo;of the Englishman who said to a young girl whom
-      he met on the steamer, 'You Americans use <i>nice</i> so much, I
-      think it's a nasty word;' and of how she turned and archly
-      said, 'And do you think <i>nasty</i> is a nice word?'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dood for her,&rdquo; said Albert, thankful that the conversation
-      had once more grown intelligible.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But nobody thinks Ted is so nice now, do they?&rdquo; for
-      Marie-Celeste preferred to keep to the main point.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm afraid not; but they would if he would let them, I'm
-      sure, for he had the makings of a splendid fellow in him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He used to be Dorothy's best friend, didn't he,
-      Dorothy?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, he did, Albert, and I miss him very much. He and Harry are
-      great friends still. Harry's my big brother, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why doesn't he tom to see us now, Dorothy?&rdquo; Albert
-      questioned.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's tired of us, perhaps;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, looking
-      up at Miss Allyn's sweet face, wondered how that could be, and then
-      asked very seriously, &ldquo;Do you know what has changed him, Miss Aliyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, it is easy enough to tell: Oxford and popularity and more
-      money than is good for him, like your friend, Mr. Belden. It takes pretty
-      strong stuff to withstand that combination.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I know one thing,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;and that
-      is that he isn't at all nice to Harold, and that he comes home very
-      seldom, and is very high and mighty when he does come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;High and mighty?&rdquo; queried Albert, with a whimsical little
-      smile. &ldquo;That must be a funny way to be;&rdquo; and then Miss Allyn,
-      more impressed than ever with the doubtful propriety of discussing Mr.
-      Theodore Harris's shortcomings under existing conditions, looked at
-      her watch, and discovering it was time to go home, asked Marie-Celeste to
-      come with them to luncheon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, not to-day, thank you. Mamma will be sending to look me up if I
-      don't hurry home myself. So, good-bye; good-bye, Albert (with a
-      kiss, which the fast-maturing, little fellow was half inclined to resent),
-      and thank you ever so much for the music. Shall you play on Thursday, Miss
-      Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; at this same time, probably.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then I shall surely come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So s'all I,&rdquo; chimed in a little voice with even firmer
-      determination.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VIII.&mdash;SOMETHING OF A SCRAPE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a>
-    </p>
-
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t certainly would
-      seem a very unceremonious proceeding to escort a little party across the
-      great, wide sea, and then follow the fortunes of some of the group, to the
-      utter exclusion of others; so if you please we will just take a look right
-      away at the snug little English cottage to which Chris Hartley hurried the
-      same April morning that he reluctantly took leave of Marie-Celeste at the
-      steamer. The cottage itself is just such a dear little place as you find
-      nowhere else save in England. It is straw-thatched, and thatch and walls
-      alike are mellow with the same soft grav of time and weather. The cottage
-      stands close to the river Thames, on the outskirts of the town of Nuneham.
-      In front is an even hawthorn hedge, that reaches round to the back as
-      well, and encloses a quaint little kitchen garden. Beyond the hedge lies a
-      pasture meadow, where a flock of sheep are grazing, and encircling the
-      meadow another hedge, less closely clipped, and so making bold to riot
-      here and there in a snowy wealth of hawthorn blossom, A fine Alderney cow,
-      with coat as well cared for as the gray mare's in the stable, is
-      also enjoying the sweet grass of the meadow, and the shining milk, pans
-      ranged beneath the kitchen window bear witness to the generous service she
-      renders. Within the little cottage all is as prim and dainty and neat as
-      without, for the sweet-faced old housewife gives as close heed to the
-      household as the &ldquo;gudeman&rdquo; of the house to the flock and the
-      cow and the hedgerows. And this was the home to which Chris had come&mdash;to
-      the grandparents who had cared for his orphaned boyhood, and whom he never
-      would have left but for the more certain prospect of well-paid work across
-      the water. And now five years have gone by, and having grown strong and
-      manly, meantime, through his contact with the world, Chris is back on his
-      first home visit, and you may be sure he has not come empty-handed. For
-      the grandfather there is a new wallet with twenty five-pound notes laid
-      between its leather-scented covers, and for the grandmother a labor-saving
-      gift that will never cease to be a marvel&mdash;a wonder-working churn
-      that turns Bess's milk to butter in just twelve seconds over a
-      minute. And best of all, Chris himself is just the same thoughtful fellow
-      he left them, and at once settles down to a general supervision of the
-      farm, that leaves the old man free to smoke his brier-wood pipe and read
-      the news from morning till night, if he cares to.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are spoiling us, Chris,&rdquo; old Mrs. Hartley would say every
-      time Chris chanced to be within hearing distance, when she brought the
-      golden butter to the surface from the depths of the uncanny churn; and
-      Chris as invariably remarking, &ldquo;There is no fear of that, granny
-      dear,&rdquo; would look as pleased and surprised as though she had not
-      known she could count upon every word of his answer. And now, you see, you
-      have an idea of the quiet, eventless life Chris led on this home visit
-      until one evening in the latter part of June, when something happened. The
-      lane that ran past the meadow and up to the Hartley cottage branched out
-      from the road that led directly to Nuneham from Oxford, and in fine
-      weather there was much driving out that way, so that toward evening Chris
-      would sometimes take a seat on a low gate-post that marked the entrance to
-      the lane and watch the people as they passed. There were always more or
-      less college men among them, driving in stylish drags behind spirited
-      horses or in shabby livery turn-outs, according to their station in life,
-      or rather the condition of their pocket-books. And so it chanced that
-      Chris noticed on this particular June evening&mdash;as, in fact, no one
-      could help noticing&mdash;a very merry party who rolled by in a dog-cart.
-      They were far too merry, in fact, and so noisy that teams in front of them
-      were glad to make way for them, and those they met most desirous to give
-      them a wide berth. It was evident, however, that the young fellow who held
-      the reins knew perfectly well what he was about, and how to handle his
-      horses, so that no danger was actually to be feared in that direction. But
-      what was true at five o'clock in the afternoon was not true a few
-      hours later, and any one who had seen the same party turn their faces
-      toward home, after a rollicking supper and no end of good cheer at
-      Holly-tree Inn, would have prophesied disaster before they reached it.
-      Wondering if they would make their return trip in safety, Chris himself
-      happened to favor them with his last waking thought, ere he fell asleep in
-      his little room under the eaves&mdash;a cosey little room that still was
-      bright even at ten o'clock with the glow of the long English
-      twilight. It was this last conscious thought, no doubt, that made him
-      quick to waken two hours later, when a low, penetrating &ldquo;Helloa
-      there!&rdquo; broke the stillness. Springing to the window, he was able to
-      discern two or three men supporting some heavy burden and standing in
-      front of the cottage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Be as still as possible, please,&rdquo; he said in a loud whisper,
-      mindful of the old people; &ldquo;I will be down in a moment,&rdquo; and
-      instantly recalling the party he had seen drive past to Nuneham, there
-      seemed no need to ask who they were or what had happened.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But expeditious as Chris had been, Mrs. Hartley, in gray wrapper and
-      frilled night-cap, was at the door before him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Some mishap on the road, Chris,&rdquo; she said, her hand trembling
-      on the bolt.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sure, granny; but you'd best let me open the door.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We've had an ugly accident,&rdquo; said one of the men, as
-      the light from within fell upon them; and then as Chris held the door wide
-      open they pressed into the little sitting-room with their gruesome burden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Put him here,&rdquo; Chris directed, clearing the way toward a low
-      box-lounge. &ldquo;He may be badly hurt,&rdquo; he added, but speaking
-      roughly, as though even his pity could scarce conceal his disgust that men
-      should ever allow themselves to get into such a sorry plight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We couldn't tell out there in the dark,&rdquo; answered the
-      only one in the party who seemed to have his wits about him. The other two
-      had at once made their way to the nearest chairs, and with steps so
-      unsteady that Chris wondered how they had been able to lend any aid
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Was he unconscious when you got to him?&rdquo; he asked,
-      unfastening the clothing at the injured man's throat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; he hasn't seemed to know anything from the first. It
-      looks almost as though he might be dying, doesn't it?&rdquo; and the
-      young fellow stood gazing helplessly down at his friend, the very picture
-      of despair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I don't think it's as bad as that. You've
-      been run away with, of course,&rdquo; for the whole party were covered
-      with mud and dirt from head to foot, and there was evidence of two or
-      three ugly cuts and bruises among them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;it was a clean upset, and Ted
-      here was driving, so that the reins got tangled about him, and he was
-      dragged full a hundred yards or so. If the horses hadn't succeeded
-      in breaking away from the trap the moment that it went over, I should have
-      been killed surely, for it fell on top of me in some way, and as it was, I
-      could scarcely get from under it;&rdquo; and the young fellow's
-      blanched face grew a shade whiter as he realized how narrow had been his
-      escape. Meanwhile, with a little maid to hold the light, Mrs. Hartley
-      searched through a tiny corner cupboard for a flask that had been
-      carefully stowed away behind some larger bottles, and then poured a
-      generous share of its contents into a glass held in readiness in the
-      little maid's other hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You give it to him, Chris,&rdquo; she said, not daring to trust her
-      shaking hands; and raising the poor fellow's head, Chris pressed the
-      glass to his lips. As he swallowed the brandy his eyes opened for a
-      moment, but there was no sign of returning consciousness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, the next thing,&rdquo; said Chris, &ldquo;is to get a doctor,
-      and I'll have to drive into Nuneham for him. Do you suppose one of
-      your friends there can help me harness?&rdquo; but one of the friends was
-      already asleep, and the attitude of the other showed that no assistance
-      was to be looked for in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's to be done with them, mother?&rdquo; asked old Mr.
-      Hartley, who, enveloped in an old-fashioned, large-patterned
-      dressing-gown, had arrived rather tardily upon the scene, and had stood
-      for several seconds glaring down at the two disgraceful specimens.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha is making the guest-room ready,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Hartley,
-      showing she was not too old to think ahead in an emergency, and yet
-      drawing a deep sigh with the next breath at the thought of that best
-      spare-room being put to so ignoble a service. Chris had himself been
-      thinking it was rather a serious question to know how to dispose of them,
-      and was glad to have Mrs. Hartley herself suggest the way.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Thank goodness you've got your senses left,&rdquo; said
-      Chris, turning to the young fellow, who really seemed anxious to render
-      every possible service; &ldquo;and if we get them into the room there you
-      can put them to bed, can't you? while I go for the doctor;&rdquo;
-      and in a voice scarcely audible from mortification the young fellow
-      replied that he thought he could; so after some difficulty in making them
-      understand the move impending, the two men were successfully landed in the
-      best spare-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You'll need this,&rdquo; said Chris, pushing a clothes-brush
-      and a whisk-broom on to a chair, &ldquo;and you'll find plenty of
-      water on the stand yonder;&rdquo; then he came out and closed the door, to
-      the infinite and audible relief of the serving-maid Martha. Indeed but for
-      the all too serious side of the whole affair, it would have been amusing
-      to watch that little maid. So great was her horror, either by education or
-      intuition, of the state of inebriety, that the moment she surmised that at
-      least two of these midnight visitors were bordering on the same, she could
-      conceive of no means strong enough to express her disapproval. Every time
-      she had come anywhere near them she had gathered her skirts about her as
-      though in fear of actual contamination, and with her pretty head high in
-      the air, as she moved away, would look askance over her shoulder as though
-      not at all sure even then of being at a safe distance. Indeed, Chris
-      himself could not quite suppress a smile as he saw the relief expressed in
-      every line of Martha's face at the click of the closing door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How did it happen, mother?&rdquo; asked Mr. Hartley, after a long
-      interval in which no word had been spoken.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have not heard yet, Peter; but I don't believe we had
-      better talk. He seems to be growing uneasy. Oh, I do wish Chris would
-      come!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0084.jpg" alt="0084 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0084.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, don't you get flustered, mother&mdash;<i>don't</i>
-      get flustered,&rdquo; bending over the freshly lighted fire and spreading
-      his hands to its blaze.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Mrs. Hartley had taken her station at the side of the senseless
-      fellow on the couch and, her old face tense with anxiety, was rubbing the
-      ice-cold hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now the doctor, Chris, as quick as ever you can,&rdquo; she
-      said gravely; and Chris, realizing the need for haste, was out of the
-      house before she had finished the sentence, and the gray mare made better
-      time that night into Nuneham than for many a year before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've done splendid, so far. 'Tain't likely a
-      strong-looking fellow like that's going to go under easy.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no tellin', Peter&mdash;there's no tellin';
-      strength don't count for much if one's head is hurt past
-      mending.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Just then the door of the spare-room opened, and the young man, closing it
-      gently after him, was just in time to hear the last words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you don't think it's so bad as that?&rdquo; he said
-      in an almost agonized whisper, as he came to the side of the couch.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no tellin',&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Hartley very
-      seriously; and then as she looked up and saw, now that dust and grime and
-      the stains from two or three slight cuts were removed, that the face above
-      was a good face, after all, her heart went out in sympathy, and she added
-      gently, &ldquo;but we'll hope for the best, dear&mdash;we'll
-      hope for the best. Chris must come with the doctor very soon now
-      whereupon, for some reason or other, the poor fellow broke down utterly,
-      and sinking into the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The heart knoweth its own bitterness,&rdquo; said Mr. Hartley
-      solemnly, turning over the back-log of the fire and shaking his head
-      gravely from side to side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I doubt if that's what the young man's needing just
-      now, father,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Hartley dryly; and although evidently
-      resenting the implied reproof, Mr. Hartley wisely determined to keep his
-      own counsel; and for many minutes thereafter the heavy breathing of the
-      men asleep in the next room and the crackling of the wood upon the
-      andirons were the only sounds that broke the silence. Now and then Martha
-      came in with a cloth freshly wet with cold water from the well&mdash;for
-      Mrs. Hartley suspected some form of injury to the brain&mdash;and then
-      slipped as noiselessly out again. At last the sound of wheels in the lane
-      without, and then for the first time the young man raised his face from
-      his hands and hurried to meet the doctor. As they came in together he was
-      apparently explaining just how the accident had happened, and the doctor's
-      face looked grave with apprehension.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is your friend's name?&rdquo; he asked as he reached the
-      lounge.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Theodore&mdash;-Morris,&rdquo; after a second's hesitation.
-      Convinced that he had not given an honest answer, the doctor looked keenly
-      into his face a moment; &ldquo;and yours?&rdquo; he added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Allyn, sir,&rdquo; returning his glance as keenly, and then not
-      another word was spoken, while the doctor carefully looked his patient
-      over. Close beside him stood Mrs. Hartley, trying to read his conclusions
-      in advance, and Martha stood just beyond, eager to render the slightest
-      service, while Chris, with steady hand, held the light now high, now low,
-      according to the signal from the doctor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is a case, doubtless, of concussion of the brain,&rdquo; he said
-      at last; &ldquo;just how serious I cannot at once determine, but, first
-      thing, Mrs. Hartley, we must get this poor fellow to bed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It will have to be in my little spare-bedroom, then, doctor; my
-      best room is already appropriated. Bring clean linen from the chest
-      quickly, Martha;&rdquo; and hurrying into the little room, mistress and
-      maid soon had everything in readiness for the unexpected guest.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Tenderly and carefully they lifted and then carried the unconscious man,
-      and as they laid him gently down in the cool bed he drew a long, deep
-      breath, as though in some vague way appreciative of a grateful change.
-      Then one thing and another was done at the doctor's bidding, until
-      at last there was need of nothing further, and old Mrs. Hartley, first
-      sending the little maid to her room above stairs, crept off to bed, more
-      utterly worn out and exhausted than for many a weary day. Chris threw
-      himself on the living-room lounge, and was soon fast asleep, and the
-      doctor, sitting near the bed, and where he could closely watch his
-      patient, motioned young Allyn to draw a chair close to his side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, my friend,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I want you to tell me the
-      real name of your friend here, for I am convinced you have not done so,
-      and then I want you to give me a true account of this whole deplorable
-      affair. It will not disturb him in the least if you keep your voice
-      carefully lowered.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Young Allyn did not answer for several seconds. He sat leaning way forward
-      in the chair he had drawn to the doctor's side, his elbows on his
-      knees and his chin resting on his tightly clasped hands. He was evidently
-      thinking hard, and it was easy to read the play of intense emotion on his
-      face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dr. Arnold,&rdquo; he said finally, as though he had slowly thought
-      his way out to a decision, &ldquo;my friend's name is Theodore
-      Harris, but it is the first time he has ever been mixed up in anything of
-      this sort, and should he get over it, I wanted to spare him the
-      mortification of its being known if I could. Do you think he is so much
-      hurt that his family&mdash;that his brother&mdash;ought to be sent for?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We can't tell about that to-night. The opiate I have given
-      him will account for this heavy sleep. Everything will depend upon how he
-      comes out of it in the morning.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And if it does prove not as serious as you feared&rdquo;&mdash;trying
-      to steady a voice that trembled in spite of him&mdash;&ldquo;what then?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Two or three weeks of careful nursing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will they let us stay here, do you think?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They'll have to for a while. It would be out of the question
-      to move him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, but it's a crying shame, this whole business!&rdquo; and
-      young Allyn, leaning back in his chair, looked the picture of anger and
-      chagrin.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You seem like a self-respecting fellow,&rdquo; said the doctor,
-      scrutinizing him closely; &ldquo;perhaps it is your first time, too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it does happen to be but, as though there was little or no
-      credit in that, there is some excuse for Ted&mdash;he is younger than I
-      and easily led; but for me there is none whatever.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You ought to know,&rdquo; said the doctor dryly. &ldquo;And your
-      friends in the room yonder, are they at all responsible for this first
-      time of yours and young Harris's? Come, Mr. Allyn, don't wait
-      for me to question you. If you are as anxious as you claim to hush this
-      affair up, you must make a clean breast of things with me. I can, of
-      course, be of service to you in the matter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Really, Dr. Arnold, there is not much to tell beyond what you
-      already know. We belong up at Oxford, of course, and Harris here has
-      plenty of money and plenty of friends&mdash;not always the best, I am
-      sorry to say. The two men in the other room there are known around town as
-      jolly good fellows; neither of them are college men, but they have dogged
-      Harris's footsteps ever since they came to know him, a year or so
-      ago, and have done all in their power to drag him down. To-night they have
-      come pretty near making an end of both of us. I've warned Harris
-      against them time and again, but when they planned this afternoon to drive
-      up to Nuneham in Harris's trap for a champagne supper, I took to the
-      scheme, and I hadn't the moral courage to decline myself or to
-      persuade Ted to do so.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you and Harris happen to be in Oxford anyway, now that the
-      term is over?&rdquo; queried the doctor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We thought we were having too good a time to go home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you have found out your mistake?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sir;&rdquo; and the pain and mortification on young Allyn's
-      face assured the doctor that the lesson of the hour was being well taken
-      to heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where does Harris live, Mr. Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We both live at Windsor, sir; Harris has a younger brother, but no
-      father or mother; and if Ted only gets over this, he need never know
-      anything about it. We were going to start on a long driving trip
-      to-morrow; so we're not expected up at Windsor, and Ted's the
-      kind of fellow, Dr. Arnold, that if he found out that people knew about a
-      scrape like this, I believe he'd grow perfectly reckless, and there
-      wouldn't be any such thing as saving him;&rdquo; and there was such
-      suppressed earnestness in the young fellow's voice that no one could
-      have doubted his sincerity for a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But the accident to-night, just how did that happen?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think&mdash;yes, I'm sure&mdash;Ted had taken a little too
-      much; but we would have gotten home all right but for&rdquo;&mdash;nodding
-      in the direction of Mrs. Hartley's best room. &ldquo;There was no
-      doing anything with them, and finally one of them tried to get the reins
-      from Ted, and then the horses, that need to be carefully handled at best,
-      broke into a clean run. Where they are now, land knows!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Allyn,&rdquo; said Dr. Arnold, after several minutes of
-      suspense, &ldquo;if Mr. Harris's condition proves not to be serious
-      I will do what I can to shield you both.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, don't bother about me,&rdquo; as though he honestly felt
-      he was not worth it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I will bother about you, for since you told me you live at
-      Windsor, I begin to suspect you are Canon Allyn's son.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The more's the pity, Dr. Arnold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The more's the reason for my doing all in my power to give
-      both of you another chance But we won't talk any more. Now wrap
-      yourself in that comforter Chris has laid in the chair for you, and try
-      and get a little sleep.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      All this while poor wayward Ted, whose name you must have guessed almost
-      from the first, was lying wholly oblivious to everything about him,
-      muttering now and then a few delirious, incoherent words, and yet by
-      degrees subsiding into a gentle, regular breathing that the professional
-      ear was quick to detect, and that was full of good omen for the waking in
-      the morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IX.&mdash;GETTING OUT OF IT.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9090.jpg" alt="9090 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9090.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> whole chapter
-      just with grown-up people, and not a very pleasant chapter at that! For
-      one, I had a deal rather be with certain little friends of ours up at
-      Windsor, but we cannot go yet a while; and having seen the little
-      Berkshire cottage turned inside out, as it were, there is nothing for it
-      but to wait and see it put to rights again. Besides, when all is said, Ted
-      is Harold's brother, so that, scapegrace or no, we ought not to
-      deliberately turn our backs, at a time too when matters have reached a
-      crisis, and one wonders how they will go with him. But fortunately they
-      went far better than even the doctor dared to hope, and with the morning
-      came consciousness, and all the dazed bewilderment as well, of one who
-      finds himself in wholly new surroundings, with no idea whatever of how he
-      came there. Everybody was early astir in the cottage, and quite ready to
-      forget the anxiety and excitement of the night in the doctor's glad
-      assurance that the young gentleman certainly was not &ldquo;done for.&rdquo;
-      As for the other young gentlemen, who had been allowed to sleep off their
-      indisposition in Mrs. Hartley's best room, it was agreed between the
-      doctor and Harry Allyn that the sooner they took their departure the
-      better. Breakfast for two was therefore first made ready, and the young
-      fellows, who had gotten up and dressed&mdash;somewhat against their will,
-      it must be confessed&mdash;finally took their seats at the places set for
-      them. Martha, who had no notion of waiting on such sorry customers, was
-      careful to place everything within arm's reach on the table and then
-      to disappear, and the meal was eaten in silence, with no one in the room
-      save the doctor, who kept pacing up and down in a manner that was intended
-      to expedite their departure. The two fellows seemed to realize that they
-      were considered responsible for the whole unhappy affair; indeed, the
-      doctor had told them so pretty plainly, and they were themselves rather
-      anxious to be off and away from such an accusing and uncomfortable
-      atmosphere.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose the old lady ought to be paid something,&rdquo; said one
-      of them, pushing back his chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You can't very well pay for such trouble as you have given,&rdquo;
-      said the doctor curtly. &ldquo;It might not be out of the way though for
-      you to thank Mrs. Hartley for the night's shelter and your
-      breakfast,&rdquo; but Mrs. Hartley was nowhere to be found&mdash;indeed,
-      to all appearances the cottage was quite deserted; and, accompanied by the
-      doctor, they made their way out of the house and down the lane. Not a word
-      was spoken until they reached the road, and then Dr. Arnold, stopping
-      squarely in front of them, said: &ldquo;I have one thing to say to you two
-      fellows, and that is this&mdash;that you are not to tell a living soul of
-      last night's adventure. You have deliberately set about to entrap
-      and disgrace two men vastly your superiors, but so far as in me lies I am
-      going to do all in my power to free them from your clutches and save them
-      from the scandal of this thing, and if I hear of its becoming known
-      through you I'll&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There isn't any use in your threatening us like that,&rdquo;
-      interrupted the older, his heavy face glowing angrily. &ldquo;We'll
-      tell as much or as little as we like.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hadden,&rdquo; said the doctor sternly, &ldquo;I know more of your
-      history than you think. You were mixed up in a more shameful scrape than
-      this not long ago up at Nuneham, and if you and your friend here do not
-      keep close-mouthed about this whole affair, I will tell some of the Oxford
-      officials just what I know as sure as my name is Joseph Arnold. Does that
-      alter the case any?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, rather,&rdquo; drawled the other with cool effrontery; and
-      knowing he had scotched his man, the doctor turned on his heel, and the
-      two men started off in the direction of the Nuneham station, neither
-      sadder nor wiser, it is to be feared, for the lesson of the night's
-      experience. No sooner had these two unwelcome guests vanished from the
-      precincts of the little cottage than Mrs. Hartley reappeared from some
-      mysterious corner and Martha from another, and preparations were at once
-      put forward for the most inviting breakfast the little house could
-      command. Notwithstanding the wretched company in which they had been
-      found, Mrs. Hartley was confident that her remaining guests were surely
-      &ldquo;gentlemen;&rdquo; and as, in addition to this, no one through all
-      the countryside was as widely loved and honored as Dr. Arnold, was not
-      there occasion for elaborate preparation? All this, of course, involved
-      considerable delay, which Chris and the doctor would have gladly foregone;
-      but it gave Harry Allyn a sorely coveted opportunity for an early talk
-      with Mrs. Hartley.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is your mistress in the kitchen?&rdquo; he asked of Martha, who was
-      arranging some sweet peas in a celery glass as a decoration for the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Allyn,&rdquo; very respectfully, for in the mind of the
-      little maid, as in the mind of all the others, there was the conviction
-      that this Mr. Allyn had very little in common with the company in which he
-      had been found. &ldquo;Shall I call her for you?&rdquo; she added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would there be any harm in my going in there?&rdquo; as though he
-      were entreating a favor of a queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit in the world, Mr. Allyn;&rdquo; and thus reassured Harry
-      at once made his way into the sunny and spotless little kitchen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Hartley was so preoccupied in giving the final stirring to a golden
-      mixture in a great yellow bowl that she did not hear Harry as he came
-      toward her, and so gave a little start when he spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha told me it would be all right,&rdquo; he explained.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, certainly,&rdquo; quickly recovering herself, &ldquo;you'll
-      excuse me if I go right on.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You never can know, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; he said, taking his stand
-      at the end of the table, and leaning a little wearily against the wall at
-      his back, &ldquo;how mortified I am about what has happened, and how sorry
-      that we should have put you to all this trouble; and the bother of it is,
-      Mrs. Hartley, it isn't over yet. The doctor says Ted will not be
-      able to get about for two or three weeks at least. Do you think&rdquo;&mdash;a
-      world of entreaty in his voice&mdash;&ldquo;you can ever manage to keep
-      him as long as that?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I think&mdash;I can,&rdquo; but very slowly and
-      thoughtfully, as though half afraid of promising more than she could
-      perform.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It will be a great care for you, Mrs. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no denying that, Mr. Allyn; I doubt if I could get
-      along with it but for Chris being home this summer. Has Mr. Harris any
-      folks?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No father or mother, only a younger brother, and I want him never
-      to know about last night's business if I can help it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad you're ashamed of it, Mr. Allyn. It's the
-      best sort of a sign, sir.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ashamed!&rdquo; sighed Harry; and Mrs. Hartley, looking at the
-      white face, with the great dark circles under eyes that during the night
-      had known no wink of sleep, felt sorry in her heart of hearts that she had
-      uttered a single word that would seem to imply reproof.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you will let us pay you liberally for the expense we
-      shall put you to, but I cannot bear to speak of money in connection with
-      something that can never be paid for at all, in any true sense.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The board will not come amiss,&rdquo; and then, straightening
-      herself up a little, &ldquo;though we have no need of being beholden to
-      anybody.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is very evident, Mrs. Hartley, and makes it all the kinder for
-      you to take us in. Does Mr. Hartley know,&rdquo; he asked after a pause,
-      &ldquo;that Ted ought not to be moved? Will he be willing that he should
-      stay?&rdquo; for Harry stood in considerable awe of the master of the
-      house, who, it could not be denied, was conducting himself through this
-      whole affair with no little austerity of deportment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never you fear,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Hartley, with a significant
-      smile that was very becoming to the dear old face; &ldquo;I think I can
-      manage Mr. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0093.jpg" alt="0093 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0093.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      By this time the contents of the yellow bowl were not only in the oven,
-      but sending out of it the most savory of odors; and a few moments later
-      the little household sat down to such a delicious breakfast as the doctor
-      and Harry repeatedly declared they never before had eaten; so that Mrs.
-      Hartley sat proud and radiant behind the plated coffee-urn, and Martha
-      passed the Sally Lunn with indescribable complacency. Indeed, there was
-      reaction on every side from the night of anxiety and foreboding. Even Mr.
-      Hartley could not hold out against the general atmosphere of good cheer,
-      and falling into a friendly discussion with the doctor, forgot to wear for
-      a while a certain uncompromising look, intended to impress Mr. Allyn with
-      the simple enormity of his transgression. But happily Harry Allyn needed
-      no such impressing. It was impossible for any one to regard this adventure
-      in any graver light than he, and yet, strange to say, he was happier than
-      he had been for many a day. It had taken a pretty terrible experience to
-      bring him to his senses; perhaps nothing less terrible would have
-      answered; but he saw plainly enough now what a down-hill road he and Ted
-      had been travelling, and with the realization came the decision to &ldquo;right
-      about face,&rdquo; and with the decision an old-time sensation began to
-      assert itself, and there lay the secret of the happiness. It is an
-      intangible, uplifting something, that sensation that men call
-      self-respect, and when they lose it they seem to lose the capacity for any
-      happiness worth the name, and when they cannot be persuaded to make an
-      effort to get it back again, there seems to be little enough that they're
-      good for. Harry, however, with grateful heart found himself ready for the
-      effort, and, fully aware at last of how much he had been risking, was
-      resolved that regain his self-respect he would, let it cost what it might.
-      He only hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that Ted would come to see
-      matters in the same honest light, and be ready to make the same effort.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Soon after breakfast the doctor took his departure, and then Harry had a
-      quiet little talk with Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You're not to speak a word, old man,&rdquo; he said, as he
-      stood beside the bed; &ldquo;the doctor says so; but there are one or two
-      things he is willing I should say to you. In the first place, Ted, we've
-      had a very narrow escape, and we've no one to blame but ourselves.
-      And the truth is, Ted, we've been a pair of incomparable fools, you
-      and I, and if we don't take this lesson to heart, there's no
-      hope for either of us. In the second place, we can't be too thankful
-      we've fallen into the hands of these good people here. You couldn't
-      be better cared for anywhere, and the best of it is, no one need know
-      where you are, and they need never hear of this disgraceful adventure up
-      at Windsor. Indeed, for the sake of shielding you, I have told the
-      Hartleys that your name is Morris, and it rests with you to tell them your
-      right name some day if you choose; hut the doctor knows the truth about
-      things&mdash;he had to know.&rdquo; A look of inexpressible relief had
-      been stealing over Ted's face, and he started to make some reply,
-      but Harry shook his head in most determined fashion, and was off before
-      the words could get themselves into line. Ted found, too, that his brain
-      responded very slowly to any sort of demand upon it, and was willing
-      enough to be spared the exertion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      A little later Harry set off for Oxford, to bring certain necessities for
-      Ted and himself down to Nuneham, for he meant to take up his abode at the
-      inn, so that he would be near the Hartleys, and be able to render every
-      possible service to them and to Ted. Before he started, however, he
-      underwent quite an ordeal. Feeling he had no right to assume that Ted
-      would stay until he had that permission from Mr. Hartley personally, he
-      sought him out, where he was at work in a corner of the meadow, and the
-      result, as he had anticipated, was a very plain talk&mdash;so unsparingly
-      and pointedly plain that Harry winced a good deal in the process, and once
-      or twice came near resenting a mode of procedure that seemed very much
-      akin to knocking a fellow when he's down. But, after all, what did
-      he not deserve, and as Mr. Hartley said, among other things, that he was
-      not the man to turn a body out of his house, and that Mr. Morris was
-      welcome to stay, he felt he ought to be able to bear with the rest, no
-      matter how humiliating and, in a measure, unmerited. Mrs. Hartley,
-      standing in the kitchen door, imagined from Harry's flushed face, as
-      well as from life-long acquaintance with Mr. Hartley's temperament,
-      that he had been pretty severely dealt with, and so said as he passed,
-      &ldquo;My gude man's a gude man, though,&rdquo; Mr. Allyn and Harry,
-      amused at the loyalty to her husband and kindliness to him combined in the
-      speech, had the grace to answer, &ldquo;Indeed I believe you, Mrs.
-      Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER X.&mdash;A KNIGHT-OF-THE-GARTER PARTY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0097.jpg" alt="0097 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0097.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now,&rdquo; as
-      Albert would say, here we are, for a comfort, back at Windsor, and just in
-      time, too, for there is something special on hand. And somebody else is
-      just in time as well&mdash;somebody who was not expected, and who, I fear,
-      is not wanted. Marie-Celeste, seated in the library window, and busy in
-      transferring some great luscious strawberries from a plate on the seat
-      beside her to a basket in her lap, is the first to discover a familiar
-      little figure turning in at the gate. &ldquo;Bother!&rdquo; she exclaims,
-      her pretty face all of a scowl.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; asks Harold, who is on his knees on
-      the floor, trying to make some very stiff wrapping-paper accommodate
-      itself to the edges and corners of a generous box of luncheon, and is:
-      quite too preoccupied to look up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bother enough! Who do you suppose is coming up the path as large as
-      life? Albert, if you please, and he's all alone, and that means that
-      Margaret has left him at the corner, and that he has come <i>to spend the
-      day</i>.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bother I say too,&rdquo; exclaims Harold; &ldquo;we can't
-      send him home, and with Aunt Lou up in London, there's no one to
-      leave him with here, and of course we can't take him. Oh, why did he
-      happen to come to-day!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the truth of it was that Albert had not happened to come at all. His
-      visit had been deliberately planned for precisely this hour. Could any one
-      suppose for a moment, that he could hear all the beautiful plans fora
-      Knight-of-the-Garter day discussed in his presence, and never make an
-      effort to have a hand in it? To be sure, the children had tried to keep
-      the date a close-guarded secret, but Albert had got wind of it, all the
-      same; and here he was, bright and fresh as the day itself, marching up the
-      path, his little blue sacque folded carefully over one arm, and an
-      inviting luncheon hamper swinging from the other. Fortunately, considering
-      the ungracious mood of the two children in the library, his first
-      encounter chanced to be with Donald, who, arrayed in the white and blue of
-      his summer sailor-suit, was bending over the pansy bed, gathering a few
-      &ldquo;beauties&rdquo; into a bunch for Marie-Celeste; and so absorbed in
-      his task was he that he did not hear Albert's tread upon the walk.
-      &ldquo;Why, where did you come from?&rdquo; he said, looking up surprised.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you knowed where I tum from, Donald,&rdquo; Albert
-      replied in his literal fashion; &ldquo;but where do you s'pose I'm
-      doin'?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To London Town,&rdquo; laughed Donald, to whom it had not occurred
-      to regard Albert's arrival as likely to interfere with the day's
-      programme.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I'm doin' on your Knight-of-de-Garter party.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's cool,&rdquo; whispered Marie-Celeste, concealed
-      by the curtain, and yet near enough to hear all that was said through the
-      open window.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who asked you?&rdquo; queried Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat's de only trouble, Donald; dey didn't ask me,&rdquo;
-      his little face growing sorely worried as he spoke; &ldquo;but I guess it
-      was a mistake, don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder,&rdquo; for the little fellow's
-      aggrieved look was really piteous to see; &ldquo;but how did you get
-      permission to go, Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I jus' told mamma you were all doin', and I jus'
-      begged and begged till she said I could do too; and, Donald, I didn't
-      zackly tell her I wasn't invited, 'cause I knowed it must be a
-      mistake.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bless his heart!&rdquo; whispered Harold, who was also listening by
-      this time under screen of the curtain.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The cunning thing!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste; and so it was easy to
-      see that two hard hearts were slowly but surely relenting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps dey tought I was too little, but I'm not, Donald,
-      really; I can walk all day an' carry my own coat an' basket.
-      Besides, I don't believe Harold will ever have anudder
-      Knight-of-de-Garter day, do you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; now's your chance, I guess,&rdquo; said Donald kindly,
-      slipping a great purple and yellow pansy into one of the buttonholes of
-      Albert's little frilled shirt as he spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where are de children, anyway?&rdquo; asked Albert, wonderfully
-      reassured by Donald's courteous reception; &ldquo;won't you
-      fin' dem for me, please, Donald, and tell dem I won't be a
-      badder, nor ask queshuns, and I'll jus' eat my own lunch and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this the hard hearts relented altogether, and Harold rushed out and
-      gave Albert a toss in the air that was very threatening to the eggs in the
-      luncheon basket; and as soon as he was on <i>terra firma</i> again
-      Marie-Celeste gave him a good hard hug, and both begged his pardon half a
-      dozen times over for ever assuming for a moment that he was &ldquo;too
-      little,&rdquo; and intimated that they felt very small indeed themselves
-      to think they had been so unfeeling as to plan not to include him in the
-      expedition. And so matters were beautifully adjusted, and the
-      Knight-of-the-Garter party set out with Harold Harris, student and devoted
-      admirer of the grand old knighthood, filling the important <i>role</i> of
-      interpreter and guide. And where did they go first but to the castle,
-      preferring to save until the last, because the best, the choir of St.
-      George's, where the banners of the knights are hung and where the
-      knights are duly installed. On the way Harold held forth, Marie-Celeste
-      and Donald walking one on either side of him, and Albert, determined not
-      to miss a word, trotting along at a sort of sidewise angle just in front,
-      and yet careful to keep well out of the way, too, for fear of the remotest
-      chance of &ldquo;boddering.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now to begin,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;you know a knight at first
-      was just a young man who had proved himself strong enough and brave enough
-      to wear armor and be a soldier, and after that there came to be orders of
-      knights. You remember I told you the other day what an order was, and how
-      the Order of the Knights of the Garter happened to be started.&rdquo; Yes,
-      they remembered that, but no one remembered that poor little Albert had
-      not been present on that occasion, and so knew nothing whatever about it;
-      but Albert, so very thankful in his heart that he had been allowed to come
-      at all, did not dare to make mention of the same.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where are we going first?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, who, unlike
-      poor Albert, felt herself at perfect liberty to ask every question that
-      occurred to her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To the Banqueting Hall, because it has more to do with the knights
-      than any other room in the castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, that's where they have the Garter and the Cross of
-      St. George woven even into the pattern of the carpet! And what about St.
-      George&mdash;who was he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0100.jpg" alt="0100 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0100.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nobody knows, Marie-Celeste. He is supposed to have been a soldier
-      in the Roman Army, and to have killed a monstrous dragon that no one else
-      could overcome, and at last, after being dreadfully tortured for his faith
-      in Christianity, he is also supposed to have died a martyr's death.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Is supposed' isn't very satisfactory, Harold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, it isn't; but it can't be helped. Indeed, they knew
-      so little about him way back even in the fifth century, that one of the
-      popes, when he made up a list of the saints, said 'he was one of
-      those whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose actions are
-      known only to God.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You talk just like a book,&rdquo; remarked Donald, to whom Harold,
-      with his knowledge of men and things, was a never-ceasing wonder.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And good reason why, for I got it out of a book. Don't you
-      remember I told you I'd studied up about it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; as though thankful there was some sort of
-      explanation for such uncanny erudition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But how does this St. George come to be mixed up with the Knights
-      of the Garter?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is the way of it. You know what the Crusades were?&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste nodded yes, but intimating, with a significant glance in the
-      direction of Donald and Albert, that probably they did not, Harold took
-      the hint, and began over again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, ever so many years ago great armies of men went out from
-      England to try and get possession of the Holy Land, and each time an army
-      went out they called it a crusade, and on the first one the leader of the
-      army prayed to St. George to help him, and as he was very successful, that
-      made St. George's name very famous. Then afterward Richard Cour de
-      Lion, when he went to the Holy Land, put himself under St. George's
-      protection, and from that time he became the patron saint of England, and
-      that means, Albert&rdquo; (for Albert looked the question he longed to
-      ask), &ldquo;that England regarded him as the saint who would help her
-      most and be her special guardian.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, since Harold apparently considered
-      he had come to a natural pause in the narrative; &ldquo;but you haven't
-      told us what St. George and the Knights of the Garter have to do with each
-      other.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So I haven't; well, all the connection that I know of is,
-      that every year a feast in honor of St. George was ordered to be kept as a
-      holiday, and that the Order of the Garter was founded on that day&mdash;St.
-      George's Day&mdash;and that so the Cross of St. George and the
-      Garter of the Knights came to be a sort of double emblem for the order.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      By this time the children had reached the Norman Gate, and crossing the
-      quadrangle, Harold led the way into the State apartments, and being well
-      known to most of the guides of the castle, was allowed, with his little
-      party, to pass on unattended, and to make his way straight to the Grand
-      Banqueting Hall. From the moment they entered the castle, Donald was of no
-      use as far as receiving instruction was concerned. This being his first
-      visit to any castle whatever, he was far too much astonished and overawed
-      by everything he saw to be able to think of applying his mind to mere
-      historical detail.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Let Harold hold forth as eloquently as he chose about this old knight or
-      that old armor, for him there might never be another visit to this
-      wonderful place, and he was going to see it all in his own way. Harold and
-      Marie-Celeste were at first very much disgusted at his utter disregard of
-      the object of their visit, but disgust gradually gave way to amusement,
-      and the tale of the chivalrous old knights was even suspended for awhile,
-      that they might watch the little fellow's peculiar methods of
-      letting nothing escape him. Gazing in rapt wonder, he moved from one point
-      to another, wholly absorbed in his surroundings, and oblivious to the
-      presence of any one beside himself. Now he was standing in admiration
-      before the great oak chair of State beneath the organ gallery, and now
-      nothing loath he mounts the steps that lead to it and runs a finger along
-      the curves of its elaborate carving, and then, with a most reverent air,
-      touches the embroidered cross and garter with which it is decorated. All
-      this is making very free with State belongings, and one of the guides, in
-      charge of a small party of visitors, starts toward him in a decidedly
-      menacing manner; but Harold intercepts him and explains, and the guide,
-      himself much amused, decides to leave unmolested this gallant little tar
-      of Her Majesty's. And now Donald seeks out a corner of the room and
-      deliberately stretches himself on the floor, clasping his hands under the
-      back of his head. This is done the better to take in the elaborate
-      ceiling, decorated as it is with the armorial bearings of the knights of
-      five centuries, and now, with arm upraised and extended finger, he is
-      entering into some mathematical calculation of his own in connection with
-      the banners that hang just beneath the ceiling. And now what does the boy
-      do but suddenly exchange his vertical position for one quite the reverse,
-      and turn all his attention to the carpet; for did not Harold say it was
-      woven in some special way on purpose? Yes, sure enough! here is the Cross
-      of St. George in the centre of each little panel, and here&mdash;crossing
-      to the edge of the room&mdash;the beautiful circle of the gaiter worked
-      into the design of the border. Oh, but it is a wonderful place! and there
-      are probably other rooms just as wonderful; so a little closer look at the
-      brass shields and the helmets, and the portraits of the sovereigns ranged
-      along one side, and then, wholly unsuspicious of any disapproval, he walks
-      over to the children and remarks &ldquo;that now he would like to see the
-      other rooms, please.&rdquo; His delight in it all, and naïve
-      unconsciousness of anything unusual in his behavior, are altogether
-      irresistible, and Harold and Marie-Celeste, after a whispered conference,
-      decide to suspend Knight-of-the-Garter reminiscences for the time being,
-      and make the tour of the castle with him. Albert, who has found much of
-      Harold's narration quite beyond him, but has &ldquo;never let on&rdquo;
-      for one moment, hails the announcement with great inward rejoicing, and
-      the little quartette make their way to the Guard Chamber, as the place
-      next in interest. In every room Donald brings his own peculiar methods of
-      investigation to bear, not in the least minding a good deal of mirthful
-      laughter at his expense on the part of Harold and Marie-Celeste; and
-      Albert, feeling privileged to join in the general merriment, though
-      evidently half the time without in anywise appreciating the situation,
-      only helps on the jollity of things. Then when at noon, by special
-      permission of a very lenient guardsman, the children establish themselves
-      for luncheon on a terrace beneath the shade of the Round Tower,
-      Marie-Celeste and Albert and Harold agree that they had never had such fun&mdash;never!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you may call it fun,&rdquo; says Donald, quite willing that
-      they should, &ldquo;but I call it something better than that. The grandest
-      time I ever had, that's what I call it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But all the sights were not seen yet, and for the members of the little
-      party who still adhered to the Knight-of-the-Garter research the best was
-      yet to come, in St. George's Chapel. Entering at the door at the
-      south front and crossing to the centre, the children passed directly into
-      the choir, which is really a chapel in itself, and to them of special
-      interest, because the very place where the ceremony of installing'
-      the knights is performed. Harold led the way to the farther end, and they
-      took their seats on the steps of the chancel. Behind them the light fell
-      softly through the stained glass of the window over the altar; above them
-      waved the knights' silken banners, and just below each banner hung
-      the sword, mantle, and helmet of the knight whose crest it bore, mounted
-      against a background of elaborate carving. It was of course the spot of
-      spots for any one who, like Harold, had been initiated into all the
-      mysteries by being present at an installation, and he did justice to the
-      occasion. By this time even Donald, whose powers of endurance were not yet
-      of the strongest, was content to sit by, an apparent listener; but much
-      that Harold had to tell having little interest for him, he resorted to
-      that little trick to which some discriminating ears readily lend
-      themselves, of listening to what appealed to him and letting the rest go.
-      With Albert matters were reversed. He had completely lapsed from his
-      humble estate of the morning, when he felt in duty bound to at least
-      pretend to be an attentive listener, and when they reached the chapel,
-      already such a familiar place to him, he no longer even tried to keep up
-      appearances. A great big collie belonging to the verger, Mr. Brown,
-      sometimes made so bold as to steal in &ldquo;unbeknownst&rdquo; and curl
-      up on the cool marble in a dark corner of the choir, and Albert, who knew
-      the corner well, at once slipped away in the hope of finding him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Yes, there he was in the old place&mdash;dear, audacious old Timothy,
-      stretched close along the wall in the deep shadow of the Oueen's own
-      stall, as though well aware that it was the one spot where he might
-      reasonably expect to escape observation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0105.jpg" alt="0105 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0105.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Timothy,&rdquo; said Albert, approaching him on tiptoe; but
-      the warning was quite unnecessary. Nothing was farther from Timothy's
-      thoughts than to make any disturbance whatever&mdash;why should he? Were
-      they not the best of friends, he and that blessed little Albert? so he
-      never raised his head from where it rested upon his outstretched paws,
-      only looked up with that gaze of implicit confidence peculiar to the kind
-      eyes of the Laverick setter, and which made Albert lose not a second in
-      spreading his little coat out beneath him, throwing his two arms around
-      Timothy's neck, and pillowing his head on his beautiful silky coat.
-      Now, it is not granted to Laverick setters to purr in pussy's
-      demonstrative fashion, but they have a subdued little grateful purr of
-      their own, distinctly audible to an ear placed as close as Albert's
-      chanced to be, and Timothy at once indulged in the same. Outwardly,
-      however, not a sound was to be heard. Only the experienced eye and ear
-      could appreciate how intense were the depths of his canine satisfaction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We've had an awful good time this morning, Timothy,&rdquo;
-      Albert confided in a whisper; &ldquo;we've been all over the castle,
-      learning 'bout Knights of the Garter. Harold knows an awful lot
-      about 'em, but I'm tired of 'em, an' I don't
-      care to hear any more. I'd rather stay here wid you, Timothy. There,
-      please move that paw a little&mdash;that's it; now, Timothy, keep
-      very still! Please, please don't snap for that fly, or they'll
-      hear you; still! still, Timothy, while I stroke your head like this, till,
-      till&mdash;&rdquo; and the subject was dropped indefinitely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, if there are any questions you would like to ask?&rdquo; said
-      Harold, for, dear as was the subject to him, he really could think of
-      nothing more to tell.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed there are,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, who had
-      conscientiously tried not to interrupt, though there were a dozen lines
-      along which she desired information.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;First, will you tell me if they ever let the ladies have any part
-      in all the feasting and good times you have told about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes! There was a time when the wives of the knights were called
-      Ladies of the Society of the Garter, and they used to be allowed to wear
-      violet-colored or white cloth robes 'furred,' as one old book
-      says, and embroidered with garters. The number of garters depended on
-      their rank. But in the reign of King Henry the Eighth, for some reason
-      that branch of the order was given up. By the way, Henry the Eighth is
-      buried just yonder,&rdquo; pointing a few feet away. &ldquo;There's
-      a royal vault right under those tiles, and Charles the First, whose head
-      Cromwell cut off, is buried there too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You don't mean it!&rdquo; for Donald was all attention the
-      second there was anything so thrilling as cut-off heads in the wind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, there's another thing I'd like to know,&rdquo;
-      said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;and that is, how long do they let a knight's
-      banner hang there? because when a new knight is made his banner has to be
-      put up somewhere.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, of course; and so when a man dies they take away everything
-      except the brass plate at the back of the stall that belonged to him, and
-      that has his name on and all his titles.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I like the American way of not having any titles,&rdquo; said
-      Donald; &ldquo;seems to me they're an awful fuss and bother. Of
-      course <i>you</i> don't believe in them, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't exactly care for the titles and such a
-      ridiculous lot of letters coming after one's name, but I should
-      think it would be nice to know who your greatest grandfather was, and that
-      he was a gentleman into the bargain, for that's what some of the
-      titles mean, you know. They've come down from father to son for
-      centuries.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'd be satisfied just to know who my own father was,&rdquo;
-      said Donald with a sigh, and Marie-Celeste wished she had not said
-      anything to bring that sad fact to mind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you say, Harold,&rdquo; she asked, by way of quickly changing
-      the subject, &ldquo;that Edward the Third, who founded the Order of the
-      Carter, built this chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; but I said that the chapel that he did build and dedicated to
-      St. George stood right where this choir is now. This chapel was commenced
-      a hundred years later, and the old one torn down.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Donald, getting onto his feet, &ldquo;one way and
-      another I've learned a great deal to-day&mdash;just about as much as
-      I can hold, seems to me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I'm tired, too,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste admitted; &ldquo;but
-      we're ever so much obliged, it's been very interesting; but
-      look here, Donald, before we go, I want to show you something,&rdquo; and
-      she led the way to a stall of one of the knights.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;See,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, pushing the seat of the stall from
-      beneath, so that it folded up against the back, thereby bringing to view a
-      queer little wooden projection about six inches wide.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, Donald, will you believe that is all the seat the old knights
-      used to have in these stalls? They've preserved them in this way
-      just as a curiosity. Things are more comfortable for them now, you see,
-      but in the old times they were afraid the knights would go to sleep during
-      the service, and so made them uncomfortable to keep them awake.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bad idea,&rdquo; mused Donald, as though he had more than
-      once in his life experienced a similar temptation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I think it was, then,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste decidedly.
-      &ldquo;This church is enough in itself to keep a man awake if he has any
-      thoughts to think, no matter how dull the sermon might happen to be; but
-      then I know&rdquo;&mdash;with an insinuating shrug of the shoulders&mdash;&ldquo;some
-      men, and boys too I suppose, never do have any thoughts to think. If they're
-      not eating or being amused, sleep's the only thing for them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was a whimsical little look in Donald's face, which an
-      American street gamin would have interpreted as &ldquo;what are you giving
-      us?&rdquo; He did not say anything, however; and just then Harold, who had
-      strolled on by himself, came toward them, his face aglow with merriment.
-      &ldquo;I believe&rdquo;&mdash;speaking to Donald&mdash;&ldquo;you said you'd
-      like to see a live Knight of the Garter; now come right along quickly and
-      I'll show you one.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      What could he mean? Donald and Marie-Celeste elbowed each other in their
-      haste to discover, and in the next moment sure enough there he was right
-      before them. He was only a little knight, to be sure, not over four, and
-      sound asleep at that, with one arm thrown around a big dog, who was also
-      sound asleep. A knight he was, however, beyond all dispute, for there was
-      the unmistakable blue garter plainly visible, and in exactly the right
-      place, too, on the left leg just below the knee. He had not meant that any
-      one should know it, such a modest little knight was he; but alas! the
-      weakness of drowsiness had overtaken the valiant little fellow, and in the
-      disorder thereon attendant the shapely little limb had thrust itself forth
-      from the folds of the protecting kilt, and there was the garter plainly
-      visible to the most casual passer-by.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, will you believe it?&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, stooping down
-      for closer inspection, &ldquo;'Honi soit qui mal y pense,' as
-      large as life in gold letters running all round it&mdash;just as near the
-      real thing as possible.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald and Harold were on the eve of laughing outright, but Marie-Celeste,
-      detecting a suspicious blinking in the long curling lashes of the eyelids,
-      kept them still by an imperative gesture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, ladies and gentlemen,&rdquo; she said, imitating exactly old
-      Brown's tone and accent when showing visitors through the chapel,
-      &ldquo;this is a monument erected to the memory of a knight who was killed
-      in battle, together with his noble palfrey. It represents him as he was
-      found, one arm around the neck of his faithful charger&rdquo; (at this the
-      knight's lips also betrayed a certain uncontrollable twitching).
-      &ldquo;The smile upon his face is considered one of the chief charms of
-      the statue; but the way that we know that he is a knight&mdash;in fact,
-      the only way&mdash;is by this blue garter around his knee.&rdquo; At this
-      the little limb was suddenly drawn up, that the tell-tale garter might be
-      hid from view; and then, able to stand it no longer, Albert looked up
-      entreatingly to the children above him, and blushingly explained, &ldquo;Dorothy
-      made it for me, just for a bit of fun, you know;&rdquo; and then sure to a
-      certainty that he never, never would hear the end of that blue garter,
-      buried his blushes in Timothy's long silky coat, and rued the hour
-      when Dorothy had so merrily abetted his desire for this particular &ldquo;bit
-      of fun.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XI.&mdash;WHAT CAME OF A LETTER.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9109.jpg" alt="9109 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9109.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am convinced this
-      is not the best sort of life for Donald. It would be vastly better for him
-      to have something to do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But surely he is not yet in a condition to go to sea again, and it
-      is next to impossible to find any temporary position for him in Windsor.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris were out for a drive behind Harold's chestnut
-      ponies, and, as usual, when something important had need to be talked
-      over, the ponies did pretty much as they liked, and that meant, I am
-      ashamed to say (for they were quite too young to so much as think of being
-      lazy), keeping up the merest pretence of a trot for a while, and then
-      subsiding into a walk altogether.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris, apparently none the wiser, talked on and on, and the
-      ponies put their heads together, as though actually conferring as to the
-      advisability of stopping to graze a little while by the way.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see, this sort of life is too luxurious for the fellow,&rdquo;
-      argued Mr. Harris. &ldquo;It was well enough while he needed care and
-      nursing, but the boy has always had to rough it, and he'll have to
-      rough it again; and I think we're unfitting him for it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But what can we do? It is better for him to be idle here with us,
-      it seems to me, than in some ordinary lodging-house, where things, to be
-      sure, are not by any means luxurious, but where a boy who is not at work
-      meets with so many temptations.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if it would not be a good idea to write Chris Hartley? He
-      told me his grandfather has a snug little place and several head of stock,
-      and, like as not, Donald would make himself of use, or, at any rate, Chris
-      could keep him occupied in some way, and we could pay his board for him
-      there. He won't be strong enough to put to sea before September,
-      that's certain.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's a splendid idea, Fritz; you always seem to be able to
-      construct some sort of a highroad out of every difficulty;&rdquo; and Mr.
-      Harris said, &ldquo;Thank you, madam,&rdquo; with an affectation of
-      profound gratitude; but for all that he was none the less truly grateful.
-      We are a little too apt, most of us, to assume too much with our nearest
-      and dearest&mdash;to take for granted that they know all the thoughts of
-      our heart, and so seldom put our praise of them into words. But what a
-      mistake! Is there anything so precious in all this world as the openly
-      expressed admiration of the people we really love? No matter how one
-      pretends to receive it, it makes one feel very happy at heart all the
-      same, and humble and grateful as well. You'd forgive this bit of
-      what the critics call moralizing&mdash;it is all the outcome of that
-      remark of Mrs. Harris's; nothing was further from my thoughts until
-      she put it into my head by giving Mr. Harris that unexpected little
-      compliment. It was the truth, however. He did have a genius for overcoming
-      difficulties, instead of being overcome by them; and the particular
-      difficulty of what had best be none with Donald being temporarily settled,
-      they proceeded to give themselves wholly to the pleasure of the drive.
-      They readjusted things in the comfortable little phaeton and tucked the
-      lap-robe about them in trimmer fashion, and then the ponies, feeling a
-      tightening grasp on the lines, and intuitively conscious of a whip poised
-      at an easily descending angle, wisely saw fit to make up for lost time.
-      Along the perfect English road they scampered, and out to Virginia Water,
-      at the merriest pace, and then home again at a better pace still, so
-      alluring to their pony imaginations were the box stalls and oats that lay
-      in that direction. They only wished so much time did not have to be wasted
-      after they reached there. How thoughtless it was to walk a pony, who had
-      just come in from a long drive, up and down a lane for half an hour, just
-      for the sake of giving a groom a little exercise! They did protest with
-      their heels now and then, but that only meant a closer, more uncomfortable
-      grip on the halter, and made matters rather worse than better. And so what
-      wonder, with all this fuss and senseless bother, that Mr. Harris had
-      written and mailed a letter to Mr. Christopher Hartley before the ponies
-      had gotten so much as their noses within their own box stalls! As for the
-      letter, you would have thought it harmless enough could you have looked
-      over Mr. Harris's shoulder as he wrote it. It simply related the
-      facts about Donald, and asked if old Mr. and Mrs. Hartley would not be
-      good enough to take him to board for the rest of the summer, and if Chris
-      would not contrive to keep him occupied about the farm in some way that
-      should not overtax his newly gained strength. That was all there was in
-      it, and yet can you not surmise how even that letter was calculated to
-      work great consternation in the mind of some one in the little thatched
-      cottage&mdash;some one who never saw the letter itself, and who did not so
-      much as know of its existence until it had been read and re-read and
-      thought over and answered, but who when one day he was made acquainted
-      with its contents felt as weak as a kitten for hours afterward? He
-      happened to be lying on the lounge in the living-room at the time, the
-      same lounge to which he had been carried more dead than alive apparently,
-      just four weeks before. He looked very pale and white still, but the
-      doctor said he was getting on as fast as could be expected, only Ted&mdash;for
-      of course it is Ted we are talking about&mdash;wished he might have been
-      expected to get on just five times faster. He had had a great deal of time
-      to think during the first part of his illness&mdash;in fact, he had had
-      nothing else to do, for the doctor would not let him use his eyes&mdash;and
-      he had made up his mind that when he was himself once more he was going to
-      begin life all over again, and naturally he was anxious to get to work.
-      There was that in his face, however, that showed plainly enough that he
-      had begun already, though he did not in the least suspect it; an earnest,
-      thoughtful look that even bluff old Mr. Hartley was quick to detect.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Seems like, to look at our new lodger, that he's mendin'
-      in more ways than one,&rdquo; he had said to his wife as they walked to
-      the parish church on a sunshiny Sunday morning, the second after Ted's
-      accident. &ldquo;There's a kind of a light in his eye, as though he
-      was meditatin' turnin' over a new leaf when he gets a chance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's turned it already, I'm thinking, Thomas,&rdquo;
-      answered Mrs. Hartley, with a woman's clearer discernment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And it was on that same Sunday morning, just two weeks before, that Ted
-      had made a discovery. Chris had staid home from church to take care of
-      him, Harry Allyn, who had constituted himself Ted's nurse, having
-      gone for a day or two up to Oxford, where some matters needed his
-      attention. Ted was still in bed at the time, but tired enough of it, and
-      glad to draw Chris into conversation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is queer to think of you as in the employ of 'Uncle Sam,'&rdquo;
-      said Ted, who by this time had come to be on most friendly terms with
-      Chris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I look as though I belonged right here, don't I?&rdquo; said
-      Chris, glancing down at his English suit of homespun. &ldquo;But you ought
-      to see me in my gray uniform and brass buttons. Really, Mr. Morris, fond
-      as I am of the old people here, I often wish I were back at work again. It
-      seems like my own country over there now, and I've grown to love it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't know exactly&mdash;somewhere about the first of
-      October. Same steamer, if I can manage it, with Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste!&rdquo; exclaimed Ted; and then, bethinking himself,
-      he asked quite casually, &ldquo;Who is Marie-Celeste, I should like to
-      know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, she's just a dear child, Mr. Morris&mdash;a little
-      American of twelve or thereabouts&mdash;but there isn't a little
-      girl in all England can hold a candle to her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Can it be possible there are two little American Marie-Celestes in
-      England this summer?&rdquo; thought Ted; and then, trying with all his
-      might not to betray his excitement, he asked further, &ldquo;How did you
-      come to know her, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She's on my route, Mr. Morris. Along of my being fond of
-      children, I know all of the boys and girls pretty well at the houses where
-      I call; but Marie-Celeste is different from the rest. She just takes your
-      heart by storm, with her confiding, little trusting ways and her interest
-      in you. Here's a picture of her, that her mother let her give me
-      last Christmas,&rdquo; and Chris began a search through many papers in his
-      wallet for the cherished photograph. Meantime, Ted realized how weak he
-      was, that such a matter as this should put him into a tremble; and later,
-      when Chris gave him the photograph, he could only manage by the greatest
-      effort to keep his hand from shaking as he held it, but the picture
-      settled matters. From beneath the curve of a wide-brimmed hat looked forth
-      the familiar face of his own little cousin, Marie-Celeste, and the color
-      rushed up into his forehead.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I guess I'm tiring you with talking so much,&rdquo; said
-      Chris; &ldquo;I'll tell you all about her some other time;&rdquo;
-      and Ted, replying, &ldquo;Well, somehow or other, I do seem to get
-      exhausted precious easily,&rdquo; turned over and closed his eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A nap'll do wonders for you, Mr. Morris;&rdquo; and lowering
-      the shades at the two ivy-grown windows, and adjusting the screen that
-      stood near the bed, Chris left the room. But a nap, as often happens,
-      would not do anything at all for poor Ted just then. It did not have the
-      ghost of a chance, in fact. How could it with so many queer thoughts and
-      sensations chasing each other pell-mell through his mind. Wouldn't
-      Chris be surprised, he thought, if he knew that Marie-Celeste was his own
-      cousin, and living that moment in Ted's own home was one of the
-      precious company from whom he was anxious to keep all knowledge of this
-      worst and last scrape. But he felt like a fraud, lying there in the
-      Hartleys' dear little cottage, and letting them think him another
-      man altogether from the fellow he really was. Indeed, he experienced the
-      same sensation every time any one called him by the name of Morris, which
-      had been the first name to occur to Harry Allyn, in his desire to shield
-      his friend on the night of the accident. &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; argued
-      Ted, &ldquo;I'm doing it to save the folks at home the disgrace of
-      it, and Harry and Dr. Arnold seem to think it all right; and yet, I
-      declare if I know myself what to think. And what a remarkable thing it is
-      that I should have fallen right into the hands of this old friend of
-      Marie-Celeste's! Like as not my secret will out some day in spite of
-      me. It would have been out at once if Chris had not been so considerate as
-      to keep himself out of the way, so that we did not meet that morning on
-      the steamer. I wonder if I ought not to tell just Chris, anyway; but
-      somehow or other I do not seem to have strength enough even to make up my
-      mind, and I'll give up trying for the present;&rdquo; and so,
-      ceasing to make any effort whatever, the little nap that would not come
-      for the asking stole quietly in and laid its blessed touch of oblivion
-      upon poor, troubled Ted. Now, this discovery of Ted's, that Chris
-      was a friend of Marie-Celeste, and the perplexing state of mind that
-      followed, had transpired, you understand, two weeks previous to this
-      particular chapter, and Ted, you remember, is lying on the chintz-covered
-      lounge in the living-room, having gained strength enough in the mean time
-      to walk from his bed to the lounge unaided. Mr. Hartley is reading his
-      morning paper, sitting in the shade just outside the cottage door, with
-      his chair tipped back against the shingles. Now and then, as he comes
-      across anything he thinks will interest Ted, he lets the chair drop on to
-      all-fours, shifts his position so as to bring himself into line with the
-      door, and reads the article or paragraph aloud. Ted, amused, and grateful
-      as well at the manner in which the old keeper has gradually softened
-      toward him, always listens attentively, and courteously feigns interest,
-      when he finds he cannot command the real article. Mrs. Hartley, still busy
-      about her morning household duties, occasionally flits in and out of the
-      room, and Ted's eyes follow her devotedly every moment that she is
-      there. He has grown to love the dear old grandmother with the whole of his
-      wayward heart, and she seems to him the embodiment of all that is calm and
-      loving and benignant. Indeed, it were difficult to tell how much of the
-      blessed change that has been gradually coming over Ted is due to her
-      noble, placid face. He has sufficient knowledge of human nature to realize
-      that nothing but years and years of noblest thinking and doing will bring
-      that look into a face, and he finds his soul fairly bowing down before
-      her. On one of these busy flittings of Mrs. Hartley's, Ted has
-      detained her for a moment, to ask some trifling question, and just as she
-      is about to make a reply, Chris, returning from his daily ride into
-      Nuneham for the mail, swings into the room with his breezy, postman-like
-      air, and empties the contents of the little Hartley mail-bag upon the
-      table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0115.jpg" alt="0115 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0115.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's all settled, granny dear,&rdquo; he says, as he picks
-      out two letters and hands them to Ted; &ldquo;I've had a letter from
-      Marie-Celeste and one from Mr. Harris, and he'll be down to-morrow
-      on the three-o'clock train.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My goodness!&rdquo; mutters Ted under his breath, staring at Chris
-      a moment in blank astonishment, and then straightway pretends to be all
-      absorbed in his own mail. One or two college bills, forwarded by Harry
-      Allyn from Oxford, were all there was to it, for, alas! there were no home
-      letters for Ted in these days of self-imposed exile from kith and kin. The
-      bills, however, gave him a chance to pull himself together, as he made a
-      ruse of carefully examining them, while his heart thumped like a
-      trip-hammer at the thought of Uncle Fritz coming down to Nuneham and
-      finding him stranded there, helpless, good-for-nothing fellow that he felt
-      himself to be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You say you saw a great deal of him on the steamer, Chris?&rdquo;
-      said Mrs. Hartley, who had seated herself in the nearest chair, awaiting
-      the budget of news that Chris always endeavored to bring out from Nuneham,
-      for the enlivening of the old people.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, granny, a great deal. I really don't know how he would
-      have managed but for me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's cool,&rdquo; thought Ted; &ldquo;I'm sure Uncle
-      Fritz seems quite able to take care of himself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he's a good-looking little fellow, is he, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-looking and good-natured, granny dear; you'll take to
-      him right from the start.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Well, this was passing comprehension! Uncle Fritz a good-looking,
-      good-natured little fellow; and forgetting everything else in his
-      amazement, Ted turned from Chris to Mrs. Hartley, and back again to Chris,
-      in hopeless bewilderment, while they, wholly unobservant, continued to
-      converse in what seemed to him most idiotic fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They talked about his illness, and of how kind Marie-Celeste and her
-      Cousin Harold had been to him, and of what wonders they hoped Nuneham
-      would do for him, and of how, for his own sake, they must continue to keep
-      him busy in little matters about the farm.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Really,&rdquo; said Ted at last, able to stand it no longer, and
-      looking pathetically toward Chris, &ldquo;I don't mean to be
-      inquisitive, but do I understand you that the father of your friend,
-      Marie-Celeste, is coming here to your cottage to recruit from some
-      illness, and that you plan to entertain him by putting him to work on the
-      farm?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      If either Chris or Mrs. Hartley had been close observers of human nature,
-      they would have been almost alarmed at the expression on Ted's face.
-      It was as though he felt himself in some way impelled to ask a question
-      which proclaimed him a pitiful lunatic on the face of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dear, no!&rdquo; laughed Chris; &ldquo;I&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's exactly what you said,&rdquo; interrupted Ted.
-      &ldquo;You said you had a letter from Marie-Celeste and one from her
-      father, and that he'd be down on the three-o'clock train
-      to-morrow.&rdquo; Ted spoke petulantly, feeling it was inexcusable to
-      scare a fellow half to death in that manner.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, <i>he</i>, Mr. Morris,&rdquo; ascribing Ted's petulance
-      to the nervousness of slow convalescence, &ldquo;happens to mean a little
-      sailor boy who crossed on the steamer with us, and about whom Mr. Harris
-      and I have been corresponding. It was funny enough that you should have
-      applied all I have said to a man like Mr. Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ted did not think it so very funny, and his face showing it, Chris
-      continued in a half-apologetic tone, &ldquo;I ought to have told you about
-      him, Mr. Morris, and I thought I had and then, by the way of making
-      amends, Chris proceeded to narrate all the details of Donald's
-      various experiences in a way that was somewhat of a bore to one who knew
-      it all as Ted did.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he thought, when he was finally left to himself once
-      more, it's out of the frying-pan and into the fire,' or
-      something very much like it. Of course I'll have to take Donald into
-      my confidence; but like as not he'll come suddenly upon me, and
-      blurt out just who I am before I get a chance to give him a point or two.
-      There's no doubt about it, 'the way of the transgressor <i>is</i>
-      hard'&mdash;very hard indeed and with a grim sort of smile on his
-      face, Ted gathered his dressing-gown about him, and with rather shaky
-      steps sought the seclusion of his own little room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XII.&mdash;DONALD'S NEW QUARTERS.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9119.jpg" alt="9119 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9119.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day for Donald's
-      departure had arrived&mdash;that is, to the extent that the sun, rising
-      clear and bright at four o'clock, shone alike upon the big castle on
-      the hill and the little one beneath it. In the big castle, let us hope,
-      since we may not know, that even crowned heads were resting easily, and
-      that the level rays were powerless at that early hour to waken them to
-      that sense of great uneasiness supposed to be inseparable from the lot of
-      the &ldquo;nobly born.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But alas! I for one know to a Certainty that in the little castle there
-      was rebellion almost amounting to mutiny, and that one curly, uncrowned
-      head, that need not have had a care in all the world, was tossing uneasily
-      on its pillow. It was behaving, indeed, like the most unruly little head
-      imaginable, and obstinately refusing to accept a course of action which
-      heads far older and wiser than the little head in question had agreed upon
-      as in every way desirable. Indeed, the little queen, whose realm was the
-      hearts of her nearest and dearest, would have been obliged to abdicate,
-      for a while at least, I fancy, had she not chosen before nightfall of that
-      same day to bury her head in the lap of her very most loyal subject, and
-      with tears and sohs confess to her extreme unreasonableness and avow her
-      determination not soon again to be overtaken by such a sorry state of mind
-      and temper. Even Donald stared at Marie-Celeste in grieved and reproving
-      wonder, and yet to all appearances it was all for Donald's sake,
-      this defiant, protesting attitude of hers, and Donald knew it. The trouble
-      was that Marie-Celeste did not see or would not see either rhyme or reason
-      in Donald's being sent down to Nuneham.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She gave full rein to a certain &ldquo;little member,&rdquo; and working
-      herself up to the highest pitch of excitement, gave vent in very
-      aggressive fashion to such sentiments as these. For her part, she thought
-      it was a downright shame to send a little fellow, who was just getting
-      over a fever, away to work himself to death on an old farm, where he would
-      surely be ill again before a week was over. And then it seemed so mean not
-      to be willing to pay his expenses outright for just one summer, till he
-      should be able to go to sea, instead of making him go to work and earn
-      money in the mean time.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For her part, too, when somebody (which was Harold) stood ready only too
-      gladly to pay Donald's way on the trip they were to take through the
-      Lake Country, and was just longing to invite him, she thought it was <i>cruelly
-      unkind</i> in somebody else (which was her father) to say he did not think
-      best that he should be invited. If she were Harold, she just believed she
-      would go right ahead as she thought best herself. She should think he had
-      a right to do what he chose with his own without so much as asking &ldquo;by
-      your leave&rdquo; of anybody.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And this unqueenly state of mind lasted, I am sorry to say, for three
-      whole days together, to the dire distress of the truest hearts in her
-      kingdom. And all this while the wilful little queen was trying to convince
-      herself that it was ready for Donald's sake, when the truth was that
-      the long walks with Donald, when Harold&mdash;who was making up some
-      necessary back work at college&mdash;was not at her service, were what she
-      was determined not to give up, and the reading aloud in the evenings, when
-      Donald was such a delightful listener; and, in fact, the hundred and one
-      little amusing things that Donald was continually doing, and that made the
-      days go by in such happy, merry fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      If only at the outset some good little fairy might have held a magic
-      mirror close to her defiant little mind, and she could have seen &ldquo;selfishness&rdquo;
-      written large, right straight across all her motives, there perhaps need
-      never have been this dark chapter in her reign. But lacking the fairies,
-      some of us have to learn a good many things from experience; and though
-      hard enough in the learning, the lessons are worth their weight in gold.
-      Even queens have to goto the same school, and it is a blessed thing for
-      everybody when its lessons are learned <i>by heart</i> and in a way to be
-      always remembered.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But at sunset on the fourth day Marie-Celeste relented, and coming into
-      the house with a white flag of truce at her eyes, threw herself at the
-      feet of her dearest subject, and burying her head, as I have already
-      hinted, in the lap of the same, capitulated body and soul.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald was gone. They had seen him off at the station&mdash;Harold and she&mdash;and
-      Donald, never allowing himself for a moment to regard this whole affair in
-      any light but the true one, kept a stiff upper lip to the last, and smiled
-      the cheeriest good-by as the guard banged the carriage-door and the train
-      glided out from the depot. Before he jumped on the train, however, he had
-      whispered, as the last of many entreaties: &ldquo;I know it's all
-      for my sake, Marie-Celeste, but all the same, it's an awful grind on
-      me the way you're acting; and if you don't come to see it so
-      pretty soon, your father and mother will wish they had never let you do
-      anything for me. Honor bright, Marie-Celeste, you're not fair to
-      them or to me at all. Please give in as soon as you go home, and say you're
-      sorry, because you are&mdash;you <i>know</i> you are.&rdquo; And it was
-      the &ldquo;yes, I am&rdquo; in Marie-Celeste's eyes, though her lips
-      still firmly pressed each other, that made Donald's heart a
-      thousand-fold lighter. And so, as you have read, Marie-Celeste did really
-      give in, without so much as a mental reservation, and other hearts than
-      Donald's were wondrously lightened, and there was joy throughout all
-      the kingdom that the queen had come to her senses.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Donald's train made good time to Nuneham; and there was
-      Chris at the station waiting with open arms to receive him, and, what was
-      more, he took Donald into them in a way that nipped in the bud those queer
-      little misgivings that spring up unbidden when one chances to be leaving
-      old scenes for new. And then when they reached the cottage, there stood
-      dear old Mis, Hartley, looking the picture of motherliness in her
-      snow-white cap and kerchief; and the welcome that she gave Donald made him
-      feel beyond all doubting that he had but exchanged one dear home for
-      another; and that meant worlds to a boy who had come to know for the first
-      time what a dear place home might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0122.jpg" alt="0122 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0122.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      In the hour that intervened between Donald's arrival and supper he
-      had had a chat with Mr. Hartley, in which the old keeper had taken to the
-      boy immensely; had made friends with Martha, as she showed him to the
-      little room under the eaves and helped him to stow away the contents of
-      his sailor chest, and had won his way straight to Mrs. Hartley's
-      heart, who was but a woman, after all, and gratified by the undisguised
-      admiration in his frank, honest eyes. There remained only one inmate of
-      the cottage yet to be encountered&mdash;the gentleman about whom Chris had
-      told him, and who had met with the driving accident a few weeks back; but
-      the gentleman in question bad his own ideas as to the time and place when
-      that dreaded encounter was to be gotten through with, and Donald was not
-      to be favored with an interview that evening.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If it's not too much bother, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; Ted had
-      said, &ldquo;I'll have my supper here in my room to-night. I think
-      for a first drive Harry took me a little too far this afternoon.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was afraid of that&mdash;afraid of that,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Hartley, looking at Ted with the deepest solicitude, so that Ted felt like
-      a fraud, for though tired indeed from the drive, he had quite strength
-      enough to take his seat at the table with the rest but for the presence of
-      that new and undesired guest, Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your sailor-boy arrived all right?&rdquo; asked Ted, partly by way
-      of diverting conversation from himself and partly because there was the
-      possibility of meeting him to be provided against.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; her face lighting up as she spoke; &ldquo;and
-      he seems the most attractive little fellow. I want you should meet him
-      after&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not to-night, I think, Mrs. Hartley, if you don't mind. I'll
-      just see Harry a few moments when he comes and turn in very early. The
-      little sailor-boy will keep all right till morning, won't he?'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Deeply annoyed that Ted's strength should have been so apparently
-      overtaxed, Mrs. Hartley paid no attention to this last remark.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall take Mr. Allyn to task when he comes to-night,&rdquo; she
-      said severely (that is, for her); &ldquo;he should have known better; but
-      if I leave you now perhaps you'll get a good sleep before ever it's
-      time for your supper;&rdquo; and then as she went out Ted drew a long
-      sigh, and had half a mind to call the dear old lady back and take her
-      right into his confidence. But no; on the whole, he thought he would wait
-      and once more consult Harry, and, besides, he was really too tired to
-      enter upon any explanations just then.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, where's Ted?&rdquo; asked Harry Allyn with real concern,
-      as at his usual hour he brought up at the doorway of the little cottage
-      and peered into the room beyond. The evening meal over, the old couple
-      were seated on the settle just outside the door, and Mrs. Hartley made
-      room for Harry between them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've quite used Mr. Morris up!&rdquo; she said reprovingly;
-      &ldquo;you ought not to have gone so far; all these weeks of nursing ought
-      to have taught you better than that, Mr. Allyn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Mrs. Hartley!&rdquo; for from any one so mild this was indeed
-      censure. &ldquo;Really I think you are a little hard on me. It was Ted's
-      own fault. I wanted to turn back two or three times, and Ted wouldn't
-      hear of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You should have turned, all the same. Invalids never know what is
-      best for them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, how used up is he?&rdquo; asked Harry with a sigh, more
-      concerned at the thought of harm done to Ted even than at Mrs. Hartley's
-      disapproval. &ldquo;It is an awful pity if he's going to have a
-      regular set-back.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, it's not so bad as that, I fancy;&rdquo; for sooner or
-      later, Mrs. Hartley always felt self-reproachful, no matter how justly she
-      had taken any one to task; &ldquo;but Mr. Morris wants to see you for a
-      few moments, so you can go in and judge for yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So, you're a wreck,&rdquo; said Harry, entering Ted's
-      room and closing the door gently after him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I'm pretty tired, but I'm here for a reason, you
-      know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; evidently relieved; &ldquo;I thought possibly that was
-      it; you didn't get any chance, then, to have a word with Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; there didn't seem to be any way to manage, so I just kept
-      my room. Some day soon I'm going to tell them here all about myself,
-      but I want to do it in my own time and way, and not seem pushed to it
-      because of Donald's coming, and as though I only told because I
-      thought I couldn't keep them longer from knowing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Look here, Ted, I'll manage this thing for you,&rdquo; said
-      Harry, after a few moments' silence. &ldquo;I'll drop in to
-      breakfast in the morning, and I'll contrive somehow to get the boy
-      in here for a word with you as soon as he shows his face below stairs.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Agreed,&rdquo; answered Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, good-night, and do you get a good rest, so that Mrs.
-      Hartley will not think me wholly unfit in future to act as guardian on
-      your drives.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      True to his word, bright and early the next morning Harry unbolted the
-      outer door of the inn at Nuneham, where no one was yet stirring, and
-      started for his two-mile walk to the Hartleys'. It was a glorious
-      July morning, the air clear as a bell, and a bird here and there carolling
-      with all the abandon of June in the hedgerows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      One after the other he passed the typical little English farms that skirt
-      the roadway, seeming in their trim perfection and miniature proportions
-      more like toys to unaccustomed eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was only half-past six by the time he reached the Hartleys', and
-      Donald, as good fortune would have it, had just come downstairs and was
-      standing right in the doorway. Donald, who had been absent on a tour of
-      the farm with Chris when Harry was at the house the night before, at once
-      surmised who the new-comer was, but gazed in blank amazement, none the
-      less, as Harry, calling him by name, commanded him rather imperatively to
-      stay just where he was for a moment. Then opening Ted's door, Harry
-      said in a loud whisper:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's just outside here, and there's no one else within
-      gun-shot; shall I bring him in?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Ted, since the thing was inevitable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      No sooner said than done. Donald found himself in the stranger's
-      room and with his face aflame with the strangeness and suddenness of the
-      manner of his introduction. But behold! he was no stranger. In bed though
-      Ted was, and pale and white from his illness, one glance was sufficient,
-      and Donald stood transfixed, his hands on his hips in sailor fashion and
-      absolutely speechless.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know me, Donald?&rdquo; said Ted, raising himself on one elbow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; getting the words out with difficulty; &ldquo;you're
-      Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, but stop right where you are, for you're not to mention
-      here who I am. Do you think you can keep a secret?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I choose I can for this was a very queer proceeding, and he was
-      not going to be led blindfold.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, will you please be good enough to choose to keep it
-      till matters can be explained to you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;When will that be?&rdquo; in a business-like way that was rather
-      amusing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Till we can go for a walk after breakfast, and I can enlighten you,&rdquo;
-      said Harry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you mean that now, just for a little while, I am not to let the
-      Hartleys know that we've met before?&rdquo; but as though he did not
-      in the least take to the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, of course I can't refuse to do that much; but up at
-      Windsor, you know, they think you are off on a driving trip, and are
-      wondering that you don't write.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's nothing to wonder at in that,&rdquo; Ted answered a
-      little sadly; &ldquo;Harold knows I've never been in the habit of
-      writing, or of doing some other things, for that matter, that might
-      perhaps have been expected of me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; was Donald's frank answer; &ldquo;it's
-      an awful pity.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Nough said, my young friend,&rdquo; remarked Harry, and
-      fearing what next might follow, marched him out of the room with a &ldquo;Now
-      be on your guard, young man, and be sure and remember your promise.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIII.&mdash;MADAME LA GRANDE REINE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9127.jpg" alt="9127 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9127.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey had spent a
-      most interesting hour at the Royal Mews, and, rare good fortune, the best
-      was yet to come. They means Mr. Harris and Marie-Celeste and Albert, and
-      the Royal Mews&mdash;since to the average little American the words
-      doubtless are wholly unintelligible&mdash;means the royal stables. Mr.
-      Harris and Marie-Celeste had called by appointment in the phaeton lor
-      Albert, and then leaving the ponies in the care of a groom at the entrance
-      to the stable courtyard, in company with another groom they had visited
-      the royal horses. The place as a whole was rather disappointing to our
-      little party. Harold, who had been all through the stables of the Duke of
-      Westminster at Eton Hall, had described something much finer than this&mdash;imposing
-      buildings surrounding a courtyard paved with bevel-edged squares of stone,
-      with not so much as a whisp of hay or straw to be seen anywhere, and in
-      the centre a noble statue of a high-spirited horse, rearing and pulling
-      hard at the bridle, held in the hand of a stalwart groom, who seems fully
-      equal to the occasion. Here there was nothing of the sort, and yet these
-      were the Queen's stables. Ah, well! these were old and the Duke's
-      were new, and perhaps the royal family were trying to avoid extravagance,
-      and that was of course very commendable. But what seemed lacking in
-      elegance of appointment was made up in the number of horses; and happening
-      to enter one of the courtyards just as three of the court carriages were
-      about to be driven out of it, the children were intensely interested.
-      Marie-Celeste opened her eyes wide for wonder at the novel sight of a
-      coach and four, but with no reins anywhere about the harness, and not so
-      much as the suggestion of a scat for the coachman. The mystery of how they
-      were to be driven was solved in a moment, however, when a faultlessly
-      equipped groom threw himself astride of one of the leaders, and the
-      stablemen, standing at the bridles of the four-in-hand, at one and the
-      same moment let go their hold, and sprang quickly out of the way. It was
-      very inspiring and exciting to see the three coaches, that were to convey
-      some royal guests to the depot, leave the courtyard one after the other,
-      the horses in each case prancing in wildest fashion and perfectly free,
-      apparently, with the exception of the one mounted leader, to do any
-      outlandish thing that they chose.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't see that there's anything at all to keep them
-      from running away,&rdquo; pondered Marie-Celeste gravely, &ldquo;or how
-      they ever manage them at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But dey do,&rdquo; said well-informed Albert; &ldquo;I've
-      seen dem often. Dat cuttin' up is jus' for fun at de start.
-      Dey're trained to behave jus' of dere own selves without any
-      driver, and when dey get out on de road dey always do behave;&rdquo; and
-      then in the moment's pause that followed, Marie-Celeste, remembering
-      certain recent performances of her own, wondered if her father wished that
-      a certain little girl, of whom he had some knowledge, more closely
-      resembled these royal ponies, who, once trained to behave, according to
-      Albert, never dreamed of taking the bit in their teeth or of kicking over
-      the traces.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the best that was yet to come was something of a highly exclusive and
-      highly privileged order&mdash;something in which even Mr. Harris could
-      have no part. From the moment that Albert had climbed into the phaeton at
-      his own door he had held a small square envelope firmly in one hand. Mr.
-      Harris had advised him to put it in his pocket or to consign it to him for
-      safer keeping but to no avail. Albert considered the grip of his own right
-      hand the safest place by far for the valuable little square of cardboard,
-      and which was nothing else than the open sesame to the Queen's own
-      garden, called the East Terrace, and to which the general public only
-      occasionally were admitted. Exception, in this instance, had been made for
-      Marie-Celeste and Albert. It had all been managed in some way by Albert's
-      father, Canon Allyn, apropos of Albert's having repeated a remark of
-      Marie-Celeste's, &ldquo;that she should be happy as a queen herself
-      if just once she could be allowed to walk in that garden.&rdquo; Whether
-      the powers that rule the entrance to the same came to the conclusion that
-      to a little girl of twelve and a little boy of four the term of general
-      public could not honestly be applied, or whether all rules of procedure
-      and precedence were magnanimously waived in their favor, certain it is
-      that the little card in question bore the incredible inscription: &ldquo;Admit
-      Master Albert Allyn and his little friend, Miss Marie-Celeste Harris, to
-      the East Terrace between the hours of twelve and three on Thursday. By
-      order of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And this was Thursday, and by Mr. Harris's watch, long ago carefully
-      adjusted to English time, it was precisely five minutes to twelve. The
-      skies were blue above them and a delightful little breeze was blowing out
-      of the west; so that everything was just as it should be when two pairs of
-      eager little feet were to be allowed to tread the paths of the Queen's
-      own garden. And such a garden as it proved! with its fountains and statues
-      and vases, and the orangery on one side, and on the other three sides a
-      beautiful sloping lawn, ascending from the level of the garden to the gray
-      stonewall at the outer edge of the terrace; and to think that here they
-      were actually walking about in this beautiful garden, instead of merely
-      peering through the fretwork of the iron gate, as some other little
-      children with envious eyes were doing that very moment. Marie-Celeste was
-      so impressed with the greatness of the privilege accorded them, that for
-      the first five minutes or so she kept Albert's hand tight in her
-      own, and spoke never a word save a whispered &ldquo;yes&rdquo; or &ldquo;no&rdquo;
-      to Albert's questions. But to Albert, who had been born beneath the
-      castle walls, it must be confessed royalty was less awe-inspiring, and to
-      walk about hand in hand in that stately fashion and talk in suppressed
-      whispers was not his idea of the way to enjoy the Queen's garden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0129.jpg" alt="0129 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Finally he resolved to take matters into his own hands by suddenly
-      slipping away from Marie-Celeste's grasp; and then drawing off a
-      little, and folding both hands behind his back, as though neither of them
-      were to be longer at anybody's disposal, he said aggressively:
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now what are you afraid of, Marie-Celeste? Do you
-      sink somebody's goin' to soot you from de top of one of de
-      towers if you speak out loud?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why no, of course not,&rdquo; with a little nervous laugh; &ldquo;really,
-      I didn't know I was just whispering; but it seems such a wonderful
-      place to me, as much for what has happened here as for what is here now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert looked at Marie-Celeste a little whimsically, and then said dryly:
-      &ldquo;Well, I don' know much about what's happened here, and
-      I s'ouldn't sink jus' an American little girl would know
-      so very much eider.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps not,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, half angry at Albert's
-      insinuation; &ldquo;but 's'ouldn't sink' or no, I
-      could tell you a good deal if I chose to about one little queen who lived
-      here&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I remember. You did promise to tell me 'bout her
-      some day. Right here, where she used to live, would be a good place,
-      Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it would,&rdquo; but in a tone as though nothing was farther
-      from her thought than the telling of it. She would show this presuming
-      little Albert that &ldquo;jus' American little girls&rdquo; were not
-      to be so easily conciliated.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert looked crestfallen, but hoped still to win by strategy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She was a little French girl, wasn't she?&rdquo; he asked,
-      quite casually.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, she was.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you s'pose she used to play in this garden?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm sure I don't know,&rdquo; with an indifferent shrug
-      of the shoulders.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her name was Isabel, wasn't it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, her name was Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And she was only nine when she was a queen.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only nine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert gave Marie-Celeste a look which said as plainly as words: &ldquo;That
-      jus' American little girls could be awful mean,&rdquo; and evidently
-      deciding it would be best to leave that kind of a girl to herself, turned
-      on his heel and walked straight off toward the castle with a consequential
-      air, and as though bent on reporting such unseemly conduct to Her Majesty
-      in person.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste looked after him a moment with a most amused smile, and then
-      growing to feel more at home amid royal surroundings, turned to
-      investigate the little miniature elephants that flank the steps leading
-      down from the eastern terrace. Then she wandered on, making a partial
-      circuit of the garden, stopping here and there to gaze at some statue that
-      struck her fancy or to touch with reverend hand the rich carving of the
-      vases, and finally bringing up at the fountain in the centre.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, what had not that audacious Albert ventured! The rapid and
-      indignant pace at which he had sought to put as much space as possible
-      between the offending Marie-Celeste and himself had brought him in a trice
-      to the foot of the double flight of steps that ascend from the garden to
-      the terrace. And what more natural, when you find yourself at the foot of
-      a flight of steps, than to walk up them, no matter if the place does
-      chance to be Windsor Castle; and then if at the top you find an open door
-      confronting you, what more natural than to walk in, particularly if there
-      happens to be no one to say you nay, and you have half a mind, besides, to
-      seek an audience of the Queen, and report the ungracious conduct of an
-      ungracious little American, who has been unworthily permitted to tread the
-      paths of the royal garden. A few moments later he was bounding down the
-      stone stairway, flying toward Marie-Celeste with the breathless
-      announcement: &ldquo;She wants us to come in.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo; screamed Marie-Celeste, half stiff with fright; &ldquo;not
-      the Queen?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; called Albert, who was not to be delayed by
-      explanations, and was already half-way back to the steps again; &ldquo;the
-      Queen's mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Queen's mother!&rdquo; thought Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;she
-      must be very old.&rdquo; But this was time for action rather than thought.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Please wait for me, Albert;&rdquo; for Albert had scaled the
-      stairs, and in another second would be out of sight; and for a wonder,
-      Albert waited&mdash;touched, perhaps, by the entreaty in her voice, and
-      perceptibly enjoying the turn of affairs that left him master of the
-      situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did the Queen's mother come out and ask you to come in?&rdquo;
-      whispered Marie-Celeste, detaining Albert by main force, while she
-      straightened his necktie and gave his hopelessly frowsy curls a
-      rearranging touch.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I went in and asked her to tome out; nes I did, really,&rdquo;
-      in refutation of the astonished incredulity on Marie-Celeste's face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The door was open, an' I jus' walked in, an' I
-      dess dey sought I was jus' a little prince or somethin', cause
-      nobody said anythin' to me till I tame to the room where de Queen's
-      mother was; an' I asked her wouldn't she tome out in de garden
-      an' see you; an' she said no, she did not feel able to walk
-      very much, but for me to go an' bring my little friend in.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And nothing could, by any possibility, have been more patronizing than the
-      tone in which Albert uttered the words &ldquo;my little friend.&rdquo; And
-      this was all the light that was ever thrown on Albert's unsolicited
-      <i>entree</i> into Windsor Castle. If he met with a rebuff from any
-      quarter or had to push his way in the face of any difficulties, he has
-      never owned up to them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Be that as it may, a very sweet-faced lady met them at the door as they
-      entered, and saying reassuringly, &ldquo;Come this way, children,&rdquo;
-      led them through a corridor resplendent with statues and portraits, and
-      thence by a wide folding-door into a large room, with windows looking out
-      over the Long Walk and away to the grand old Windsor Forest.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, who had already become familiar with the appointments of this
-      apartment, stepped at once to the table, near which an elderly lady was
-      sitting, and laying his sailor-hat, nothing loath, atop of a miniature of
-      His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, announced cavalierly, &ldquo;And&mdash;and
-      now, this is my little American friend, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you do, dear?&rdquo; said the lady, extending her hand,
-      which Marie-Celeste, her cheeks aflame with the unexpected abruptness of
-      Albert's introduction, took in hers, in a pretty deferential sort of
-      way, as though fully conscious of the dignity of her surroundings. Albert,
-      on the other hand, apparently as much at home in the Queen's private
-      sitting-room as anywhere else in the world, had worked himself way back
-      into a deep-seated, gilded armchair, so that his dusty little feet stuck
-      straight out into the air before him. Meanwhile, the sweet-faced lady had
-      drawn a little <i>tête-a-tète</i> sofa nearer the table, and invited
-      Marie-Celeste to take a seat beside her, and then there followed a few
-      general remarks as to the warmth of the weather and the beauty of the
-      garden, etc., while Marie-Celeste gazed in unconcealed admiration at
-      everything about her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is very beautiful,&rdquo; she said in the first pause of the
-      conversation, &ldquo;to be allowed to see the inside of this part of the
-      castle, but I am afraid it was very rude in Albert to walk right in the
-      way he did.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Very rude?&rdquo; Indeed! Albert's eyes flashed, and there is
-      no telling what rejoinder he might have made but that the sweet-faced lady
-      gave him no opportunity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; she said cordially; &ldquo;Albert
-      told us he was Canon Allyn's little boy, and that made us very glad
-      to see him, for the Queen has a very high regard for Canon Allyn; and then
-      when he told us he thought you would like to come in too, the Queen sent
-      for you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was very kind of the Queen,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste
-      gratefully, while Albert looked mystified, for he was not at all aware of
-      the Queen's having had any part in the transaction; but he thought
-      it was a good time to gain a little useful information.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose de Queen is always very busy,&rdquo; he said, addressing
-      the young lady, &ldquo;and never has any time jus'&mdash;jus'
-      to sit around like dis?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The young lady hesitated a moment before she answered, and glanced toward
-      the Queen, for the elderly lady was none other, if you please, than
-      Victoria herself, though it never entered the children's heads for
-      one moment to suspect it. A Queen in black silk and a lace cap! Why, the
-      thing was simply incredible. Albert had not passed the statue on Castle
-      Hill almost every day since he learned to walk for nothing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0135.jpg" alt="0135 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0135.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      He guessed he knew how a queen ought to look in her robes of velvet and
-      ermine, and with characteristic self-sufficiency had at once settled it in
-      his venturesome little mind that this was the Queen's mother; and
-      Marie-Celeste, presuming he knew whereof he spoke, simply took him at his
-      word. And so both the children almost at once betraying their utter
-      unconsciousness of the Queen's presence, the Queen and her companion
-      were naturally greatly amused, and by an interchange of glances decided
-      not to enlighten their unsuspecting little visitors.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her Majesty,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore, the lady-in-waiting, after
-      hesitating a moment, not knowing how to answer, &ldquo;has of course many
-      things to occupy her mind, but still she often spends a quiet hour or so
-      in this very room.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, does she?&rdquo; for this fact at once added a new lustre to
-      everything for Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;where does she generally sit?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Generally where I am sitting,&rdquo; answered the Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and I know jus' how she looks sitting dere,&rdquo;
-      said Albert; &ldquo;she has a beautiful crown on her head and a long kind
-      of veil coming down from de crown, and a kind of gold stick in her hand
-      dat papa says is called a&mdash;a&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sceptre,&rdquo; suggested Marie-Celeste, coming to the rescue;
-      &ldquo;and then she wears&rdquo;&mdash;for Marie-Celeste had studied the
-      statue too&mdash;&ldquo;a beautiful broad ribbon coming from one shoulder,
-      crosswise this way to her belt, doesn't she?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sometimes,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And on it she wears the badge of the Order of the Garter, doesn't
-      she?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that is right, too; but what do two little people like you
-      know about the Order of the Garter?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We know all dere is,&rdquo; said Albert grandly; &ldquo;we had a
-      Knight-of-the-Garter day las' week;&rdquo; and then recalling the
-      matter of the foolish little garter, his face grew crimson, and he begged
-      Marie-Celeste not to tell.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean by a Knight-of-the-Garter day?&rdquo; said the
-      Queen, smiling at Albert's embarrassment and keenly enjoying the
-      novelty of the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, it was a day,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste explained, &ldquo;when we
-      came to the castle here and went into the different rooms and then into
-      St. George's Chapel, and Harold Harris, my cousin, who lives here,
-      and who has read up a great deal about the knights, told us all he knew
-      about them. But there is one thing,&rdquo; added Marie-Celeste, changing
-      the subject, because unwilling that so important an occasion should be to
-      any extent devoted to any mere narrating of their own childish doings,
-      &ldquo;I would very much like to know, and that is, if Victoria is ever
-      called Madame La Grande Reine?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why no, my dear, I don't know that she is,&rdquo; said Her
-      Majesty; &ldquo;but what a little French woman you seem to be.&rdquo; At
-      this Albert rudely clapped one little hand over his mouth, as though to
-      keep from laughing outright. Marie-Celeste a little French woman! Why he
-      didn't believe she knew more than a dozen French words to her name.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But why do you ask if she is ever called by that title?&rdquo;
-      continued the Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because on the steamer coming over I learned all about the
-      Queen whom they used to call Madame La Petite Reine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What are you saying, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; said Albert impetuously;
-      &ldquo;I don't understan' you at all;&rdquo; for not for one
-      single moment was this conversation in the Queen's own sitting-room
-      to rise above the level of his comprehension, if it lay in his power to
-      prevent it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am talking about the little French Queen, Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; greatly relieved that the matter could be so easily
-      explained; and then he added, turning beseechingly to Her Majesty, &ldquo;Won't
-      you please make her tell it? Se always says se knows a great deal about
-      her, but se never tells what se knows.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was Marie-Celeste's turn to color up now, and she looked at
-      Albert, considering for a moment in what way she should proceed to
-      annihilate him, when Her Majesty happily put to rout all such revengeful
-      intentions. &ldquo;I should love to talk with you about the little Isabel,&rdquo;
-      she said, &ldquo;for I know all about her too, and there are some things
-      here in the castle that used to belong to her that I should be glad to
-      have you see. It seems to me you two little people will have to remain to
-      luncheon, and afterward we will have a good talk about the little French
-      Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, thank you,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;but I don't
-      believe we can,&rdquo; the idea of actually sitting down to the royal
-      table being almost too overpowering.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, nes we can, too,&rdquo; said Albert, &ldquo;if you sink the
-      Queen won't mind.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; said Her Majesty, with difficulty
-      concealing her amusement, &ldquo;I am confident she will be most glad to
-      have you entertained at the castle; and now, Miss Belmore, will you summon
-      Ainslee, that she may show our little friends through the private
-      apartments?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ainslee proved to be a motherly-looking, middle-aged woman with a bunch of
-      keys hanging from her ample girdle. After she had received a word or two
-      of direction from Miss Belmore, the children set off under her guidance,
-      with unconcealed delight on their faces at the prospect of seeing with
-      their own eyes these mysterious apartments, and with a deep-seated hope in
-      each quick-beating heart that in all the full regalia of crown and sceptre
-      and ermine they might somewhere encounter the marvellous Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, imagine the astonishment of the inmates of the Little Castle to
-      have a finely mounted groom, in the royal livery of the big Castle, ride
-      up to their door, and with that indescribable condescension inherent in
-      even the most ordinary of grooms, hand in a communication, which on being
-      opened imparted the rather astounding information &ldquo;That Her Most
-      Gracious Majesty the Queen, having accidentally made the acquaintance of
-      the little visitors to the East Terrace, had invited them to remain for
-      luncheon at the Castle, and would see that they reached home safely under
-      proper escort later in the afternoon.&rdquo; The note also mentioned that
-      similar word had been sent by special messenger to Canon Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Gad, but they're lucky!&rdquo; said Harold: and then he sent
-      for his pony and started off for a long gallop, hoping thereby to get the
-      better of certain absurdly jealous feelings that would not down at his
-      bidding.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIV.&mdash;MADAME LA PETITE REINE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9139.jpg" alt="9139 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9139.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>h, the wonder, for
-      Marie-Celeste, of that tour through the private apartments! As for Albert,
-      it is to be doubted if he quite rose to the occasion. Nothing could be
-      more awe-inspiring or majestic than the picture of the Queen he had formed
-      in his mind; but as they were shown from room to room and failed to
-      encounter her, his interest began to flag a little. There were apartments
-      more grand than these, with which he was already familiar, in the other
-      part of the Castle; and when Ainslee hurried them past two or three rooms
-      with the explanation that some of the royal family were in them, he felt
-      some-the very object of their of them, and he thought Ainslee might at
-      least have told them which one, even though they were not to be permitted
-      to have a sight of her. But with Marie-Celeste it was very different, She
-      stood in worshipful admiration before all the royal belongings, and when
-      permitted to gaze into one or two of the bedrooms where royalty actually
-      put itself to bed, behind beautiful embroidered draperies, her sense of
-      the privilege accorded her fairly made her hold her breath. At last, when
-      Ainslee announced that they had made the tour of all the private
-      apartments, they were ushered into a little boudoir where a maid waited in
-      readiness to assist them in making their toilettes for luncheon. The maid,
-      however, standing stiff and straight, with a towel thrown over her arm and
-      a whisk-broom in hand ready to attack them, looked so very formidable that
-      Marie-Celeste begged Ainslee not to leave them; and Ainslee, herself
-      appreciating the overbearing self-importance of the maid Babette, was good
-      enough to accede to her request. And then followed such a freshening of
-      toilette as was fairly humiliating in its thoroughness. The trying feature
-      of the proceeding lay in the fact that they were in no way taken into the
-      confidence of the party officiating, or told what move was impending. Side
-      by side they were thrust on to a little low seat, and their shoes and
-      pumps being quickly removed, were consigned to the keeping of a
-      condescending boots, who, summoned by the touch of an electric bell,
-      carried them away at arm's length. Marie-Celeste was never more
-      thankful in her life than that every button was on, and that Albert's
-      little patent leathers were just as good as new; in fact, that nothing
-      could be urged against those little articles of foot-wear save the
-      grievous offence of dust from the royal garden. Their faces and hands were
-      scrubbed with wholly unnecessary vigor, and in Albert's case even
-      ears, and then both children were thrust on to the little low seat again,
-      and drawing a stool in front of them, Babette laid an elaborate manicure
-      set open upon her lap, and gave her whole mind to the shaping and
-      polishing of their nails&mdash;a process in which Albert took great
-      interest, and which was accomplished, it must be confessed, most
-      dexterously and with great expedition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have beautiful nails, child,&rdquo; said Babette, the instant
-      she took Marie-Celeste's extended hands in hers; and this compliment
-      from so high and experienced an authority made Marie-Celeste at once feel
-      repaid for all the dainty care her mother had always insisted upon. At
-      last the little toilettes were completed, even to the reformation of
-      Albert's curls around an ivory curling stick; and with embroidered
-      dress and well-starched kilt none the worse for the decorous experiences
-      of the morning, they emerged from the little boudoir as &ldquo;spick and
-      span&rdquo; as from the depths of the traditional bandbox. Luncheon being
-      served, they found a most imposing butler awaiting them in the hallway,
-      and therefore were obliged, but with evident reluctance, to turn their
-      backs on Ainslee. When they reached the dining-room, Miss Belmore was
-      already seated at the table, ready to receive them; but as places were set
-      for only three, two little hearts were again doomed to disappointment, for
-      two little minds, without any sort of consultation, had separately arrived
-      at the conclusion that all that elaborate preparation could certainly mean
-      nothing less than luncheon with Her Majesty in person. Otherwise it is to
-      be doubted if they would have put up half so civilly with the
-      uncompromising treatment they had received at Babette's hands. Their
-      disappointment, however, could not long hold out against the odds of their
-      immediate surroundings. The butlers&mdash;for there were two of them&mdash;could
-      not have seemed more anxious to please or more obsequious to a veritable
-      little prince and princess; the luncheon was delicious, and no one could
-      possibly have been more kind and friendly than Miss Bel-more. Therefore it
-      happened that to their own surprise they became almost at once at their
-      ease, and Albert chattered away in such a cunning, irresistible fashion
-      that the royal dining-room rang with the merriest peals of laughter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now,&rdquo; said Albert, when the luncheon at last
-      was concluded, and having clearly in mind the talk about the little Queen
-      that was to follow, &ldquo;where sail we find de old lady?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We shall find her in the sitting-room, Albert,&rdquo; said Miss
-      Bel-more, her kind gray eyes dancing with the amusement which she was
-      making such an effort to conceal. So it was quite plain that these little
-      uninvited visitors to Windsor Castle were mistaking Her Majesty for Her
-      Majesty's mother! She wondered for the moment if she ought not to
-      tell them of their absurd mistake; and yet no&mdash;she hardly had the
-      right to do that either; for had not a little conference with Her Majesty
-      resulted in the conclusion that they would not disillusionize their little
-      guests if they could help it? If possible they should leave the Castle as
-      they entered it&mdash;the Queen of England still the dream-queen of their
-      imagination, regal and stately always, and perennially arrayed in crown,
-      ermine and jewels, and all the royal insignia of her office. They, at any
-      rate, would not be the ones to acquaint them with the fact that even
-      queens sometimes grow to be grandmothers, taking more comfort in
-      rocking-chairs than thrones, vastly preferring lace caps to crowns, and
-      behaving in general like other dear grandmothers the world over. And, in
-      the mean time, what a pleasure to talk familiarly with these same bright
-      little visitors, who more likely than not would have retired into
-      speechless embarrassment had anyone ventured the announcement that the
-      great Queen of England was none other than the friendly &ldquo;old lady&rdquo;
-      with whom they were taking all the liberties of commonplace, every-day
-      acquaintance! And so, happily, no doubt, for their ease of mind, no one
-      felt called upon to make the announcement.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you been here ever since?&rdquo; asked Albert, the moment they
-      reached the sitting-room and descried the Queen in the same chair in which
-      they had left her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ever since,&rdquo; answered Her Majesty.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And haven't you had any luncheon?&rdquo; in a tone of real
-      concern, and going close to her side, so that he leaned against her knee.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I have had my luncheon served right here, to save me the
-      trouble of moving; and now I am ready and waiting to have our talk about
-      little Isabel de Valois.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did these belong to her?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, standing in
-      open-eyed wonder before a mosaic table, which had been cleared to make
-      room for a quaint collection of foreign-looking, childish possessions&mdash;a
-      mandolin, a well-worn little missal, a remarkable doll, a necklace or two,
-      numerous little childish trinkets, and thrown over a chair, standing close
-      to the table, a little gown of white silk and exquisite embroidery, yellow
-      and limp with age, but none the less dainty and lovely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, all of them,&rdquo; answered the Queen, keenly enjoying the
-      child's undisguised pleasure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, who preferred that everything should be done decently and in
-      order, placed a chair for Marie-Celeste on the other side of the Queen's
-      little table, and then seated himself on the gilded sofa beside Miss
-      Belmore, in such a comfortable, snuggling-up way that Miss Belmore had to
-      put one arm right round him and give him a sound little kiss by way of
-      punishment, which Albert was courteous enough not to resent,
-      notwithstanding he considered that sort of treatment somewhat humiliating
-      for a boy of four.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now tome, please, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; he pleaded; &ldquo;let's
-      hear about de tings before we look at dem and Marie-Celeste, feeling that
-      they were all waiting for her, reluctantly did as she was bid, and dropped
-      into the chair Albert had placed for her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert modestly, considering himself master of
-      ceremonies, &ldquo;please have Marie-Celeste tell what she knows first,&rdquo;
-      for the suspicious little reprobate was keenly anxious to put her boasted
-      knowledge to the test.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I should love to hear the story as she has heard it,&rdquo;
-      answered the Queen. &ldquo;Will you tell it to us, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-      And Marie-Celeste, nothing loath, and willing at last to substantiate her
-      claims in the ears of doubting Albert, rested a hand comfortably on either
-      arm of her chair, and commenced, preceding her narration with the request,
-      &ldquo;You will correct me, won't you, if you find I do not tell it
-      right?&rdquo; to which Her Majesty smilingly acceded, first asking Miss
-      Belmore to hand her a little jewelled miniature case from among the other
-      treasures on the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this little queen,&rdquo; began Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;was the
-      child of a French king, and she was born in the Louvre, the King's
-      palace in Paris, and she was born in a very troubled time&mdash;such a
-      troubled time, that her father, the King, went crazy; and then the little
-      Isabel spent most of her time in the Hotel de St. Pol, on the Seine, that
-      belonged to one of her father's ambassadors.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder that you remember such a queer name as St. Pol and such a
-      long word as ambassadors,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore incredulously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I have tried very hard to remember all the names, because you
-      can't tell the story very clearly without them. Besides, I wrote
-      them all down in my journal one day on the steamer, and because I was
-      coming here to Windsor to-day, I read them over only last night.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You haven't tol' us de name of de king den,&rdquo; said
-      Albert.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The king was Charles the Sixth of France,&rdquo; explained the
-      Queen, who was not going to have her little story-teller disconcerted if
-      she could help it; but Marie-Celeste confessed with perfect honesty,
-      &ldquo;I am afraid I had forgotten that name;&rdquo; and Albert felt
-      ashamed of himself, and confided in a whisper to Miss Belmore &ldquo;dat
-      he dessed he wouldn't be so mean aden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; continued Marie-Celeste, pausing thoughtfully a moment
-      to think out the order of the story, &ldquo;at that time and all the time
-      in those days there was war between France and England, and the French
-      wanted to have peace; and so the ambassador, St. Pol, who had married the
-      sister of King Richard in England, went to Richard and told him if he
-      would sign a truce with France Charles would give him his daughter Isabel
-      for his queen, and with a larger dowry than was ever given to a royal
-      bride.&rdquo; (Albert was becoming too deeply impressed with the extent of
-      Marie-Celeste's knowledge to venture the question as to what a dowry
-      might be.) &ldquo;And King Richard agreed to that; but it must just have
-      been because he thought it would be a wise thing to do, for Isabel was
-      only eight years old, and it would be so many years before she could
-      really reign as a queen at all. But that's the way with kings and
-      queens; they always have to do the things that's wise, no matter how
-      they may feel about it, don't they?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste, to
-      whom even the motives of royal conduct were of deepest interest, felt one
-      could hardly ask for a more reliable source of information than the Queen's
-      own mother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is certainly true,&rdquo; said Her Majesty a little gravely,
-      &ldquo;that the rulers of a great country like England have often to set
-      aside their own preferences; but these are better times than those in
-      which the little Isabel lived, and the idea of a king marrying a little
-      girl of eight, no matter for what reason, would hardly be tolerated now,
-      you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, is that so?&rdquo; with a look of real surprise, for
-      Marie-Celeste's idea of royalty had come to her largely through her
-      knowledge of the little Isabel; and her childish mind did not readily lend
-      itself to the thought that royalty, as well as everything else in the
-      world, was subject to change and possible improvement. Indeed, she did not
-      care to realize anything of the sort, choosing, rather, to think of the
-      Windsor of Isabel's time as much the same as the Windsor of Victoria's,
-      and she would have been not a little grieved and surprised had any one
-      insisted on pointing out to her in how many, many ways the old differed
-      from the new.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0145.jpg" alt="0145 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0145.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But the beauty of it was,&rdquo; she continued, after meditating a
-      moment over the Queen's answer, &ldquo;that little Isabel was really
-      a darling, and that the King called her 'his dear little sister,'
-      and really loved her; because sometimes kings and queens do not love each
-      other at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And sometimes they do and Her Majesty spoke so seriously, and with
-      such a depth of earnestness, that Marie-Celeste, and Albert too, for that
-      matter, looked up at her in wondering silence.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But go on with the story, dear,&rdquo; the Queen added; &ldquo;we
-      shall make but slow progress if we allow too many interruptions.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it wasn't a bit strange that the King loved her, for
-      even the King's men who were sent to bring her to England thought
-      she was perfectly lovely, and indeed she was a most unusual little girl.
-      They say that her father was very foolish, but good, and that her mother
-      was wicked, but clever, and that the little Isabel was like her father for
-      goodness and her mother for cleverness. And they say, too, that she was
-      never twice alike; that sometimes she was grave and sedate as could be,
-      and sometimes she was full of fun and frolic, but always so sweet and good
-      and innocent that she was like a bright little star in those dark times,
-      for there was war between England and France, and they say only the
-      children can be light-hearted in war time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you any idea, Marie-Celeste, how this little Isabel looked?&rdquo;
-      asked the Queen, keeping the little jewelled case close covered in her
-      hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I think I know exactly. She was fair, but her eyes were
-      black, with dark lashes curling over them, for her grandmother was an
-      Italian, you know; and her head was put on her shoulders in a pretty sort
-      of way, and she had a cunning, sweet look on her face that just made
-      people love her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like to see her picture?&rdquo; and the Queen, attempting
-      to open the case she held in her hand, both the children were instantly
-      bending over it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0147.jpg" alt="0147 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0147.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Se looks jus' as Marie-Celeste said,&rdquo; remarked Albert
-      proudly, his sceptical spirit of the morning wholly transformed into one
-      of profound admiration; and Marie-Celeste, asking that she might hold the
-      case in her own hand, and gazing entranced upon the dear little face
-      looking out at her, said joyfully, &ldquo;Yes, she does look as I said,
-      doesn't she?&rdquo; Then she reverently laid the miniature back upon
-      the Queen's lap, as though counting it quite too precious to be long
-      out of royal keeping. &ldquo;It seems to me now I can just see,&rdquo; she
-      said, gazing fondly down at the picture where it lay, &ldquo;the way she
-      looked that day when the King's men went to bring her to England.
-      One of them dropped on one knee and said, 'Madame, if God pleases, you
-      shall be our Queen and lady;' and then she made a little courtesy
-      like this, and answered without a word from anybody, 'Sir, if it
-      please God and my lord and father, I shall be most happy, for I am told
-      the Queen of England is a very great lady.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Nothing could have been prettier than the wholly unconscious way in which
-      Marie-Celeste impersonated the grandeur and dignity of the little Isabel,
-      courtesy and all; so that the Queen said admiringly, &ldquo;My dear, you
-      are a real little queen yourself, and your kingdom must lie in the hearts
-      of all who know you;&rdquo; and Albert, anxious at once to acquit himself
-      as most loyal of her subjects, shook his head emphatically and remarked,
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste is a daisy, and she ought to live in a castle jus'
-      as fine as anybody;&rdquo; and then, to prove the wealth of his devotion,
-      he threw his two arms around her waist, which was as high as he could
-      reach, in most uncourtly fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, blushingly pushing him
-      from her, for this demonstration was as embarrassing as unexpected;
-      &ldquo;please go and sit down by Miss Belmore, for we are not half
-      through, are we?&rdquo; looking toward the Queen for confirmation of the
-      fact.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, no indeed! Little Isabel isn't even married yet, Albert;&rdquo;
-      and Albert climbed back, just as he had intended to do, to his seat beside
-      Miss Belmore, but with the most supercilious smile on his little face, as
-      though he, to whom story-telling was the most delightful thing in the
-      world, did not know whether a story was finished or not. But no matter, he
-      did not mind being misunderstood, even by the Queen's mother, if
-      Marie-Celeste would only go on; and Marie-Celeste, as eager to talk as her
-      listeners to hear, went on.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And so it came about that they took the little Isabel to England,
-      and Madame de Coucy, a lady whom Isabel dearly loved, came with her to be
-      her governess; and next to Madame de Coucy, Isabel loved Simonette.
-      Simonette was a poor little slave brought to France from one of the
-      crusades, and I suppose they grew more fond of each other every day,
-      because when they came to England both were so far away from their old
-      home. On the way to England Richard came to meet the little Isabel at
-      Calais, in France, and then she was escorted to London in fine style, and
-      after that all her queen's fixings were taken off and she was
-      brought here to this very Castle, that was to be her home, and everybody
-      called her Madame La Petite Reine.&rdquo; Albert would have given a good
-      deal to know what those French words meant, and wished he had not made
-      such a row when his mother had once suggested a French bonne; but he would
-      not betray his ignorance for anything, and Marie-Celeste was allowed to
-      proceed uninterrupted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And here in this dear old Castle La Petite Reine had a beautiful
-      time. She used to study with Madame de Coucy in the mornings and go for
-      walks among the flowers out in the garden there in the afternoon, and way
-      beyond it too sometimes, and Richard would often come down from London for
-      a visit, and he taught her English courtly ways and to play the mandolin&rdquo;
-      (Albert looked significantly toward the quaint mandolin, with a faded blue
-      ribbon attached to it, that was lying among the other treasures on the
-      table); &ldquo;and when the King could not come for a regular visit, he
-      would just ride down for a word and kiss. And so the time went by, and
-      sometimes Isabel would go to hear the canons preach in St. George's,
-      and sometimes she would watch the knights riding in the tilt-yard from one
-      of the Castle windows; only sometimes, when one knight hurt another with
-      his spear or tumbled him from his horse, so that he was carried away
-      stunned and bleeding, she saw more than she wanted to see, and would not
-      go near those windows again for days. And then at last there came a sad
-      time for Isabel, for the King had decided he must go himself and take
-      charge of his army, which was trying to put down an insurrection in
-      Ireland. But before he rode away from Windsor Castle, he said he would
-      have a great tournament in the tilt-yard in honor of St. George, and he
-      had a beautiful green uniform made, and he was to carry the Queen's
-      device of a little white falcon, and Isabel and her maids were to be
-      present and give the crown to whichever knight should be victorious. But
-      very few came to the tournament, for there were very few who really cared
-      for the King, and it was all a failure, and the Castle seemed a very sad
-      place for La Petite Reine, because the King was going away.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert, appealing to the Queen, for he felt
-      that quite too much was being taken for granted, &ldquo;will you please
-      tell me what is a tilt-yard? and what it was dat de knignts would not tome
-      to? and what was dat little white ting of the Queen's dat de King
-      carried?&rdquo; and impatiently as Marie-Celeste brooked the interruption,
-      there was nothing for it but to wait while Her Majesty explained that the
-      tilt-yard was a sort of riding-school for the knights, where they
-      practised for the tournaments, and that the tournaments were occasions
-      when the knights, spear in hand, came together to ride against each other,
-      with a great many people looking on, and when the one who unseated all
-      those who rode against him won the prize. As for the little white thing of
-      Isabel's, that was a falcon&mdash;that is, a pretty live white bird,
-      which was Isabel's device or emblem; and when the King carried that
-      he showed how he delighted to honor his own little child-queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would be glad if you would go on and tell the rest,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;all that happened afterward was so doleful I do not
-      like to tell it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, let me think,&rdquo; said her Majesty. &ldquo;I doubt if I
-      can get all that followed quite straight and then there was silence for a
-      few moments.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will <i>somebody</i> please go on,&rdquo; remarked Albert, when he
-      thought there had been quite enough time for thinking. The shadows were
-      lengthening out there in the garden, and oh if they should have to go home
-      before the story was done!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then &ldquo;somebody&rdquo;&mdash;that is, the Queen&mdash;(who, as
-      you know, was a good deal more of a <i>somebody</i> than Albert gave her
-      credit for)&mdash;endeavored at once to allay the little fellow's
-      impatience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;how sad was the parting between
-      the King and the little Queen! How he walked with her, hand in hand, from
-      the Castle into the lower ward, at the head of a long procession of loyal
-      servants, and then into St. George's Chapel for a farewell service,
-      and how they kneeled down before the altar, side by side, while the choir
-      sang very sweetly. And then how he lifted the little Queen in his arms,
-      for to him she was just a darling little sister, and kissed her over and
-      over again, while she sobbed and sobbed, and begged him not to leave her
-      all alone. After that he led her into the deanery&mdash;those are rooms
-      set aside for different uses in connection with the chapel&mdash;and there
-      he gave her a royal box of candies, and sat down and ate some with her,
-      and tried to joke with her, and sipped a little wine, and then another
-      long farewell, and he was gone, never to see the little Queen again.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which died?&rdquo; asked Albert, in a hoarse whisper.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, neither of them died, dear; only as soon as Richard returned
-      from Ireland he was taken prisoner by the English nobles and compelled to
-      resign his crown, and so was never able to come back to claim his Castle
-      or his little bride. But for all that Richard fared no worse than he
-      deserved, for though he was kind and good to little Isabel, he was false
-      and cruel to almost every one beside. Indeed, he was false to little
-      Isabel too, for while he was still at Windsor he gave orders to have
-      Madame de Coucy, whom Isabel loved as her own mother, dismissed and sent
-      back to France soon after he should have gone, and he was not honest
-      enough to tell little Isabel of the plan. But, as the old chronicles say,
-      'Madame de Coucy was a woman of spirit,' and when the time
-      came refused to go. 'Holding her office from the King of France, she
-      owned no master but the King of France;' and although driven from
-      the Castle, she remained at Windsor, and succeeded in keeping up some
-      connection with the little Queen. And now the misfortunes of the poor
-      little Isabel followed thick and fast. The partings from Richard and her
-      governess Madame de Coucy, had thrown the child into a fever, and Richard's
-      uncle, the Duke of York, in whose care she had been left, was at his wit's
-      ends to know what to do. Meantime, Henry Bolingbroke, a nephew of Richard's,
-      and a brave prince, had landed in England, and the people, who loved him,
-      were ready to receive him and make him King in Richard's place. And
-      now the Duke of York, fearing that Windsor was no longer a safe place for
-      the little Queen, moved her to a castle called Wallingford, which had been
-      built only for defence, and was stronger than Windsor. But it was all to
-      no purpose. Everything gave way before the march of Henry Bolingbroke and
-      his army. Windsor surrendered to a blast of trumpets, and a few days later
-      the little Queen was yielded up a captive into Henry's hands, and
-      was carried with faithful Simonette, her Saracen maid, to the Castle of
-      Ledes; but Ledes, fortunately, proved to be a beautiful castle, with a
-      large garden, and she was not treated harshly or unkindly. Madame de
-      Coucy, meanwhile, started for France posthaste, and was the first to carry
-      the news to the court of Charles that Madame Isabel had been captured and
-      dethroned, and then you may be sure all France was up in arms, as they
-      say, in a moment, threatening to avenge La Petite Reine. But,
-      notwithstanding the threats of the French, nothing could be done at once
-      to release the little Queen, and so it was a comfort to know that all this
-      while Henry was caring for her welfare most kindly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this point in the story the Queen, fearing that the long page from
-      history might prove wearying to even so eager a little listener as Albert,
-      suggested to Miss Belmore to bring some of the treasures from the table
-      that they might have a closer look at them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0152.jpg" alt="0152 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0152.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And was this her very own?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, handling the
-      mandolin with reverent touch&mdash;&ldquo;the very one on which Richard
-      taught her to play?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore; &ldquo;and this pretty dress&rdquo;&mdash;holding
-      up the little short-waisted gown of lace and satin&mdash;&ldquo;was the
-      one she wore that day Richard took his last leave of her in the deanery of
-      St. George's Chapel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only to think,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said solemnly, &ldquo;that I
-      should hold in my own hands things that belonged to the little Isabel! Mr.
-      Belden never guessed when he told me all about her on the steamer such a
-      wonder would come to pass. I wish he could know about it some day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But who has kept all dese old tings so long, and how old are dey
-      anyway?&rdquo; asked more practical Albert, inspecting with curious,
-      critical gaze a little necklace of hammered gold and silver which Miss
-      Belmore had dropped into his lap as one of the few treasures his rather
-      inquisitive touch would not damage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The keepers of the wardrobe, one after another, have cared for them
-      carefully, Albert, for nearly five hundred years,&rdquo; Miss Belmore
-      explained; &ldquo;and it is only by a special order from the Queen that
-      they can ever be taken out of the precious chest where they are stored for
-      a single moment, except twice a year or so, to be cleaned and brushed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And did the Oueen give a special order for us to-day?&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, more impressed than ever with the greatness of their
-      privileges.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Certainly, my dear.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, de Queen's a daisy too, den,&rdquo; ventured Albert,
-      who, alas! was no respecter of persons.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, blushing, but very
-      thankful that Miss Belmore and the Queen's mother seemed more amused
-      than shocked; and then she added, amid deeper blushes, &ldquo;Oh, will you
-      please tell Her Majesty for me that I never could thank her enough, never?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what happened to her next?&rdquo; asked Albert, for there was
-      no telling when the story would ever go on again, if Marie-Celeste was
-      allowed to indulge too freely in these sentimental flights of hers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her Majesty waited a moment, hoping Marie-Celeste would take up the thread
-      of the story, which she did almost unconsciously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, she had a dreadful time, Albert. Richard left her in the care
-      of a man named Huntington, and I don't believe there ever was a man
-      so bad as he. Why, when Henry Bolingbroke was made king he had pardoned
-      this Huntington, though he had been as untrue to Henry as he could be,
-      because he was his sister's husband. But no sooner was he pardoned
-      than he laid a deep plot with some other men as wicked as himself to
-      overpower the King. As part of the plan, they were going to surprise
-      Windsor Castle; and Huntington, if you will believe it, hoped to murder
-      the four sons of Henry with his own hand; and they did march on Windsor
-      Castle, but not before Henry and his sons had heard of the dreadful plan
-      and ridden safely away. But Huntington could not believe that they had
-      gone, and they searched everywhere in the castle here for them, and he was
-      so angry at not finding them, that he let his soldiers in and they stove
-      in doors and tore down curtains and cut up furniture and carried off
-      silver, so that in five hours the castle was ruined.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is that true?&rdquo; whispered Albert to Miss Belmore. It seemed so
-      incredible that Windsor Castle, with its present state and grandeur, could
-      ever have been in such a sorry plight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only too true, dear. There would be many more priceless treasures
-      in the castle to-day but for the untold mischief of that terrible morning.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste waited with a decidedly martyr-like air till this
-      inexcusable whispering was through with, chiming in again at the first
-      opportunity. &ldquo;And then what did the wretch do but hurry to little
-      Isabel, and tell her that he had freed Richard from the Tower, and that he
-      would soon be kins: again; so that Isabel was glad to go with Huntington.
-      But it was all a lie, for Huntington simply wanted to have Isabel for his
-      own prisoner instead of Henry Bolingbroke's. And so the poor little
-      thing was right in Huntington's camp, among his rough soldiers; and
-      what was worse, as soon as Huntington found himself in a tight place, and
-      had to fly for his life, he deserted her, and Henry Bolingbroke's
-      men came and carried her up to London, and then she was Henry's
-      prisoner once more. But Huntington got what he deserved at last&rdquo;
-      (and the smile of grim satisfaction with which Marie-Celeste adorned the
-      statement showed how simply enormous to even her childish mind seemed the
-      crimes of the fiendish Huntington), &ldquo;for after he deserted Isabel he
-      fell into the hands of some peasants, who knew what a wretch he was, and
-      who took him and drove a chopper through his neck, and so made an end of
-      him. And then what did King Henry do but decide that it would be a good
-      thing for England to keep friends with France, if that were possible; and
-      so he said, 'The Pope shall say Isabel is no longer the wife of
-      Richard, and I will marry her to my son Harry.' Of course everybody
-      thought that would suit little Isabel well enough, for Harry was tall and
-      handsome, just Isabel's age, and would make a line man some day; but
-      Isabel would not hear of such a thing. She still loved the weak, bad man,
-      older than her own father, who had fed her on sugar-plums, called her his
-      little sister, fingered her mandolin, and sung with her at morning mass.
-      Then besides her own feeling, the French themselves did not seem to want
-      to be friendly with England, or to have Isabel stay here; and so at last
-      she was sent back to her own people, and she died at Blois in France, when
-      she was only twenty years old.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now I think dat's a very sad an'
-      interestin' story and Albeit, pondering over the remarkable tale,
-      shook his head gravely from side to side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And the saddest part,&rdquo; said Her Majesty, &ldquo;is that there
-      would probably have been no Joan of Arc nor Agincourt nor siege of Rouen
-      if only the little Isabel had chanced to fancy the little Prince Hal.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Agincourt and the siege of Rouen were only names to the children's
-      ears. But there was time for no more questions; the flower garden was
-      almost all in shadow now, and besides it had occurred even to Albert that
-      the &ldquo;old lady&rdquo; might be growing a little tired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We have had a beautiful time,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, with a
-      sigh, as though unable to give full expression to her appreciation;
-      &ldquo;but I hope we haven't stayed too long;&rdquo; and then, as
-      though reluctant to take final leave of the little Isabel, she added:
-      &ldquo;Don't you think it is more comfortable just to be one of the
-      people, and be a regular little girl, and grow up always near your mother,
-      like other children?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; there must be some nice things about belonging to the people,&rdquo;
-      Her Majesty replied, smiling; &ldquo;but then, you know that poor little
-      Isabel's history was very unusual, and that many little princes and
-      princesses have grown up near their mothers, as you and Albert have, and
-      have been just regular little children for ever so many years.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat's good,&rdquo; said Albert, apparently immensely relieved
-      to have his fears as to the general fate of princes and princesses
-      removed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Miss Belmore had brought their hats, and after a most friendly
-      parting with their kindly hostess and her lady-in-waiting, the children
-      were conducted to another doorway from the one by which they had entered.
-      There one of the court carriages, with a gallant outrider, stood in
-      waiting, and the footman, after receiving directions as to the whereabouts
-      of the Little Castle, sprang to his place, and they were off.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0156.jpg" alt="0156 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0156.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To think, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, turning on Albert the
-      moment the door was closed, and seizing his little wrist by way of
-      emphasis, &ldquo;we are in one of the Queen's own carriages, and we've
-      been spending the day&mdash;spending the day, Albert, in Windsor Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes,&rdquo; said Albert complacently; &ldquo;we must do aden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was time for scarcely more than this before the carriage wheeled up
-      at Canon Allyn's, and Albert was safely landed at his own door, and
-      another three minutes brought it to the Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold, conjecturing that the children might be sent home in this courtly
-      fashion, was on hand on the steps to receive the favored recipients of
-      royal hospitality.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose you feel too high and mighty to speak to a fellow,&rdquo;
-      he said. &ldquo;I don't believe you'll ever get over it,
-      Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, we have had a magnificent day&rdquo;&mdash;allowing herself
-      to be detained for a moment, notwithstanding her eagerness to rush
-      straight to the bosom of her family&mdash;&ldquo;we spent the whole
-      afternoon with the Oueen's mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Oueen's mother! Marie-Celeste, she's been dead ever
-      so many years.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who was she, then?&rdquo; almost angrily; &ldquo;she was an old
-      lady.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Queen herself, of course.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Oueen an old lady?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why not? She has a host of grandchildren.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But she wore no crown, Harold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you goosey, of course not! She does not put her crown on once
-      in an age. Who told you she was the Queen's mother?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only Albert, Harold;&rdquo; and then realizing at a bound Albert's
-      positive genius for jumping to wrong conclusions, Marie-Celeste leaned
-      against the door from very weakness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Harold, who, like other boys, was rather
-      inclined to rub a thing in, &ldquo;it's the very best joke I have
-      heard in all my life.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are very unkind, Harold,&rdquo; answered Marie-Celeste
-      accusingly. &ldquo;It is the most mortifying thing that ever happened, if
-      she really was the Queen,&rdquo; and then, trying to gather a little new
-      courage, she added, &ldquo;but I am not going to believe it till I have
-      to. There must be a mistake somewhere. The lady we saw is not one bit like
-      the pictures or the statues,&rdquo; and yet all the time Marie-Celeste
-      felt that she was clinging to a forlorn hope. During their stay at the
-      castle there had been an occasional exchange of glances between their
-      royal hostess and Miss Belmore and a frequent amused look in their eyes,
-      which she had been at a loss to account for; but this would explain it
-      all. Ah, yes! she knew almost to a certainty that their long talk about
-      Petite Reine of other days had been with none other than La Grande Reine
-      of to-day, and the crimes of the dreadful Huntington seemed hardly worse,
-      for the moment, than that of that most audacious Albert!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XV.&mdash;A DARING SUGGESTION.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9159.jpg" alt="9159 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9159.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p>
-      It was a close foggy morning in London, and Mr. Everett Belden, having
-      breakfasted a whole hour earlier than usual, stood gazing out upon the
-      street from one of the windows of the Reform Club. It is two months now
-      since we let him go his lonely way from the steamer; and this may surprise
-      you, for what with the doings up at Windsor and the complications in the
-      cottage at Nuneham, you may not have kept any track of the time. None the
-      less is it true that in all this while we have not given so much as a
-      thought to Mr. Belden or to aught that concerns him; and for all I know it
-      is just as well. The little &ldquo;buttons&rdquo; who keeps guard during
-      the day at the door of the Reform Club and the smartly liveried Irishman
-      who takes his place at night would both tell you that Mr. Belden has come
-      in and out all the while with great regularity, having his saddle horse
-      brought around at precisely the same hour every clear morning, and going
-      out for a walk at precisely the same hour every afternoon. There is no
-      evidence that in all these weeks he has been of the least real use to
-      anybody, or that, notwithstanding his recent encounter with a little girl
-      who had set him thinking rather seriously for a time, he had in any way
-      altered or modified his selfish way of living. They are creatures of habit
-      these self-centred old bachelors, and it takes a great deal to start them
-      out along any new line of action, and doubly so when, like Mr. Belden,
-      they do not know what it is to feel buoyantly well and strong. And so to
-      all outward appearances there was no change whatever in this particular
-      old bachelor, and the little sermon Marie-Celeste had unconsciously
-      preached on the steamer and the reading of the &ldquo;Story of a Short
-      Life&rdquo; had only given him a glimpse of what a noble thing life might
-      be, without awakening any real determination to make his own life noble.
-      But outward appearances, as often happens, are not by any means the
-      infallible things the world would have us believe, and deep down in Mr.
-      Belden's heart had dropped a little seed of unrest that made itself
-      felt that sultry August morning; not but that his heart was all unrest for
-      that matter, for there is no restlessness in the world like the
-      restlessness of doing nothing; but this little seed was of a new and
-      different character, and with such power of growth in it that, tiny though
-      it was, it finally compelled Mr. Belden to take it into account.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How queer it is,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;that I should
-      feel constrained in this way to run out to Windsor! Land knows! I have no
-      desire to come to be on intimate terms of acquaintance with Evelyn's
-      boys; and what would be the satisfaction of prowling around just to see
-      where they live? Their father gave me up after that time he spoke his mind
-      so freely about my aimless life&mdash;as he was pleased to call it&mdash;and
-      there is no reason whatever why I should bother myself about my sister's
-      children, since she, poor thing! is dead and gone, and they have enough of
-      this world's goods to make them comfortable. But I would give&mdash;yes,
-      I would give a great deal for another glimpse of that child Marie-Celeste&mdash;for
-      another talk with her, too, before she goes sailing back to the States, if
-      only that were possible without my coming in contact with any of the rest
-      of the household. Well, there seems to be nothing for it but to go to
-      Windsor to-day, for it looks as though I should not get the best of this
-      state of mind till I do.&rdquo; Then he turned from the window, put on his
-      coat, which was lying in readiness beside him, strolled out from the club,
-      called for a hansom, directing the driver to take him to the station, and
-      never for one minute admitted to himself that he had risen a whole hour
-      earlier in order to do this very thing, or that he was acting on any
-      stronger impulse than that of a passing fancy, born of the midsummer day,
-      and desire for a little variety. So, out to Windsor he went, and choosing
-      from among the carriages at the depot one that was manned by a
-      respectable-looking old party, took his place on the front seat beside
-      him, remarking that he had simply come down to see the town, and would
-      first like to drive about for an hour.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The driver, judging from Mr. Belden's faultless attire and
-      distinguished bearing, had rated him at once as one of those high and
-      mighty Londoners, and had expected that he would of course entrench
-      himself on the back seat of the little turnout and, preserving a dignified
-      silence, condescendingly allow himself to be driven about and to be very
-      much bored into the bargain&mdash;all of which, it must be confessed,
-      would have been more in keeping with Mr. Belden's usual manner of
-      conducting himself. To-day, however, he had an axe to grind, and the
-      friendly intercourse of the front seat would prove more conducive to the
-      end in view.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ever been ere before?&rdquo; questioned the coachman, ready to
-      prove himself friendly with the friendly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was at Eton half a term when a boy, but I didn't take to
-      the old place, and cut and run away the first chance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And 'aven't you 'ad any schoolin' since,
-      sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I tutored awhile at home&mdash;just enough to wriggle my
-      way into Cambridge; and I studied just enough there to get my degree&mdash;no
-      more, I can tell you. I have been one of those fellows who didn't
-      believe in taking unnecessary trouble.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You look it,&rdquo; said the man honestly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked Mr. Belden, thinking he was willing
-      to face the music.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you 'ave a lazy, listless sort of look&mdash;begging
-      your pardon, sir&mdash;like most of those men who loaf their lives away at
-      the clubs up in London.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden naturally felt irritated at the fellow's blunt honesty,
-      but there was no sense in resenting a state of affairs which he had
-      deliberately brought down upon himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You look the perfect gentleman, all the same,&rdquo; added the man;
-      and endeavoring to extract a grain of comfort from this last remark, Mr.
-      Belden thought best to change the subject.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you happen to know,&rdquo; he asked quite casually, &ldquo;of
-      any people here in Windsor named Harris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, sir; there are two young gentlemen named 'Arris,
-      whose mother died two years back, living in the Little Castle. Do you know
-      them, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know of them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like to call there, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I'd rather like to see the house, though.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a 'alf a mile back, sir, near the big Castle. We
-      can take it in on our way 'ome.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; turn round; if it's all the same to you we'll go
-      there now;&rdquo; and this last a little gruffly; for one has to be a good
-      deal of a philosopher to continue on the friendliest of terms with a man
-      that has just informed you that you look listless and lazy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The driver was rather surprised at Mr. Belden's changed mood, but
-      the little carriage was turned round promptly in obedience to orders, and
-      the old horse whipped into a canter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't do that,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden sharply; &ldquo;there's
-      no need to hurry and the horse was instantly jerked down to a pace more in
-      accordance with his own ideas of comfort and propriety.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me what you know about these Harris boys,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Belden imperiously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm not in the way to know much, sir&rdquo;&mdash;preferring
-      to be civil at any cost than to lose the probable extra shilling &ldquo;the
-      young un is an Eton boy, and the older one studies up to Hoxford. The old
-      un's a tough un, they say, but he seems a decent enough sort of
-      fellow.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Does the young one live alone here at Windsor?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't know about that, sir; but I've 'eard they
-      'ave some company from the States this summer. That's the
-      house yonder, with the pretty terrace and the tower. They calls it the
-      Little Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden looked in the direction indicated, and&mdash;could he believe
-      his eyes!&mdash;was there not a familiar little figure coming leisurely
-      down the path from the Little Castle, which when it reached the gate in
-      the hedgerow turned in the same direction as they were driving?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whip up,&rdquo; ordered Mr. Belden impatiently, for he wanted to be
-      a little more sure in the matter. Yes, it was certainly Marie-Celeste.
-      There was no mistaking the free, quick step nor the alert bearing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; commanded Mr. Belden, and the carriage came to a
-      standstill with paralyzing abruptness &ldquo;Now, turn your wheel and let
-      me out. There's your money.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Instantly perceiving that he had been generously compensated, the man
-      smiled an appreciative &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; and then watched Mr.
-      Belden stride up the street, with the conclusion that he was &ldquo;a
-      little off;&rdquo; but the more &ldquo;off&rdquo; the better, he thought,
-      if it meant three half-crowns for a drive of a quarter of an hour.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste walked briskly on up the hill, and Mr. Belden would have
-      given three half-crowns more with a will to any one who could have told
-      him where she was going. He would prefer to come across her more by
-      accident apparently than by running to catch up with her, and when so
-      near, too, to the Little Castle as to suggest that he had probably come to
-      Windsor purposely to see her. If she should happen to turn in at some
-      house, he decided he would try to intercept her before she rang the bell,
-      so that they might have at least a few moments' chat, but otherwise
-      he would bide his time a little while and see what came of it. She had a
-      sort of portfolio under her arm; it was not unlikely she was going to some
-      lesson or other, and if so, alas! where would the chat come in? But, as
-      you and I happen to know, nothing was farther from Marie-Celeste's
-      thought that happy summer, withal she was learning so much, than any idea
-      of lessons, and on she went till she vanished from sight through one of
-      the castle gates. Then Mr. Belden quickened his steps, and arrived at the
-      inner side of the same gate just in time to see her disappear within St.
-      George's Chapel.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which way did that little girl go?&rdquo; he asked of the sexton,
-      who was vigorously burnishing a brass memorial tablet just within the
-      doorway of the chapel.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you mean Marie-Celeste, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0164.jpg" alt="0164 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0164.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes;&rdquo; but naturally wondering that the man should know her
-      name.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are likely to find her right in there, sir,&rdquo; indicating
-      the direction by a nod of his head. &ldquo;She was coming in some day to
-      copy off part of the inscription from the Prince Imperial's tomb.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So this old sexton and Marie-Celeste were evidently on the best of terms,
-      and the child, with her genius for making friends, was probably in the
-      confidence of half of Windsor by this time; and Mr. Belden selfishly
-      wished she would not be so indiscriminate in her friendships.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The &ldquo;right in there&rdquo; of the sexton evidently referred to Braye
-      Chapel, within a few feet of the door by which he had entered; and
-      glancing in through the open-work carving of the partition enclosing it,
-      he discovered Marie-Celeste seated on a cushion on the floor, her back
-      against the wall, busily writing away on the portfolio on her lap.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden moved noiselessly to the doorway, and stood unobserved, looking
-      down upon her for several seconds, until glancing up for the next sentence
-      in the inscription, she suddenly beheld him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Mr. Belden!&rdquo; she cried, transfixed with surprise;
-      &ldquo;how long have you been there, and wherever did you come from?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have been here about a minute, I should say, and I ran out from
-      London this morning to take a look at old Windsor, and, you see, I have
-      had the good fortune, as I half hoped I should, to run across my little
-      steamer friend.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you wouldn't have come down to Windsor without coming to
-      see me, Mr. Belden?&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, suddenly realizing that her
-      position was not the most dignified in the world, shut the portfolio
-      together and stood up to receive him in more courteous fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, to be quite honest, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; for the half-truths
-      of conventional acquaintance did not enter into this friendship, &ldquo;I
-      think I might; I'm nothing of a hand at calling, you know, but I'm
-      awfully glad, I can tell you, to have met you just in this way, only you
-      mustn't let me interrupt you. You keep right on with your copying,
-      and I'll wander about till you've finished.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I had so much rather show you the chapel,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      said eagerly. &ldquo;I can finish the copying any time, and I know about
-      it almost as well as the vergers themselves&mdash;<i>will</i> you let me?&rdquo;
-      evidently afraid that he would express a preference for a professional
-      guide.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I can't imagine anything more delightful;&rdquo; for
-      which cordial endorsement Marie-Celeste blushed her thanks.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, very much impressed with the dignity of the
-      opportunity afforded her, &ldquo;suppose we commence right here with this
-      monument to the Prince Imperial. Of course you will have to let me tell
-      you which are my favorites, and this is one of them. Somehow it seems to
-      me the very saddest monument in all the chapel; but I think it was
-      beautiful in Queen Victoria to have it placed here out of sympathy for the
-      poor French Empress, who had lost everything&mdash;husband and kingdom,
-      and, last of all, this brave son; for I think he must have been brave, don't
-      you, Mr. Belden? The same sort of bravery that Leonard&mdash;you remember
-      the 'Story of a Short Life,' don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do, indeed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I mean the same sort of bravery that Leonard would have shown
-      if he had lived to grow up, as he so longed to do, to be a soldier like
-      the Prince. And yet Leonard was just as brave in his own way, wasn't
-      he? It was the prayer that the Prince wrote in his mass-book that I was
-      copying; it is very beautiful, isn't it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was no need for Mr. Belden to do aught but look and listen, and drop
-      a word of assent now and then, when Marie-Celeste saw fit to impart her
-      information in a somewhat interrogative form; and in this way they went on
-      from monument to monument, giving of course but a passing glance to many
-      and stopping longest, by tacit agreement, at those which had some special
-      charm or attraction for Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is one of my greatest favorites,&rdquo; she exclaimed
-      enthusiastically, as they came to the late Dean Wellesley's
-      monument, in the north aisle; and she stood in rapt admiration looking
-      down at the beautiful recumbent figure. &ldquo;Isn't that a glorious
-      face, Mr. Belden?&rdquo; she said in an earnest, low voice; &ldquo;and I
-      love what it says about him here on the side&mdash;'<i>Trained</i>
-      in a school of duty and honor'&mdash;because his face bears it out,
-      Mr. Belden. It shows, I think, how noble he must have been through and
-      through all his life long.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What a little hero-worshipper you are, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said
-      'Mr. Belden, looking kindly and thoughtfully down at her glowing
-      face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Marie-Celeste as thoughtfully, &ldquo;I don't
-      see how anybody can help being a hero-worshipper, and doing all they can
-      to be heroes themselves.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, some people do, Marie-Celeste&mdash;I have helped it all my
-      life somehow.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; I remember you told me something like that on the steamer; but
-      it's a great pity, and it seems to me&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What seems to you?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste hesitated.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Are you sure you will not mind, for I only mean to be friendly?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Surely I will not mind.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, it seems to me I would try to be a hero at one great
-      jump, to make up for all the lost time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And how would you manage it, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I believe I would begin to think out some beautiful thing to do
-      with my money before I died.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is a great deal in what you say, dear child,&rdquo; Mr.
-      Belden replied earnestly, &ldquo;and I will think about it; and yet, do
-      you know, I would not have let anybody else in the world make that
-      suggestion to me;&rdquo; but significant as this last remark was intended
-      to be, Marie-Celeste, to Mr. Belden's surprise, paid little heed to
-      it; for what difference did that make, so long as, without taking offence,
-      he had allowed her to tell him what was for his own good?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Isn't this a beautiful inscription?&rdquo; she said, pausing
-      for a moment before the monument of George V., the last king of Hanover.
-      &ldquo;They say he was blind, and that after his death his kingdom became
-      just a part of Germany, and that is the reason they wrote here, 'Receiving
-      a kingdom which cannot be moved,' and, 'In thy light shall he
-      see light.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so the tour of the chapel was at last made; and although his little
-      guide had omitted much historical detail that the professional would have
-      furnished, she had put in with telling force many little points of her
-      own.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When they reached the doorway of the chapel, Mr. Belden stood watch in
-      hand, for he had decided he would take the two-o'clock train back to
-      London, while Marie-Celeste ran on telling how Donald had gone to stay
-      with Chris at Nuneham, and various other matters about Ted and Harold that
-      were of more interest to Mr. Belden than she had any idea of. Finally, in
-      breathless, excited fashion, she told of the visit to the Queen she and
-      Albert had made, and of how she had handled with her own hands treasures
-      that had belonged to Madame La Petite Reine. Of course it seemed almost
-      incredible, but then the &ldquo;incredible&rdquo; was coming to seem
-      rather a part of Marie-Celeste's make-up in Mr. Belden's mind.
-      At last, when he felt that he must not delay another moment, he took leave
-      of her, saying as he went, &ldquo;Well, as usual you have set me thinking,
-      my little friend,&rdquo; but as though he were grateful for the same; and
-      Marie-Celeste, turning back to finish the copying of the Prince Imperial's
-      prayer, wondered in her practical little way if anything would come of the
-      thinking, and if so, if she would ever happen to hear what it was; and yet
-      at the same time not a little sceptical as to any tangible result
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVI.&mdash;MARIE-CELESTE'S DISCOVERY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9169.jpg" alt="9169 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9169.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>verything was
-      ready for the start, but no one knew how much that meant as well as Harold
-      and Uncle Fritz, for they had thought of nothing else for three whole
-      weeks together. The others would find out by degrees what a delightful
-      thing it was to have had everything so carefully arranged and well thought
-      out beforehand. The start was to be for the English Lake Country, and the
-      being ready meant that everything that could by any possibility be needed
-      on a month's driving tour had been carefully stowed away somewhere.
-      It was a select little party of six&mdash;Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou,
-      Marie-Celeste, Miss Allyn, Harold and Mr. Farwell, a young American artist
-      whom Uncle Fritz had come to know. Mr. Farwell was invited, if the truth
-      be told, more to fill up than for any other reason; for three in a row is
-      the invariable rule for an English break, unless you are willing to be
-      shaken about rather more than is by any means agreeable. The back seat was
-      reserved for the two grooms, and a bundle of wraps and rugs strapped to
-      the cushion between them showed that they at any rate recognized the
-      desirability of not having too much room at their disposal. The break that
-      was brought into requisition belonged to Theodore, and was simply
-      appropriated by Harold, for there was no saying &ldquo;by your leave&rdquo;
-      to a fellow who went driving through the country himself without even
-      taking the pains to enlighten you as to his whereabouts.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who knows but we shall meet him somewhere?&rdquo; thought Harold,
-      knowing that Ted's trip was also to be through the English Lakes;
-      &ldquo;and if we do, I'll give him another piece of my mind, for he's
-      been more than rude to Aunt Lou and Uncle Fritz, never putting himself out
-      the least bit for them. Oh, if Ted were only a different sort of fellow!
-      He ought to be the sixth one in this party instead of Mr. Farwell. But,
-      heigho! it would be a shame to let Ted spoil this trip for me, and I'm
-      not going to think of him again&mdash;that is, if I can help it&mdash;unless
-      we happen to meet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold was indulging in this meditation as he stood waiting by the break
-      for the rest of the party, for thinking comes very easy when one has
-      nothing to do; but wise are the folk, big or little, who, like Harold,
-      resolve to banish uncomfortable thoughts from the mind when convinced that
-      thinking is not in the least likely to better them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of course, as you may imagine, there was one little heart sadly rebellious
-      and envious over the setting out of this happy party. &ldquo;Not quite big
-      enough to fill up,&rdquo; was the chief excuse given; but the little
-      Knight of the Garter knew full well that he was considered too small every
-      way to be for one moment taken into the calculation. Oh, what would he not
-      have given if only his arrival in this world might have been timed in
-      closer proximity to Harold's and Marie-Celeste's&mdash;it was
-      such an insupportable thing to be seven long years behind! But, all the
-      same, his time would come, and his little envious heart secretly cherished
-      the revengeful hope that he, in turn, might have the grim satisfaction of
-      informing other young hopefuls that their extreme youth and diminutive
-      proportions excluded them from participating in this or that pleasure to
-      which his riper age entitled him, all of which unknightly and most
-      unchristian sentiments we trust will be put to rout when he comes to years
-      of discretion. But this aside about Albert has been merely by way of
-      parenthesis while the party from the Little Castle are mounting the steps
-      to the break, and stowing themselves away in their places. Uncle Fritz,
-      who had spent all his boyhood on a New England farm near Franconia, and
-      taken many a trip on a White Mountain coach by the side of an indulgent
-      driver, had early mastered the secret of competent four-in-hand driving,
-      and was therefore first to take his seat on the driver's almost
-      perpendicular cushion. Next to him sat Harold, who could also manage the
-      four-in-hand whenever Uncle Fritz thought best to resign in his favor, and
-      next to Harold, Marie-Celeste, grateful for the arrangement that accorded
-      to her a seat on the outside edge. On the middle seat Aunt Lou sat alone
-      in solemn grandeur, but only until they could cover the little distance to
-      the White Hart Inn to take aboard Mr. Farwell, and then wheel round to
-      Canon Allyn's for Dorothy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dorothy Allyn was standing in the doorway ready and expectant, and looking
-      as pretty as a picture in a gray costume and a hat with a wide-rolling
-      brim, that in her case was vastly becoming. Albert's disconsolate
-      face was pressed close to a window-pane, which was as near as he cared to
-      come to such a joyous company. Marie-Celeste declared she could almost see
-      the lump in the poor little fellow's throat, and the recollection of
-      the utter hopelessness of the teary brown eyes lingered rather sadly for a
-      while in the memory of all of the party.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But who could long be grave at the outset of so promising an expedition!
-      The idea of a leisurely driving trip through the lovely Lake Country,
-      stopping here and there, as the spirit moved them, at the comfortable
-      little inns and hotels that abound in the region, had been such a
-      supremely delightful idea, even in mere anticipation, that now that they
-      were actually off enthusiasm knew no bounds, and mirth was literally
-      unconfined. Not that any very remarkable things were said, but one can
-      laugh very easily, you know, and at almost nothing, when one's heart
-      is light as a feather and the &ldquo;goose hangs high,&rdquo; as the queer
-      old saying has it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And yet for all that, to all those happy hearts there might have been
-      added one extra touch still of lightness. Mr. Farwell was no doubt a most
-      desirable addition, and all were delighted that he could come; but the
-      place belonged by rights to Ted&mdash;wilful, wandering, selfish Ted, who
-      might have added so much to their pleasure if he had not chosen to turn
-      his back upon them all and prefer any company in the world, apparently, to
-      that of kith and kin and old friends at Windsor. The thought and half hope
-      that they might meet him somewhere on the trip was in every mind but one.
-      Dorothy knew better. Dorothy knew a great deal, in fact, for her brother
-      Harry had made one surreptitious visit home; that is, he had arrived by
-      night and left again by night, and no one outside of his own family had
-      been a bit the wiser. And during that visit Harry, under pledge of perfect
-      secrecy on the part of his mother and Dorothy, had told them everything.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see, the reason why I want you to keep so dark about it all,&rdquo;
-      Harry had explained, &ldquo;is because of Ted. I believe the fellow's
-      just as ashamed of this last year at Oxford as I am, but you know,
-      Dorothy, as well as I do (as, alas! Dorothy did know to her sorrow), that
-      Ted's awfully touchy and sensitive, and it takes a very little thing
-      to turn him one way or the other. Well, now, let Harold, who is pretty
-      well out of the notion of Ted already, come to hear of this last scrape,
-      and, youngster as he is, I believe he'd throw him over; and Ted, you
-      know, wouldn't stand any nonsense of that sort and would tell Harold
-      'to go his own way and welcome,' and who knows what the upshot
-      of that would be! If Ted does not feel he must make an effort to lead a
-      different sort of life for Harold's sake, he may come to the
-      conclusion that the thing's not worth trying. You see, you can't
-      feel sure about a fellow's good resolutions till you have had a
-      chance to test them, and Ted's haven't had to stand any strain
-      as yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Now, to know all this was naturally a great comfort to Harry's
-      mother and sister, for they had of course been not a little anxious on
-      Harry's own account at the way things seemed to be going, but there
-      was one thing they were content not to know for a while&mdash;for the
-      reason that Harry strongly urged it&mdash;and that was where he and Ted
-      were staying. There need be no difficulty on this account about their
-      writing, because letters could be forwarded promptly from Oxford, whereas
-      if they were able to say where Harry was, then Ted would have to be
-      accounted for, too, and there was no telling where that would end. Now,
-      this narration is simply by way of telling you how Dorothy had come to
-      know that there was no sort of use in hoping to come across the two
-      seniors, who, like themselves, were supposed to be enjoying all the
-      delights of driving through the English Lake Country.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been decided that Oxford was to be the first stopping-place of the
-      driving party, and quite a stop it was to be. Mr. and Mrs. Harris and Mr.
-      Farwell had never been there, and they planned to spend at least two days
-      prowling about the dear old colleges. But Marie-Celeste and Harold had a
-      scheme on foot in comparison with which all the colleges put together
-      could not offer the least attraction. They were to be permitted to go down
-      early Saturday morning to Nuneham, take Chris and Donald by surprise, and
-      spend the whole day with them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0173.jpg" alt="0173 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0173.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Why, that plan in itself was worth all the rest of the trip; and when Mr.
-      Harris, to whom the idea had first occurred, suggested it, Marie-Celeste
-      had put her two arms round her father's neck, declaring &ldquo;he
-      was just a darling and yet, when you come to think of it, he was the very
-      same old curmudgeon of a papa, and not one whit altered either, who had
-      been so soundly berated for insisting that it would be better for Donald
-      to have some easy work to do than to idle away the whole summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ah, well! the little Queen had deeply repented that sorry episode; and
-      endeavoring ourselves to forget it, let us agree never again so much as to
-      allude to it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So down to Nuneham they went bright and early Saturday morning, and,
-      feeling fine as a lark, or as two larks, to speak more correctly, they
-      preferred doing the walking themselves over the mile and a half out from
-      Nuneham to engaging a most unpromising horse attached to a little
-      carry-all to do it for them. They would at least seem to be getting over
-      the ground at a faster rate, and be able to work off considerable
-      superfluous energy into the bargain. And it was really marvellous how soon
-      they reached their destination. Far too excited to converse by the way,
-      every breath was reserved for the exertion of walking, and so it happened
-      that they made almost the best time on record. And when they reached the
-      cottage, or rather the little lane that runs down between the hedgerows,
-      who did they see at once but Chris himself, busy at work in the garden,
-      and Donald, hoe in hand, close beside him, cutting vigorously at the weeds
-      round some hop-vines, and both working away with such a will and such a
-      farmer-like air that it looked as though both had mistaken their calling.
-      But working with a will sometimes means nothing more than determination to
-      do one's duty; and from what we happen to know, Chris would much
-      have preferred setting cheerily forth on his round in Uncle Sam's
-      far-away city, and Donald was probably dreaming of the blue boundless sea
-      and the steamer ploughing its way in the teeth of a driving nor'easter.
-      But wherever their thoughts may have been, they instantly both stopped
-      thinking, for first they heard the familiar bugle-call of the steamer ring
-      out on the air in the clearest sort of a whistle; and then&mdash;could
-      they believe their eyes?&mdash;there stood Marie-Celeste and Harold right
-      before them on the other side of the hawthorn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I never!&rdquo; cried Chris, and in one bound was over the
-      hedgerow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My eyes!&rdquo; was Donald's surprised exclamation, and then
-      he took to his heels and ran to the cottage as fast as his legs could
-      carry him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; he panted, with what little breath his run had
-      left him, &ldquo;your brother has come&mdash;he's just out in the
-      lane there with Marie-Celeste, and they'll both be right in here in
-      a minute.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What stuff you are talking, Donald,&rdquo; for Ted could not
-      believe his ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's the truth, sir, and you've only a minute, unless
-      you want to see him but it was so very plain that Ted didn't want to
-      see him, that Donald, who more fully took in the need for haste, pressed
-      Ted's hat and cane into his hand, and then throwing open one of the
-      shutters of the back windows of his room, helped him to make the best
-      possible time getting through it. It was rather heroic treatment for a
-      convalescent, who was barely equal as yet to even commonplace modes of
-      proceeding, but there was nothing else to be done if the secret was still
-      to be kept.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Go down to the big apple-tree in the corner of the meadow,&rdquo;
-      directed Donald, half under his breath, &ldquo;and, look here! you had
-      better take this with you,&rdquo; dragging a steamer rug from the couch,
-      and flinging it out after him, &ldquo;and I'll come down just as
-      soon as ever I can and let you know how things are going and then Donald
-      drew the shutters noiselessly to and sped back to the lane at as tight a
-      run as he had left it. All this was accomplished in less time than it
-      takes to tell it, and Donald found the children still chatting with Chris
-      in the lane. Chris, having instantly surmised the object of Donald's
-      disappearance, determined that he should have all the time needed; and
-      nothing was easier, under conditions that called naturally for so many
-      explanations, than to engage the children in such an absorbing
-      conversation on the spot as to make no move toward the cottage; but the
-      ring of Donald's feet on the path was the signal that it was safe to
-      lead the way in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are glad to see a fellow,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;to
-      take to your heels and run in that fashion the moment you spied us.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There was something I suddenly remembered that I had to see to that
-      very minute,&rdquo; stammered Donald, shaking bands with Marie-Celeste and
-      Harold at one and the same moment; &ldquo;but you may just believe I'm
-      glad to see you and the warmth of Donald's welcome fully atoned for
-      the few moments of unexplained delay.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you tell Granny they had come, Donald?&rdquo; asked Chris, his
-      face fairly beaming at the thought of being able to actually introduce
-      Marie-Celeste to the dear old grandmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I stopped for nothing more than I just had to,&rdquo; said
-      Donald honestly; but Mrs. Hartley, who had been busy in the kitchen wing
-      of the little cottage, and had not heard the commotion in Ted's
-      room, but had happened to catch sight of Donald's flying heels, had
-      come out to see what the matter was.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, you don't tell me this is Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; she
-      said, putting one hand on Marie-Celeste's shoulder and looking
-      gladly down at the sunny, upturned face. &ldquo;Why, do you know,&rdquo;
-      she said, shaking hands with Harold as she spoke, &ldquo;you have
-      succeeded, I am sure, in giving Chris the very best surprise in all his
-      life.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That they have, Granny,&rdquo; said Chris warmly; &ldquo;and they're
-      not going back till late this afternoon, and we're going to make a
-      beautiful day of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And a beautiful day of it they made; and early in the afternoon
-      Marie-Celeste made something beautiful besides, quite on her own account&mdash;nothing
-      else than the discovery which gives its name to this chapter, and which
-      happened to be a beautiful discovery, because it was the means of making
-      somebody take new heart and see things in general in a newer and truer
-      light.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They had been together the entire morning&mdash;all the little household,
-      with the exception of the gentleman who, Donald had explained, had met
-      with the accident, and who had gone off for the day. Donald had previously
-      whispered to Mrs. Hartley that Ted was down under the big apple-tree, not
-      feeling much like talking or caring to meet their unexpected company. You
-      see, Donald, having been taken so unreservedly into Ted's
-      confidence, had turned into a thorough diplomat, and had determined to aid
-      and abet his plans in every possible way. Indeed, from what he himself
-      knew of Harold's intense nature, he felt very sure that it would be
-      far wiser and safer that he should never know of all that had happened&mdash;not,
-      at any rate, unless Ted, having had a chance to prove the strength of his
-      new resolutions, chose some day himself to tell him. Harold was so proud
-      and Ted was so proud they simply mustn't come together yet awhile if
-      it could in any way be helped. But we must not let this little aside about
-      Donald's attitude toward the whole affair take another moment of our
-      thoughts, for more important and vastly more interesting matters are
-      awaiting our attention.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of course it goes without saying with those of us who have come to know
-      Mrs. Hartley, that as regal a little dinner was served for the guests from
-      Royal Windsor as the larder of the cottage could afford; but to Martha was
-      due all the praise of actual performance. Mrs. Hartley simply took her
-      knitting, and sat the entire morning right in the midst of the little
-      party just outside the cottage-door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must manage somehow,&rdquo; she had said seriously to Martha;
-      &ldquo;I must see all I can of Chris's little Marie-Celeste to-day,
-      for you know it is hardly likely, Martha, that I shall ever see her again.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm quite sure I can manage, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; the little
-      maid said proudly, confident that her long apprenticeship had made her
-      fully equal to the occasion, and inwardly rejoicing in the full sense of
-      responsibility.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the exact hour agreed upon as the best time for dinner, the little
-      maid, turned cook and waitress, announced the meal as ready, and her
-      reward came in the children's demonstrative approval. &ldquo;Never
-      tasted anything so delicious&rdquo; was on their lips repeatedly; and
-      Marie-Celeste having told, to the supreme delight of all who listened, the
-      story of her visit to the Queen, even went so far as to declare that she
-      was enjoying it more than the luncheon in the Castle. Mrs. Hartley said,
-      &ldquo;Oh, my dear!&rdquo; in a most deprecating way; but there was no
-      gainsaying the evident sincerity of the declaration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps it's because I feel a little more at home in a
-      cottage,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste explained; &ldquo;and then, besides,&rdquo;
-      looking affectionately toward Chris, &ldquo;it's so fine to be with
-      old friends, you know;&rdquo; and Chris shook his head and glanced toward
-      his grandmother as much as to say, &ldquo;Well, now, Granny dear, did you
-      ever see such a darling?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Granny dear&rdquo; shook her head as much as to say, &ldquo;No,
-      Chris, I never did;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, daintily preoccupied with a
-      drum-stick, was fortunately none the wiser for this exchange of open
-      admiration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the conclusion of dinner Chris took the boys off to a neighboring farm
-      to show them some wonderful Jersey cattle that were expected to take the
-      prize at a coming county fair; but Marie-Celeste, preferring Mrs. Hartley's
-      society, decided to remain at home. No sooner were they gone, however,
-      than Mrs. Hartley, arriving at the decision that she knew better than Mr.
-      Harris himself what was best for him, and that it would doubtless do him
-      good to meet this bright little girl, entered immediately into a bit of
-      diplomacy on her own account.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;will you do a little favor
-      for me? Will you run and ask Martha if one of the cup-custards was left
-      over from dinner?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha says yes, Mrs. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, will you ask her to give it to you on a little tray,
-      and a piece of sponge-cake besides, well powdered with sugar?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here it is, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; carefully bringing the laden tray,
-      and looking every whit as pretty as the picture of La Chocolatière, and
-      not unlike her in her pose and gentle dignity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now do you think you could carry it to somebody way down under
-      the apple-tree that you can just see the top of from here?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Surely I could,&rdquo; her pretty face glowing with the pleasure of
-      the errand, &ldquo;but I should like to know who the somebody is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you would. Well, it's the gentleman, Mr. Morris,
-      who met with the accident, and who's been staying with us these six
-      weeks.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, all right, then,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste tripped away, at the
-      same time taking care not to stumble, to the apple-tree down in the
-      meadow. But since this chapter is growing rather long, and you have
-      already surmised what it was that Marie-Celeste discovered, it may be as
-      well to stop a moment, draw a long breath, and take another chapter to
-      tell about it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVII.&mdash;INTO TED'S CONFIDENCE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9179.jpg" alt="9179 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9179.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arie-Celeste!&rdquo;
-      gasped Ted, letting his book fall from his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Ted!&rdquo; gasped Marie-Celeste; and flop went the
-      cup-custard over on one side, and then rolled off of the tray altogether.
-      Perhaps you think gasped is a pretty strong word; but when you are fairly
-      taken off your feet with surprise, you can't for the very first
-      moment do much better with words than gasp them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where did you come from, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; Ted demanded almost
-      roughly, and as though she had no right in the world to come from any
-      place whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you come to be here, Cousin Theodore?&rdquo; parrying
-      question with question, and drawing her little figure to its full height,
-      in resentment of the tone in which Ted had spoken.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you need not make any pretence,&rdquo; Ted said sarcastically.
-      &ldquo;Donald has been mean enough to go back on me, and you know all
-      there is to tell. I can see through the whole thing, cup-custard,
-      sponge-cake and all, and Harold 'll be down here in a moment to help
-      lord it over the prodigal.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean. Ted?&rdquo; for she really did not understand all
-      he said. &ldquo;Donald hasn't told me anything, nor Harold, nor
-      anybody. They've all gone off to see some cows somewhere, and Mrs.
-      Hartley asked me if I would not take this little tray down to Mr. Morris,
-      the gentleman who had met with the accident,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste gave
-      a comprehensive glance through the little orchard, as though still
-      expecting to discover the real object of her search under some neighboring
-      tree.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am the gentleman who met with the accident,&rdquo; said Ted,
-      smiling in spite of himself, &ldquo;and my name is supposed to be Morris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The smile relieved matters somewhat, and Marie-Celeste, setting the little
-      tray on the ground, picked up the cup-custard, which had suffered nothing
-      by its fall, and putting it back in its place on the tray, took a seat in
-      the corner of the rug, to which Ted motioned her, and then clasping her
-      two hands round her knees, asked in a tone of most earnest inquiry,
-      &ldquo;Now tell me, Cousin Theodore, why do you do things like this?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mean, why do I let myself be thrown out of my trap in a runaway
-      accident, and then be foolish enough to let myself be almost killed into
-      the bargain?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you really had an accident, Ted?&rdquo; with a solicitude that
-      went straight to Ted's heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, considerable of an accident. I fancy it would have done for
-      me, Marie-Celeste, if I had not fallen into the hands of these good people
-      here.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But oh, Ted,&rdquo; why didn't you send us word? Mamma and I
-      would have come down and taken care of you every moment and she spoke as
-      though they would have just loved to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste, you are a dear child;&rdquo; and Ted, who was
-      hungering at last for the love of kith and kin, could not keep his eyes
-      from growing a little misty. He realized, too, how he had done absolutely
-      nothing; to warrant this little affectionate outburst, and felt sorely
-      humiliated&mdash;a sensation which had been very common to poor Ted of
-      late.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How did the accident happen?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste; and
-      touched by his grave face, she moved a little farther up on the rug.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, by being a fool, as usual! We were off on a lark, four of us,
-      and I got into a fix so than I couldn't manage the horses, and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ted, do you mean&rdquo;&mdash;and then Marie-Celeste hesitated&mdash;&ldquo;do
-      you mean that you really took so much wine that you did not know what you
-      were about?&rdquo; for she wanted to understand the whole matter clearly,
-      no matter how shocking it might prove.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that was it, Marie-Celeste;&rdquo; but the child little
-      guessed how the high-strung fellow winced under the confession, and how
-      his self-disgust never reached quite such high-water mark as at that
-      moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, go on,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste in a tone of utter
-      hopelessness; and then she added, with the air of a little grandmother,
-      &ldquo;don't keep anything back, Ted; I would rather know all there
-      is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's about all there is, Marie-Celeste, and it's
-      enough, isn't it? I was caught under the trap as it went over, and
-      they picked me up as good as dead and carried me into the Hartleys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you told us all at Windsor you were going on a driving trip
-      with Mr. Allyn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So I was before the accident.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste paused a moment to straighten things out in her mind; then
-      she asked, &ldquo;But why, Ted, did you tell them your name was Morris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harry Allyn did that. He knew I would feel awfully mortified, and
-      he wanted Harold never to know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He never shall,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said slowly, giving her full
-      endorsement to that part of the proceeding, and Ted inwardly pronounced
-      her a dearer child than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where is Harry Allyn now?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He stops up at the hotel at Nuneham, and comes down to look after
-      me ever day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do his people know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They know about the accident, but not where we are staying.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well, that makes me understand why Miss Allyn said she hardly
-      believed we would meet you on this driving trip. All the rest of us were
-      hoping we would. Miss Allyn would have hoped so, too, if she had not
-      known, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't suppose anything of the kind,&rdquo; said Ted,
-      &ldquo;but what's this about your driving trip, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, we're on your break, Ted&mdash;Harold couldn't
-      write to ask for it, you know, because we didn't know where you
-      were, and we're stopping at Oxford now; but we left papa and mamma
-      and Miss Dorothy and Mr. Farwell for to-day, because Harold and I
-      preferred coming down here to surprise Chris and Donald to seeing all the
-      colleges in the world.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is Mr. Farwell?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, he's a very nice young artist, a friend of papa's.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he is taking a driving trip on my break, is he?&rdquo; said Ted
-      demurely, and not appearing exactly to fancy the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course, as he's in our party, Ted.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand; and now, Marie-Celeste, you are going to help me
-      keep my secret, are you? But you know you're not to tell anybody for
-      a while, not even your father and mother; do you think you can do it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will surely do it, Cousin Theodore, if you will do something for
-      me; will you promise me you will?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I can, little cousin;&rdquo; for who could withstand the
-      entreaty in the earnest childish voice?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will you come home, Cousin Theodore, as soon as ever you can?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's the use, Marie-Celeste? Nobody cares for me there any
-      more, I've been such a selfish, ungracious fellow this long while.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We all care for you, Ted, really, very much&mdash;papa and mamma
-      and Harold and I.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's very kind indeed of you; but then I suppose, as
-      you're my relations, it's only Christian for you to care a
-      little.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But people care who are not your relations&mdash;Miss Dorothy Allyn
-      cares, and Albert.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you happen to know that.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because one day after Miss Allyn had been playing the organ in
-      St. George's&mdash;and oh! doesn't she play beautifully!&mdash;we
-      talked a little while on the Castle terrace, and we talked about you, and
-      I asked her if you were ever so nice as Harold, because we couldn't
-      help being a little disappointed in you, Cousin Ted, and she said yes,
-      that you used to be every bit as nice, and if you had not been spoiled up
-      at Oxford you would have turned out all right. She didn't say just
-      those words, you know, but that was the meaning.&rdquo; Ted was silent for
-      a few moments, and when at last he spoke he said slowly, &ldquo;Yes, I
-      will come home, Marie-Celeste, as soon as I can; I promise.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0183.jpg" alt="0183 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0183.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Thank you, very much,&rdquo; as though Ted had done her the
-      greatest personal favor; and then, seeming to feel that their talk had
-      come to a natural end, she asked quite casually, &ldquo;Will you have the
-      custard now?&rdquo; and Ted remarking quite as casually, &ldquo;Yes, thank
-      you, I will,&rdquo; she lifted the tray carefully into his lap. &ldquo;Don't
-      take very long to eat it, please,&rdquo; she urged, &ldquo;for fear Mrs.
-      Hartley should wonder why I do not come hack and Ted obeyed orders with an
-      alacrity rather menacing to his digestive powers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What shall I say to Mrs. Hartley?&rdquo; Marie-Celeste asked with a
-      puzzled frown.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Say everything, Marie-Celeste; tell her all about me. Explain to
-      Donald first, and get him to take Harold off' somewhere, and then
-      tell all the others&mdash;Mr. and Mrs. Hartley and Chris and Martha. It is
-      not that I lack the courage to tell them myself, it's only that it
-      will be easier for them to learn it from you, you have such an innocent
-      way of going straight to the heart of a matter. Besides, how could they
-      hear it better than from my good little angel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your good little angel! Oh, you don't know me, Cousin Ted! I'm
-      anything but an angel. I was bad as I could be for three whole days
-      together a few weeks ago&mdash;you ask Donald! Listen! they are calling me
-      up at the cottage. Take that last spoonful of custard quickly, please; it's
-      good for you. Good-by, now,&rdquo; printing a hearty little kiss on his
-      grateful face, &ldquo;and remember your promise;&rdquo; and then,
-      carefully lifting the tray, she sped back to the cottage, cheerily
-      calling, &ldquo;Yes, I'm coming,&rdquo; to Donald, who was on his
-      way to meet her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste, what have you done?&rdquo; and Donald's face
-      looked the picture of despair as he came toward her; nevertheless, he was
-      gallant enough to relieve her of the tray, with its empty dishes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mean about my finding out about Cousin Ted?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald simply nodded yes; he had no heart for words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I couldn't help it, Donald; Mrs. Hartley asked me to
-      carry some custard and sponge-cake to the gentleman under the apple-tree&mdash;was
-      it my fault that the gentleman happened to be Ted, I'd like to know?&rdquo;
-      for never were there more accusing eyes than Donald's.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; not your fault, but it's a pity to have the whole
-      thing spoiled. We've kept the secret so carefully.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And do you think it can't be a secret any longer because I
-      happen to be in it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was exactly what Donald felt sure of, but he contrived to say,
-      &ldquo;I didn't suppose you'd see the need of its being kept&mdash;I'm
-      glad if you do;&rdquo; but there was no real gladness evident, for Donald's
-      tone was hopeless in the extreme.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All the same, you don't think I'll keep it, Donald,&rdquo;
-      her little face really grieved. &ldquo;You think because I'm a girl
-      that I'll tell mamma, and then before I know it somebody else,&rdquo;
-      and therein Marie-Celeste proved herself a veritable little mind-reader.
-      &ldquo;Well, now, Donald, you'll see! and perhaps you'll come
-      to understand girls better this summer, and have more respect for them in
-      the future.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald took his lecture very meekly, knowing well that he deserved it, but
-      still doubtful of Marie-Celeste's boasted ability in the
-      secret-keeping line.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Ted has more confidence in me than you, Donald,&rdquo; still
-      exercising her mind-reading proclivities. &ldquo;He's asked me to
-      tell the Hartleys all about him this very day. He doesn't want any
-      unnecessary secrets kept any longer, and you're to take Harold off
-      somewhere while I tell them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It seems to me Ted ought to tell them himself,&rdquo; said Donald,
-      shaking his head in disapproval; for you see he really feared that Ted
-      lacked the necessary courage, although he could understand how much it
-      must mean to him to have the Hartleys realize that he had such a good
-      friend as Marie-Celeste at court. But Donald afterward exonerated Ted from
-      any lack of courage, and was of course delighted when he found that she
-      had pleaded his cause so eloquently as to convince even the old keeper
-      that Ted was fully justified in the course he had thought best to pursue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0185.jpg" alt="0185 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0185.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Never was fairy tale listened to with more rapt attention than
-      Marie-Celeste's narration of the ups and downs of Ted's life
-      as she knew them, and never was heart more gladly grateful than hers when
-      she realized that these good friends were more than willing, for the sake
-      of the end in view, to condone the deception practised upon them. It is
-      such a fine thing when people show themselves fair-minded and reasonable
-      under circumstances that put their fair-mindedness to so much of a test.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, well, well, it's a queer world,&rdquo; said old Mr.
-      Hartley, resting his elbows on his knees, and drawing circles and squares
-      with his cane on the gravel beneath the old settle&mdash;&ldquo;it's
-      so remarkable that Mr. Morris (for he could not drop the name at once)
-      should have fallen right into our hands here. Seems to me as though God
-      never changed any of the real laws of things, but as though He ordered the
-      working of them together for good in a very wonderful way, just as the
-      Scripture says He do;&rdquo; and a good many other people, who have not
-      lived in this world more than half as long as old Mr. Hartley, are willing
-      to go the whole length of this statement, and to defend it, if need be,
-      with page after page from their own experience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was just at this point in the conversation that Donald and Harold came
-      upon the scene, and hearing all of Mr. Hartley's last remark, Donald
-      felt sure that the old keeper, of whom he, as well as Ted and Harry Allyn,
-      stood in not a little awe, was not going to take offence at the new turn
-      affairs had taken; while Harold, to whom it sounded as though they had
-      been having a somewhat prosy sermon, rather congratulated himself that
-      Donald had carried him off to see a neighbor's kennels down the
-      river. But now there was time for little more than good-bys, and Chris,
-      who had slipped away to harness Jennie, was at the door; and with
-      farewells as hearty as though they had been friends for a lifetime, Harold
-      and Marie-Celeste climbed into the Saxon wagon, and amid much
-      demonstration on every side were off for the Nuneham station; but Harold
-      wondered that Donald did not drive into Nuneham with them, and said so.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, addressing Chris with a
-      knowing look in her eyes, &ldquo;he has things to attend to about the farm
-      this time in the afternoon?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, he has,&rdquo; answered Chris, with a look just as knowing,
-      for both were well aware that as soon as their backs were turned Donald
-      would fly to Ted's rescue from his overlong quarantine down under
-      the apple-tree, and all the significant glances went on right under Harold's
-      eyes, with never a suspicion on his part. Indeed, Chris and Marie-Celeste,
-      just for the fun of it, indulged in some decidedly pointed remarks,
-      relying (and in Harold's case with considerable risk ) upon the
-      literalness of the average boy of sixteen to let their real meaning escape
-      him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Custard and sponge-cake is not very staying,&rdquo; said Ted, after
-      Donald had told him the good news of how kindly the Hartleys had received
-      Marie-Celeste's surprising revelations, and they were on their way
-      to the cottage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, you haven't had any dinner, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; a
-      paralyzing recollection coming over him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who promised to bring it to me, Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Harris, it's all my fault! Martha gave it to me just
-      before our own dinner was ready, and I set it on the feed-box a moment,
-      while I shook down some hay for Jennie in the barn, and Chris called me,
-      and that was the last I thought of it, and it must be there now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Donald was mistaken; one of a litter of rather young setter puppies,
-      but with the sense of scent well developed, had scaled the sides of the
-      low feed-box, and now lay on its side by the empty plate, feeling somewhat
-      the worse for its foraging expedition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But dinners are not so reviving as good news, Donald,&rdquo; said
-      Ted excusingly; and indeed, notwithstanding diminished rations, he felt
-      wonderfully toned up both in mind and body, now that the good friends in
-      the cottage knew just who he was and there was no longer need for any sort
-      of duplicity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      With all Ted's faults he was as open as the day, and the part which
-      Harry and discretion and the Doctor had mapped out for him to play had
-      been harder than you can imagine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVIII.&mdash;RATHER A BOOKISH CHAPTER.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9188.jpg" alt="9188 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9188.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he old belfry
-      clock was striking eight as Harold and Marie-Celeste put in an appearance
-      at the lodgings where the little party were staying in Oxford, and of
-      course there was a great deal to be told; but alas! too, for Marie-Celeste
-      so much that must not be told, under any circumstances. If you think it
-      easy to be sole possessor of a piece of news that would rejoice the hearts
-      of your nearest and dearest, and yet for extreme precaution's sake
-      have given your promise on no account to divulge it, why then all that can
-      be said is that you were never in Marie-Celeste's shoes. If it had
-      been an uncomfortable piece of news it would have been vastly easier.
-      There ought to be no pleasure at all in conveying bad news to people,
-      though here and there, it must be confessed, one sometimes meets
-      individuals who seem to rejoice in any news whatsoever, and the more
-      startling and surprising the better.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Marie-Celeste succeeded in getting through the first few hours without
-      telling: the two hours with Harold on the train, a very trying half hour
-      when she was all alone with her mother, and another trying half hour the
-      next morning, when she was sitting in the breakfast-room with Dorothy; and
-      after that the worst was over, so many delightful things came along to
-      claim everyone's thought and attention. And one of the most
-      delightful things of all&mdash;at least in the children's estimation&mdash;came
-      with that Sunday afternoon in Oxford, and Dorothy was the one to be
-      thanked for it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It seemed that in one of the colleges somebody lived who Marie-Celeste
-      would have given more to see, next to the Queen (and, as you know, she had
-      seen her without the asking), than any one else in England, and that was
-      the man who calls himself Lewis Carroll, and who has written those
-      incomparable books, &ldquo;Through the Looking-Glass&rdquo; and &ldquo;Alice
-      in Wonderland.&rdquo; If it is possible that any little friend of these
-      stories of mine has never happened to have read them, then let me urge you
-      at once to give Aunt Bess or Uncle Jack no rest till both are in your
-      keeping, with your name written very legibly across the fly-leaf of each,
-      so that you can keep them for your very own till you've no more use
-      for any books whatsoever. And while you are about it, why not put in a
-      plea for Kingsley's &ldquo;Water Babies,&rdquo; too, which is of the
-      same beautiful dreamland type; and please do not think for a moment that
-      you are too old for any of the three. Why, some one I know, who is well on
-      to forty, just revels in those same three books, and, for that matter,
-      there are some things in them that you cannot fully take in even then. And
-      in this connection perhaps it is fair to tell you, in case you do not
-      happen to know it already, that it is twenty years and more since these
-      books were written; but then of course you are sensible enough to see that
-      that is ever so much more to their credit. Indeed, it was just because
-      they were written so long ago that the visit of which I am about to tell
-      you came to pass. Twenty years before Dorothy's father had been
-      rector of a church there in Oxford, and though Dorothy was only two years
-      old at that time, and her brother Harry but a year and a half older, they
-      had been great pets, babies though they were, with the author of &ldquo;Wonderland&rdquo;
-      and &ldquo;Through the Looking-Glass,&rdquo; and Mr. Dodgson&mdash;for
-      that is Lewis Carroll's real name&mdash;had been in and out of Canon
-      Allyn's house almost every day in the week. And what was true of
-      Canon Allyn's house was true of many another house in Oxford where
-      there were children; and so you see it was because of this old-time
-      intimacy with Lewis Carroll that Dorothy had made bold to write and ask if
-      she might bring Harold and Marie-Celeste to call upon him. But for some
-      reason or other Mr. Dodgson no longer cares to see as much of the little
-      people as formerly; in fact, he rather runs away from them when they seek
-      him out; and when he received Dorothy's letter, what did he do but
-      write her that he was very sorry to say that he would not be at home on
-      the afternoon in question, but that if it would be any pleasure to her
-      little friends to see his rooms, she might bring them there and welcome,
-      and that he would leave some old photographs that he thought would
-      interest them ready to her hand in a portfolio on the writing-table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so they were not to see &ldquo;Lewis Carroll,&rdquo; which was of
-      course considerable of a disappointment to Marie-Celeste and Harold, and
-      to Dorothy as well; but all the same the recollection of that Sunday
-      afternoon in Oxford will doubtless long hold its place among the most
-      delightful memories of their lives.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was only two o'clock when they set out, and a walk up the
-      beautiful High Street, past the spires and domes, brick windows and
-      massive gateways of the old churches and colleges that line it, and then a
-      turn at the corner of Aldgate Street, soon brought them to Christ Church.
-      Mr. Carroll's rooms&mdash;for he prefers doubtless to be Mr. Carroll
-      to those of us who know him only through his books&mdash;. were of course
-      the first object of interest, and Dorothy, who remembered where they were
-      from a more fortunate visit of a few years before, when they had not been
-      obliged, as to-day, to count without their host, led the way through the
-      Entrance Gateway, well worthy of its old name of &ldquo;The Faire Gate.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Over this entrance looms the beautiful tower containing Great Tom, an old,
-      old bell that tolls a curfew of one hundred and one strokes every night as
-      a signal for the closing of the college. And Great Tom looks down on one
-      of those quadrangles which at Christ Church, as indeed at all the
-      colleges, forms one of the most attractive features. In many cases the
-      walls of the buildings which surround the quadrangles on the four sides
-      are almost hid beneath a luxurious growth of English ivy, while from April
-      to December the lawns that carpet them are green with the wonderful depth
-      of color peculiar to lawns that have been cultivated for centuries.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The windows of Mr. Carroll's rooms open on the &ldquo;Ton Quad,&rdquo;
-      as it is called, because of the nearness to Great Tom, and they found the
-      janitor, who had been informed of their coming, ready to unlock the door
-      for them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you think we have driven Mr. Dodgson away by planning to come
-      here this afternoon?&rdquo; asked Dorothy, feeling that this invasion of a
-      man's room in his absence bordered on intrusion, and hesitating to
-      step over the threshold.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Like as not, mum,&rdquo; replied the old janitor honestly, &ldquo;he's
-      grown that averse to mingling much with folk, be they big or little.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But he wrote me very cordially to come, only that he had an
-      engagement and would not be at home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then he probably told you the truth, mum. He often goes off on a
-      ten-mile tramp of a Sunday afternoon with one of the professors. He left
-      word that he'd not be home till six, mum, so you needn't be
-      thinking of leaving till half-past five, mum;&rdquo; and so it was plainly
-      evident that Lewis Carroll wanted to run no risk of seeing them at either
-      end of their visit, and Dorothy could not help feeling a little piqued.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sorry Mr. Dodgson is so much afraid of meeting us,&rdquo; she
-      said with a sigh; &ldquo;we used to live in Oxford, and he was a good
-      friend of mine when I was a child. It seems strange he ceases to care for
-      his little friends as soon as they are grown up.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must leave an old bachelor to his foibles, mum. It seems as
-      though they must have them of one sort or another. I'm a bachelor
-      myself, mum, and have me own little peculiarities, they tell me, mum.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy, please look here! These are the photographs Mr.
-      Carroll wrote you about!&rdquo; called Marie-Celeste, for she and Harold
-      had had no misgivings whatever about making their way into a room to which
-      they had been granted privileged entrance; and after a reconnoitring tour
-      round its borders had naturally brought up at the portfolio, to which
-      their attention had been specially directed in Mr. Carroll's note.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The door has a spring lock, mum,&rdquo; explained the janitor;
-      &ldquo;will you kindly make sure to close it on leaving?&rdquo; and with
-      this parting injunction he left them to their own devices.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It seems that in the old days, when Lewis Carroll loved to play host to
-      the children, they would often come to take afternoon tea in his lodgings,
-      and then likely as not, if the light were good, he would spirit them into
-      a 'room fitted up for the purpose and take their pictures; and then,
-      if they promised to be good and not to bother, they might follow him into
-      the queer-smelling little room where he made the pictures come out, and
-      they would be permitted to have a look at the dripping glass plate, from
-      which they could seldom make head nor tail, held up against the dark-room's
-      lantern for inspection. But, all the same, their faith in the result was
-      supreme; for what could a wizard not do who could weave fairy-tales so
-      wonderfully as not to have them seem like fairy-tales at all. And so this
-      portfolio, extended to its uttermost, was literally stuffed with pictures;
-      and what did they discover, to their surprised delight, lying right on the
-      top of the pile, but three or four unmistakable photographs of Harry and
-      Dorothy Allyn, which had evidently been placed there by design. Dorothy
-      was pleased at this little attention, and partly forgave Mr. Carroll his
-      antipathy to renewing old friendships.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0192.jpg" alt="0192 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0192.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      The pictures themselves were as funny as could be, and the Harry Allyn of
-      those days was wonderfully like the Albert Allyn of these; so that a
-      council was held on the spot, and the resolution carried that they would
-      leave a little note on Mr. Carroll's table, humbly begging for one
-      of the pictures, that they might have the pleasure of showing them to
-      interested parties at Windsor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The inspection of the photographs once over, the little party settled
-      themselves to &ldquo;taking the little sitting-room in,&rdquo; as they
-      said, and there was little, you may be sure, that escaped them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The curious old fire-irons were noted, the subjects of the pictures on the
-      walls, the books on the shelves, and a remarkable paper-knife and quaint
-      old inkstand upon the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste, to whom this visit meant more than to Harold and Dorothy,
-      even made so bold as to glance through an intervening portière to the
-      bachelor bedroom beyond; and yet you must know that there was not a
-      vestige of prying curiosity in this investigating mood of hers. The next
-      thing, and sometimes a better thing than knowing your favorite author, is
-      to know how and where he lives; and it was a matter of supreme delight to
-      Marie-Celeste that henceforth when she should open Lewis Carroll's
-      books she should be able to picture him working away here in his study,
-      and just as he really looked, too, for by chance or accidents full-length
-      photograph stood on the mantel, which Dorothy, from her visita few years
-      before, was able to pronounce an excellent likeness, and very
-      characteristic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would like to be able to say I had sat exactly where 'Alice'
-      was written,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, slipping into the chair at the
-      writing-table. &ldquo;Do you think I could honestly?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, both table and chair look old enough,&rdquo; Dorothy
-      considerately replied; &ldquo;but I don't believe books like those
-      are written much in regular places at all. It seems as though 'Alice'
-      must at least have been made up out on the river, even if there were not
-      three little pairs of childish hands to steer and guide the boat, as the
-      verses at the beginning would have us believe.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, but I do believe there were, Miss Dorothy!&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste warmly; &ldquo;don't you remember it says,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      &rdquo;' All in the golden afternoon
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Full leisurely we glide,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      For both our oars with little skill
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      By little arms are plied,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      While little hands make vain pretence
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Our wanderings to guide.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then in another verse in just so many words, 'Thus grew the tale
-      of Wonderland.' Oh, yes, I choose to believe everything in those two
-      books.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't blame you,&rdquo; laughed Dorothy, &ldquo;for
-      everything is told as a matter of course, and it seems the most natural
-      thing in the world for a rabbit to carry white gloves, and for little
-      girls to seek advice of caterpillars.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, the parts I used to like best were the verses;&rdquo; for
-      Harold, after the manner of the genus who pride themselves on early
-      outgrowing many of the best things of life, relegated the books to the
-      days of his early childhood; &ldquo;the stories themselves always seemed
-      more meant for girls than for boys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, excuse me, Harold,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, bristling up a
-      little, &ldquo;but I don't see why you boys are so afraid of peeping
-      into what you call a girl's book. Of course there are books that
-      tell only about girls that you wouldn't like. To tell the truth, I
-      don't care much for them myself; but if a book ever happens to have
-      a kind of girlish name to it, that settles it at once. Now, suppose it
-      were possible for any one to write a story about me; I presume they would
-      have to give a sort of girl's name to the story; but would that mean
-      that it was all about girls? Well, I guess not;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste
-      laughed as she realized how wide such an estimate would fall of the mark.
-      &ldquo;Chris would be in it, of course, and you and Donald and&mdash;&rdquo;
-      and Marie-Celeste was going to say Ted, but checked herself in time to
-      make an exchange for Mr. Belden&mdash;&ldquo;and Albert. Why, gracious,
-      Harold, come to think of it, I haven't a girl friend this summer&mdash;only
-      Miss Dorothy here, if she will excuse me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it's a pity about me, isn't it, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo;
-      said Dorothy slyly, &ldquo;for the author might feel that as I am your
-      friend he ought to put mein somewhere, and that would make it a little
-      more about girls, you see, and probably spoil the story.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy, you know what I mean; it isn't that I don't
-      like girls, it's only that a book like 'Alice' ought to
-      have just as much interest for boys as girls;&rdquo; for all Marie-Celeste
-      had in mind was the defence of the imputation that Lewis Carroll's
-      books were &ldquo;just girls' books.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If all the remarkable things in those two stories,&rdquo; she
-      continued, &ldquo;had happened to a 'Jack' instead of an
-      'Alice,' I should have loved it just as much, I am sure.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well, you needn't be quite so hard on me,&rdquo; Harold
-      replied, improving the first opportunity to put in a word, and very much
-      amused at Marie-Celeste's little tirade. &ldquo;I fancy, on the
-      whole, you don't know much more about 'Alice's'
-      adventures than I do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      This last remark Marie-Celeste chose to regard as a challenge, and then
-      followed such a rehearsal of Alice's varied experiences as would
-      have done Lewis Carroll's heart good to hear. Both eager to show how
-      much they remembered, the moment either paused for the fraction of a
-      second, the other would take it up, and so the whole ground was pretty
-      well gone over. Harold's principal achievement lay in &ldquo;The
-      Walrus and the Carpenter,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste's in the
-      recitation of &ldquo;Jabberwocky&rdquo; from &ldquo;Through the
-      Looking-Glass;&rdquo; for not only was she able to slip its almost
-      unpronounceable words quite easily from her tongue, but she remembered the
-      explanation of them given by Humpty Dumpty, when Alice appeals to him a
-      little later on in the story, and he modestly informs her that he can
-      explain all the poems that ever were invented, &ldquo;and a good many
-      beside that haven't been invented just yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's getting near four o'clock,&rdquo; said Dorothy,
-      feeling at last that she must interrupt the flow of conversation, no
-      matter how interesting; &ldquo;let us write the note asking for the
-      picture, and then see something of the rest of the college.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So the note was written and left conspicuously upon the writing-table; and
-      then with one long farewell glance about them, and a flower stolen from a
-      vase by Marie-Celeste and laid between the leaves of her prayer-book, they
-      turned their backs on all they would ever be permitted to know of Lewis
-      Carroll, and the door with the spring lock swung to behind them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been part of the plan to attend the five-o'clock service in
-      Christ Church Cathedral; and after spending a half hour or so in wandering
-      through the cloisters and gaining something of an idea of the college as a
-      whole, they went early into the cathedral, that they might also stroll for
-      a while through the beautiful old church whose history dates as far back
-      as the middle of the eighth century. At five o'clock promptly the
-      beautiful choral service began, and the sweet music and the earnest spirit
-      of the service seemed to round out to a fitting close that always to be
-      remembered Sunday afternoon in Oxford.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIX.&mdash;DONALD TURNS VALET.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9196.jpg" alt="9196 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9196.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>ou might not care
-      much for it, but to me it would be a delight to follow our friends on Ted's
-      break as they rolled merrily out from town on the bright Monday morning
-      succeeding their two days' stay at Oxford, and to keep with them all
-      the way; not that anything momentous or wildly exciting happened on the
-      trip, only that if it were possible to put all its charm onto paper, there
-      is no question but you would enjoy it. Somebody has put it onto paper,
-      however, and very successfully, too; so that I should advise you, in case
-      a driving trip through the English Lake Country does not soon happen to
-      come your way, to look between the covers of &ldquo;The Strange Adventures
-      of a Phaeton,&rdquo; as soon as you grow a bit older, and see if you do
-      not discover the charm of it for yourself. But whether we would or no, we
-      have not the time just now to bowl quietly along in leisurely fashion
-      through that lovely region of hills and lakes. Besides the party on the
-      break are quite sufficient to themselves, while down at Nuneham there is a
-      fellow who would be thankful enough for any advice that we could give him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What had I better do?&rdquo; is the question that Ted is turning
-      over and over in his mind, for the time has come for Ted to do something,
-      and there are more difficulties confronting him than any one has an idea
-      of. He has not even taken Harry Allyn fully into his confidence, so proud
-      is this same foolish Ted. Besides, Harry Allyn, who, as you know, is in
-      dead earnest about his &ldquo;new leaf,&rdquo; is up at Oxford delving
-      away, midsummer though it is, at some back work that was sadly neglected
-      in the spring term, and has actual need to be made up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Finally Ted, who finds himself simply reasoning in a circle, decides to
-      lay the whole matter before Donald; for Donald, boy that he is, has
-      opinions of his own which he does not fear to express, and, what is more,
-      Ted in desperation feels that he simply must turn to somebody. And so it
-      comes about that at the close of an August afternoon, when Ted has the
-      house to himself (Chris having taken the old keeper and his wife off for a
-      drive), that he calls to Donald, who, coming up from a day's work in
-      the kitchen garden, is on his way to put his tools away in the barn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what is it, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; leaving rake and hoe against
-      the cottage shingles and slipping into the chair nearest the door, out of
-      regard for Mrs. Hartley's clean-swept carpet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's just this, Donald. I'm in a fix, and I want you to
-      help me out.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A new fix, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; with a long breath, as though he
-      thought there had really been rather too much of that sort of thing
-      already.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, an old one, Donald, and I fancy you know enough of my record
-      these last four years to imagine what it is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder if you're in debt,&rdquo; for Ted
-      had hinted as much once or twice to Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly, head over heels in debt;&rdquo; and although Ted's
-      words were light enough, his manner was very serious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you want me to help you out?&rdquo; said Donald, remembering
-      the three or four sovereigns knotted up sailor fashion in a handkerchief
-      with a few other treasures, and representing all his worldly store.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm not going to take any savings of yours,&rdquo; said
-      Ted, imagining that Donald might so have understood him; &ldquo;but I want
-      to put the case to you, and have you tell me what to do;&rdquo; and Donald
-      listened attentively while Ted &ldquo;put his case&rdquo; plainly and
-      without any mental reservations whatever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a terrible big sum,&rdquo; said Donald, when all was
-      told, &ldquo;but you say you have money enough to pay it several times
-      over if you could only get at it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly; but I can't get at it any more than though it didn't
-      belong to me&mdash;not till I'm twenty-five, and that's two
-      years off. You see, my father thought he had given me a generous income,
-      and he had&mdash;rather too generous for my good, it seems.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose the people you owe it to would wait two years if they
-      felt sure they would get the money then for Donald, with the wisdom of an
-      older head, was trying to look at the matter from all sides.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Donald, that wouldn't do. They're trades-people,
-      most of them, and they've waited longer than they can afford to
-      already. I must manage to borrow the money somewhere&mdash;but where, that's
-      the question.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Couldn't Harold help you a little?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not to any extent. Harold can't touch his money any more than
-      I; besides, Harold is not to know,&rdquo; and Ted spoke decidedly, as
-      though in that direction his mind was fully made up, and he needed advice
-      from no one.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Aren't there men up in London who make a business of lending
-      money?&rdquo; for Donald hadn't knocked about the world without
-      gaining some knowledge of men and affairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, there are, but I want to keep this thing just as quiet as
-      possible. I do wish I had some friend to turn to.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, looking Ted squarely in the face,
-      &ldquo;it's an awful pity about you; there is no sense at all in
-      your going on the way you have. When a fellow has a home and friends and
-      money, there isn't any excuse for that sort of thing. Seems to me it
-      would be so easy then to keep straight.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ted winced a little under Donald's frankness, knowing all that lay
-      beneath it. It had sometimes been very difficult for the boy there before
-      him, to whom home and money had been always lacking, and friends as well
-      until within these last few weeks, to live up to the best that he knew. No
-      boy puts to sea, as Donald had done, without coming face to face with some
-      sore temptations, but his whole look and bearing showed how manfully he
-      had resisted them, and the earnest honesty of his eyes preached a sermon
-      as they met Ted's.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is an awful pity,&rdquo; said Ted, echoing Donald's words,
-      and hating his own record more than any one else could hate it; &ldquo;but
-      all that is left me is to try and mend matters. The only comfort is that I've
-      come to my senses at last. A great many never do, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, who had been listening to Ted and
-      doing his own thinking at one and the same time, &ldquo;there was an
-      Englishman came over on the steamer with us, who grew to be great friends
-      with Marie-Celeste, and Marie-Celeste told me all about him one of those
-      afternoons when I was too weak to do anything but lie in my berth, and she
-      tried to entertain me. She said he was a bachelor, and rich as could be,
-      and she thought the best thing that could happen to him would be to do
-      somebody a good turn with his money. If you feel that you want to keep
-      this matter sort of quiet, just between gentleman and gentleman (which was
-      a phrase Donald had heard Mr. Harris use, and was glad to be able to
-      appropriate), why don't you go up to London and hunt him up? He
-      lives at one of the big clubs. You could easily find him. His name was
-      Belden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this Ted gave a start of surprise, as did Miss Dorothy Allyn when
-      Marie-Celeste made the same announcement the day of their talk in St.
-      George's Chapel. And then Ted asked, as had she: &ldquo;Are you sure
-      it was Belden? You see, Donald,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;I've an
-      old bachelor uncle whose name is Selden&mdash;my mother's brother&mdash;and
-      who answers to your description to a dot&mdash;a surly old customer, who
-      would do little enough for me, or any one else, I imagine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; it was Belden sure. Everybody called him Mr. Belden, and it was
-      so on the passenger list; I've got one in my chest upstairs; I'll
-      bring it, and you can see for yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Ted, when, the list having been produced, he
-      felt that the balance of evidence was not in favor of Mr. Belden and Mr.
-      Selden being one and the same, &ldquo;that is a happy thought of yours,
-      and up to London I will go.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You oughtn't to go alone, Mr. Harris; you're not strong
-      enough for that yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if Chris would let you turn valet for me and go too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'd give a great deal to see London again,&rdquo; said Donald
-      enthusiastically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would wages have to be taken into account?&rdquo; laughed Ted;
-      &ldquo;you know the state of my finances, Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Board and expenses&mdash;that is all, sir,&rdquo; and so the
-      serious talk ended with this bit of pleasantry; and Ted realizing that he
-      had not been disappointed in feeling that Donald would somehow be able to
-      help him, found himself entering into the new scheme with rather more hope
-      than circumstances would seem to justify.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was by no means a cheery announcement to the household in the little
-      thatched cottage when Ted told them that evening, that two days later he
-      must gather his belongings together and turn his back on the home and the
-      friends that had formed his little world during all the long weeks of
-      convalescence; and then when he asked if Donald might perhaps be permitted
-      to go up to London with him, Mrs. Hartley felt that all the brightness of
-      the summer was fast slipping away. No one could appreciate what new life
-      had opened up for the old couple with the coming of Chris and Ted and
-      Donald, and now two were proposing to go at once, and only five weeks
-      more, and Chris would be bidding them farewell on his way to the Majestic
-      down at Liverpool, and on which it had been arranged that Donald at the
-      same time should once more put to sea. So no wonder that at first they all
-      declared that the boy could not be spared; but the more they thought of it
-      the more they felt that Ted really needed him. As a result, a telegram was
-      finally sent to Mr. Harris, which caught the driving party at Windemere,
-      asking if he would approve of Donald's going up to London with a
-      convalescent gentleman who greatly needed his services. The telegram was
-      signed Christopher Hartley; and Mr. Harris, concluding that Donald and
-      Chris were quite able to decide what was best in the matter, telegraphed
-      back, &ldquo;No objection, of course, if you think it advisable;&rdquo;
-      and its welcome message brought more joy to the hearts of Ted and Donald
-      than they could graciously give expression to in the face of Mr. and Mrs.
-      Hartley's regret at their departure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was astonishing with what celerity Donald had seemed to merge the
-      sailor-boy in the farm-hand, and now in turn the farm-hand in the valet.
-      He brushed away at Ted's clothes as vigorously as though that had
-      been his calling from his youth up, and stowed away his belongings in the
-      boxes that Harry Allyn had sent down from Oxford with an economy of space
-      that was truly amazing. And now at last there was no more to be done, and
-      Mrs. Hartley bade her boys God-speed with lips that from trembling could
-      hardly frame the blessing, and on which face&mdash;Ted's or Donald's&mdash;loving
-      gratitude found deeper expression it would have been difficult to have
-      told. The old keeper pressed Ted's hands, and actually said
-      something about feeling he had been a little hard on him at first; and
-      then turning to Donald, made him promise to count Nuneham as his home ever
-      afterward, and run down for a Sunday between voyages whenever he could
-      manage it; and the words were about the most precious that had ever fallen
-      on Donald's ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The hotel to which the two travellers betook themselves in London was a
-      modest one, as befitted their circumstances. Ted, however, who, in spite
-      of himself, had still considerable regard for appearances, could not
-      resist the temptation of investing&mdash;though Donald urgently protested
-      against such extravagance&mdash;in a suit of clothes, somewhat less
-      conspicuous than the nautical blue jersey and wide-flapping trousers of
-      Donald's Sunday best, and better adapted to his new calling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, Donald,&rdquo; said Ted, who found himself relying on Donald's
-      advice in truly remarkable fashion, &ldquo;what's to be the first
-      step in the programme? Shall we try to look up your Mr. Belden in the
-      London Directory?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;As you say, sir,&rdquo; said Donald, who was amusing himself and
-      Ted as well by endeavoring to acquit himself as the most respectful of
-      valets. So forth they fared together, for the little hostelry was by far
-      too unpretentious to boast a city directory; but the morning was so fine,
-      notwithstanding mid-August weather, that they were tempted to stroll on
-      and on, deferring a little, by tacit consent, the immediate object of
-      their expedition. Along the Thames embankment they strolled from their
-      quarters up near Blackfriar's Bridge, past the Savoy Hotel, and
-      keeping near the river until, reaching Northumberland Avenue, they turned
-      in the direction of Trafalgar Square.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, attracted by a sign over a doorway,
-      when they had gone a few squares farther on, &ldquo;I believe this is Mr.
-      Belden's club. Marie-Celeste told me its name once, and I'm
-      almost sure this is it.&rdquo; Whereupon Ted straightway found himself
-      feeling very much dismayed at the announcement, and his heart misgave him,
-      as hearts have a way of doing when the time has come for mere intention to
-      take the more definite form of action. The object of this search of theirs
-      seemed all at once to Ted the most ridiculous thing imaginable. The idea
-      of expecting that a stranger, to whom his only introduction was that of a
-      cabin-boy of the White Star Line, would be likely to take an interest in
-      him to the extent of making him a loan of a large sum of money at rather a
-      low rate of interest; and then Ted realized what some of us have realized
-      before, that all he had practically to build upon was Marie-Celeste's
-      remark to Donald, &ldquo;that she felt very sure that the best thing that
-      could happen to this same rich Mr. Belden would be to do a good turn to
-      somebody and Ted once more scored himself a fool to have seriously
-      considered the thing for a moment. But it was too late now to retreat, for
-      Donald was having an animated talk with the buttons of the door of the
-      Reform Club; and Ted, who stood just out of earshot, was the victim of all
-      sorts of uncomfortable sensations as to what the result might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It looks,&rdquo; said Donald, coming down the steps and back to
-      Ted, with a puzzled frown on his face, &ldquo;as though there really might
-      be a mistake somewhere. I am perfectly sure this is the name of the club,
-      and the buttons says they have a Mr. Selden, but no Mr. Belden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Ted almost savagely &ldquo;let us walk away
-      just as quickly as possible. There is no doubt about it now. The man you
-      mean is my uncle, and I wouldn't put myself in his way for all the
-      world. Can't you walk faster, Donald?&rdquo; But meantime, the uncle
-      in question was hastening to put himself in Ted's way with all
-      possible speed, or rather in Donald's, which, as it happened, was
-      one and the same thing. It seemed that Mr. Selden (circumstances
-      permitting, it is better to call people by their real names) had
-      discovered Donald from the dining-room window just as he was descending
-      the steps, and recognizing him instantly flung his napkin onto the table,
-      and hurrying from the room seized his hat from the rack as he passed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bring that boy back!&rdquo; was his breathless older to the
-      buttons; but the door being open, he rushed through it himself, deciding
-      that the matter was too important to be delegated to any one less
-      interested than himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; he called, overtaking him at last, a whole square
-      away&mdash;&ldquo;Donald, were you looking for me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald turned, and the next moment was shaking hands warmly with Mr.
-      Selden, his face fairly beaming with glad surprise; but Ted stood by, the
-      picture of hopeless despair. His first absurd impulse had been to run, for
-      though first impulses are magnificent things as a rule, they do sometimes
-      suggest the most outlandish performances. His second, which was
-      fortunately the one upon which he acted, was to stand and see the thing
-      through, giving himself over to his fate with an air of most woebegone
-      resignation to whatever might be in store for him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is your friend?&rdquo; said Mr. Selden, politely lifting his
-      hat to Ted; for his own greeting over, poor Donald was at his wit's
-      end, not knowing whether Ted would wish to be introduced or no. What was
-      his relief, then, when Ted, lifting his hat politely in return, said:
-      &ldquo;You don't recognize me then, Uncle Everett?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Why, yes I do, Theodore for although it was years since he had seen him,
-      the momentarily uncovered head had at once established his identity;
-      &ldquo;but how do you and Donald happen to be in each other's
-      company? Marie-Celeste told me Donald was on a farm down in Oxfordshire,
-      and that you&mdash;well, that nobody knew where you were exactly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's rather a long story,&rdquo; said Theodore slowly; and
-      then remembering his uncle's stolid indifference to things in
-      general, he added coldly, &ldquo;I doubt if it would have much interest
-      for you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Selden understood the case perfectly, knowing that his former record
-      with Ted would justify his speaking in this fashion; but he only said:
-      &ldquo;All the same, I would like to know about it. Will you come back to
-      the club with me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The eyes of the valet waited upon his master, but they said very plainly,
-      &ldquo;Do let us go;&rdquo; and the master, after hesitating a moment,
-      accepted this most unexpected of invitations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XX&mdash;DOROTHY CALLS MARIE-CELESTE TO ACCOUNT..
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0048" id="linkimage-0048"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9205.jpg" alt="9205 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9205.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arie-Celeste, here
-      is a letter for you, and it is the third one you have received under cover
-      of direction to me; and, if I am not mistaken, I recognize the handwriting
-      on this one; I believe it is from Theodore Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste, with a meek little &ldquo;thank you,&rdquo; simply took the
-      letter from Dorothy's extended hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; Dorothy continued, &ldquo;you are not
-      showing them to your mother. They come enclosed in these envelopes, and
-      that is so that she shall not know that you receive them, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; but with her mind quite intent on the
-      letter, and therefore rather absent-mindedly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, do you know, I believe I shall tell her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; with all the absent-mindedness gone in a
-      minute, and with gravest reproach in the dark brown eyes, &ldquo;you
-      wouldn't&mdash;you wouldn't do that!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, my dear child, I almost feel as though I ought to; it is such
-      an uncommon thing for a little girl of twelve to be in surreptitious
-      correspondence with at least three different people, for there has been a
-      different hand on every letter. It seems wrong to me to-be helping on such
-      a mysterious proceeding, with no idea whatever of what it all means.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;I am in a great big
-      secret, that's all, but I do wish&mdash;I do wish very much that you
-      were in it too,&rdquo; which was indeed the truth, for this not being able
-      to talk over matters with anybody was almost more than she could longer
-      endure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, don't you believe it would do to take me in, then?&rdquo;
-      said Dorothy rather entreatingly. &ldquo;I confess I would like to know
-      what Theodore Harris is writing to you about; and besides it doesn't
-      seem fair to put too much upon a little girl like you. You seem to be
-      thinking so hard so much of the time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are pretty nice thoughts, though,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      replied, &ldquo;as you'll see when I tell you, because I've
-      about decided to tell you. I think it's right, too, and I don't
-      believe they'll mind, and I am going up to the house to bring the
-      other two letters and read them to you. It will make you happier than
-      anything you ever heard,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste spoke truer than she
-      knew.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Dorothy sat gazing out over beautiful Lake Coniston, wondering
-      if she were really doing the right thing in persuading Marie-Celeste to
-      confide in her, and unable to arrive at any decision. She was sitting on a
-      little rustic seat down by the water's edge, which Marie-Celeste,
-      with her passion for exploring new surroundings, had discovered the
-      evening before, almost immediately upon their arrival at the Waterhead
-      Hotel. It was here that Dorothy had counted on finding Marie-Celeste, and
-      it was here that she was left alone with her thoughts while Marie-Celeste
-      ran off on her self-imposed errand. It was a beautiful little sheet of
-      water that lay there at her feet, with its densely wooded banks and its
-      wilderness still uninvaded by civilization; and just across the lake the
-      setting sun was crimsoning the chimneys and pointed gables of the only
-      house upon that farther bank. It is this home that lends its own special
-      interest to the little lake, for it is the home of that grand old
-      idealist, Ruskin. It is just such a home as you would know that wise
-      philosopher would choose, far from the haunts of men and all the
-      devastating improvements of the age. A grand place, too, to work, you
-      think; and then you recall with a sigh that the light of that glorious
-      mind has well-nigh gone out, 'neath the weight of physical weariness
-      and infirmity, and then the solitary home begins to look a little like a
-      prison in your eyes, as you realize how glad its inmate would be to
-      exchange it for the Palace of that King whose divine intent for the world
-      he has so marvellously interpreted for us all in the days when soul was
-      still master of hand and brain.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But there was no room in Dorothy's mind just then for musings either
-      on nature or Ruskin, and it is to be feared that the dancing blue of the
-      water and the purple shadows on the hills and golden glow of the sunset
-      made little impression on her wholly preoccupied mind. What could Theodore
-      Harris be writing to Marie-Celeste about, and who could the other two
-      letters be from? Those were the absorbing questions of the hour; and at
-      last Marie-Celeste is back again on the little seat beside her, ready to
-      unlock her precious secrets, and with the three mysterious letters spread,
-      one upon the other, open in her lap.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, think a moment, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Dorothy seriously;
-      &ldquo;are you sure it is perfectly right to tell me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you said you'd tell my mother if I didn't,&rdquo;
-      laughed Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, dear! I didn't put it quite like that. I only
-      wondered if, perhaps, it was not my duty. But I know from what you have
-      already told me that everything is all right. You see, I did not quite
-      like to have a hand in anything so very unusual without being taken just a
-      little into your confidence. You remember, when the other letters came,
-      you scampered off in most excited fashion to read them all by yourself
-      somewhere, and then never opened your lips about them afterward, so that I
-      could not help feeling that it was a very queer proceeding, and that I
-      really ought to look into it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand perfectly, Miss Dorothy; and Ted says right here
-      at the end of his letter: 'Tell Miss Allyn all about things if you
-      think best.'&rdquo; And of course that settled matters beautifully,
-      quieting the last little suggestion of a compunction on Dorothy's
-      part.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, the best way to tell you,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste began, &ldquo;will
-      be to read the letters. This first one is from Donald. 'London,
-      August 20th'&rdquo;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;London, Marie-Celeste!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Wait, Miss Dorothy; it will explain itself,&rdquo; smiling with
-      delight at the pleasant surprises contained in those three precious
-      letters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'London, August 20th. My dear friend' (you know, Donald
-      has to begin that way, because he didn't like to say Marie-Celeste,
-      and so never called me anything), 'you will be surprised to find I
-      am in London, and, what is more, that I have come up to London as a valet
-      for a gentleman, and the gentleman, let me tell you, is your cousin, Mr.
-      Harris. You know we grew to be good friends all those weeks together down
-      at the Hartleys', at Nuneham!'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you mean to say,&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy&mdash;for the letter
-      was not explaining things quite as fully as might be desired&mdash;&ldquo;that
-      Donald has actually been staying in the same cottage with Theodore?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You knew about Ted's accident, didn't you, Miss
-      Dorothy? Ted said you did, that your brother had told you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I knew about that, but I do not know where it happened or
-      where he has been staying all these weeks.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've heard me talk about Chris, our postman, haven't
-      you, who came over on the steamer with us?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, certainly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, if you will believe it, it was just by his grandfather's
-      cottage, just outside of Nuneham, where the accident happened, and they're
-      the people who've been caring for him; and then when Donald went
-      down there to work on the farm, of course he discovered him; and then when
-      I went down the other day from Oxford, I discovered him too, and poor Ted's
-      had a very hard time to keep his secret.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But Harold was with you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Dorothy
-      eagerly; &ldquo;does he know, too?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Harold doesn't know; it's all on his account that
-      there's any secret about it now; you know Ted wants to prove to
-      Harold that he means to do the right thing before he lets him know the
-      worst there is about him. He means to tell him everything some day.&rdquo;
-      And then Marie-Celeste proceeded to narrate at length her unexpected
-      encounter with Ted under the apple-tree, so that Dorothy gradually came to
-      a clear comprehension of how matters stood, and Marie-Celeste was free
-      once more to let Donald speak for himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'And what we came up to London for,' continued the
-      letter, 'was to see a gentleman about some business matters; and the
-      gentleman we wanted to see was Mr. Belden&mdash;your rich old bachelor
-      friend you know&mdash;and who did he prove to be but a Mr. Selden, Mr.
-      Theodore's own uncle? His name was printed Belden by mistake on the
-      passenger list, and when Mr. Selden made friends with you that first day
-      out, and found out that you were going to visit his nephews at Windsor, he
-      didn't tell anyone it was wrong, because he didn't want you or
-      your father or mother to know who he was.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What did I tell you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy with
-      a little air of superiority, &ldquo;that time you told me about him in St.
-      George's? I knew it must be the same man.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But, Miss Dorothy, ever since this letter came I've been
-      wondering why he didn't want us to know who he was.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Because he has chosen forever so long not to have anything to do
-      with any of his relations, for fear they'd bother him, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, he's gotten over that,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste;
-      &ldquo;you'll see when I read his letter.&rdquo; And Dorothy looked
-      as though she thought wonders would never end, which was exactly the way
-      Marie-Celeste wanted her to look, and would have been vastly disappointed
-      if she had not.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Land knows,' read Marie-Celeste, resuming the letter,
-      'why he wanted to be so mum about things; that's his own
-      affair, of course; but he's been awfully good to us, and he has
-      fixed up some matters that were bothering your cousin a great deal just
-      beautifully. All the same, he doesn't look a bit well,
-      Marie-Celeste, and he's a sad sort of man. It seems as though he had
-      something on his mind, but he's not going to let anybody know what
-      it is&mdash;that isn't his way. We've been in London now
-      nearly a week, stopping in lodgings in the same house with Mr. Selden. We've
-      had to stay because of the business matters, but to-morrow we are going
-      down to Oxford to see to some things there, and then in a day or two home
-      to the Little Castle. You see, I've been able to make myself real
-      useful to Mr. Harris, because, you know, he's not overstrong yet,
-      and accustomed, besides, to having a valet&mdash;which is what I happen to
-      be at present; but it's not going to be for long, and between us,
-      Marie-Celeste, I'm not sorry. I half believe that father of mine,
-      that I don't know anything about, must have been a sea-captain.
-      There are times when it's all I can do to keep from running away
-      from everything and putting to sea again as fast as ever I can on any old
-      tub that'll take me; but, of course, I really wouldn't do
-      anything so mean; and all told, I have had a beautiful summer. Chris has
-      decided to go back to the States on the Majestic, sailing the first of
-      October, and I'm to take my old place on that trip, too. It seems as
-      though you all ought to be on board with us. Couldn't you get your
-      father to bring it about somehow? Whew, what a long letter I have written!&mdash;the
-      longest in my life, and I never wrote more than half a dozen, anyway. Don't
-      stay away too long. It's going to be rather lonely at Windsor
-      without you all, and there isn't so very much time left now. Won't
-      Mr. Harold be surprised to find his brother in the Little Castle ready to
-      receive him! Mr. Theodore's getting to be a brick, I can tell you.
-      Good-by. As long as your people are not to know what's in this
-      letter, Mr. Harris tells me to put it in an envelope addressed to Miss
-      Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours truly,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Donald.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0211.jpg" alt="0211 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0211.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So much for Donald;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, pausing to catch her
-      breath, hesitated to which of the other two letters to give the
-      preference. &ldquo;I think I'll read Theodore's next, Miss
-      Dorothy, because it's the latest, but really Donald's the most
-      interesting of the three. This letter, is from Windsor, and it was written
-      only yesterday morning. It is dated 'The Little Castle.' 'Dear
-      little Coz,' it says, 'here I am, you see, and I assure you I
-      have kept my promise to the letter, and have come home as soon as ever I
-      could.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why were you so anxious to make him promise that?&rdquo; asked M
-      iss Dorothy wonderingly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, because home's the best place for him; don't you
-      think so? He has not been there half enough these last few years, and,
-      besides, that's where he belongs&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But having the Little Castle all to himself probably does not seem
-      home-like,&rdquo; suggested Dorothy sympathetically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that's just what he says,&rdquo; laughed Marie-Celeste;
-      so that Dorothy thought her a trifle hard-hearted. &ldquo;And now I'll
-      begin over again. 'Dear little Coz, here I am, you see, and I assure
-      you I have kept my promise to the letter, and have come home as soon as
-      ever I could; but home doesn't seem a very cheery sort of place when
-      all your relatives are off on a lark, and on your own brake at that, and
-      you must fain content yourself with the companionship of your valet. He's
-      a fine little valet, however, Marie-Celeste, and he tells me that he has
-      stolen my thunder in a long letter he wrote you from London; so you know
-      all about my going in search of your friend, Mr. Belden, and finding in
-      his place my uncle, Mr. Selden. Well, this letter is just to tell you what
-      I told you once before, you remember, and that is, that you are my good
-      little angel, no matter how bad you may have been for three whole days
-      together,&rdquo; and to ask you not to forget that there is rather a
-      lonely fellow here at Windsor, who hopes you are having a good time, but
-      who honestly thinks that the sooner you come home the better. Tell Miss
-      Dorothy all about things if you think best, but don't paint me any
-      blacker than you feel you really have to.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours faithfully,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Theodore.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I haven't painted him very black, have I?&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste complacently; but Dorothy was far too absorbed in her own
-      thoughts to make any answer, and Marie-Celeste looked at her a little
-      curiously, wondering what was going on in her mind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps you'd rather be left to yourself?&rdquo; she added
-      half mischievously, after a minute or more of unbroken silence.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      'Oh, no; you didn't paint him black at all for Dorothy was able
-      instantly to bring her thoughts hack and say what was expected of her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This other letter,&rdquo; explained Marie-Celeste, looking askance
-      at the note in her hand, &ldquo;is rather spooney; I don't believe I
-      had better read it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Selden write a spooney letter! that's impossible!&rdquo;
-      exclaimed Dorothy, who thought 'she knew her man,' as the
-      saying goes; whereupon Marie-Celeste, of course, straightway read the
-      letter in order to prove her premises.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Reform Club, London, August 20.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'They tell me, dear Marie-Celeste (and they means, of course,
-      your Cousin Theodore and Donald), that you are taking a driving tour
-      through the English lakes, and that if I should address a letter to you,
-      care of Miss Dorothy Allyn, no one would be any the wiser; and that's
-      just what I've done, you see, as, for reasons of his own, your
-      Cousin Theodore seems to prefer it. You know already that this same Cousin
-      Theodore has been up here in London several days with me, and as a result
-      we have had many a long talk together; but you do not know, perhaps, that
-      we came to the conclusion that your coming to England this summer had been
-      just the best thing that could have happened to both of us. Likely as not
-      you do not exactly understand how that can be, and it is as well, perhaps,
-      that you should not; only take my word for it, that it is true, and ask no
-      questions. This much, however, I will tell you. Ted said to me one day, 'I
-      can tell you one thing, Uncle Everett, it was a talk I had with that dear
-      child under an apple-tree, down at Nuneham, that made me feel that some
-      people whom I care a great deal for still had faith in me, and it was she
-      who gave me courage by what she told me to go home as fast as ever I could
-      get there and then, Marie-Celeste, what do you suppose I said to him?
-      Well, I just, told him that that same dear child had preached me two
-      blessed sermons&mdash;one on the deck of the Majestic and the other
-      exactly where a sermon should be preached, beneath the roof of dear old
-      St. George's, and that what there was left of my life was going to
-      be set in a new key.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This letter will not make you proud, Marie-Celeste, I know, only
-      very grateful, and one day I believe you will understand better than it is
-      possible for you now to understand to-day how even in this world the
-      prophecy comes true sometimes that &ldquo;a little child shall lead them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must write and tell me when you are going home, for somehow or
-      other I must contrive to see you before you go, and what is more, I mean
-      to seek out a chance for a good talk with your father and mother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours faithfully,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Everett Belden.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you call that a spooney letter! Marie-Celeste, you ought to be
-      ashamed of yourself,&rdquo; and Dorothy tried to look the reproach she
-      felt the occasion called for.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I only meant, Miss Dorothy, that it said some nice things about me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, is that all? Well, then, I'll forgive you; but that is
-      not what people usually mean by spooney,&rdquo; and Dorothy putting her
-      arm about Marie-Celeste, they strolled up to the house together. &ldquo;And
-      you understand&mdash;don't you, dear?&mdash;that I did not mean to
-      force your confidence in any way, only it did seem so mysterious?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I understand perfectly; and you understand too, Miss
-      Dorothy, how I would have told you about it long ago, if I thought I could
-      and everything at last being mutually understood, there was happily no
-      need for further explanations.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXI.&mdash;WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN ENGLAND.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0050" id="linkimage-0050"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9215.jpg" alt="9215 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9215.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or some reason or
-      other the spirits of our driving party seemed steadily rising. It was
-      simply impossible to put anybody out of humor, no matter what happened.
-      Everything was lovely and just as it should be, even to the pelting
-      showers that came down with such swift suddenness as to almost soak them
-      through before they could get under cover of waterproofs and umbrellas,
-      and then a moment after left them stranded in brilliant sunshine, fairly
-      steaming within the rubber coats which, with much difficulty, had but just
-      been adjusted. Indeed, every day seemed more full of enjoyment than the
-      one that preceded it and to call for more enthusiasm. If any one had asked
-      Mr. Harris, for instance, how he accounted for this, he would probably
-      have laughed good-naturedly at the question, and answered: &ldquo;Why,
-      easily enough! How could it be otherwise with this glorious weather, this
-      beautiful country, and our jolly little party!&rdquo; But the real secret
-      of what made the party so jolly was, in fact, quite beyond Mr. Harris's
-      ability to divine. The real secret lay with Marie-Celeste and Dorothy in
-      the good news that had been committed to their keeping; and, strange to
-      say, it seemed to mean as much to Dorothy, who was no relation of Theodore's,
-      as to Marie-Celeste, who was. As a result, they were both brimming over
-      with fun and merriment; and as there is, fortunately, nothing in the world
-      more contagious than good spirits, the other members of the party were
-      equally merry without in the least knowing why. Even Mr. Farwell, who had
-      simply been invited to fill up and because he was a friend of Mr. Harris's,
-      fell under the spell, and bloomed out in a most surprising and delightful
-      manner, and by the time the first week was over felt as though he had
-      known them all all his life, and, indeed, very much regretted that such
-      was not in truth the case.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      From the Waterhead Hotel, at Coniston, the plan had been laid to retrace
-      their way a few miles over the same road by which they had come from
-      Windermere, make a stop for two or three hours at the Rothay Hotel, and
-      then drive on to Keswick that same afternoon. But just as they were
-      rolling into Grasmere, the off-leader, with the total depravity peculiar
-      to animal nature, struck the only stone visible within a hundred yards on
-      that perfect roadway, laming himself instantly and in most pronounced
-      fashion. This chanced to be the first mishap; but then could you really
-      call an accident a mishap that simply necessitated a three-days'
-      stay in the beautiful Wordsworth district? Our sunshiny little party, at
-      any rate, chose not so to regard it, and scoured the whole lovely region
-      on foot, reading Wordsworth's poetry in their halts by the roadside,
-      and growing familiar with every foot of the lanes he so dearly loved. Not
-      content with their morning spent in the Grasmere Church, and beside his
-      grave in the little churchyard without, they even made their way to
-      Wordsworth's old home&mdash;beautiful Rydal Mount&mdash;hoping, on
-      the strength of a card of introduction to the gentleman residing there, to
-      possibly be allowed to see the house. The gentleman, however, when they
-      presented themselves at his door, politely bowed them out instead of in,
-      and they were fain to content themselves with the lesser privilege of
-      inspecting the prettily terraced garden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When, after the three days' rest, the off-leader had been coaxed
-      into proper driving condition, they started off once more, but rather late
-      in the afternoon, planning to take things in quite leisurely fashion, out
-      of regard for the same off-leader, and depending upon the wonderful
-      English twilight to bring them into Keswick before ten o'clock. It
-      happened to be a local holiday in Cumberland, and as a result here and
-      there they encountered a solitary specimen of humanity prone upon his back
-      or his face, just as it chanced, by the roadside, or, not quite so badly
-      off as that, reeling along to wherever home might be in that apparently
-      houseless region. At six o'clock, on one of the highest points on
-      the road that leads to Keswick, they stopped at the Nag's Head, a
-      typical roadside inn, for supper, the sounds of revelry in whose tap-room
-      at once accounted for the sorry customers they had met upon the road
-      before they reached it. It was exceedingly interesting to the American
-      contingent of the party to gain a little insight into the life of the
-      English &ldquo;navvies;&rdquo; and they passed the little tap-room,
-      reeking with smoke and smelling of pipes and beer mugs, rather more often
-      than circumstances would warrant, for the sake of looking in on the jolly
-      fellows, and catching a sentence or so of their almost unintelligible
-      dialect. A truce to all this, however, for fear you should imagine, and
-      with reason, that even at this late stage I am going to fare so wide of my
-      province of story-teller as to conduct you in guide-book fashion through
-      the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland. But, nevertheless, up to this
-      same Nag's Head Inn we simply had to come, because some one else, in
-      whom we have an interest, is coming there too as fast as a good road-horse
-      can carry him. It seems that opposite the Nag's Head Inn the Church
-      of England has built a tiny edifice, and as though to apologize for the
-      apparent unreasonableness of building any church there whatsoever, they
-      have made a most miniature affair of it. A placard suspended within
-      proclaims the fact that it is the smallest church in all England, and
-      beneath it a contribution-box, of dimensions out of all proportion to the
-      surroundings, invites spare shillings for the maintenance of the lonely
-      little parish.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The peculiar isolation of the place appeals to the average tourist in most
-      pathetic fashion, and no sooner have our friends of the driving party
-      crowded within the diminutive door than Mr. Harris, hat in hand, commences
-      to take up a collection, with a view to making a radical addition to the
-      contents of the roomy contribution-box. Just as he is concluding the
-      exercise of this truly churchly function, and Marie-Celeste is dropping
-      her very last sixpence into the depths of the appealing hat, the little
-      doorway is suddenly darkened&mdash;-as it has need to be when any one
-      comes through it&mdash;and in the next second Ted is standing in their
-      midst. The collection goes sliding on to the floor, to be re-collected at
-      leisure, and everybody, with the exception of Mr. Farwell, is trying to
-      seize Ted's hand at once. Precedence, however, is given to the
-      claims of Marie-Celeste, and the upturned face is greeted with the most
-      prodigious kiss.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought we should happen to meet you somewhere on this trip,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, when things had subsided enough for an attempt at
-      conversation, groping the while on all-fours, and with Harold's
-      help, for the fugitive shillings on the floor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you can hardly call it happening to meet, when I've
-      been riding since early this morning to catch you. I expected to overtake
-      you at Grasmere, but found you were well on your way to Keswick by the
-      time I reached it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, where did you come from, anyhow, old fellow?&rdquo; asked
-      Harold, pleased beyond measure that Ted had seen fit to follow them up in
-      this fashion. He could not imagine whatever had suddenly brought it about,
-      after all the neglect of the summer; but that did not in the least
-      diminish his delight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I came from home, Harold,&rdquo; Ted replied; &ldquo;I went back
-      there two weeks ago, but it was so lonely I couldn't stand it, and
-      so when I found out through the Allyns about where you were, I came
-      posthaste after you. Besides, you know, when I discovered that my brake
-      had been walked off with in a rather cool fashion, I concluded I had some
-      rights in the case, and came to look after them. I see it's been
-      terribly abused,&rdquo; glancing in the direction of the brake, which,
-      minus the horses, stood in front of the inn across the narrow road;
-      &ldquo;it was as good as new when you started.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But these last remarks, so like the old Ted, but for the fact that he was
-      not in the least in earnest, were hardly listened to at all by Harold. He
-      was thinking his own glad thoughts. Five weeks yet till the Harrises would
-      sail for home! Ted would have a chance to redeem himself in that time and
-      make up for all his coldness and neglect; and the joy of it all was that
-      it looked as though he was going to try to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Half crown, please, for being permitted to join the party,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, presenting the hat to Ted, after making sure that none of
-      the coins were still missing; and Ted, though wholly bent on practising
-      close economy, felt the circumstances justified the outlay, and did as he
-      was bid.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was only one person to whom Ted's coming was not a source of
-      unalloyed pleasure. The addition of a seventh member to the party made it
-      necessary that some one should occupy the vacant back seat on the brake
-      between the grooms, and Mr. Farwell was gentleman enough to insist upon
-      being allowed to take his regular turn in the matter. He would not have
-      minded this much, however, only that, being endowed with average qualities
-      of discernment, he soon realized he had been obliged to take a back seat
-      in more senses than one. Dorothy continued to be most polite and friendly,
-      but that Ted filled the role of an old and privileged friend was at once
-      evident on the face of things, and Mr. Farwell endeavored to accept the
-      situation with the best grace possible, and succeeded, be it said to his
-      credit, remarkably well.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris were soon taken into Ted's confidence&mdash;the
-      very next day, in fact, as they were sitting in the garden of the hotel at
-      Keswick&mdash;and listened as raptly to his narration of all that had
-      happened these last few weeks as the little circle outside the cottage
-      door had listened to Marie-Celeste. Ted, however, made no excuses for
-      himself, whereas Marie-Celeste's account was full of them; and so
-      one narration was naturally far less plausible than the other. The one
-      fact that seemed to Mr. and Mrs. Harris to defy credulity was that Ted
-      should have fallen into the hands of the Hartleys, for in what other
-      little cottage in all England could such a transformation have been
-      wrought? Where else could he have been brought into such close touch with
-      all the old home interests as he had been there, first through Chris and
-      afterward through Donald and Marie-Celeste, and where else could he have
-      come to see so clearly that he had been wilfully trampling upon all that
-      is truest and best in life? &ldquo;Fritz,&rdquo; said Mrs. Harris that
-      evening, as in company with Marie-Celeste they were strolling home from an
-      hour spent in the little churchyard where the great poet Southey is
-      buried, &ldquo;I think it is beautiful to realize what a grand part
-      Providence plays in the world.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Providence!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste thoughtfully; &ldquo;really,
-      I do not know just what people mean by Providence.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The word is from the Latin,&rdquo; said her father, who, with most
-      college men, liked to bring his knowledge of derivations to the front now
-      and then, &ldquo;and the dictionary, I think, would tell you that it means
-      God's thoughtful care for everything created.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Mrs. Harris, &ldquo;only it seems to me that
-      people are often in too much of a hurry to make use of the word, for you
-      can't he certain until you are able to look hack upon a thing
-      whether it was surely of God's ordering or man's short-sighted
-      scheming. Still I am inclined to believe, even at this stage of the
-      proceeding, that our coming over here this summer has indeed been a
-      beautiful providence and a few weeks later, for good and sufficient
-      reasons, there was not a shadow of doubt on that score left in the mind of
-      any one.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXII.&mdash;THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW INMATES.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0051" id="linkimage-0051"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9221.jpg" alt="9221 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9221.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>othing could have
-      exceeded the air of importance with which Albert was striding along the
-      streets of Windsor, and notwithstanding the shortness of his legs, his <i>valet
-      de chambre</i>, in the shape of a newly acquired French nurse, had
-      difficulty in keeping up with him. The fact was, Albert was intrusted with
-      a most important piece of information&mdash;the bearer of a message that
-      had cleared his own mental horizon from so much as the vestige of a cloud,
-      and which he felt sure would bring equal joy to the others for whom it was
-      intended. The destination toward which he steered, without deviation to
-      right or left, and with great regard for economy of time and space at
-      corners and crossings, was the Little Castle, and he marched up the path
-      from terrace to terrace, and rang the bell with all the complacency of a
-      drum-major.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was expected, of course, that faithful old Margaret, who was master in
-      chief of affairs in the Little Castle, would, as usual, in the absence of
-      the family, answer the bell, and the message intended for her was half way
-      over Albert's lips before he took in the fact that the individual
-      who had opened the door bore about as close resemblance to Margaret as the
-      tower of the Little Castle to its door-mat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, who are you?&rdquo; asked Albert as soon as he could
-      check the impassioned utterance of his message, and instantly demanded in
-      the next breath, &ldquo;and&mdash;and where is Margaret?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here I am, dear,&rdquo; said Margaret, coming toward him as rapidly
-      as an extra touch of rheumatism would permit, &ldquo;and I suppose you
-      wonder who this is who has let you in?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes,&rdquo; said Albert, whose anxiety as to who this intruder
-      might be was somewhat allayed by Margaret's appearance on the scene.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this is Mr. Everett Selden, Harold's uncle, who has
-      come down from London to make us a little visit,&rdquo; Margaret
-      explained.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dat's all right den!&rdquo; favoring Mr. Selden with a
-      benignant smile; &ldquo;and&mdash;and now, Margaret. I came round to tell
-      you dat dey are coming home on Saturday. We've had a letter from
-      Dorothy dis morning, and dey sent me down to tell you.&rdquo; (Margaret
-      fortunately was considerate enough not to take the wind out of the little
-      fellow's sails by informing him that they had had letters of their
-      own that morning.) &ldquo;And, Margaret, dey will get here in time for
-      luncheon, and I would have a very good luncheon, Margaret, and everything
-      all b'ight and shiny.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Just as you say, Master Albert,&rdquo; making a little curtsey to
-      this self-appointed master, and with difficulty restricting her emotions
-      to a smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Mr. Selden stood on one side immensely entertained, for he had
-      previously had no idea that executive ability ever made a showing at quite
-      such an early age.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert, free to turn his attention to less
-      important matters, &ldquo;did you open the door for me because you saw a
-      little boy coming up the terrace?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that was the way of it,&rdquo; Mr. Selden replied.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you did not know what little boy I was?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I did; Marie-Celeste told me about you one day when I had
-      a good talk with her in St. George's.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Elaine,&rdquo; said Albert, turning abruptly to the French nurse,
-      &ldquo;I would like to talk to Harold's uncle, and I would like to
-      stay to luncheon&mdash;I often stay to luncheon, don't I, Margaret?&rdquo;
-      Margaret's answer was that he often did, and Mr. Selden's
-      assurance that nothing would give him greater pleasure at once settled the
-      matter, and Elaine was compelled to return without her charge, but
-      entrusted with the message to Albert's mamma that Mr. Selden would
-      himself bring him home early in the afternoon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember that Marie-Celeste told me,&rdquo; said Mr. Selden,
-      placing a comfortable chair for Albert opposite his own, near the open
-      window, &ldquo;that you were very fond of a good talk now and then; and I'm
-      very glad of that, because there isn't anything else that I could do
-      to amuse you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why isn't there?&rdquo; said Albert, noting Mr. Selden's
-      dressing-gown, and impressed with his semi-invalid air; &ldquo;aren't
-      you strong enough to do anything but talk?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm not so badly off as that yet, Albert; but you see I've
-      lived alone so long; that I haven't much of an idea how to amuse
-      little boys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why did you tome down here when ev'rybody was away?&rdquo;
-      for Albert felt that the case needed to be still further investigated;
-      &ldquo;were you inwited?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed I was invited! Harold's brother Ted invited
-      me&mdash;urged me, I may say, to come whenever I chose, and to stay as
-      long as I liked.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How long do you sink you will like to stay?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think I would like to stay always.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Always till you die?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I think I should&mdash;that is, if you don't mind,
-      Albert;&rdquo; for Albert's sense of proprietorship in the Little
-      Castle was very evident.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, I'll not mind&mdash;perhaps we'll grow to be
-      friends, and often have long talks. Marie-Celeste said you had long talks
-      on the steamer&mdash;that was how she came to know you so well.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, we did have beautiful talks on the steamer, but the very best
-      one of all was in St. George's Chapel, a month or so ago.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes, I know,&rdquo; as though there was little of interest to
-      Marie-Celeste that was not sooner or later confided to him. &ldquo;Did she
-      tell you dat time, Mr. Selden, 'bout our Knight-of-de-Gartcr day?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And 'bout dis?&rdquo; groping in the side-pocket of his
-      sacque, and producing a little circle of blue ribbon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can't quite make out what it is, Albert,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Selden, peering anxiously at the rather indistinguishable little object.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, dat's what it is and drawing up his kilt and the
-      trouser leg underneath, Albert slipped the garter over his foot and up to
-      its right place, just above the knee. This brought the gold lettering
-      partly into view, and enabled Mr. Selden to grasp the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you made believe you were a
-      little Knight of the Garter yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes; just for a bit of fun, I made believe I was a little knight
-      all dat day; but of course I didn't tell anybody, only Dorothy, who
-      made it for me. But do you know,&rdquo; very confidentially, &ldquo;dat I
-      felled asleep in de church beside Timothy, so dat de garter showed, and
-      den de children teased me awfully 'bout it, and Marie-Celeste calls
-      me her little knight now almost always. But you won't ever tell dat
-      I told you why she calls me dat, will you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I promise, Albert;&rdquo; and Margaret coming in just then to
-      announce luncheon, the blue garter was surreptitiously removed and left
-      for the time being on the library table, and was not thought of again by
-      its rightful owner. Mr. Selden, finding it there later in the afternoon,
-      slipped it into his pocket, with an idea of the use he might some time
-      make of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For the next three days, to Mr. Selden's delight and amusement,
-      Albert was a constant visitor at the Little Castle, and when Saturday came
-      he put in an appearance at a prematurely early hour, for fear, by any
-      chance, the driving party should reach home before the time appointed; and
-      as that was exactly what they did do, he congratulated himself very highly
-      for his extraordinary forethought. Not but what he had full three hours to
-      spare, only the Allyns, who were invited to luncheon at the Castle,
-      failing to reach there before the arrival of the brake, he felt that
-      nothing but his own timely precaution had spared him a similar
-      disappointment.
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat sounds like dem,&rdquo; said Albert for about the fiftieth time
-      to Mr. Selden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hardly, I think;&rdquo; but humoring Albert to the extent of
-      stepping out on to the door-step; &ldquo;it is a whole hour ahead of time
-      yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Hut Albert was right, and a moment later the four-in-hand wheeled up at
-      the gate, and the glorious driving trip was over.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who can that possibly be with Albert?&rdquo; queried Harold,
-      naturally mystified at the appearance of a gentleman, in the easy costume
-      of house coat and slippers, standing complacently in the doorway of the
-      Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's Uncle Everett, that's who it is;&rdquo; and
-      clambering down the side of the coach, Ted was up the path, and had him
-      cordially by the hand in less than a minute.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this beats all,&rdquo; said Harold to himself; &ldquo;what is
-      going to happen next, I wonder?&rdquo; But he had the graciousness to
-      defer his own greeting to Uncle Everett until he assisted Aunt Lou and
-      Dorothy and Marie-Celeste to dismount, by aid of the brake's steps,
-      and which much practice, by the way, enabled them to accomplish very
-      skilfully.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, you may be sure, was standing as close as possible to the foot of
-      the steps, and tumbled curls and rumpled collar soon bore witness to an
-      exceedingly hearty exchange of greetings. But the beauty of it was, that
-      everybody seemed to have every whit as glad a welcome for Uncle Everett as
-      Ted himself; and for Mr. and Mrs. Harris the surprise was in store of
-      finding that Marie-Celeste's steamer friend and Uncle Everett were
-      one and the same person; but surprises being the order of the day just
-      then, everybody was coming to take them quite as a matter of course. Mr.
-      Selden soon sought out an opportunity to tell why he had been so
-      ungracious as not to reveal his identity on the steamer, though he felt
-      naturally that his explanation did not reflect very much to his credit, as
-      was indeed the truth; but Mr. and Mrs. Harris were not the people to bear
-      a grudge against anybody if it could by any reasonable possibility be
-      dispensed with, and of course other explanations were called for. Uncle
-      Everett's presence had to be explained to Harold, and Ted told him
-      all about their week together in London, but not yet about the borrowed
-      money. That confession, together with all the rest, would be made a little
-      later on, when Harold and he should have gotten a little nearer still to
-      each other.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Well, it was a merry luncheon they had in the Little Castle, but after
-      luncheon the situation grew rather serious and pathetic. They had had such
-      a good time together for four happy weeks, it seemed hard each to have to
-      go his own way and realize that all the good times were over; and,
-      happily, even Mr. Farwell felt very sorry, too, notwithstanding he had
-      been obliged to concede rather more than was altogether agreeable after
-      Ted made his advent among them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXIII.&mdash;FOR LOVE OF MARIE-CELESTE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0053" id="linkimage-0053"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9228.jpg" alt="9228 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9228.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>mong the letters
-      that Mr. Harris found awaiting him was one from Chris, telling him that he
-      and Donald were booked for the Majestic, sailing from Liverpool the first
-      of October. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Mr. Harris to himself; &ldquo;we
-      go, too, then, if we can,&rdquo; which was somewhat of a question,
-      considering the crowded state of autumn ocean travel. But good fortune
-      still favored our little party, and Mr. Harris's telegram reached
-      Liverpool just in time to secure state-rooms which, within the same hour,
-      had been relinquished. So there was only one month more before them now,
-      and one week of that Mr. and Mrs. Harris and Marie-Celeste were to spend
-      in London. But the household in the Little Castle tried to make it a happy
-      month&mdash;as happy as they could, that is, with the cloud of coming
-      separation hanging over them. There was another cloud, too, that broadened
-      and deepened as the month drew near its close; Uncle Everett was far from
-      well. Just at first he had entered into the excursions and driving to
-      which much of the time had been given over, but latterly he had preferred
-      to stay at home, and now for a week he had been confined to his room. All
-      the while, however, he was utterly uncomplaining, seeming to be bent upon
-      making up for all the fretful moodiness of the selfish old bachelor days
-      up in London. And so the first of October came round, finding him still in
-      his room, and there was no help for it but for the Harrises to take leave
-      of him there.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Everybody tried to make the farewells as cheery as possible, and Mr.
-      Selden promised to visit the States later in the fall if he grew stronger.
-      &ldquo;If not,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'll see you all when you come
-      over next spring to Ted's wedding&rdquo;&mdash;for that was another
-      beautiful outcome of the summer. Ted was to be married at the close of his
-      senior year, and the Little Castle was again to have a dear little
-      mistress&mdash;a mistress as like to Dorothy as you can possibly imagine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When, at last, the moment had come for turning their backs on the Little
-      Castle, two carriages were waiting at the door, for quite a party were
-      going up to see them off at Liverpool&mdash;Ted and Dorothy and Harry
-      Allyn and Albert, but not Harold. His good-byes were said at the station,
-      as it was planned they should be; and then dismissing the carriages, he
-      hurried home as fast as ever he could and straight up to his Uncle Everett's
-      room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Harold, boy, what does this mean?&rdquo; glancing from his
-      easy-chair toward the clock on the mantel; &ldquo;can it be the train has
-      gone without you?&rdquo; and Uncle Everett's face could not possibly
-      have looked more troubled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I meant it should,&rdquo; for Harold had &ldquo;tied up,&rdquo; as
-      he called it, to Uncle Everett with all his heart these last four weeks,
-      and he was not going to leave him alone and half ill in his room for even
-      twenty-four hours, if he could help it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Harold, you ought not to have done it!&rdquo; but Uncle Everett
-      showed how deeply he was touched by this strong mark of devotion; and
-      Harold, drawing up a chair, sat silent for a few moments. The house had
-      seemed so terribly bereft and lonely as he had come up through it, that he
-      found he had hardly the heart to talk. And yet what had he stayed at home
-      for if not to be, if possible, of some cheer and comfort? But there was no
-      use in making an effort to talk about anything but exactly what was
-      uppermost.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We're going to miss them a great deal, Uncle Everett,&rdquo;
-      he said at last, &ldquo;and it will be a comfort to get right to work at
-      the studying&rdquo;&mdash;for it was high time that he and Ted were back
-      at work again, for both had had to be excused from the opening days ol the
-      term. &ldquo;All the same, I shall manage to spare you, Uncle Everett, for
-      your visit to the States when you get stronger;&rdquo; for it was
-      understood now that Uncle Everett's permanent home was to be within
-      the walls of the Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Selden sat thoughtfully a moment looking into the air before him, and
-      then arriving at a decision, he turned in his chair toward Harold: &ldquo;It
-      may not be kind,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;to tell you of it just
-      now, when your heart is already heavy enough; but, Harold, I shall never
-      be any stronger. The doctors told me what I had already suspected a month
-      ago up in London.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never be any stronger!&rdquo; exclaimed Harold, almost defiantly
-      and almost overcome with intensity of feeling. &ldquo;Well, I don't
-      believe it, Uncle Everett, and they had no right to tell you that; it
-      takes away half a man's chances.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I made them tell me, Harold, I had so many things to arrange, and
-      it is because they told me that I came post-haste down here to Windsor
-      while you were all still away, for I felt, whenever it happened, I wanted
-      to die in the Little Castle, in a place I could call home, if for only a
-      little while. But, Harold, I cannot bear to sadden you. It may be I shall
-      live ever so much longer than they think, and get the best of the doctors.
-      I only wanted you to understand that you wouldn't get rid of me for
-      any visit.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold tried to smile, but the situation was too serious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The reason I've told you now, Harold, is because we may not
-      have such another good chance for a talk; and the reason I have told you
-      at all is because there is something more I want to tell you. I have been
-      wondering naturally what I should do with my money, and I've decided
-      to leave a fourth of it to you and a fourth to Ted. Yes, I know you don't
-      need it, but you are my sister's children, and I want to do just
-      this with it. But the other half, Harold&mdash;what do you suppose I am
-      going to do with that?&rdquo; his pale face glowing at the thought.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, Uncle Everett?&rdquo; Harold's interest to learn
-      relieving for the moment the overmastering ache at his heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am going to build a Home down in Sussex&mdash;that's where
-      your mother and I were born, you know&mdash;and a lady up in London&mdash;a
-      lady, mind you, Harold, but who has lost husband and children and
-      everything else in the world, is going to take care of it for me. Then as
-      soon as it is ready all the institutions for children in London are to be
-      told about it, and whenever a little girl comes along who seems to be too
-      fine, in the best sense of the word, for the life of the ordinary
-      institution, down she is to go to Cranford, to be cared for in the Home;
-      and it is to be a home, Harold, prettily furnished, with rooms for ten
-      children, and everything as dainty as can be. You see, you can only keep
-      it home-like if you limit it to rather a small number. And then when it
-      comes to be well known with its family of dear little daughters, I hope
-      that, once in a while, people who have had little children and lost them,
-      and people who have never had them at all, and now and then a maiden lady,
-      or even an old bachelor, will come down there and carry off one or more of
-      the little girls, to bring them up as their own in their own homes, and so
-      room will be made for others.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Uncle Everett, that's the most beautiful&rdquo;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Wait a moment, Harold, for it isn't all told yet. In the
-      living-room of the Home I am going to have a beautiful open fireplace (for
-      of course there won't be any parlor)&mdash;the most beautiful that
-      can be made&mdash;and right above the tiles and under the ledge of the
-      mantel I am going to have the legend, in gold letters, that will shine
-      even in the twilight, 'For love of Marie-Celeste&rdquo; and then Mr.
-      Selden paused to see how the idea seemed to strike him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me for a moment, Uncle Everett,&rdquo; for when boys'
-      hearts grow too full, they prefer to go off by themselves, and it is not a
-      bad plan, by the way. &ldquo;I was a goose,&rdquo; he said, coming back in
-      a few moments, and putting his arm lovingly along the back of Uncle
-      Everett's chair; &ldquo;but, you see, it was one thing coming right
-      on the top of another so,&rdquo; knowing that Uncle Everett understood.
-      &ldquo;Isn't there more to tell now?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, only this, Harold, and that is, that the orders are all given,
-      and that whether I live or die, the Home will be ready by next autumn;&rdquo;
-      and who would have imagined, to look at the light in the two faces, that
-      they were really standing face to face with the grave, mysterious thought
-      of death.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The Majestic is lying, with all steam up, out in the Mersey. Chris is
-      leaning over the ship's side, and Donald, again in sailor rig, is
-      close beside him; for Ted had dispensed with Donald's services when
-      he decided to follow up the driving party, and he had at once hurried back
-      to Nuneham to help Chris, who was trying to get everything into shape for
-      the old people before leaving. The tender, with its second and last load
-      of passengers, is bearing down on the steamer, and now they can
-      distinguish the Harrises and Albert&mdash;of whom Chris has heard so much&mdash;mounted
-      on Theodore's shoulder. Marie-Celeste holds in her two hands a
-      generous bouquet, which was handed to her just as she stepped aboard of
-      the tender. Its roses are bound together with a little blue garter, which
-      she was quick to recognize, and she knows very well she has need to thank
-      Uncle Selden for this priceless souvenir of that happy
-      Knight-of-the-Garter party.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Foremost among the number to leave the tender is a man in livery, which
-      some of the passengers have at once identified as none other than that
-      worn by the servants of the Oueen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whom do you want, may I ask?&rdquo; questions Donald politely,
-      since the man, once aboard, seems hesitating which way to turn. Inclined
-      at first to resent the interference, the man stares at Donald a moment,
-      and then, possibly conciliated by the semi-official aspect of his sailor
-      costume, condescends to reply:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have these,&rdquo; motioning toward the articles in his hands,
-      &ldquo;for one of the passengers&mdash;Miss Marie-Celeste Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here she is, then,&rdquo; answers Donald, for the Harrises have
-      that moment come aboard.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0054" id="linkimage-0054"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0233.jpg" alt="0233 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0233.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Are you Miss Marie-Celeste Harris?&rdquo; asks the man, taken aback
-      by the suddenness of her advent on the scene.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I am,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste replies in a voice all but
-      inaudible with surprise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then the Queen's compliments, miss, and a <i>bon voyage!</i>&rdquo;
-      and grandiloquently delivering himself of this little speech, he presses
-      two packages into her hands and retreats to the tender before she has at
-      all had time to take it in. Marie-Celeste stands a moment, the observed of
-      all observers, and especially of those who have overheard the message.
-      Then our little party, moving off a short distance by themselves, crowd
-      close about her in breathless excitement while the papers are removed from
-      a glorious bunch of orchids. There is a card attached that reads,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      For the Little Queen of Hearts,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent30">
-      FROM
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Madame La Grande Reine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The other package proves to be a tiny velvet box, containing a curious,
-      quaint necklace, and this bears the inscription on one of its ends of
-      faded ribbon,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      <br /> <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0055" id="linkimage-0055"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0234.jpg" alt="0234 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0234.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <div style="height: 6em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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-  <head>
-    <title>A Little Queen of Hearts, by Ruth Ogden</title>
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Queen of Hearts, by Ruth Ogden
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: A Little Queen of Hearts
-       An International Story
-
-Author: Ruth Ogden
-
-Illustrator: H. A. Ogden
-
-Release Date: February 26, 2017 [EBook #54133]
-Last Updated: April 27, 2018
-
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-    <div style="height: 8em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h1>
-      A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-    </h1>
-    <h3>
-      An International Story
-    </h3>
-    <h2>
-      By Ruth Ogden
-    </h2>
-    <h3>
-      Illustrated by H. A. Ogden
-    </h3>
-    <h4>
-      New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company
-    </h4>
-    <h3>
-      1893
-    </h3>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0004.jpg" alt="0004 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0004.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0005.jpg" alt="0005 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0005.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <h3>
-      A CONFIDENTIAL WORD.
-    </h3>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> few years ago,
-      when my first story saw the light, a little fellow, a stranger to me then,
-      but who has since proved himself the truest of friends, wrote me a most
-      welcome letter. He said, among other things: &ldquo;I have read the book
-      five times through. My nurse, Lily Jones, read the book to me twice, my
-      mamma read the book to me once, and my Aunt Lizzie read the book to me
-      twice, for I can only read in my reading-book.&rdquo; Now you can
-      understand, I think, how I have wanted to keep that boy for a friend,
-      together with the other children who have proved themselves friendly; and
-      so realizing they were all growing older each year, I have tried in the
-      books I have written since then to keep pace with them, that they might
-      not perhaps outgrow me for a little while yet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the same time, my heart, in a way, is still with the little people who
-      count their years by a single numeral; and so, if you please, I want to
-      take them aside for a moment, and just whisper in their ears that,
-      although &ldquo;A Little Oueen of Hearts&rdquo; may seem a trifle too old
-      for them at first, I have an idea they will not find that fault later on.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ruth Ogden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <b>CONTENTS</b>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS</b> </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.&mdash;HAROLD AND TED HAVE IT OUT. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II&mdash;GOOD-MORNING, MR. HARTLEY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.&mdash;ABOARD A WHITE STAR. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.&mdash;A FRIEND BY THE WAY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.&mdash;AND STILL ANOTHER. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI.&mdash;THE CASTLE WONDERFUL. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.&mdash;&ldquo;AND NOW GOOD-MORNING,&rdquo;
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.&mdash;SOMETHING OF A SCRAPE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.&mdash;GETTING OUT OF IT. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.&mdash;A KNIGHT-OF-THE-GARTER PARTY.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.&mdash;WHAT CAME OF A LETTER. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.&mdash;DONALD'S NEW QUARTERS.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.&mdash;MADAME LA GRANDE REINE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.&mdash;MADAME LA PETITE REINE. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.&mdash;A DARING SUGGESTION. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.&mdash;MARIE-CELESTE'S
-      DISCOVERY. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.&mdash;INTO TED'S CONFIDENCE.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII.&mdash;RATHER A BOOKISH CHAPTER.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.&mdash;DONALD TURNS VALET. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX&mdash;DOROTHY CALLS MARIE-CELESTE TO
-      ACCOUNT.. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.&mdash;WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SMALLEST
-      CHURCH IN ENGLAND. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII.&mdash;THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW
-      INMATES. </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII.&mdash;FOR LOVE OF MARIE-CELESTE.
-      </a>
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER I.&mdash;HAROLD AND TED HAVE IT OUT.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9011.jpg" alt="9011 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e was a thoroughly
-      manly little fellow&mdash;nobody questioned that for a moment, not even
-      Ted; and yet there he sat, his head bowed upon his folded arms, while now
-      and then something very like a sob seemed to shake the well-knit figure
-      and give the boyish head an undignified little bob.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When at last he looked up, behold proof positive. There were tears not
-      only in his eyes, but on the sleeve of his Eton jacket; and there was no
-      longer any question but that Harold Harris, sturdy little Englishman
-      though he was, had been having what is known on both sides of the water as
-      a good, hard cry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How old was he?&rdquo; asks Young America, a little mistrustful as
-      to the right sort of stuff; but what does it matter how old he was, since
-      this is certain, that he was not the boy to cry under any circumstances
-      without abundant reason. It was evident now, however, that he was fast
-      getting the better of himself. He sat up, and resting his head on one
-      hand, reached with the other for the paper-knife, and began cutting queer
-      little geometrical figures on the big silver-cornered blotter that half
-      covered the table. It was evident too that his thoughts were not at all on
-      what he was doing, and that the hard cry was being followed by a good,
-      hard think. But this did not last long; Harold was simply trying to make
-      up his mind, as the phrase goes, and that soon accomplished, he drew pen,
-      paper and ink toward him and commenced writing a letter, with his head on
-      one side and his lips tightly pursed together. Indeed, he never unpursed
-      them until that same letter was sealed and directed and the stamp affixed
-      with a very determined little air, as though firmly resolved that the
-      thing he had done should brook no undoing. Then he slipped into his coat
-      and hurried out to post it, and a few yards from the door he met Ted, who
-      was just coming home.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hello, there!&rdquo; cried Ted, coming to a halt with his hands in
-      his pockets; &ldquo;where are you going this time of night?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Out,&rdquo; replied Harold, starting off at a run, for it was wet
-      and damp, and, to use England's English, &ldquo;quite nasty.&rdquo;
-      Ted gave a low whistle of surprise, Harold as a rule was such a civil
-      fellow. But no matter. What did he care where he was going, and entering
-      the house with a latch-key, he tossed his hat on to a hook and started
-      upstairs, his thoughts already far afield from all that concerned his
-      younger brother. Back they came again, however, as he reached the landing,
-      and the old clock struck twelve. &ldquo;So late as that?&rdquo; he said to
-      himself, and deciding to wait for Harold, he turned and went down again to
-      the library. He hoped he should not have to wait long, for, since he was
-      rather counting on a good night's rest, nothing more exciting seemed
-      to offer. In the mean time, he would make himself as comfortable as
-      possible on the library lounge. Indeed, to make himself as comfortable as
-      possible had gradually grown to be the one thing worth striving for in the
-      estimation of this young gentleman. A beautiful portrait of his mother
-      hung over the library mantel, but it belonged to a closed chapter of his
-      life, and he had almost forgotten its existence. He had never dreamed this
-      would be so; he had never meant it should be; but that did not alter the
-      fact that, flattered and made much of ever since he went up to Oxford, he
-      had somehow had little time to think of his mother, and, sorrier than
-      that, little inclination. Death was such a desperately gloomy thing to
-      contemplate! Besides, to keep thinking about it did not bring any one
-      back. And yet, as much as in him lay, Ted had loved his mother, and been
-      very proud of her too. It seemed hard that she should not have lived a
-      great while longer. But then she had been so very sad sometimes, and life
-      of course wasn't worth very much under those conditions. When it
-      ceased to be awfully jolly, perhaps it was just as well to have done with
-      it. For him, thank his stars! that unhappy period had not yet arrived. To
-      be a Christ Church Senior, with plenty of money and plenty of friends and
-      a head that easily mastered enough learning to make a good showing, left
-      little to be desired, especially when already endowed with a handsome face
-      and a physique that every man envied&mdash;at least, so thought Theodore
-      Harris, and so thought and affirmed the half score of intimate friends who
-      enjoyed many of the good things of this life through his bounty. It was a
-      pity that there was not one among them with insight enough to gauge the
-      complacent fellow aright, and at the same time with honesty enough to take
-      him to task for the profitless life he was leading. But nobody did, and so
-      on he fared, thoughtless and selfish, and so wholly absorbed in the
-      present that even alone and at midnight, with his eyes resting full upon
-      his mother's portrait, he had no thought to give it nor the worthier
-      past that it stood for. Indeed, to judge from the discontented look on his
-      face, his mind did not rise for a moment above the level of his annoyance
-      at being kept waiting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why don't the fellow come back?&rdquo; he muttered angrily,
-      realizing, as he heard the clock strike half-past twelve, that he had been
-      actually inconvenienced for a whole half hour; and shortly after &ldquo;the
-      fellow did come back,&rdquo; the dearest little fellow in the world too,
-      by the way, and shut to the big front door and locked it as he had done
-      night after night during the last two years, while Ted was up at Oxford,
-      and he had been living alone with the servants in the pretty little home
-      there at Windsor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harold!&rdquo; rang out an impatient voice.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, you there, Ted?&rdquo; with unconcealed gladness; it seemed
-      so cheery to have some one awake in the house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; of course I'm here. You didn't suppose I'd
-      go to bed, did you, with you prowling the streets this time of night?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That is exactly what Harold had supposed, but he had the grace not to say
-      so as he threw himself into a great easy-chair opposite Ted and clasped
-      his hands behind his head in comfortable stay-awhile fashion, and as
-      though quite ready to be agreeable if Ted would only let him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I went out for a walk and to post a letter,&rdquo; he said, after a
-      moment, and with a perceptible little note of apology in his tone for his
-      uncivil answer of the half hour before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It must have been important,&rdquo; said Ted, apparently amused at
-      the thought of anything relating to that younger brother being in reality
-      of any importance: &ldquo;I should think though it possibly could have
-      waited for the morning post.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it could, but I couldn't.&rdquo; Surprised at this, Ted
-      elevated his eyebrows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was a letter to Uncle Fritz,&rdquo; Harold added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To Uncle Fritz!&rdquo; with evident annoyance. &ldquo;What in
-      creation have you been writing to him about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have asked him to come over with Aunt Louise and Marie-Celeste
-      and make us a visit this summer.&rdquo; It took Ted a moment to recover
-      from his astonishment; then he answered curtly, &ldquo;Well, you can just
-      write him another letter and take it all back. Did it occur to you I might
-      have other plans for this house for this summer?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought you might perhaps propose to have some of your friends
-      down here, same as last year,&rdquo; Harold answered frankly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0014.jpg" alt="0014 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0014.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's exactly what I do propose to do, and here you've
-      gone ahead in this absurd fashion. What did you do it for, anyway?&rdquo;
-      and Ted in his impatience got on to his feet and glared down at Harold as
-      though he would like to have eaten him up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Not a bit intimidated, Harold looked him straight in the face. &ldquo;If
-      you want to know what I did it for I'll tell you&mdash;I did it
-      because I'm tired of the lonely life here. You haven't any
-      more interest in me, Ted, than in a stick of wood; so I'm going to
-      take things into my own hands now and begin to enjoy life in my own way.
-      This little house is as much mine as yours, and I mean to have my turn
-      this summer. I didn't like your friends last year, and took myself
-      off. If you don't like mine this year you can do the same thing.&rdquo;
-      The role was such a new one for Harold to play that Ted stood utterly
-      nonplussed. That Harold should deliberately assert himself in this way was
-      such an unprecedented performance that he knew not what to say.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What did you tell Uncle Fritz about me?&rdquo; he asked presently.
-      &ldquo;I suppose you painted me as black as the ace of spades.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I didn't say a word about you. I wrote him it was awfully
-      lonely here the last two years, and that it seemed to grow worse instead
-      of better, and that if they'd only come over for the summer, we'd
-      do all in our power to make them have a pleasant time of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that is cool. Did you really say <i>we'd</i> do all in
-      our power?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I did. You like Uncle Fritz, don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I like him, but the cheek of it all,&rdquo; and Theodore
-      strode over to the window to think matters over. It was a fine thing
-      anyway in Harold, he admitted to himself, not to have run him down to
-      Uncle Fritz. If he was angry enough to take matters into his own hands in
-      this way, it was a wonder he stopped short of telling him the truth about
-      himself&mdash;not that Ted for a moment faced that truth in any honest
-      fashion; for he was a very good fellow still in his own estimation. He had
-      simply not taken Harold into account&mdash;no one could have expected that
-      he should; but now it seemed the boy was beginning to resent that state of
-      affairs. There was some show of reason in it, too, and he rather admired
-      his spirit. It was rather natural, perhaps, that he should want to have
-      &ldquo;his turn,&rdquo; as he said; very well, he should have it. For that
-      matter, he would be rather glad himself to see something of Uncle Fritz.
-      He had not really decided to ask any of the fellows down for the summer,
-      though he had angrily made a declaration to that effect. Indeed, there was
-      some talk of their going over the Continent together instead, which would
-      be a deal more fun. All this while Harold sat motionless and silent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The mean part of it is, that you didn't tell me beforehand
-      what you wanted to do,&rdquo; said Ted, as the upshot of the thinking.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I wanted to do has not made any difference to you this long
-      time. Besides, you would have told me I couldn't do it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I would&rdquo; (for, as it often happens, it is easier to
-      be reasonable in thinking than in speaking); &ldquo;and I can tell you one
-      thing, Harold, you'll be sick enough of your own bargain before it
-      is over. What do you know about Marie-Celeste? Ten to one she's a
-      spoiled, forward sort of youngster. American children are a handful
-      always.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'll risk it,&rdquo; answered Harold; &ldquo;and I only ask
-      one thing of you, Ted, and that is that you'll be decent to them
-      when they come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Like as not I won't be here.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold's face fell. It would seem such a breach of hospitality for
-      Ted not to be at home, at least to welcome them. But, never mind, he could
-      explain to Uncle Fritz, if he must, what an independent life Ted had led
-      these last few years. He would hurt himself more than any one else by
-      acting so ungraciously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who's going to pay for things here at home, I'd like to
-      know?&rdquo; said Ted, after another few minutes of meditation. &ldquo;There
-      isn't enough of my allowance left now to tide me over to the first
-      of the year, let alone running the house in fine style all summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You need not bother about that&mdash;there's enough of mine,
-      and I can look after my own guests, which is more than you did for yours
-      last year.&rdquo; It was a mean little thrust, perhaps, on Harold's
-      part, but Ted deserved it, for Harold had paid his half of the heavy
-      expenses of the previous summer without a murmur.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Be it said to Ted's honor that he appreciated the situation, and
-      colored up to the roots of his hair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know how to rub a thing in,&rdquo; he said, which was as wide
-      of the truth as could be, for Harold had never alluded to the fact before,
-      and made up his mind on the spot that he never would be mean enough to do
-      it again. A little later the boys had said goodnight to each other, and
-      not in an altogether unkindly spirit either. Ted had not been as angry as
-      Harold had expected, and Harold, sorry for his thrust about money matters,
-      had wound up by being rather conciliatory, and he was happier, on the
-      whole, than he had been any time for a twelvemonth. And so it happens with
-      the children, as with grown folk, that sometimes when there is a climax in
-      the heart the head rises to the emergency, and is able to think a possible
-      way out from besetting difficulties.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER II&mdash;GOOD-MORNING, MR. HARTLEY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9018.jpg" alt="9018 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9018.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is one thing to
-      extend an invitation. It is quite another to have it accepted. Harold
-      realized this with a sigh as he woke the next morning. Still, hope was in
-      the wind, where it had not been for a long time, and, what was more, the
-      first suggestion of spring was in it too, and every one knows what a tonic
-      that is; so the sigh, on the whole, did not have much of a show, and
-      Harold set off for school with a heart that he hardly knew for lightness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Besides, Ted had taken quite civil leave of him before going back to
-      Oxford, and had said he fancied would be down again next Sunday, and that
-      he would be on hand, like as not, if Uncle Fritz decided to come over&mdash;all
-      of which, for any one who knew Ted as Harold knew him, was graciousness
-      itself, and made Harold wish he had not waited so long before taking
-      matters into his own hands. And in addition to all this, the morning was
-      fine enough to brace anybody up, no matter what their troubles. The Eton
-      boys in their tall hats (atoning, as it were, for the extreme briefness of
-      their jackets) and wide-rolling linen collars were skurrying through the
-      streets as though they had the right of way, as indeed they have in dear
-      old royal Windsor; and here and there the flowing gown of a colleger
-      spread itself to the April wind and floated out behind, to all appearances
-      as glad as any peacock to show what it could do in that direction. Indeed,
-      who knows of a more inspiriting sight anywhere than Eton College on an
-      April morning? The quaint old buildings seem to bask in the broad spring
-      sunshine; the trees that dot the grass-bare turf where the Upper School
-      fronts the street are already casting tiny leaf-shadows, and on the other
-      side, where the garden slopes down to the Thames, many a little branch and
-      bush begins to glow with color. Even the old bronze statue of Henry VI. in
-      the outer quadrangle, with all its panoply of robes of state and globe and
-      sceptre, appears to look a little more chipper than ever and a trifle more
-      conscious of the distinction of being the &ldquo;munificent founder&rdquo;
-      of so glorious an institution. No wonder the boys love the old place, and
-      even the dingy recitation rooms, whose quaint, high desks and slippery
-      benches are notched with the penknives of many a boy, whose name, as a
-      man, has come to be known through the length and breadth of England. To
-      Harold it was a matter of no small pride, I assure you, that his
-      particular seat on the form during that spring term was the same that had
-      once been Gladstone's&mdash;&ldquo;the prettiest little boy,&rdquo;
-      by the way, in the mind of his partial teacher, that ever went up to Eton.
-      But all this, as you can plainly see, has nothing whatever to do with the
-      title of this chapter, so it &ldquo;behooves us,&rdquo; as the preachers
-      used to say, to turn our back on Harold and the charms of the renowned old
-      college, and our faces toward the ocean and a far-off land&mdash;far off,
-      that is, as far as Windsor and the English are concerned, but very near
-      and dear to the hearts of some of the rest of us. Of course it is the
-      letter that is turning our thoughts that way at this particular moment. It
-      is tied firmly in a packet within a great leather bag, and, having been
-      just in time to catch the mail-train, is being spirited down to
-      Queenstown, where one of the great White Star steamers has been waiting
-      full four long hours, so important are these reams upon reams of letters
-      we and our English cousins keep sending one to the other across the water.
-      Wind and tide favor the huge, swift ship, and early in the morning, the
-      sixth day out, Fire Island light is sighted. It is a cloudless morning,
-      the white sands of the South-shore beaches shine like silver in the
-      sunlight, and the fresh sea breeze that is stirring holds its own the
-      whole length of Long Island, and blows its purifying way into every street
-      and alley of the vast city that lies at its farther end. A most
-      uninteresting city, this city of Brooklyn, some people affirm; even those
-      of us who love it best cannot claim that it is great in anything but
-      &ldquo;bigness&rdquo; but there are homes there we will match against
-      homes the world over, not for show or for luxury, but for pure and
-      transcendent comfort. It is only a corner of the wide-spreading city of
-      which we are speaking, and a little corner at that, but the charm of it
-      lies in the fact that many of the streets open right to the harbor, and
-      that many of the houses, as well, command the same glorious view. To be
-      sure, one has need to overlook, in quite too literal fashion, the
-      warehouses that front the water below the bluff, and here and there an
-      unsightly elevator, but why let the eye rest on these, with the dancing
-      blue water beneath you, and the Jersey hills beyond, and beyond that
-      again, like as not, a glorious sunset. To be sure, the houses that line
-      these streets stand most of them shoulder to shoulder, in barbarous,
-      city-like fashion, and with far too much sameness in their general make-up
-      and plan. But that is neither here nor there; we simply are claiming&mdash;we
-      who love it&mdash;that it is a region of ideal homes. And more than this,
-      there is a rare kindliness of spirit and an open-handed hospitality
-      prevalent among the people. They are friends and neighbors in the best
-      sense of the word; too high-minded and preoccupied to be gossipy or
-      prying, they are interested in each other's affairs with the
-      interest that means a sharing of each other's joys and sorrows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So much for the corner&mdash;let who will gainsay it&mdash;and more for a
-      little maid who lives there, and who is none other, as you may have
-      imagined, than Marie-Celeste, the little Queen-Pin of this story. And
-      Marie-Celeste she is always. For some reason or other neither she nor the
-      friend of her mother for whom she is called is ever known by any shorter
-      title. Indeed, the two names have even become to be written with a hyphen,
-      and seemingly to belong to each other, and to be quite as inseparable as
-      the three syllables of Dorothy or the four of Dorothea. At the time of our
-      introduction to the little maid in question she has donned the prettiest
-      of white embroidered dresses and a broad white sash (which she first tied
-      in a great bow in front and then pulled round to where it belongs in the
-      back), and has come down to the front steps to watch for somebody. She
-      knows almost to a minute how long she will have to wait, for she heard the
-      signal&mdash;three little, short, sharp whistles&mdash;about five minutes
-      ago. She decides it is worth while to make herself comfortable, and also
-      worth while, looking askance at the doubtful doormat, to bring a
-      well-swept rug from within. Then she seats herself, and, clasping two fair
-      little hands round one knee, just waits, letting eyes rove where they will
-      and thoughts follow. That is a very pretty cage in the window across the
-      way, but she feels sorry for the bird. People oughtn't to leave a
-      canary hanging full in the sunshine on a warm day like this; and then she
-      meditates awhile on the advantages of living on the side of the street
-      that is shady in the afternoon. And now two or three gentlemen are coming
-      by from the ferry, all of whom she knows by sight, for the short terrace
-      where she lives is by no means a general thoroughfare, and just behind
-      them is Mr. Eversley, May Eversley's father. She wishes he would
-      look up, for she has a bow ready for him; but he doesn't, and she
-      must needs defer her social proclivities yet a little while longer. And
-      here comes a great yellow delivery wagon, with horses fine enough for a
-      carriage and two men in livery. What a deafening noise it makes on the
-      Belgian pavement! There! for a comfort it is going to stop for a minute at
-      the next house. My! what a lot of bundles! And now the street is quite
-      empty again, not a person on either side of the one, short block; but the
-      whistle that has been ringing out more and more clearly at quite regular,
-      three-minute intervals sounds very near indeed, and in another second a
-      gray-suited individual, with soldier-like cap to match and a glitter of
-      shining brass buttons, swings round the opposite corner, and makes a
-      bee-line across the street. Our little friend is instantly on her feet,
-      with one hand extended, and a &ldquo;Good-afternoon, Mr. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The same to you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; replies the gray-coated
-      newcomer, clasping the little, friendly hand in his.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And how did it come out?&rdquo; she asks in the next breath.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It came out all right,&rdquo; and Mr. Hartley leaned back and
-      rested both elbows on the rail behind him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew you would win,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste complacently;
-      &ldquo;I felt perfectly sure of it, Chris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what is more, Bradford came in second.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You don't mean it!&rdquo; for Bradford was assistant postman
-      on the route that included the Terrace, and Marie-Celeste was naturally
-      quite overwhelmed at the thought that both their men should have won. The
-      winning in question had occurred at a foot-race the night before, an
-      accomplishment somewhat in the line of the daily training of the average
-      postman, and for which Christopher Hartley in particular had long shown a
-      special aptitude.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0023.jpg" alt="0023 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0023.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was quite a big prize, wasn't it?&rdquo; questioned
-      Marie-Celeste, really longing to know the exact amount; but Mr. Hartley,
-      not divining that, simply answered, his kind face radiant as a boy's,
-      &ldquo;The largest yet, Marie-Celeste&mdash;enough to take me home for two
-      months this summer, and pay Bradford, besides, for doing double work while
-      I'm gone. He can manage the route easily; the mails fall off more
-      than half in the summer, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, isn't that splendid!&rdquo; with a world of meaning in
-      her inflection and a face every whit as radiant as Mr. Hartley's
-      own. &ldquo;And now won't you please tell me everything about the
-      race, from the <i>start</i> to the <i>finish</i>,&rdquo; proud to show
-      that she remembered the terms she had heard him use; and only too glad of
-      the opportunity, Chris proceeded to give a graphic narrative of all the
-      details of the exciting contest. Wide-eyed and interested, Marie-Celeste
-      sat and listened, furtively scanning the street now and then for fear of
-      interruption by some of the children of the neighborhood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you told any of the others?&rdquo; she asked eagerly, when the
-      story's end had been reached, and hoping in her heart of hearts that
-      she was to have the pleasure of imparting news of such paramount
-      importance to the neighborhood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never a one; I dodged a crowd of them round the corner there for
-      the sake of telling you first;&rdquo; wherefrom it was easy to discover
-      that Mr. Hartley had a somewhat partial regard for his earnest little
-      listener. It was a decidedly partial regard, for that matter, and with
-      reason. Had any other child friend along his route, no matter how
-      friendly, questioned him day after day as to how he was getting on with
-      his training for the race? Had any other among them promised to be on hand
-      at the latest delivery on the afternoon succeeding it, so as to learn just
-      what the issue had been, and at a time when he would be able to stop and
-      tell about it? Would any one else in the world have thought of suggesting
-      that he should give three short little whistles when he reached the Browns',
-      in Remsen Street, so that she should know just how near he was? Surely no
-      one; and it was just this surpassing interest in every living body, to the
-      utter forgetting of all that concerned herself, that made Marie-Celeste
-      different from other children, that made everybody love her, and that
-      makes it worth while for me to try to tell this story of one summer in her
-      blessed little life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I'm just as glad as I can be,&rdquo; she said joyously
-      when at last Mr. Hartley thought he had better be moving on, and thought
-      at the same time, too, I venture, that it was something to have won that
-      race, if only to have caused such gladness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You haven't any letters for us, have you?&rdquo; she added,
-      as he turned to go down the step and she caught sight of the leather bag
-      swung across his shoulder.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, yes, I have,&rdquo; diving into its depths, and angry at
-      himself for his forgetfulness; &ldquo;it's an important letter, too,
-      I reckon; it's from England.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so it is!&rdquo; her eyes fairly dancing with delight and
-      surprise. &ldquo;It's from Harold, and we haven't heard from
-      him in ever so long; but oh, dear, it's for papa, isn't it,
-      and he's out driving.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You won't have very long to wait,&rdquo; said Chris, smiling
-      at her impatience, &ldquo;if you're expecting him home to dinner.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But we're not, that's the bother of it. He and mamma
-      are going to dine at the Crescent Club afterward, and I shall have to be
-      sound asleep when they come home.&rdquo; Then she asked after a moment of
-      serious cogitation, &ldquo;Do you suppose, Chris, that any of the children
-      along your route open their fathers' letters, when they are sure
-      they're from their cousins?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can't say about that,&rdquo; laughed Chris, as he went down
-      the steps. &ldquo;You know best; good-night, I'm off now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-night, Chris,&rdquo; rather absent-mindedly, and with eyes and
-      thoughts still intent upon the letter. Would it be such a dreadful thing
-      to open it? It was so hard not to know right away what was in it. She had
-      never seen this English Cousin Harold, but when they had exchanged
-      photographs at Christmas-time he had sent such a beautiful letter that she
-      had come to feel that they were the best of friends. But no, hard as it
-      was, she felt certain it would really be best not to open it; so she would
-      put the letter in her pocket, and when she went to bed she would slide it
-      under her pillow, and then only take little cat-naps until her father and
-      mother should come home, and she could tell them about it, and hear what
-      was in it. But alas! for the little cat-naps; for the lights blinked
-      brightly in the harbor, and the ferry-boats whistled and let off steam in
-      deafening fashion, and the stars came out, and the moon came up, and papa
-      and mamma came home, and chatted gayly besides, with the door wide open
-      into her room, and yet Marie-Celeste never wakened, and Harold's
-      important letter lay sealed and unread, and as flat as a fluffy head could
-      press it until the light of another morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER III.&mdash;ABOARD A WHITE STAR.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0026.jpg" alt="0026 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0026.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here was commotion
-      in the Harris household, notwithstanding the very early hour&mdash;the
-      sort of commotion which means that somebody is off for Europe, somebody
-      who has preferred remaining at home, and rising as early as need he, to
-      boarding the steamer the night before and spending it tied to a noisy
-      dock. In this case there were three somebodies, and you can easily guess
-      who; for there was that in Harold's letter that had made Mr. and
-      Mis. Harris feel they really ought to go if they could, and that moved
-      Marie-Celeste to declare that go they must; that, in short, made the
-      hearts of all three go out very warmly to the lonely little fellow across
-      the water. And the best part of it all was that it had been the easiest
-      thing in the world to arrange matters, and that a cable bore to Harold the
-      glad word that they would come, so that he had not even to wait for a
-      letter. And now the one week of preparation was over, and the carriage was
-      at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Harris were in it, and Marie-Celeste was
-      taking effusive and affectionate leave of the maids, who were smiling and
-      crying all in one, after the manner of an Irish parting. And now even that
-      is done with, and the carriage rolls off, and the wagon-load of steamer
-      trunks and bags jogs after, and Mary and Bridget and Norah dry their eyes
-      on their respective aprons, and go back to a general cleaning up today,
-      and like as not to Coney Island to-morrow. And what if they do, thinks
-      their mistress. Indeed, she is altogether willing that they should, for if
-      there is ever a time when the contrasts in life will not be overlooked it
-      is when you are on your way to the steamer. It seems so pitiful to see men
-      and women on every hand plodding away at the same old, monotonous tasks,
-      when ahead of you are all the delights of novelty, travel, and leisure.
-      Oh! if only every one might have &ldquo;his turn&rdquo; in this world of
-      ours; but since that is out of the question, let there at least be as much
-      Coney Island for housemaids as is consistent with good morals and faithful
-      discharge of their duties; at least so thought one dear little mistress,
-      with more heart, perhaps, than discretion, but a heart, all the same, that
-      won every one to her and made life in her household move with infinite
-      smoothness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder, mamma, if Harold will like us?&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste,
-      when the excitement of immediate departure had sufficiently subsided for
-      her to find any words at all.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a little late in the day, dear, for you to do any
-      wondering on that score.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Somehow, I hadn't thought until now how dreadful it would be
-      if he didn't. He knows about you, though, papa. He knows you're
-      all right&mdash;that's one comfort.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he takes my word for it that you are,&rdquo; said Mr. Harris;
-      &ldquo;so be sure you don't go back on me either of you. You will
-      have to be on your good behavior every minute.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste gave her mother a little significant look, which her mother
-      answered as significantly, and which gave Mr. Harris to understand that
-      good behavior would depend altogether upon circumstances.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would be just as bad,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said thoughtfully,
-      &ldquo;if we didn't like Harold, wouldn't it? And there's
-      Ted; we don't know much about him, do we?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me, my little daughter,&rdquo; said her father, laughing,
-      &ldquo;if I casually remark that young in years though you be, you are
-      just like a woman. Who has said a word until now about any ifs in
-      connection with this trip of ours? But no sooner are we actually off,
-      scarce ten minutes from home, in fact, than the great, uncomfortable,
-      intimidating creatures come trooping in from every quarter, and the
-      particular one that comes to me is this, If you find you don't like
-      it when you get there, don't forget where the blame lies. I
-      remember a little maid who said that go to Cousin Harold she must, whether
-      or no.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; with a little shrug of her shoulders; &ldquo;but
-      you can't help thinking about things, all the same. What is Ted
-      like, papa?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, Ted's a handsome, overgrown, headstrong boy, I should
-      say&mdash;at least, he was when I was in Windsor four years ago; but you
-      see he's a young man by this time and quite another fellow probably.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is strange Harold didn't say anything about Ted in his
-      letter,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Harris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that was pure accident, I imagine! Ted must be all right, or
-      Harold would have said something about it which was rather wide of the
-      mark in 'Uncle Fritz,' as you and I happen to know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Overgrown and headstrong doesn't sound very nice,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste said slowly; &ldquo;I'm really not a bit afraid about
-      Harold&mdash;I love him already, but I don't feel sure about Ted,
-      somehow.&rdquo; And if the truth be told, neither did Mr. Harris nor Mrs.
-      Harris, nor anybody else, for that matter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, there's one thing, little girlie,&rdquo; said her
-      father; &ldquo;there are wonderful places in England, which I mean you
-      shall see; and how long we stay in Windsor depends&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Entirely upon how they treat us,&rdquo; chimed in Mrs. Harris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly; so it becomes us not to worry about any foolish little
-      ifs.&rdquo; And worry they did not from that moment, not one of the happy
-      trio, about anything under the sun, or over it, and they sailed away with
-      bright and happy faces. Tears were for eyes that left nearest and dearest
-      behind, not for those who took them with them; and yet a wistful look,
-      that was often to be seen on Mrs. Harris's expressive face, deepened
-      as the Majestic steamed down the harbor. And when they reached the point
-      where the white stones of Greenwood look down on the water, she stole
-      alone to the rail of the deck, and the wistfulness turned to a mist that
-      hid everything for a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mamma is saying good-by to Jack and Louis,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste softly, and her father pressed the little hand that lay in
-      his, but did not answer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste was up betimes the next morning&mdash;that is, if betimes
-      means bright and early, and, stopping for a few minutes on her way to
-      indulge in a savory cup of arrowroot, which the stewardess had made ready
-      for her, she passed on up the stairs and out on to the saloon deek,
-      looking as fresh and sweet in her dress of sailor-blue as a fair little
-      morning-glory. The pity was there was nobody there to see, for there's
-      nothing like the bloom of the very early morning-glory.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The decks were still wet from their daily mopping, the folded steamer
-      chairs were ranged five deep beneath the cabin windows, and nothing seemed
-      to be quite in shape yet save her own tidy little self. She went forward
-      as far as she could to the bow, and then turned her back toward
-      everything, so as to see how it seemed to be <i>way out at sea</i>; and
-      not being conscious of any remarkable sensations, was somewhat
-      disappointed. &ldquo;Out of sight of land&rdquo; had always stood with
-      Marie-Celeste for such an awe-inspiring condition of affairs that she
-      expected to feel all sorts of chilly and creepy feelings when she fairly
-      faced the thought; and yet here she stood, alone to all intents and
-      purposes, and no land anywhere, and yet not so much as the suggestion of a
-      chill or a creep. She turned round and looked at the ship, and smiled at
-      the man at the wheel, and guessed she knew what the trouble was, and
-      guessed right. She wasn't a bit afraid; that was the secret of her
-      disappointment, if it could in truth be called a disappointment. It was
-      such a beautiful, stanch, great ship, with its large masts and spars and
-      network of interlacing halyards, that its wideness meant more to her just
-      then than even the wideness of the sea; and she felt so safe and at home
-      on it withal, that all the expected uncanny sensations had need to be
-      postponed to some more favorable occasion. With this cherished illusion so
-      soon disposed of, she decided to take a little turn on the deck. The
-      steamer was pitching a good deal&mdash;&ldquo;pitching horribly,&rdquo;
-      some of the passengers below would have told you, but all the more fun for
-      Marie-Celeste; and plunging her hand deep in her reefer pocket, she set
-      off at a swinging gait. Now it was all up-hill, and the wind blowing such
-      a gale that she had need to bend way over, holding firmly to her sailor
-      hat the while, to make any headway whatever; and now in a trice it was
-      very much down-hill indeed, and the little knees had to be stiffly braced
-      to prevent her ladyship from bowling along at a dangerously rapid pace.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0029.jpg" alt="0029 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0029.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      But it was all fun. She didn't see how people, inclusive of certain
-      near relatives of her own, could be willing to keep their state-rooms
-      after seven o'clock on such a glorious morning. She only wished she
-      had some one to enjoy it with her; and a few minutes later the wish came
-      true, and in such delightfully surprising fashion. Just as she was nearing
-      the break in the saloon deck that grants an open sky space to the
-      steerage, she discovered some one coming toward her on the deck of the
-      second-class cabin&mdash;some one who looked familiar, notwithstanding the
-      absence of gray coat and brass buttons.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Chris Hartley!&rdquo; she cried, and standing stock-still from
-      sheer surprise. At the sound of the cheery voice, a lady, who was so
-      fortunate as to have a deck state-room, and so unfortunate as to sorely
-      need it, peered out and tried to smile a good-morning to the happy little
-      stranger outside her window. Marie-Celeste smiled back again, but at the
-      sight of the white face realized in a flash why some people keep their
-      state-rooms at sea in the early morning. But of course there was only the
-      merest little suggestion of a sympathetic thought to spend on the poor,
-      white lady, with Chris Hartley but just discovered, and after that one
-      instant of transfixed surprise she sped toward him, both hands extended;
-      and over the gate that divides the first from the second cabin they
-      indulged in the heartiest shaking of hands possible, while hats for the
-      moment were expected to look out for themselves. Indeed, there is no
-      telling how long the hand-shaking might have lasted but that the hats
-      proved untrustworthy in the stiff northern wind that was blowing, Chris
-      catching his on the fly and Marie-Celeste's saved almost as
-      narrowly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you know we were on board, Chris?&rdquo; were the first words
-      that formed themselves into a sentence after the &ldquo;Well, <i>well</i>,
-      well!&rdquo; of their first meeting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I knew, and so I chose this steamer on purpose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who told you, Chris? You know I haven't seen you since the
-      day you brought the English letter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bridget told me the next morning how that you had had a letter that
-      was going to take you all to England, and then in a day or two I learned
-      you were going on the Majestic, and I hurried right over to the office and
-      secured the last berth they had left in the second cabin. But now I'm
-      here I'm thinking I'll not see much of you, after all,&rdquo;
-      and Chris looked decidedly crestfallen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why not, I should like to know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Chris glanced significantly at the gate between them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; beginning to understand; &ldquo;don't they allow
-      that to be opened?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, they don't,&rdquo; and Chris colored up a little in spite
-      of himself; &ldquo;but of course it's all right. I couldn't
-      afford to travel first class, and I don't belong there anyway.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you could easily get over that little gate,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste mischievously, and yet soberly too, for she foresaw what
-      innumerable good times would be interfered with if Chris must stay in one
-      place and she in another.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Chris gravely, &ldquo;that wouldn't do; but&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But what, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, never mind! I guess we'll just have to have little talks
-      right here when we can.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I guess we won't just have to have anything of the
-      sort,&rdquo; making up her mind on the instant precisely what steps she
-      would take. &ldquo;I'll manage that; and now tell me, Chris, how you
-      happen to be on this steamer at all. I thought you were going home this
-      summer?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And where do you think home is?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo; far too eager to waste any time in mere thinking.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In England, of course.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, then, I suppose you're English,&rdquo; she said, with
-      surprise and unconcealed disappointment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, then, I suppose I am,&rdquo; Chris answered; &ldquo;but
-      really, I don't see why you should mind, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I expected they would be different, the real English people&mdash;different
-      from us. I had heard they were, and it isn't so interesting to have
-      all the world alike.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I wouldn't give up hope quite yet,&rdquo; said Chris,
-      very much amused; &ldquo;you see, I'm not exactly real English, I've
-      been in the States so long;&rdquo; and when Marie-Celeste came to think of
-      it, there was some comfort in that.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, a number of passengers had come on to the decks of both cabins,
-      and a few moments later the little buglers appeared simultaneously on both
-      sides of the saloon, and the call for breakfast rang out on the still sea
-      air.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's something English for you,&rdquo; said Chris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; with puzzled frown.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, that's the English mess call,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      'Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      Soldiers' wives eat skilly'
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &mdash;those are the words that go to it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so they do!&rdquo; for the little buglers were obligingly
-      repeating their strain, and Marie-Celeste discovered for herself that they
-      fitted the notes exactly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's 'skilly?'&rdquo; she asked presently, as
-      Chris expected she would.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it's a kind of stew that the soldiers' wives
-      make. It's cheap and nourishing. We don't have anything just
-      like it in America that I know of.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are English, after all, Chris,&rdquo; with evident
-      gratification; &ldquo;there must be lots of more things you can tell me,
-      and there's no end to the good times we'll have together; but
-      I guess I'd better go now. I shouldn't wonder if mamma felt
-      rather ill this rough morning&mdash;she isn't a very good sailor.
-      Good-by, Chris; you'll come to the gate after breakfast?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Chris promised, and watched the trim little figure till it disappeared;
-      then he turned and paced the deck with a somewhat troubled look on his
-      kind face. Somehow he had not given much thought to this subject of first
-      and second class till on that first morning out, when he found the low
-      iron gate imposing itself so resolutely between himself and his little
-      friend; but then he realized at a bound how much there was in it. It might
-      well happen that the father and mother, who were quite willing that their
-      little daughter should have an occasional chat with the postman at home,
-      would prefer not to recognize him in the role of a second-cabin passenger;
-      and good Chris Hartley felt inclined to call himself all manner of names
-      for thoughtlessly allowing himself to be put in such a position. If Mr.
-      Harris should forbid Marie-Celeste to see him, or should just calmly
-      ignore the fact that he was on board at all, it would be pretty hard to
-      bear. And so Chris suddenly found himself face to face with the class
-      distinctions that seem inevitable in this social world of ours, and in a
-      way that might turn all the bright anticipations for this voyage into the
-      reality of a most disagreeable experience. Yes, there was no doubt about
-      it, he had acted like a fool; and rather than run the chance of being
-      &ldquo;made to know his place,&rdquo; as the phrase has it, he believed he
-      would have kept out of the way of Marie-Celeste all the way over if he had
-      thought of it in time; but we, of course, believe nothing of the sort. How
-      could he ever have had the heart to carry out such a doleful resolution,
-      and what a pity if he had tried to! The truth was, Chris had too low an
-      opinion of himself altogether. He had an idea, for instance, that he was a
-      very plain-looking sort of a fellow, whereas there was something about him
-      that made him distinctly noticeable everywhere he went. It was hard to
-      tell just what it was&mdash;a brimming-over kindliness, I think, best
-      describes it. It shone plain as day in his friendly eyes and hovered under
-      his light mustache, and his head even seemed to be set on his shoulders in
-      a most kindly fashion. But Chris himself was oblivious to all his charms,
-      personal or otherwise, and in this modesty of his, and in many other ways
-      as well, proved himself the gentleman; and the beauty of it was that Mr.
-      Harris, being a true gentleman himself, had long ago recognized the
-      article in his postman. It was a pity Chris should not have known this. It
-      would have spared him a wretched hour or so that first morning at sea.
-      Indeed, this <i>not knowing</i> is responsible for a great deal of this
-      world's fret and worry, and yet <i>too much knowing</i> would be
-      just as sorry a thing sometimes; so perhaps it would be as well for us to
-      leave matters as they are for the present.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Marie-Celeste had made her way to the bow, and to the doorway of
-      a room there, which she had chanced to notice the afternoon before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Passengers are not allowed in here, are they?&rdquo; she asked
-      timidly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not ordinarily,&rdquo; said the captain, looking up from a chart
-      spread out on a table before him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste could not possibly discover whether the tone was encouraging
-      or no, but in any case she had no words with which to continue, so
-      awe-inspiring proved the blue coat, gold braid, and the other insignia of
-      the captain's office. Besides, it had taken so much courage to nerve
-      herself up to the mere asking of the question, that she found she had none
-      in reserve, and stood transfixed in the doorway, her little face aflame
-      with embarrassment. Now, if there is a class of men anywhere who believe
-      in what we were speaking of a minute ago (that is, a man's knowing
-      his place), they are the captains of the ocean steamers. It is of course
-      nothing but the enforcement of this very rule that renders ocean travel
-      the safe and comfortable thing it is, and that assures you, even in case
-      of accident, that the strictest discipline will be preserved. Indeed, I
-      have an idea that Captain Revell inclines to apply the same rule to every
-      one aboard of his great steamer, to passengers as well as to officers and
-      crew, and so perhaps regarded the advent of Marie-Celeste in the light of
-      an intrusion. And when you come right down to it, there was that in his
-      tone, when he answered her question, that made her feel that he thought
-      she should not have ventured it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Passengers having special business are admitted at any time,
-      however,&rdquo; added the captain, after what seemed an interminable
-      silence, &ldquo;and perhaps you have come on some special errand. If so, I
-      should be glad to have you come in,&rdquo; and the captain stood up and
-      motioned Marie-Celeste to a seat on the other side of the table. I think
-      he was beginning to discover what an unusually attractive little personage
-      his visitor was, and to regret the moment's discomfiture he had
-      caused her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste gave a very audible sigh of relief as she stepped up the two
-      steps into the room, but she refused the proffered seat with the dignity
-      of a little princess.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I only want to stay for a moment,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I am
-      quite sure now I oughtn't to have interrupted you, and I know papa
-      will be angry; but I had a favor to ask, and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what, my little friend?&rdquo; said the captain, quite won over
-      to whatever the favor might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you looked so kind I dared to speak to you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Kind, did I?&rdquo; laughed the captain, immensely pleased. &ldquo;Well,
-      then, you must sit down, else, you see, you'll keep me standing;
-      too, and tell me right away what the favor is, and I'll try to act
-      up to the kindness for which you give me credit.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it's just this, Captain Revell: first, <i>could</i> you
-      let me sometimes go over into the second-class cabin?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Certainly I could; but what for, may I ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To see Chris Hartley; he's a second-class passenger, and he's
-      the postman in our street; but it wouldn't do, would it, to undo the
-      gate for me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, hardly, I think,&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it wouldn't do any better for me to climb over it, would
-      it? I could do it easily.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm afraid that wouldn't answer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then, what are we going to do? There isn't any other way, I
-      suppose,&rdquo; with very evident despair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, there is, and I'll show it to you myself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Whereupon Marie-Celeste laid one little brown hand upon the captain's
-      sleeve from an impulse of sheer gratitude, and the captain straightway
-      laid a big brown hand atop of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, that is what you wanted to ask first,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I
-      am anxious to know what comes second.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I guess I won't bother you any more; I&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, you shall not go till you have told me;&rdquo; and the captain
-      detained the little hand a prisoner beneath his own.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I was going to ask&mdash;you see, it is very much more
-      interesting up here near the bow and the bridge and the crow's-nest&mdash;I
-      was going to ask, if once in a while Chris could come over to the first
-      cabin. You see, Chris doesn't know any one on board, excepting just
-      me, and we're such good friends at home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's a little different,&rdquo; for the captain was
-      puzzled to know how to answer, &ldquo;and it's against the
-      regulations; but it's very hard to refuse a little maid like you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Harris was on a search for Marie-Celeste, and chancing to pass the
-      captain's room, glanced in, and glancing in, beheld his little
-      daughter, and heard these last words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me, Captain Revell,&rdquo; he said, touching his hat, and
-      apparently much annoyed, &ldquo;but I cannot imagine how my little
-      daughter has found her way in here, or what favor she has made so bold as
-      to ask. I trust you will not suspend any of the ship's regulations
-      on her account.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; laughed the captain, &ldquo;I
-      shall be only too glad to do what I can.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, please don't bother any more about it&mdash;please don't,&rdquo;
-      entreated Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I was afraid papa would not like it. We'll
-      go now, won't we?&rdquo; looking up at her father with a most woful
-      and beseeching little face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, we will; but don't you think, Marie-Celeste, we would
-      better ask the captain's pardon for intruding?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit of it,&rdquo; answered Captain Revell; &ldquo;there's
-      no pardon to be asked of anybody, and I shall hope to have a call from you
-      both very soon again,&rdquo; he added cordially as his two visitors took
-      their departure, and he settled back to his inspection of the chart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't say a word, papa, please, I don't want to cry
-      here,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste held her father's hand very tightly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you want some breakfast, dear, don't you?&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste shook her head, but as she seemed to know perfectly well
-      what she did want, he suffered her to lead him over the high sill that
-      keeps the water from rushing indoors in rough weather, and past the main
-      stairway, and into a far corner of the library. There she pushed him
-      gently into one of the corner sofas, and seating herself in his lap,
-      looked straight into his eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; she said, with a little sob in her voice, &ldquo;you
-      are angry.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am annoyed, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You spoke pretty cross, papa; if you hadn't said 'my
-      little daughter,' I should have cried right there&mdash;I know I
-      should.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are my little daughter always, you know, no matter what
-      happens, and that's one reason I cannot bear to have you do anything
-      that seems the least mite bold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, you said something like that to the captain;&rdquo; and as
-      though she would have given all the world if he hadn't, &ldquo;but I
-      didn't mean to be bold really, only I felt so sorry for Chris;&rdquo;
-      and then she proceeded to tell, as coherently as her emotions would allow,
-      of her unexpected encounter with her old friend, and how dreadful it would
-      have been if they could not have seen anything of each other just because
-      Chris was a second-cabin passenger, and of how she had mustered all her
-      courage and gone straight to the captain to see what could be done about
-      it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he said it would be quite against the regulations, did he?&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, immediately becoming interested in the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; he said I could go to see Chris in the second cabin&mdash;he'd
-      easily manage that&mdash;and then he said he knew I had something more on
-      my mind, and made me tell him, and that was whether Chris could come to
-      the first cabin sometimes, so as to look off at the bow. Do you think it
-      was so very, very bold to ask that when he said I could not go till I told
-      him?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; that puts it in a different light, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I think&mdash;I think (for whatever her faults Marie-Celeste
-      was fastidiously honest) the captain himself did not quite like it when I
-      first spoke to him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He got over his not-liking very quickly, then,&rdquo; said her
-      father, glad to be able to give a grain of comfort to his troubled little
-      daughter, &ldquo;but it would have been better to come to me first. It's
-      one thing to be fearless and another thing to be&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know, papa,&rdquo; putting her finger to her father's lips;
-      &ldquo;please don't say that dreadful word again; I'll
-      remember;&rdquo; and Mr. Harris, knowing that she would, gave the little
-      girl on his knee a good, hard hug, and bundled her off for a word with her
-      mamma, comfortably tucked up in a steamer-chair on deck, and then hurried
-      her down to the saloon for the breakfast that she stood in sore need of
-      after such an eventful morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IV.&mdash;A FRIEND BY THE WAY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9040.jpg" alt="9040 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9040.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>artley,&rdquo;
-      called a cheery voice from somewhere forward. Chris was on his feet in an
-      instant, and turning in the direction of the voice, discovered Mr. Harris
-      and Captain Revell. It is astonishing how much can be couched in the ring
-      of a word when one looks carefully to it; and the tone in which Mr. Harris
-      called &ldquo;Hartley&rdquo; was enough to put Chris at his ease in an
-      instant, and to make him hurry to the little gate with all fears as to his
-      reception skurrying to the winds. Mr. Harris at once introduced him to
-      Captain Revell, and Captain Revell as speedily informed him of the call
-      with which Marie-Celeste had favored him and of her errand. &ldquo;We are
-      good friends, Marie-Celeste and I,&rdquo; said Hartley proudly, &ldquo;and
-      I was counting on seeing something of her on the way over, but I
-      understand now, of course, how it cannot be, and that we must content
-      ourselves with a word now and then here at the gate, if Mr. Harris is
-      willing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you are mistaken, Hartley,&rdquo; said the captain cordially,
-      for he took to the man the moment he saw him. &ldquo;There is nothing to
-      prevent your little friend from making you a visit whenever she likes. I
-      have shown her the way myself through the passage below decks, and you are
-      welcome to come forward in the same fashion whenever the bow has any
-      attraction for you. As you are alone, you will hardly be missed from the
-      second cabin, and it will be unnecessary to inform anyone of your special
-      privileges;&rdquo; and then the captain, who had an aversion to being
-      thanked, moved hurriedly away before Chris had had a chance to put his
-      gratitude into words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She's a fearless little body, that little daughter of ours,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris at the close of the long talk he and Chris had been having
-      at the gate. &ldquo;I sometimes wonder what we had better do about it. She
-      arrives at decisions so quickly and acts so promptly and is so outspoken,
-      that she'll get herself and all of us into serious trouble some day,
-      I imagine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never you fear, Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Chris warmly; &ldquo;that
-      kind do more good than harm;&rdquo; and Mr. Harris believed in his heart
-      that Chris was right. On thinking it over, he wondered too if he had not
-      been rather easily annoyed with Marie-Celeste that morning, and if, on the
-      whole, she had not been more brave than bold in her call upon the
-      captain.. He would have been quite sure on that score had he known how the
-      little heart had thumped and the little knees trembled as she made her way
-      to the captain's room. But in any case he did not regret having put
-      the little daughter on her guard. It would help rather than hinder that
-      little woman's numerous projects should she learn to think twice
-      before putting her quick resolves into action.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Marie-Celeste herself had been making a new friend. A gentleman,
-      entered on the passenger list as Mr. E. H. Belden, sat just at the
-      entrance of the main stairway, a cigar poised in his left hand, a book
-      balanced in his right; the book closed for the moment, with his forefinger
-      marking the place, and his elbow resting on the arm of his steamer-chair.
-      To all appearances, Mr. E. H. Belden was absorbed in meditation, and
-      presumably in a line of thought suggested by the book be had temporarily
-      suspended reading&mdash;a line of thought, at any rate, that made him
-      wholly oblivious to his surroundings. It was somewhat of a surprise,
-      therefore, for him to find his book flying out of one hand with a momentum
-      that swept the cigar out of the other; but he did not need to look far or
-      long for an explanation. &ldquo;Oh, I'm so sorry,&rdquo; gasped a
-      breathless little body, as quickly as she could reverse engines and bring
-      herself in front of the offended party. &ldquo;It was very careless of me.
-      I slipped because I tried to turn too short a corner. Please let me get
-      the book for you,&rdquo; and she bounded to the spot where it had landed,
-      while Mr. Belden, detecting a faint scorching odor, hastened to rescue the
-      lighted cigar from the folds of a steamer rug lying on the next chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope it hasn't strained the cover,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste, looking the book over carefully before returning it.
-      &ldquo;They are a little too fine for steamer use, aren't they?&rdquo;
-      for it was a volume from the ship's library, and boasted a costly
-      half-calf binding.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, rather too fine,&rdquo; attracted and pleased by the child's
-      friendliness; &ldquo;but you have not done it any harm, I think.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There was no use in my being in such a hurry. I think I will make
-      myself sit right down here a few moments for punishment.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would, by all means,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden, smiling at the
-      inference to be drawn from the remark.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was only on my way to our state-room for a book,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste further explained. &ldquo;It is called 'The Story of a
-      Short Life.' Did you ever read it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, but I think I should like it, for I find life rather too
-      stupidly long myself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, how is that?&rdquo; Marie-Celeste exclaimed, as though nothing
-      could possibly have more interest for her, as indeed, for the moment,
-      nothing could.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I fancy I cannot exactly make you understand how. I haven't
-      very good health, that's one reason; and too much money, that's
-      another; and not very much faith in human nature, for a third; besides, no
-      one in the world that I care very much for; so you see I am in rather a
-      bad plight.&rdquo; Marie-Celeste sat and stared at Mr. Belden, and Mr.
-      Belden, all intent, closely watched the effect of this somewhat unusual
-      declaration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is your family motto?&rdquo; she queried, after a moment's
-      serious reflection.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why in Heaven do you ask that?&rdquo; for Mr. Belden, who was not
-      in the habit of talking to children, was not as wise as he might have been
-      in his choice of words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste straightened up a little, as though to show she did not
-      quite approve, and then she replied, with an air of childish dignity that
-      was vastly amusing, &ldquo;Because it was his family motto that helped
-      Leonard (he's the boy in the story I spoke about) ever so much, and
-      that taught him to be cheerful and contented, and it seems to me&rdquo;&mdash;this
-      last very slowly and thoughtfully&mdash;&ldquo;that you are very much like
-      Leonard, only grown up. I suppose, as you're English, you've
-      surely got a family motto.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you know I'm English?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because papa said, when you were walking on the deck last
-      evening, that 'you were very English indeed.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, do you think, on the whole, that your father meant to be
-      complimentary?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not know exactly, but papa likes almost everything in England,
-      and we have some English relatives whom we are very fond of. They live in
-      Windsor, and we are going to spend the summer with them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In Windsor?&rdquo; with evident surprise; &ldquo;and what is their
-      name, may I ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harris, the same as ours;&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste detected nothing
-      unusual in the question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So?&rdquo; and then, as Mr. Belden seemed suddenly to retire into
-      himself and his own thoughts, she made a move to go.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, don't go yet; seems to me you ought to talk to me a while
-      longer, if only for punishment, as you said.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, I didn't say quite that,&rdquo; for the first time
-      appreciating the situation; &ldquo;but anyhow I shall not bother about it,
-      because you know what I meant.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I do,&rdquo; more touched than he would have cared to
-      admit by her confiding friendliness; &ldquo;but I want you to wait,&rdquo;
-      he added, &ldquo;while I try to answer your question about our family
-      motto. I've never thought much about it, but it's 'Dwell
-      as though about to depart,' or some cheerful stuff like that. It's
-      the kind of a motto, you see, to give one an unsettled sort of feeling,
-      instead of making him contented.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's queer,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;but I believe&mdash;yes,
-      I'm sure that very motto stands at the head of one of the chapters
-      in my book.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed? Why, then, I should like to read it. Will you have finished
-      with it before the voyage is over?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I'm through with it now really. I'll get it for you
-      right away,&rdquo; and suiting the action to the word, she was off one
-      moment and back the next with the book in her hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me a little what it's about, please,&rdquo; urged Mr.
-      Belden, unwilling to let this new little friend give him the slip, and
-      nothing loath, Marie-Celeste settled comfortably back in the steamer-chair
-      beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You think it won't spoil it for you?&rdquo; she asked, by way
-      of preface.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And thus reassured, she launched out upon a detailed narration of Mrs.
-      Ewing's beautiful story, graphically describing little Leonard's
-      fortunes and trials, and his heroic self-mastery at the last.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0044.jpg" alt="0044 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0044.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see he wasn't a goody boy at all,&rdquo; she said, when
-      all was told, &ldquo;just brave and grand.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden, which was quite true,
-      notwithstanding a strange and wholly new sensation in his eyes. &ldquo;And
-      now if you will excuse me,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I will go down to the
-      smoking-room and commence the book at once.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste was rather surprised to find herself left thus abruptly
-      alone. Happily for her, however, she did not know how sadly akin to
-      Leonard's had been some of Mr. Belden's experiences, or she
-      would have flinched a little in the telling. It was the realization of
-      this kinship of experience and yet of the widely different effect upon
-      soul and character that had impelled him to take his sudden leave of
-      Marie-Celeste, and then, pausing a moment at the smoking-room door, he
-      went on and down to his state-room, for he had much to think over, and a
-      long, long time he sat there, his elbows resting on his knees and his face
-      buried in his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER V.&mdash;AND STILL ANOTHER.
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>lthough a
-      transcendent interest in grown-up people is one of the traits that make it
-      worth while to tell this story of a summer in the life of little
-      Marie-Celeste, yet she was none the less a friend of children of her own
-      age, or over it or under it for that matter, provided they seemed to stand
-      in want of a friend. Otherwise, it must be confessed, she concerned
-      herself very little about them. Born with a positive genius for spending
-      and being spent, the claims and opportunities of ordinary child
-      friendships seemed hardly to give her enough breathing room; and so it
-      chanced that she passed very little time with the faultlessly dressed and
-      somewhat overcared-for children of the steamer, who did not seem to need
-      her, and a great deal of time with Chris and Mr. Belden, who did. Be it
-      said to the credit of the latter gentleman that, after that first
-      conversation with Marie-Celeste, he was far more careful in the way he
-      talked with her, and Mr. Harris was quick to discover the fact, or the new
-      friendship would have ended as unexpectedly for Mr. Belden as it had
-      begun. There was about Marie-Celeste at all times the same implicit
-      childish confidence that unnerved the bold robber in &ldquo;Editha's
-      Burglar,&rdquo; and yet she herself was always quick to discover when this
-      same confidence was being taken advantage of, and when she would best fly
-      to cover. More than once she had shown in her contact with people an
-      inerrancy of intuition (if my youngest readers will excuse two such big
-      words) that had greatly gratified her father and mother, who had a theory
-      of their own about the education of children, and gave her rather more
-      rein than some would consider either safe or advisable. At the same time,
-      every movement of the little daughter was carefully watched and every
-      project followed up by a certain paternal relative, and never more so than
-      during those days of steamer life, when so many hours were passed with the
-      new friend and the postman. When with Chris it was forward clear to the
-      bow to lean over the rail and see the magnificent prow cut the water; or
-      way to the stern, to watch the far-shining train, the screws churned into
-      white foam behind them; or an hour 'midships, where the ever-varying
-      amusements with which the steerage passengers beguile the weary hours can
-      be looked down upon from the saloon deck of either first or second cabin.
-      Then, at five every clear day, afternoon tea with the captain, for which
-      they had a standing invitation, and by means of which both she and Chris
-      came to be on terms of wonderful intimacy with that august officer, so
-      that they joked over the rare souchong and delicious little toasted cakes
-      (the secret of whose making was kept close-guarded by the steward) with a
-      familiarity that, to themselves at least, never ceased to be a wonder.
-      With Mr. Belden everything was different. It was generally after an hour
-      or so of prowling about with Chris, and when she was a little tired and in
-      the mood for a quiet talk, that she would seek him out; and, as a rule,
-      she would find him comfortably tucked up in a steamer rug, with another
-      awaiting her coming on a chair beside him. Then Chris, after carefully
-      tucking her in, in most approved fashion, would be off, with a touch of
-      his hat, and with profound gratitude in his heart for the strength of limb
-      and muscle that made him regard Mr. Belden's inactive life in the
-      light of a sorry burden. That the latter often so regarded himself was
-      evident in the ever-deepening lines of weariness that seamed his pale and
-      handsome face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what have you and your good Chris been up to to-day?&rdquo;
-      would be invariably Mr. Belden's first question; and after
-      Marie-Celeste had told the little or much there was to tell, they would as
-      invariably drift round to talking about books, for they both loved them.
-      One day it was &ldquo;Little Lord Fauntleroy&rdquo; and &ldquo;Hans
-      Brinker,&rdquo; and then Marie-Celeste &ldquo;had the floor&rdquo;; and
-      the next it was &ldquo;The Story of a Short Life,&rdquo; when honors were
-      even, as they used to say in whist, because both had so lately read it.
-      And then for three days together, during the hour for the daily chat,
-      Marie-Celeste sat an entranced listener, while the wonderful story was
-      told of beautiful little Isabel of Valois, the child-queen whom Richard of
-      Bordeaux brought to England at the age of nine, and whose childish reign
-      was so soon concluded. It had chanced that the book that had been brushed
-      so summarily from Mr. Belden's hand when Marie-Celeste made his
-      acquaintance had proved to be Dixon's &ldquo;Royal Windsor;&rdquo;
-      and as soon as the terms of their friendship were unquestionably
-      established, she made so bold as to ask many questions regarding its
-      contents; for what could have more interest for a Windsor-bound little
-      maiden than the story of the Royal Castle? And the best part of it was
-      that the book happened to be the second volume, and therefore contained
-      the history of Madame la Petite Reine, as the little French Isabel was
-      called. Never proved fairy tale more charming than this true story as it
-      fell from Mr. Belden's lips. Over and over he told it, adding each
-      time some delightful new touch of detail, till at last Marie-Celeste knew
-      it quite by heart, and rested therein contented.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But not all of their little daughter's time, that Mr. and Mrs.
-      Harris were willing to spare to others, was spent with these grown-up
-      friends of hers. On the second day out Chris had made a most interesting
-      and pathetic discovery. A little sick bugler was stowed away in an
-      undesirable second-cabin state-room that had remained unengaged; and
-      Chris, noticing that a bowl of broth or some sort of nourishing food was
-      carried thither three times a day, but that apart from this no one ever
-      entered or left the state-room, questioned the steward, and as soon as he
-      learned the facts, made his own way in, to the great delight of the lonely
-      little fellow. Then the next morning he interested Mrs. Harris (who was
-      proving a far better sailor than any one had dared to hope) in his new
-      little <i>protégé</i>, and after that, as a matter of course,
-      Marie-Celeste and the little bugler became the best of friends.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; she said on her second visit, for the one preceding
-      had naturally been limited to the ordinary themes of first acquaintance,
-      &ldquo;I wish you would tell me a little more about yourself. Mamma says
-      you have been ill a long time in New York with a fever, but that now you
-      are quite over it and are on your way home; and that's all we know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's all there is,&rdquo; running one little white hand
-      through his hair as he spoke, in an apparent effort to make himself more
-      presentable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you're all right,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, smiling;
-      &ldquo;curly hair like yours looks better when it's mussed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like me to come and straighten you up a bit?&rdquo;
-      called Chris, who had really established himself as Donald's nurse,
-      and sat whittling in his own state-room just across the passage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Chris, he doesn't need you at all,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      volunteered; &ldquo;he looks very fine as he is&rdquo; (which gracious
-      compliment brought a very becoming color to the little blanched face).
-      &ldquo;Besides, Chris, he is going to tell me something about himself&mdash;aren't
-      you, Donald? Just what you choose, though, you know, because mamma said I
-      must not seem to be inquisitive, and I'm not, Donald, really&mdash;just
-      interested, that's all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What kind of things do you want to know?&rdquo; as though quite
-      willing to be communicative, but at a loss where to begin.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, how you happened to be a bugler, and how you happened to be
-      ill in New York, and where your home is?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No home,&rdquo; said Donald, laconically, and with an unconscious
-      little sigh that went straight to Marie-Celeste's heart; &ldquo;I
-      was in the Foundling Hospital all my life till I came on the Majestic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ill all your life!&rdquo; exclaimed Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh lands, no! I never was ill a day that I know of till that fever
-      got hold of me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then why did you stay in an hospital?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was more what we call an asylum in America,&rdquo; explained
-      Chris, who, as a permitted eavesdropper, felt at liberty to join in the
-      conversation on occasion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a place,&rdquo; explained Donald, &ldquo;where children
-      are cared for who haven't any particular fathers or mothers.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, but in a bewildered way, as though
-      she could not quite take in the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It isn't very pleasant not knowing who you belong to, but it
-      isn't such a bad place to stay. They keep things scrubbed up to the
-      nines, and everything's as neat and well ordered as a ship. I think
-      being trained that way was one thing that made me want to go to sea.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was easy to see, from the grave look on Marie-Celeste's face,
-      that she was still pondering the sad predicament of &ldquo;no particular
-      father or mother,&rdquo; but she asked, &ldquo;Where was the hospital,
-      Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In London; and like as not if you go there you'll go out to
-      see it. They always have lots of visitors on Sundays. They dress the girls
-      up awful pretty in black dresses with short sleeves, and mitts that come
-      way up over the elbow, like ladies' gloves at a party, and caps and
-      kerchiefs folded crosswise round their shoulders, like this.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've seen a picture of them singing out of a book, haven't
-      you?&rdquo; called Chris, by way of illustration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, so I have,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;we gave an
-      artist-proof of it to our minister one Christmas.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I've seen it too,&rdquo; continued Donald, wondering whether
-      an artist-proof and a waterproof had anything in common; &ldquo;but the
-      girls aren't often so handsome as that; but I'll tell you when
-      they do look pretty as a picture: that's on a clear Sunday morning,
-      just about midway in the service, when the sun comes streaming through one
-      of the choir windows in a great white shaft of light, I think they call
-      it. It just goes slanting across the benches, and then the girls it
-      happens to strike, no matter how homely they are, really look just
-      beautiful, with their white caps and kerchiefs all lighted up in the
-      sunshine. I used to think they put the girls on that side to show them
-      off, for the boys just look pretty much as boys always do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you have a home now, haven't you, Donald, that you're
-      going to when we reach England?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I don't know where I'm going I haven't
-      decided,&rdquo; he added, with studied indifference; for Donald preferred
-      not to burden these new friends of his with his trials and perplexities.
-      Likely as not he would be able to find some decent enough place in
-      Liverpool, and he thought, if he managed very carefully, his savings might
-      be made to hold out till he could put to sea again on his dear old
-      Majestic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now I'd like to know all about you,&rdquo; said Donald,
-      by way of changing the subject; &ldquo;there must be a deal more to tell
-      when you've had your father and mother to help you remember things,
-      than when you've had to do all the remembering yourself. Getting
-      your start in a foundling hospital is sort of like being led into the
-      world blindfold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pretty old talk for a youngster,&rdquo; thought Chris; &ldquo;but I
-      suppose it comes along of his being alone half the time, with so much
-      chance to think.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like me to commence at the very beginning,&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;when I was just a mere scrap of a thing?&rdquo;
-      Donald nodded assent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, I was rather good-looking, if you don't mind, and
-      a real sunshiny little body, papa says.&rdquo; Donald looked as though he
-      could readily believe it, and Chris, in the retirement of his stateroom,
-      shook his head, as though he felt sure of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But of course I soon got over that, and almost as soon as I was in
-      short dresses I began to show I had quite a little will of my own, and
-      then for two or three years they had a pretty hard time with me. I would
-      have regular tantrums, and just kick and scream if I couldn't do
-      just what I wanted to. I had two dear little brothers then, and I remember&mdash;-yes,
-      I remember this myself&mdash;how they used to amuse me and try to make me
-      good. And sometimes they seemed very proud of me, and sometimes, Donald, I
-      was proud of myself, too. Mamma used to dress me in white dresses with
-      short sleeves that came just to my elbow, tied round with pink or blue
-      ribbons, and a sash to match, tied on one side in front, and I knew it was
-      pretty and stylish, and used to walk around with my head in the air, and
-      people would laugh and say I was awfully cunning. Somehow or other I was
-      rather spoiled, you see; but when I was only five years old Louis and Jack
-      died, both in one week, of diphtheria, and mamma says from that week I
-      have never given her any real trouble. It seemed as though I remembered
-      how Louis and Jack wanted me to be good, and so I did try very hard. And
-      now I almost always think of them when I am getting into a temper, and if
-      I get the best of it, I feel that they know and are glad.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It must have been hard for your mother to do without them,&rdquo;
-      said Donald a little awkwardly, but with his face full of sympathy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Very hard, Donald; and oh, how she used to cry; but mamma is very
-      good and sweet, and is so thankful that she has papa and me left. You
-      know, Jack and Louis used to say, 'Jesus, gentle Shepherd.' at
-      bedtime every night, just as I do, and mamma says she thinks of them now,
-      just as little lambs safe-folded by the dear Shepherd they used to pray to
-      every night. I think it's that that makes her brave and bright.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's a beautiful way to think,&rdquo; said Donald warmly,
-      and Chris thought so too, and stopped whittling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you no brothers or sisters now?&rdquo; questioned Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, none; so, you see, it would be a shame if I didn't try to
-      be all the comfort I could; and now you know all there is about me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, no, I don't,&rdquo; said Donald, surprised, folding his
-      hands behind his head by way of a change of position; &ldquo;I don't
-      know where you live, or where you are going, or how you came to know Mr.
-      Hartley, or what you are going to do this summer;&rdquo; whereupon
-      Marie-Celeste straightway proceeded to give all the desired information,
-      and more besides.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Watchful Chris thought he began to detect signs of weariness in Donald's
-      occasional answers, and as soon as he felt sure of it he bundled
-      Marie-Celeste off in a hurry, and pinning a shawl over the port-hole, left
-      the little convalescent for a nap undisturbed in his darkened state-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And now you have at least an idea of how Marie-Celeste passed her time on
-      the steamer, and you can understand how there might have been some people
-      rather less glad than sorry when they felt the machinery stop at two o'clock
-      one morning, and knew that the Queenstown passengers were being
-      transferred to the tender, and that before sunset all the people aboard
-      the great steamer would be separated to the four winds. Chris was sorry,
-      because he had looked forward with so much pleasure to the voyage across
-      with Marie-Celeste, and it had all so far exceeded his expectations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald was sorry, because he never had met &ldquo;such lovely people&rdquo;
-      as the Harrises and Mr. Hartley, and never expected to again, and I half
-      believe Mr. Belden was sorriest of all. He was going right up to his club
-      in London, to lead the same old loveless, self-centred life, and somehow
-      the glimpse of something very different he had had through Marie-Celeste
-      made it appear more vapid and colorless than ever. But the steamer did not
-      mind how any of her passengers were feeling&mdash;she must make the best
-      possible record, no matter who was glad or sorry; and on she steamed, past
-      lonely and beautiful Holyhead, and then through the wide Irish Sea (that
-      seems indeed a veritable ocean in its wideness), until land once more was
-      sighted and the harbor reached, and the anchor dropped off the wonderful
-      docks at Liverpool. And then, in a few moments, the tender that was to
-      land them was bearing down upon them, and a handsome, eager-faced little
-      fellow, in an Eton jacket, was standing as far forward as possible in her
-      bow, and an older fellow, who resembled the younger one closely, was
-      standing, I am happy to say, close beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VI.&mdash;THE CASTLE WONDERFUL.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9054.jpg" alt="9054 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9054.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was marvellous
-      what a change came over the pretty little house where Ted and Harold lived
-      almost as soon as Aunt Lou, as they called Mrs. Harris, came to feel at
-      home there. The servants were the same that had been with them at the time
-      of their mother's death, and had been as faithful as they knew how
-      to be, even when their patience had been well-nigh exhausted by &ldquo;Mr.
-      Theodores&rdquo; unreasonable demands of the previous summer; and, indeed,
-      unreasonable had been no word for it. There are boys and girls everywhere
-      who know, to their sorrow, what it means to have the big brother come home
-      from college. How he does lord it over the rest of us! And if he chances
-      to bring a new chum along with him, whom he rather wants to impress, then
-      heigh-ho! for a hard time for everybody. He pays little or no heed at all
-      to the ordinary regulations of the household, and meals must wait for an
-      hour, or be served in a jiffy, as best suits his humor or convenience. Of
-      course there are some good fellows of whom this is not true at all, and
-      even those of whom it is, as a rule, in time get over it; but meanwhile
-      the mothers grow quite worn out sometimes, and the mischief fares on past
-      mending. So much for our little protest against a tendency of college
-      life. The bother of it is, it is not likely in the least to help matters.
-      As for Ted, you can imagine the life he led those servants of his, with
-      four college-men his guests for the summer, and no one to gainsay him.
-      Early and late they were kept slaving away, with never a spark of
-      consideration shown them, and nothing but the love they had borne their
-      mistress and an occasional kind word from Harold, proving how he felt in
-      the matter, had carried them through it. Still faithful as they had been,
-      something had gone out of the house with its sweet little mistress, that
-      had happily come in again with Aunt Lou, and Harold was quick to recognize
-      it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible you've been here only a week?&rdquo; he asked
-      as they all sat together one evening in the library&mdash;that is, with
-      the exception of Theodore, whose spring term still kept him at Oxford.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Just a week to-day, Harold,&rdquo; said Aunt Lou, looking up from a
-      great mass of crocheting, that would soon be a full-grown afghan; &ldquo;I
-      hope it hasn't seemed more like a month to you, dear.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It has seemed as though mother was back&mdash;that's the way
-      it has seemed, and it's been like a bit of heaven and if ever Mrs.
-      Harris felt repaid for anything in her life, she felt repaid that moment
-      for their journey across three thousand miles of water.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder what it is makes such a difference with a woman&mdash;that
-      is, a lady&mdash;in the house?&rdquo; Harold added. &ldquo;I suppose you
-      can't exactly understand it, but even the books, and things on that
-      table there, have a different look since you came, Aunt Lou.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Aunt Lou crocheted away for dear life, and looked very happy, and Uncle
-      Fritz laid aside his book, and announced wisely, &ldquo;I can tell you
-      what makes the difference if you want to know, Harold; it's the
-      countless little touches here and there. You notice now and then, and you'll
-      see that Aunt Lou is forever changing the position of something, if it's
-      only a chair as she passes or the lowering of a window-shade by the
-      fraction of an inch. It's a sort of intuitive&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's just mamma's own self, that's what it is,&rdquo;
-      interrupted Marie-Celeste, since her father seemed to be at a loss for a
-      word, and she put her two arms around her mother's neck, as much as
-      to say, &ldquo;Isn't a mother like mine the darlingest thing?&rdquo;
-      and then a little fellow, who didn't have any mother, quite
-      unconsciously to himself, drew a great deep sigh, and Mrs. Harris gave her
-      little daughter a furtive push from her. Marie-Celeste looked puzzled a
-      moment, and then she understood.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Remember, my little girl,&rdquo; Mrs. Harris had said to her more
-      than once, &ldquo;that there's nothing but sin itself has so many
-      heavy hearts to answer for as thoughtlessness; and thoughtfulness, next to
-      love, has lightened and brightened more hearts than anything else in the
-      world and Marie-Celeste knew how thoughtless she had been to press home
-      upon Harold in any way a keener sense of his own great loss. Resolved that
-      it should never happen again, and annoyed at herself beside, Marie-Celeste
-      moved away to the window on the other side of the room. There was somebody
-      sitting at the window&mdash;somebody half asleep in a great arm-chair, and
-      all but purring with contentment, and it was no one else than Donald, if
-      you please. It had all come about so beautifully, that morning that Harold
-      had come out to meet them on the tender, at Liverpool. It had taken nearly
-      two hours to transfer the baggage after the steamer had come to anchor,
-      and during that time Marie-Celeste had stolen away to have a last chat
-      with Donald. He sat propped up in Mr. Belden's steamer-chair,
-      whither two of the stewards had carried him, and lying out there in the
-      open air, he seemed to look paler than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is your little white-faced friend?&rdquo; Harold had asked at
-      the first opportunity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that is Donald you heard mamma speak about!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald who?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I don't really know who, and nobody does! He is called
-      Donald Brown. He was brought up in the Foundling Hospital, in London, and
-      hasn't any particular father or mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My! but that's hard; and he's been awfully ill, hasn't
-      he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, for weeks and weeks in New York with a fever; and he hasn't
-      gained a bit of strength on the voyage, either.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's going home, I suppose?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's going: somewhere, but I don't believe he knows
-      where. The steamer, he says, seems most like home to him. He's one
-      of the cabin boys and buglers when he's well.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;let's bring him home to
-      Windsor!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, could you?&rdquo; cried Marie-Celeste, who had thought of the
-      selfsame thing herself, but had not dared to suggest it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if Ted will mind?&rdquo; as though thinking the matter
-      over. &ldquo;I think I'd better ask him; but I shall do it anyway,
-      since this is my summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your summer?&rdquo; but Harold had no time to explain, and hurried
-      over to Ted, who was talking with Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou, and who was
-      gracious enough to say, &ldquo;Do as you like, Harold and as that, you
-      see, was just what Harold had meant to do, there was no trouble at all
-      about it. And this was the beautiful way it had happened, and Donald was
-      being built up and strengthened with all sorts of nourishing food, and was
-      gaining strength every day.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, curling up on the window bench
-      beside his chair, &ldquo;just how do you feel this morning?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;First-rate; better than any day yet,&rdquo; said Donald, who, by
-      the way, never called Marie-Celeste by any name whatsoever&mdash;&ldquo;Marie-Celeste&rdquo;
-      seemed quite too familiar, and &ldquo;Miss Harris&rdquo; was out of the
-      question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, do you want to hear about <i>it</i> now?&rdquo; she
-      asked eagerly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You bet I do,&rdquo; and then Donald begged her pardon with a
-      blush.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's quite a long story; are you sure you feel strong enough?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sure;&rdquo; and forthwith Marie-Celeste sailed away on the wings
-      of a marvellous story. It had been a wonderful week, that first week at
-      Windsor, and Marie-Celeste had tried to see it all with two pairs of eyes;
-      for born little Englishman though Donald probably was, it had been only
-      since he had actually come to Windsor that he knew anything whatever about
-      it. Coming out in the train from London, the beautiful castle had first
-      flashed upon our little party, through the perfect arch of the frequent
-      English rainbow, and Donald had straightway asked, &ldquo;Oh, what is
-      that?&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste had straightway replied, &ldquo;Why,
-      Donald, of course that's the castle!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whose castle?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The <i>Queen of England's, Donald!</i>&rdquo; as though such
-      a lack of knowledge was simply incredible. So, you see, there was a vast
-      amount of ignorance to be enlightened, and Marie-Celeste was fairly
-      revelling at the prospect of being the one to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know,&rdquo; she said, commencing in a low tone, so as not to
-      disturb the others, and with the introductory long breath of the
-      conventional story-teller, &ldquo;we have been through the castle three
-      times, so I really know a great deal about it, and it is very fortunate
-      that the Queen happened to be in London, or we shouldn't have seen
-      some of the rooms at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0059.jpg" alt="0059 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0059.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In the first place, Donald, you know how the castle looks from the
-      outside&mdash;the beautiful gray stone walls and the towers with the
-      turrets everywhere you turn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What are turrets?&rdquo; asked Donald, giving evidence at once of
-      such an eager desire to acquire information as Marie-Celeste feared in the
-      long run might prove rather annoying.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I believe it's a round wall that goes like that on the
-      top!&rdquo; tracing an imaginary line in the air with one finger. &ldquo;Well,
-      you go in at one of the gates, and it's just as though you were in a
-      little city of itself. There are roadways and sidewalks and street lamps,
-      and a big church right in front of you, and people coming and going, just
-      like a city. And there's a guard at the gate, and there are guards
-      everywhere. They didn't look very fine, though, for every time they've
-      had on their coats for fear of rain, and seemed all coat and gloves. You
-      know how horrid white cotton gloves are?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For the sake of agreement Donald nodded assent, but he should have thought
-      himself that white gloves of any sort would have been quite imposing, and
-      above all on a soldier.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, the first place we went into was the Albert Chapel; and oh,
-      Donald, but it's beautiful! There's a marble floor shaped in
-      diamonds and circles, and there are such beautiful stained-glass windows,
-      and under each window a picture of something from the Bible, and these
-      pictures are made of different sorts of marble, somehow, and there's
-      a great deal of gold in them, that makes them more beautiful still. But,
-      best of all, because I love anything that has to do with real people,
-      there is a portrait in marble right underneath each window of one of the
-      Queen's children. They are raised, you know, from a flat background,
-      not cut all round like a statue.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand,&rdquo; really very much interested; &ldquo;but
-      why do they call it the Albert Chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was just going to ask you if you knew,&rdquo; with an extremely
-      patronizing air, which Donald noticed, but was quite too courteous to
-      resent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is called that because Albert was the name of the Queen's
-      husband, the Prince Consort, and after his death the Queen built it to his
-      memory. No, she didn't exactly build it, either. There was a king
-      built it long ago for his tomb, and it has quite a history, I believe; but
-      it was the Queen who made it beautiful as it is now. And underneath is a
-      great big tomb, where ever so many royal people are buried&mdash;kings and
-      queens and princes and princesses.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is Prince Albert buried there?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I was going to tell you he is buried in a mausoleum (very proud
-      of the word) at Frogmore, just beyond the Long Walk, as they call it,
-      where we drove you, you remember, day before yesterday.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I guess I shall always remember it; I never saw anything so
-      lovely in my life. It looked just like a picture they used to have in a
-      book called 'Pilgrim's Progress at the hospital.&rdquo;
-      Impatient of the interruption, Marie-Celeste shook her head, as much as to
-      say, &ldquo;Oh, yes, of course anybody knows about 'Pilgrim's
-      Progress;'&rdquo; but Donald, stopping merely to catch his breath,
-      continued: &ldquo;The name under it was Beulah Land, and it meant a sort
-      of heaven; and the Long Walk looked to me as though it might be a straight
-      road to Beulah Land.&rdquo; And older people than Donald have thought the
-      selfsame thing, as they have looked down the same matchless avenue, with
-      its wonderful far-reaching vista of branching elms, and its perfect
-      driveway diminishing to a thread in the distance, with here and there a
-      flock of grazing sheep roaming its ample grass-grown borders, and finding
-      rich and abundant pasture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it does look like that,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, merely by
-      way of politeness, and then at once resumed eagerly: &ldquo;But although
-      the Prince is not really buried in the chapel, there's a beautiful
-      tomb to his memory right in front of the chancel. You must surely see it
-      some day, Donald. The figure of the Prince lies right along the top of it,
-      and he has on wonderful armor, and at his feet is a carved statue of his
-      favorite hound. I think it was fine in them to put it there, don't
-      you? It seems as though faithful dogs ought to be remembered just as well
-      as people. Then there's another beautiful tomb to Prince Leopold. He
-      is really buried there, and he&mdash;but I suppose you'll be more
-      interested in the castle even than in the chapel.&rdquo; and as Donald
-      looked as though he thought he might, and as that was exactly the way he
-      was expected to look, Marie-Celeste complacently continued: &ldquo;Well,
-      first you go up a flight of steps, and you find yourself in a sort of
-      vestibule; and there's a splendid portrait of the architect there&mdash;the
-      man who restored the old parts of the castle and added new parts to it and
-      made it all beautiful as it is now; and from this vestibule you go on and
-      on from one grand room to another. They call them the State Apartments;
-      and they are stately, I can tell you, and some of them have very
-      high-sounding names that I cannot remember. There are wonderful tapestries
-      on the walls&mdash;pictures made in a loom somehow&mdash;and portraits
-      everywhere of royal people. Then there's a room they call the Guard
-      Room, where they have suits of ancient armor; and there's a great
-      oak writing-table in it made from the wood of the old Arctic ship
-      Resolute; and it tells in an inscription on it how she was abandoned by
-      the English, and how she was found by an American whaling-ship captain
-      three years afterwards, who got her free from the ice. And after that the
-      American Government fitted her out and gave her to Her Majesty Queen
-      Victoria as a token of friendship; and then, when she was broken up, a few
-      years ago, they made the table out of the wood. Then there's a chair
-      besides, that's made from an elm-tree that grew where the English
-      beat Napoleon on the field of Waterloo; and in another part of the room,
-      on a piece of a mast, there's a great colossal bust of Lord Nelson;
-      and I'm ashamed to say I don't know anything about him, but we
-      ought to, Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what's more, we do,&rdquo; interrupted Donald, with a
-      little mischievous smile of satisfaction; &ldquo;I guess you can't
-      find a sailor boy on land or sea too young to know about Lord Nelson. If
-      you'd ever been to London you'd know something about him
-      yourself, for one of the grandest squares there is called after the great
-      battle he won at Trafalgar, and there's an ever-so-high column in
-      the centre of it, with a statue of Lord Nelson on top of it. Oh, you ought
-      to see Trafalgar Square, I can tell you!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I shall, of course. No one would come to England without going
-      up to London, would they? But I think you have told me very little about
-      Lord Nelson for Marie-Celeste was somewhat suspicious of Donald's
-      ability in that direction. She soon found to her sorrow, however, that she
-      was mistaken: for Donald forthwith launched forth into such a detailed
-      account of Lord Nelson's history, from his voyage as a boy to the
-      North Pole, to his last great, glorious battle, that the patience of that
-      young lady, who was rather more eager at all times to impart information
-      than to receive it, was sorely tried. Donald, nevertheless, was greatly
-      advanced thereby in her estimation, since it seemed that marvellous
-      ignorance in one direction was unquestionably offset by an astonishing
-      amount of information in another.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I am rather glad to know about him,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste
-      at the first opportunity; &ldquo;and now I'll go on with the castle,
-      shall I?&rdquo; And Donald, somewhat exhausted by his efforts, was
-      altogether willing that she should.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Let me see! Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember&mdash;the Guard Room.
-      Well, the next room to that is the Banqueting all, a wonderful, great, big
-      place, and the ceiling is covered with the crests of the Knights of the
-      Garter. Do you know anything about the Knights of the Garter, Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald, looking utterly mystified, shook his head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do, then,&rdquo; chimed in Harold, who had been listening to the
-      latter part of the conversation; and over he came to the window, dragging
-      his chair after him. &ldquo;Those old Knights are great favorites of mine.
-      Do you want me to tell you about them?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Donald very cordially; and Marie-Celeste said
-      &ldquo;yes&rdquo; as cordially as was possible, considering it meant she
-      should again relinquish her province of story-teller; but Harold, wholly
-      unconscious, proceeded.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you stumble across the Order of the
-      Garter everywhere you turn here at Windsor, and so I've read up a
-      good deal about them, and it's all just as interesting as any story
-      you ever heard. The Order was founded&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean, 'The Order was founded?'&rdquo;
-      interrupted Donald, who was not going to have anything taken for granted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, the Brotherhood of Knights! That is what an Order is, you know,
-      and this one was founded way back in the fourteenth century, in the time
-      of Edward the Third; and they say the way it came to be called the Order
-      of the Garter was this: That King Edward was dancing with the Countess of
-      Salisbury, when she had the misfortune to lose her garter; and then as he
-      stooped to pick it up, and saw every one smiling, he gallantly announced,
-      'that they should shortly see that garter advanced to so high an
-      honor and renown as to account themselves happy to wear it.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that was elegant!&rdquo; cried Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;that is
-      just my idea of a Knight.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, they were truly elegant old fellows in ever so many ways, and
-      they wore elegant clothes, I can tell you; and they do still, for that
-      matter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, are there any Knights nowadays?&rdquo; questioned Donald,
-      incredulously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course there are; and it's a very high honor, indeed,
-      to be made a Knight of the Garter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Made a Knight?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste had an idea that the
-      article was born, not made.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course, Marie-Celeste; that is, when a man is a great man
-      to start with, and then does something to make himself greater, the Queen
-      may reward him by permitting him to become a member of the Order, if there
-      happens to be a vacancy; and there's nothing much finer can happen
-      to a man than that.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But there isn't any real garter business about it now, is
-      there?&rdquo; asked Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed there is. To every new Knight made the Queen gives a dark
-      blue velvet garter, and what's more, they are never to appear in
-      public without them, unless booted for riding, and then they are allowed
-      to wear a ribbon of blue silk under their left boot instead. And there's
-      lots more that's awfully interesting about the Knights; and I tell
-      you what, some day, when Donald's stronger, we'll go up to the
-      castle and St. George's Chapel, and sort of spend the day with the
-      Knights, looking at everything that belongs to them. But now you know
-      something of what the crests on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall mean,
-      and the shields in the panels along the sides, that are waiting for the
-      crests of the Knights that may hereafter be admitted into the Order. In
-      fact, everything in that room has to do with the Knights. The Garter and
-      the Cross of St. George are even woven into the pattern of the carpet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dear me!&rdquo; sighed Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I know very
-      little, indeed, about St. George; and was there ever any place like
-      Windsor for showing you how little you do know, anyway?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Marie-Celeste, there never was,&rdquo; chimed in Mrs. Harris;
-      for both she and Mr. Harris had been listening with interest to Donald;
-      &ldquo;but you ought not to mind that as much as we older folks, who are
-      expected to know a great deal more than you little people. Why, when we
-      first went through the castle the other day with Canon Allyn, I was half
-      afraid to open my lips, for fear of betraying some new ignorance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I wouldn't be afraid any more; you know twice as much
-      as most ladies;&rdquo; for Harold was already the devoted champion of Aunt
-      Lou, and lost no opportunity for proving his devotion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, go on with the castle, please,&rdquo; urged Donald, secretly
-      hoping there would be no more interruptions.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste with a sigh, as though becoming
-      oppressed with the greatness of her undertaking; &ldquo;besides the
-      Banqueting Hall there's the Grand Reception-Room, with a beautiful
-      plate-glass window forming almost all of one end of it, and there's
-      the Waterloo Room, filled with portraits of officers who fought there, and
-      then, in a place they call the Grand Vestibule, there's a splendid
-      statue of the Queen. Everything's grand, you see, wherever you turn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, Oueen or no, I'm sure I shouldn't like to have
-      everything so tearing grand,&rdquo; said Donald, more expressively than
-      elegantly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, nor I; and the Queen doesn't really live in these grand
-      rooms, either. You can only see her very own rooms from the outside, and
-      you can only imagine what they are like; but they point out which is the
-      drawing-room and which is her sitting-room, and they don't call them
-      grand anything, for a comfort, so I suppose they're lovely and
-      homelike, like other people's; but they do look out on a grand
-      garden&mdash;the East Terrace they call it. You saw it the same day we
-      drove down the Long Walk. You remember the bushes all trimmed up to a
-      point, and the flower-beds and the statues, and the fountains playing in
-      the centre. And near the Terrace, Donald, is the Photographer's
-      Studio. Think of having a place all fitted up just to take the pictures of
-      the Queen's own family! That's kind of regal, isn't it?
-      But the finest thing of all is the Royal Pantry. I would give a good deal
-      to look in it. It is crammed full of all sorts of gold things and a gold
-      dinner service of one hundred and fifty pieces.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald's eyes opened as wide at this as extreme drowsiness would let
-      them, so that it was easy to discover that the little convalescent was
-      growing pretty tired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you must just see it all for yourself some day,&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste wisely concluded; &ldquo;and you had better go to bed now,
-      Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VII.&mdash;&ldquo;AND NOW GOOD-MORNING,&rdquo;
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9066.jpg" alt="9066 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9066.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ever in all this
-      world was there a happier little host than Harold Harris when he found how
-      kindly his guests from across the water were taking to the life at
-      Windsor; but who would not have taken kindly to it, I should like to know?
-      The Queen herself, in her great castle on the hill, could not have planned
-      more for the comfort of her guests than did Harold in his little castle
-      beneath it; and, indeed, this name of Little Castle had somehow attached
-      itself to the pretty stone house, with its round tower and moat-shaped
-      terrace.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been an idle bachelor's fancy to build after this unique
-      fashion some ten years before; but when Harold's mother had come
-      seeking a home in Windsor, he was already tired of it, and she found the
-      house was &ldquo;To be let,&rdquo; provided desirable tenants could be
-      found; and &ldquo;desirable&rdquo; the little widow proved in the eyes of
-      the discriminating agent. &ldquo;None more so,&rdquo; he thought
-      complacently when he called for the first quarter's rent, and saw
-      what a gem of a place she had made it. All the contents of the house in
-      London, which after her husband's death had seemed too sad a place
-      to live in, had been brought into the ivy-covered little castle, and under
-      her transforming touch it had soon become as cheery and cosey as possible.
-      But it was not enough for Harold that he was able to invite his friends
-      into such an attractive home. A room in the top story, with a fine north
-      light, was fitted up as a studio for Uncle Fritz, who, though a business
-      man by circumstance, was an artist through and through. For Aunt Lou an
-      up-stairs sitting-room was converted into a little study; for although
-      Aunt Lou herself was rather loath to confess it, it was nevertheless
-      somewhat generally known that she was very fond of writing stories for
-      children. For Marie-Celeste there seemed nothing in particular that could
-      be done, save to make her own little room as inviting as could be. To
-      accomplish this, Harold conferred with a friend of Ted's, Canon
-      Allyn's daughter. Miss Allyn, who had been a great favorite of
-      Harold's mother, was only too glad to have him turn to her, and
-      entered into all the preparations with an enthusiasm that was very
-      delightful. She suggested, among other things, a valance and curtains for
-      the little brass bedstead, already purchased, and then went herself and
-      selected a soft, white material and superintended their making. At her
-      suggestion, too, the couch and chairs were upholstered with a pretty
-      flower-patterned cretonne, and some lovely white-framed etchings were hung
-      upon the tinted walls. Then, by grace of his own idea of fitness, Harold
-      had added to the other furnishings a Dresden china toilet-set, and in this
-      he was perhaps far wiser than he knew, for is there anything so well
-      calculated to captivate at sight the heart of a dainty little maiden as
-      the mysterious round-topped boxes that compose the dainty outfit of the
-      ideal dressing-table? Then, to crown it all, a pair of ponies and a
-      basket-phaeton had been purchased for the exclusive use of the guests that
-      were to be. Of course, all this meant money; but with the exception of the
-      previous summer, when Theodore's guests had cost him such a pretty
-      penny, Harold had conscientiously lived a good way inside his income, so
-      that there was a reserve fund to draw on, on demand. As I said, then, who
-      would not have taken kindly to the life at Windsor under such conditions,
-      and have lost no time in stowing themselves happily away in the special
-      niche prepared for them? So Mr. Harris painted as for dear life in all
-      weathers, indoors or out, as the fancy struck him, and Mrs. Harris turned
-      her leisure to account for a bit of writing now and then, and in between
-      times they drove hither and thither in the basket-phaeton, and, one by
-      one, took in all the sights of old and delightful Windsor. And
-      Marie-Celeste did likewise, as far as the driving and sight-seeing were
-      concerned; but having no greater responsibility than the arrangement of
-      the Dresden boxes on the little dressing-table, wandered about at her own
-      sweet will, in the hours while Harold was at school and when every one
-      else was busy. And the place to which she wandered most often was to St.
-      George's Chapel, which at the time of her talk with Donald she had
-      not yet had the good fortune to visit. But with Marie-Celeste, as with
-      some of the rest of us, to know St. George's was to love it, and she
-      had soon gained a standing permission to go there whenever she liked; and
-      that was very often&mdash;so often, in fact, that any one who saw her one
-      lovely May morning tripping down the walk from the Little Castle, as
-      though bent upon some special errand, could easily have guessed her
-      destination. It was a matter of five minutes to reach the corner of High
-      Street, and of three minutes more to climb Castle Hill; then a smile to
-      the guard who happened to be on duty at the gate, and she was within the
-      castle walls. And once there she stopped to take it all in, for it had
-      never seemed so beautiful before; and then in a moment she knew what new
-      touch had been added to the scene. The sun had shone as brilliantly, and
-      the gray round tower, with its grass-grown terraces, had stood out as
-      clearly against the blue of the English sky, but never before&mdash;for
-      Marie-Celeste, that is&mdash;had those terraces been abloom with great
-      masses of lilacs. Two days had come and gone since her last visit, and the
-      showers and sunshine intervening had flashed the myriad tiny buds of every
-      cluster into full and transcendent bloom. No wonder the child held her
-      breath, spellbound from sheer delight, and no wonder, too, that the spell
-      lost its power to hold her the moment she spied a darling, new little
-      friend of hers standing in the chapel doorway. &ldquo;And&mdash;and now
-      good-morning,&rdquo; rang out a cheery little voice as she had hastened up
-      the path.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-morning, Albert,&rdquo; answered Marie-Celeste, smiling at the
-      expected, &ldquo;and now,&rdquo; with which, by way of getting the best of
-      a tendency to stutter, Albert was accustomed to preface many of his
-      remarks; &ldquo;I thought I should find you here,&rdquo; she added;
-      &ldquo;and <i>have</i> you seen the lilacs, Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; and our bushes are out too,&rdquo; with an emphatic little nod
-      of the head, as much as to say, that the Queen's lilacs were not
-      specially privileged in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is your sister going to play this morning?&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, with an eagerness on her face that gave place to intense
-      satisfaction as Albert answered, &ldquo;Yes; she's comin' in a
-      little while;&rdquo; since to have Miss Allyn at the organ during these
-      visits of hers to the chapel was just the most delightful thing that could
-      possibly happen for Marie-Celeste. &ldquo;And now let's have a
-      little chat,&rdquo; said Albert, seating himself on the step, and making
-      room for Marie-Celeste beside him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what shall we talk about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The weather;&rdquo; for with Albert this topic was always of
-      paramount importance. &ldquo;And first, I'll see what kind of a day
-      we are going to have;&rdquo; and suiting the action to the word, he
-      stepped off a little distance to take an observation. He was always the
-      embodiment of dainty freshness, this little four-year-old Albert, and
-      thanks to his mother's preference, boyish percale dresses still kept
-      the Lilliputian trousers of the period at bay. He was a cunning little
-      object as he strode a few feet down the path, his hat on the back of his
-      golden curls, a soft, red silk sash knotted soldier-like at his side, and
-      his hands folded behind him, in evident and precise imitation of some
-      older observer of the elements. His observations, however, were so
-      exceedingly cursory and so impartially comprehensive, including the path
-      at his feet every whit as carefully as the sky above him, that
-      Marie-Celeste had difficulty in preserving proper decorum.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0070.jpg" alt="0070 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0070.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We are going to have a fine day,&rdquo; Albert asserted, resuming
-      his seat on the steps, and with the authority of one who knows; and the
-      matter of the weather being thus satisfactorily disposed of, Marie-Celeste
-      made so bold as to introduce another subject; and as it chanced to meet
-      with Albert's approval, they chatted merrily together for ever so
-      long. Meantime, a party of tourists, with Marshall's familiar pink
-      guide-hook open in the hands of one of them, had been surveying the chapel
-      at a distance, and now, after a word or two with the children on the
-      doorstep, made their way within.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is Mr. Brooke in the chapel, Albeit?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Albert; for he knew that his answer meant an end
-      to their chat; for whenever during these visits of hers a party of
-      tourists were so fortunate as to secure the services of the verier, Mr.
-      Brooke, Marie-Celeste invariably followed in their train, listening to
-      every word as it fell from the good old man's lips. She already knew
-      many of the monument inscriptions by heart, but that made no difference;
-      for her the old chapel possessed a never-ending fascination, and she
-      rarely crossed the threshold of the choir&mdash;which was a beautiful
-      chapel in itself&mdash;without an actual thrill of pleasure. So, as Albert
-      had expected, this morning proved no exception, and he was unceremoniously
-      left to communion with his own thoughts upon the doorstep; but it did not
-      prove a long separation. In their tour of the chapel the travellers from
-      across the water had but reached the wonderful cenotaph of the Princess
-      Charlotte, when a sweet single chord from the great organ broke upon the
-      air, as though the player simply wanted to make sure that the instrument
-      would respond when the time came. But in that single chord lay a summons
-      for Marie-Celeste and for Albert; at least, they chose so to regard it,
-      and meeting at the foot of the organ-loft stairway, they climbed it
-      hand-in-hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So here you are!&rdquo; said a very sweet-looking young lady,
-      turning to greet the children from her seat on the organ-bench. &ldquo;Seems
-      to me I would have waited for more of an invitation than that, just that
-      one chord.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You needn't mind 'bout inwiting us ever, Dorothy,&rdquo;
-      said Albert, climbing on to a cushioned bench at his sister's side,
-      &ldquo;'cause we'd tome anyhow, wouldn't we,
-      Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Albert, I think we would; but you really don't mind
-      having us, do you, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I <i>really</i> don't,&rdquo; in imitation of
-      Marie-Celeste's frequent use of the word. &ldquo;In fact, I rather
-      like to have two such every-day little specimens near me here in this
-      chapel, where so many great people lie buried; and now I shall not say
-      another word, because I want to have a good practice.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you'll&mdash;&rdquo; and then Marie-Celeste thought
-      perhaps she had better not ask it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Stop in time for your favorites,&rdquo; laughed Miss Allyn,
-      finishing the sentence. &ldquo;Yes, of course I will. Perhaps you'd
-      like them now, you and Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no, Dorothy,&rdquo; said Albert firmly; &ldquo;we want to think
-      they are tomin', and not dat dey're over.&rdquo; And as
-      Marie-Celeste was evidently of the same mind, that settled the matter.
-      Then for the first time the tone of the organ rang out full and strong;
-      and the visitors in the chapel below looked up with rapt faces to the
-      gallery, as though for them, as for Marie-Celeste, the sweet music seemed
-      to lend the last perfecting touch to the holy enchantment of the place.
-      For over an hour, with scarce an interruption, Miss Allyn played on and
-      on, and Marie-Celeste never stirred from the choirmaster's chair, in
-      which she sat absorbed and entranced. Albert, it must be confessed, had
-      made more than one mysterious <i>sortie</i> down the gallery stairs, as
-      though bent on an important errand which had just occurred to him; but in
-      each case he brought up in rather aimless fashion in some remote corner of
-      the chapel; so it was easy to comprehend that the only real purpose in
-      view was to give his restless little four-year-old self the benefit of a
-      change. He was absent on the third of these little excursions of his, and
-      was surreptitiously amusing his audacious little self by seeing how it
-      seemed to sit in the Oueen's own stall, when hark!&mdash;yes, that
-      was going to be &ldquo;The Roseate Hues,&rdquo; and with a bound that came
-      near bringing the royal draperies with him he was out of the stall in a
-      trice and fairly scrambling up the organ stairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bedin aden; it isn't fair; bedin aden, Dorothy, <i>please</i>,&rdquo;
-      he urged with all the breath hurrying and excitement had left him; and
-      Dorothy, at sight of his anxious, entreating face, resolved to &ldquo;begin
-      again,&rdquo; first bringing the interrupted measure to a close with a
-      brief concluding improvisation of her own. Albert understood, and brooked
-      the momentary delay as best he could, but he confided to Marie-Celeste, in
-      highly audible whisper, that he didn't see why Dorothy couldn't
-      stop short off in the middle of a piece if she chose to: he could, anyway&mdash;he
-      knew he could.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, far wiser than she knew,
-      &ldquo;you couldn't if you were really a great musician.&rdquo; And
-      then instantly both children stood still and motionless, for there was the
-      familiar melody again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0073.jpg" alt="0073 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0073.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;De roseate hoos of early dawn,&rdquo; hummed Albert in a cunning,
-      to-himself sort of way,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      De biteness of de day,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      De kimson of de sunset sky,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      How fast dey fade away,&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      and then the same verse through again and still again, as Dorothy was good
-      enough to repeat the brief, sweet strain for his special delectation. It
-      is doubtful if Albert appreciated the pathos of the lines. It was the rose
-      hue of the sunrise and the crimson of the sunset, wedded to the lovely
-      melody of the refrain, that brought such rapture of delight to his
-      color-loving soul.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And now it was Marie-Celeste's turn, and the martial strain of
-      &ldquo;The Son of God goes forth to war&rdquo; woke the old chapel echoes.
-      Three times, as for Albert, the air was played effectively through, and
-      then Miss Allyn slipped down from the organ-bench and into the nearest
-      chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wish I had strength just once,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to play as
-      long as I should like to.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then you'd never stop, Dorothy, not even at the ends,&rdquo;
-      said
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, looking comically doleful at the mere prospect of such an
-      undesirable state of affairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember Mr. Belden told me on the steamer,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste, with the air of one who settles down for a good talk with a
-      familiar friend, &ldquo;of some musician who heard some one strike two or
-      three chords and then suddenly stop, and after that he; could not get a
-      wink of sleep till he jumped out of bed and rushed to his piano and struck
-      the chord that belonged at the end of the others.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; that was Handel, I think,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Handel!&rdquo; repeated Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;I want to remember
-      that name and everything else besides, if I can, that Mr. Belden told me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who was this Mr. Belden, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, he was the queerest English gentleman&mdash;an English
-      gentleman that I met on the steamer. I don't think many people liked
-      him&mdash;he said himself they didn't, anyway; but I liked him, and
-      we grew to be great friends, and we had a long chat together almost every
-      day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What about?&rdquo; asked Albert eagerly, since chats were just in
-      his line.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, often about books, and a great deal about the castle here, for
-      he seemed to know all about it. Besides, he was reading a book called
-      'Royal Windsor,' and that was how I came to know him, because I
-      knocked it out of his hands accidentally, and then I had to ask him to
-      excuse me, and that's the way we commenced to be friends. After that
-      he told me a great deal about what he had been reading. And did you ever
-      hear, Albert, about a little French girl who was made Queen of England,
-      and came to live in the castle when she was only eight years old, and who
-      used to come to this very chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, never,&rdquo; with eyes as big as saucers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, some day, Albert, I'll tell you all about her, and some
-      other things that happened right here in St. George's. You know,
-      about her, don't you, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, a little&mdash;Madame La Petite Reine, I believe they called
-      her; but tell me more, Marie-Celeste, about your steamer friend. He must,
-      as you say, have been a queer sort of a person to tell you people didn't
-      like him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I guess it was true, though. He seemed kind of a selfish man, and
-      looked so cross until you came to know him, that I was really very much
-      frightened the day I knocked the book out of his hand. He isn't ever
-      very well, and he has to keep travelling about for his health. I think
-      that's one reason he looks cross; but he's very handsome, and
-      papa says very aristocratic.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would radcr hear about de little Queen,&rdquo; remarked Albert
-      demurely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, dear!&rdquo; said Dorothy; &ldquo;I want to hear more about
-      this Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; did you say his name was Belden,
-      Marie-Celeste? Are you sure it was Belden?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sure; I have it at home in the printed list of passengers. And
-      another queer thing about him&rdquo;&mdash;for there was real pleasure in
-      enlarging on a subject in which her listener took such undisguised
-      interest&mdash;&ldquo;was that he told me one day that he had too much
-      money. That was funny, wasn't it? And he said he thought life was
-      very stupid. He just seemed all out of sorts with everything, and I got
-      him to read the 'Story of a Short Life;' I thought it would do
-      him good, and I'm sure it did.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't know about that story, either,&rdquo; said Albert
-      aggressively, and as though such constant allusion to very interesting
-      things was really more than could be patiently endured; but he found to
-      his sorrow that his gentle protest seemed to make no impression
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fancy it was Mr. Belden, too,&rdquo; continued Marie-Celeste, as
-      though wholly unconscious of any interruption, &ldquo;who asked them to
-      sing 'The Son of God goes forth to war' at the service in the
-      saloon Sunday morning. I think anybody who reads the 'Story of a
-      Short Life' must love that hymn, don't you? That's the
-      reason I'm fond of it. Whenever I hear it I seem to see the soldiers
-      in the church at Asholt and the V.C. out on the door-step, singing the
-      beautiful words loud and clear, so that dear little Leonard would hear;
-      and then the hand pulling down the curtain at the barrack master's
-      window, so that the V.C. knew at once that the little fellow had gone to
-      heaven at last.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it's a beautiful story,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn
-      thoughtfully. But meantime, matters had reached a climax in little Albert's
-      heaving breast. If nothing was to be explained, there was no use staying
-      any longer, and he summarily took his departure; and but for his childish
-      reverence for the sacred place would doubtless have stamped his indignant
-      way down the steps of the spiral stairway. Miss Allyn smiled significantly
-      and rose to follow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;From all you have told me, Marie-Celeste, your friend might well be
-      Theodore's uncle,&rdquo; said Miss Allyn, as they made their way
-      down the stairs; &ldquo;he and Harold have an uncle&mdash;their mother's
-      brother&mdash;a Mr. Harold Selden, who was very much the sort of man you
-      describe.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; I'm sure that couldn't be, Miss Allyn! Because
-      I talked about Harold often, so that he would have known and told me, and
-      he would have told me, too, if his name had not been Bel-den, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Allyn was not so sure of that; but Albert was mounting the wall of
-      the terrace, to which he had led the way, in rather dangerous fashion, and
-      Miss Allyn hurrying to lift the little fellow to a safer level, the
-      conversation ended abruptly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Isn't it beautiful!&rdquo; she said, as Marie-Celeste joined
-      her, at the same time lending a hand toward a less ambitious bit of
-      climbing with which Albert was fain to content himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste looked away over the tops of the fine old trees that just
-      reach to the terraces from the steep decline of the slopes below, way to
-      the lovely meadows, and then turned to look up at the castle, leaning
-      comfortably against the wall at her back.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said seriously; &ldquo;I can't find any words
-      for it all&rdquo;&mdash;her face fairly aglow with enthusiasm as she spoke&mdash;&ldquo;everything
-      is so perfectly lovely: the views, and the towers, and the castle itself,
-      and the chapels, and the wonderful Long Walk, so that it seems as though I
-      was just dreaming it all, even to the little room Harold has fitted up so
-      beautifully for me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was sure it would look very prettily when it was finished,&rdquo;
-      said Miss Allyn complacently. &ldquo;Why, did you see it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course I did! Hasn't Harold told you that I selected
-      the curtains, and the valance, and the hangings, and went with him to buy
-      the set for the toilette-table?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, of course he did. I don't know what I was thinking
-      of. You used to know Aunt Grace very well, didn't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; and loved her with all my heart; and I used to spend a great
-      deal of time at the dear Little Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you know much about Ted, Miss Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, not much, dear&mdash;not nowadays; but why do you ask?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because&mdash;well, I suppose I ought not to say it, but we're
-      awfully disappointed in Ted. He wasn't ever half so nice as Harold,
-      was he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, he was&mdash;just as nice every bit; though we English
-      people think that word nice of yours is so very queer. You have heard,
-      haven't you&rdquo;&mdash;for Miss Aliyn was quite willing to change
-      the subject&mdash;&ldquo;of the Englishman who said to a young girl whom
-      he met on the steamer, 'You Americans use <i>nice</i> so much, I
-      think it's a nasty word;' and of how she turned and archly
-      said, 'And do you think <i>nasty</i> is a nice word?'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dood for her,&rdquo; said Albert, thankful that the conversation
-      had once more grown intelligible.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But nobody thinks Ted is so nice now, do they?&rdquo; for
-      Marie-Celeste preferred to keep to the main point.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm afraid not; but they would if he would let them, I'm
-      sure, for he had the makings of a splendid fellow in him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He used to be Dorothy's best friend, didn't he,
-      Dorothy?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, he did, Albert, and I miss him very much. He and Harry are
-      great friends still. Harry's my big brother, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why doesn't he tom to see us now, Dorothy?&rdquo; Albert
-      questioned.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's tired of us, perhaps;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, looking
-      up at Miss Allyn's sweet face, wondered how that could be, and then
-      asked very seriously, &ldquo;Do you know what has changed him, Miss Aliyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, it is easy enough to tell: Oxford and popularity and more
-      money than is good for him, like your friend, Mr. Belden. It takes pretty
-      strong stuff to withstand that combination.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I know one thing,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;and that
-      is that he isn't at all nice to Harold, and that he comes home very
-      seldom, and is very high and mighty when he does come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;High and mighty?&rdquo; queried Albert, with a whimsical little
-      smile. &ldquo;That must be a funny way to be;&rdquo; and then Miss Allyn,
-      more impressed than ever with the doubtful propriety of discussing Mr.
-      Theodore Harris's shortcomings under existing conditions, looked at
-      her watch, and discovering it was time to go home, asked Marie-Celeste to
-      come with them to luncheon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, not to-day, thank you. Mamma will be sending to look me up if I
-      don't hurry home myself. So, good-bye; good-bye, Albert (with a
-      kiss, which the fast-maturing, little fellow was half inclined to resent),
-      and thank you ever so much for the music. Shall you play on Thursday, Miss
-      Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; at this same time, probably.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then I shall surely come.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So s'all I,&rdquo; chimed in a little voice with even firmer
-      determination.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VIII.&mdash;SOMETHING OF A SCRAPE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a>
-    </p>
-
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t certainly would
-      seem a very unceremonious proceeding to escort a little party across the
-      great, wide sea, and then follow the fortunes of some of the group, to the
-      utter exclusion of others; so if you please we will just take a look right
-      away at the snug little English cottage to which Chris Hartley hurried the
-      same April morning that he reluctantly took leave of Marie-Celeste at the
-      steamer. The cottage itself is just such a dear little place as you find
-      nowhere else save in England. It is straw-thatched, and thatch and walls
-      alike are mellow with the same soft grav of time and weather. The cottage
-      stands close to the river Thames, on the outskirts of the town of Nuneham.
-      In front is an even hawthorn hedge, that reaches round to the back as
-      well, and encloses a quaint little kitchen garden. Beyond the hedge lies a
-      pasture meadow, where a flock of sheep are grazing, and encircling the
-      meadow another hedge, less closely clipped, and so making bold to riot
-      here and there in a snowy wealth of hawthorn blossom, A fine Alderney cow,
-      with coat as well cared for as the gray mare's in the stable, is
-      also enjoying the sweet grass of the meadow, and the shining milk, pans
-      ranged beneath the kitchen window bear witness to the generous service she
-      renders. Within the little cottage all is as prim and dainty and neat as
-      without, for the sweet-faced old housewife gives as close heed to the
-      household as the &ldquo;gudeman&rdquo; of the house to the flock and the
-      cow and the hedgerows. And this was the home to which Chris had come&mdash;to
-      the grandparents who had cared for his orphaned boyhood, and whom he never
-      would have left but for the more certain prospect of well-paid work across
-      the water. And now five years have gone by, and having grown strong and
-      manly, meantime, through his contact with the world, Chris is back on his
-      first home visit, and you may be sure he has not come empty-handed. For
-      the grandfather there is a new wallet with twenty five-pound notes laid
-      between its leather-scented covers, and for the grandmother a labor-saving
-      gift that will never cease to be a marvel&mdash;a wonder-working churn
-      that turns Bess's milk to butter in just twelve seconds over a
-      minute. And best of all, Chris himself is just the same thoughtful fellow
-      he left them, and at once settles down to a general supervision of the
-      farm, that leaves the old man free to smoke his brier-wood pipe and read
-      the news from morning till night, if he cares to.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are spoiling us, Chris,&rdquo; old Mrs. Hartley would say every
-      time Chris chanced to be within hearing distance, when she brought the
-      golden butter to the surface from the depths of the uncanny churn; and
-      Chris as invariably remarking, &ldquo;There is no fear of that, granny
-      dear,&rdquo; would look as pleased and surprised as though she had not
-      known she could count upon every word of his answer. And now, you see, you
-      have an idea of the quiet, eventless life Chris led on this home visit
-      until one evening in the latter part of June, when something happened. The
-      lane that ran past the meadow and up to the Hartley cottage branched out
-      from the road that led directly to Nuneham from Oxford, and in fine
-      weather there was much driving out that way, so that toward evening Chris
-      would sometimes take a seat on a low gate-post that marked the entrance to
-      the lane and watch the people as they passed. There were always more or
-      less college men among them, driving in stylish drags behind spirited
-      horses or in shabby livery turn-outs, according to their station in life,
-      or rather the condition of their pocket-books. And so it chanced that
-      Chris noticed on this particular June evening&mdash;as, in fact, no one
-      could help noticing&mdash;a very merry party who rolled by in a dog-cart.
-      They were far too merry, in fact, and so noisy that teams in front of them
-      were glad to make way for them, and those they met most desirous to give
-      them a wide berth. It was evident, however, that the young fellow who held
-      the reins knew perfectly well what he was about, and how to handle his
-      horses, so that no danger was actually to be feared in that direction. But
-      what was true at five o'clock in the afternoon was not true a few
-      hours later, and any one who had seen the same party turn their faces
-      toward home, after a rollicking supper and no end of good cheer at
-      Holly-tree Inn, would have prophesied disaster before they reached it.
-      Wondering if they would make their return trip in safety, Chris himself
-      happened to favor them with his last waking thought, ere he fell asleep in
-      his little room under the eaves&mdash;a cosey little room that still was
-      bright even at ten o'clock with the glow of the long English
-      twilight. It was this last conscious thought, no doubt, that made him
-      quick to waken two hours later, when a low, penetrating &ldquo;Helloa
-      there!&rdquo; broke the stillness. Springing to the window, he was able to
-      discern two or three men supporting some heavy burden and standing in
-      front of the cottage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Be as still as possible, please,&rdquo; he said in a loud whisper,
-      mindful of the old people; &ldquo;I will be down in a moment,&rdquo; and
-      instantly recalling the party he had seen drive past to Nuneham, there
-      seemed no need to ask who they were or what had happened.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But expeditious as Chris had been, Mrs. Hartley, in gray wrapper and
-      frilled night-cap, was at the door before him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Some mishap on the road, Chris,&rdquo; she said, her hand trembling
-      on the bolt.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sure, granny; but you'd best let me open the door.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We've had an ugly accident,&rdquo; said one of the men, as
-      the light from within fell upon them; and then as Chris held the door wide
-      open they pressed into the little sitting-room with their gruesome burden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Put him here,&rdquo; Chris directed, clearing the way toward a low
-      box-lounge. &ldquo;He may be badly hurt,&rdquo; he added, but speaking
-      roughly, as though even his pity could scarce conceal his disgust that men
-      should ever allow themselves to get into such a sorry plight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We couldn't tell out there in the dark,&rdquo; answered the
-      only one in the party who seemed to have his wits about him. The other two
-      had at once made their way to the nearest chairs, and with steps so
-      unsteady that Chris wondered how they had been able to lend any aid
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Was he unconscious when you got to him?&rdquo; he asked,
-      unfastening the clothing at the injured man's throat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; he hasn't seemed to know anything from the first. It
-      looks almost as though he might be dying, doesn't it?&rdquo; and the
-      young fellow stood gazing helplessly down at his friend, the very picture
-      of despair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I don't think it's as bad as that. You've
-      been run away with, of course,&rdquo; for the whole party were covered
-      with mud and dirt from head to foot, and there was evidence of two or
-      three ugly cuts and bruises among them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;it was a clean upset, and Ted
-      here was driving, so that the reins got tangled about him, and he was
-      dragged full a hundred yards or so. If the horses hadn't succeeded
-      in breaking away from the trap the moment that it went over, I should have
-      been killed surely, for it fell on top of me in some way, and as it was, I
-      could scarcely get from under it;&rdquo; and the young fellow's
-      blanched face grew a shade whiter as he realized how narrow had been his
-      escape. Meanwhile, with a little maid to hold the light, Mrs. Hartley
-      searched through a tiny corner cupboard for a flask that had been
-      carefully stowed away behind some larger bottles, and then poured a
-      generous share of its contents into a glass held in readiness in the
-      little maid's other hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You give it to him, Chris,&rdquo; she said, not daring to trust her
-      shaking hands; and raising the poor fellow's head, Chris pressed the
-      glass to his lips. As he swallowed the brandy his eyes opened for a
-      moment, but there was no sign of returning consciousness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, the next thing,&rdquo; said Chris, &ldquo;is to get a doctor,
-      and I'll have to drive into Nuneham for him. Do you suppose one of
-      your friends there can help me harness?&rdquo; but one of the friends was
-      already asleep, and the attitude of the other showed that no assistance
-      was to be looked for in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's to be done with them, mother?&rdquo; asked old Mr.
-      Hartley, who, enveloped in an old-fashioned, large-patterned
-      dressing-gown, had arrived rather tardily upon the scene, and had stood
-      for several seconds glaring down at the two disgraceful specimens.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha is making the guest-room ready,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Hartley,
-      showing she was not too old to think ahead in an emergency, and yet
-      drawing a deep sigh with the next breath at the thought of that best
-      spare-room being put to so ignoble a service. Chris had himself been
-      thinking it was rather a serious question to know how to dispose of them,
-      and was glad to have Mrs. Hartley herself suggest the way.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Thank goodness you've got your senses left,&rdquo; said
-      Chris, turning to the young fellow, who really seemed anxious to render
-      every possible service; &ldquo;and if we get them into the room there you
-      can put them to bed, can't you? while I go for the doctor;&rdquo;
-      and in a voice scarcely audible from mortification the young fellow
-      replied that he thought he could; so after some difficulty in making them
-      understand the move impending, the two men were successfully landed in the
-      best spare-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You'll need this,&rdquo; said Chris, pushing a clothes-brush
-      and a whisk-broom on to a chair, &ldquo;and you'll find plenty of
-      water on the stand yonder;&rdquo; then he came out and closed the door, to
-      the infinite and audible relief of the serving-maid Martha. Indeed but for
-      the all too serious side of the whole affair, it would have been amusing
-      to watch that little maid. So great was her horror, either by education or
-      intuition, of the state of inebriety, that the moment she surmised that at
-      least two of these midnight visitors were bordering on the same, she could
-      conceive of no means strong enough to express her disapproval. Every time
-      she had come anywhere near them she had gathered her skirts about her as
-      though in fear of actual contamination, and with her pretty head high in
-      the air, as she moved away, would look askance over her shoulder as though
-      not at all sure even then of being at a safe distance. Indeed, Chris
-      himself could not quite suppress a smile as he saw the relief expressed in
-      every line of Martha's face at the click of the closing door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How did it happen, mother?&rdquo; asked Mr. Hartley, after a long
-      interval in which no word had been spoken.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have not heard yet, Peter; but I don't believe we had
-      better talk. He seems to be growing uneasy. Oh, I do wish Chris would
-      come!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0084.jpg" alt="0084 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0084.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, don't you get flustered, mother&mdash;<i>don't</i>
-      get flustered,&rdquo; bending over the freshly lighted fire and spreading
-      his hands to its blaze.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Mrs. Hartley had taken her station at the side of the senseless
-      fellow on the couch and, her old face tense with anxiety, was rubbing the
-      ice-cold hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now the doctor, Chris, as quick as ever you can,&rdquo; she
-      said gravely; and Chris, realizing the need for haste, was out of the
-      house before she had finished the sentence, and the gray mare made better
-      time that night into Nuneham than for many a year before.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've done splendid, so far. 'Tain't likely a
-      strong-looking fellow like that's going to go under easy.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no tellin', Peter&mdash;there's no tellin';
-      strength don't count for much if one's head is hurt past
-      mending.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Just then the door of the spare-room opened, and the young man, closing it
-      gently after him, was just in time to hear the last words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you don't think it's so bad as that?&rdquo; he said
-      in an almost agonized whisper, as he came to the side of the couch.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no tellin',&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Hartley very
-      seriously; and then as she looked up and saw, now that dust and grime and
-      the stains from two or three slight cuts were removed, that the face above
-      was a good face, after all, her heart went out in sympathy, and she added
-      gently, &ldquo;but we'll hope for the best, dear&mdash;we'll
-      hope for the best. Chris must come with the doctor very soon now
-      whereupon, for some reason or other, the poor fellow broke down utterly,
-      and sinking into the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The heart knoweth its own bitterness,&rdquo; said Mr. Hartley
-      solemnly, turning over the back-log of the fire and shaking his head
-      gravely from side to side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I doubt if that's what the young man's needing just
-      now, father,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Hartley dryly; and although evidently
-      resenting the implied reproof, Mr. Hartley wisely determined to keep his
-      own counsel; and for many minutes thereafter the heavy breathing of the
-      men asleep in the next room and the crackling of the wood upon the
-      andirons were the only sounds that broke the silence. Now and then Martha
-      came in with a cloth freshly wet with cold water from the well&mdash;for
-      Mrs. Hartley suspected some form of injury to the brain&mdash;and then
-      slipped as noiselessly out again. At last the sound of wheels in the lane
-      without, and then for the first time the young man raised his face from
-      his hands and hurried to meet the doctor. As they came in together he was
-      apparently explaining just how the accident had happened, and the doctor's
-      face looked grave with apprehension.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is your friend's name?&rdquo; he asked as he reached the
-      lounge.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Theodore&mdash;-Morris,&rdquo; after a second's hesitation.
-      Convinced that he had not given an honest answer, the doctor looked keenly
-      into his face a moment; &ldquo;and yours?&rdquo; he added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Allyn, sir,&rdquo; returning his glance as keenly, and then not
-      another word was spoken, while the doctor carefully looked his patient
-      over. Close beside him stood Mrs. Hartley, trying to read his conclusions
-      in advance, and Martha stood just beyond, eager to render the slightest
-      service, while Chris, with steady hand, held the light now high, now low,
-      according to the signal from the doctor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is a case, doubtless, of concussion of the brain,&rdquo; he said
-      at last; &ldquo;just how serious I cannot at once determine, but, first
-      thing, Mrs. Hartley, we must get this poor fellow to bed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It will have to be in my little spare-bedroom, then, doctor; my
-      best room is already appropriated. Bring clean linen from the chest
-      quickly, Martha;&rdquo; and hurrying into the little room, mistress and
-      maid soon had everything in readiness for the unexpected guest.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Tenderly and carefully they lifted and then carried the unconscious man,
-      and as they laid him gently down in the cool bed he drew a long, deep
-      breath, as though in some vague way appreciative of a grateful change.
-      Then one thing and another was done at the doctor's bidding, until
-      at last there was need of nothing further, and old Mrs. Hartley, first
-      sending the little maid to her room above stairs, crept off to bed, more
-      utterly worn out and exhausted than for many a weary day. Chris threw
-      himself on the living-room lounge, and was soon fast asleep, and the
-      doctor, sitting near the bed, and where he could closely watch his
-      patient, motioned young Allyn to draw a chair close to his side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, my friend,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I want you to tell me the
-      real name of your friend here, for I am convinced you have not done so,
-      and then I want you to give me a true account of this whole deplorable
-      affair. It will not disturb him in the least if you keep your voice
-      carefully lowered.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Young Allyn did not answer for several seconds. He sat leaning way forward
-      in the chair he had drawn to the doctor's side, his elbows on his
-      knees and his chin resting on his tightly clasped hands. He was evidently
-      thinking hard, and it was easy to read the play of intense emotion on his
-      face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dr. Arnold,&rdquo; he said finally, as though he had slowly thought
-      his way out to a decision, &ldquo;my friend's name is Theodore
-      Harris, but it is the first time he has ever been mixed up in anything of
-      this sort, and should he get over it, I wanted to spare him the
-      mortification of its being known if I could. Do you think he is so much
-      hurt that his family&mdash;that his brother&mdash;ought to be sent for?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We can't tell about that to-night. The opiate I have given
-      him will account for this heavy sleep. Everything will depend upon how he
-      comes out of it in the morning.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And if it does prove not as serious as you feared&rdquo;&mdash;trying
-      to steady a voice that trembled in spite of him&mdash;&ldquo;what then?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Two or three weeks of careful nursing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will they let us stay here, do you think?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They'll have to for a while. It would be out of the question
-      to move him.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, but it's a crying shame, this whole business!&rdquo; and
-      young Allyn, leaning back in his chair, looked the picture of anger and
-      chagrin.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You seem like a self-respecting fellow,&rdquo; said the doctor,
-      scrutinizing him closely; &ldquo;perhaps it is your first time, too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it does happen to be but, as though there was little or no
-      credit in that, there is some excuse for Ted&mdash;he is younger than I
-      and easily led; but for me there is none whatever.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You ought to know,&rdquo; said the doctor dryly. &ldquo;And your
-      friends in the room yonder, are they at all responsible for this first
-      time of yours and young Harris's? Come, Mr. Allyn, don't wait
-      for me to question you. If you are as anxious as you claim to hush this
-      affair up, you must make a clean breast of things with me. I can, of
-      course, be of service to you in the matter.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Really, Dr. Arnold, there is not much to tell beyond what you
-      already know. We belong up at Oxford, of course, and Harris here has
-      plenty of money and plenty of friends&mdash;not always the best, I am
-      sorry to say. The two men in the other room there are known around town as
-      jolly good fellows; neither of them are college men, but they have dogged
-      Harris's footsteps ever since they came to know him, a year or so
-      ago, and have done all in their power to drag him down. To-night they have
-      come pretty near making an end of both of us. I've warned Harris
-      against them time and again, but when they planned this afternoon to drive
-      up to Nuneham in Harris's trap for a champagne supper, I took to the
-      scheme, and I hadn't the moral courage to decline myself or to
-      persuade Ted to do so.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you and Harris happen to be in Oxford anyway, now that the
-      term is over?&rdquo; queried the doctor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We thought we were having too good a time to go home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you have found out your mistake?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sir;&rdquo; and the pain and mortification on young Allyn's
-      face assured the doctor that the lesson of the hour was being well taken
-      to heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where does Harris live, Mr. Allyn?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We both live at Windsor, sir; Harris has a younger brother, but no
-      father or mother; and if Ted only gets over this, he need never know
-      anything about it. We were going to start on a long driving trip
-      to-morrow; so we're not expected up at Windsor, and Ted's the
-      kind of fellow, Dr. Arnold, that if he found out that people knew about a
-      scrape like this, I believe he'd grow perfectly reckless, and there
-      wouldn't be any such thing as saving him;&rdquo; and there was such
-      suppressed earnestness in the young fellow's voice that no one could
-      have doubted his sincerity for a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But the accident to-night, just how did that happen?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think&mdash;yes, I'm sure&mdash;Ted had taken a little too
-      much; but we would have gotten home all right but for&rdquo;&mdash;nodding
-      in the direction of Mrs. Hartley's best room. &ldquo;There was no
-      doing anything with them, and finally one of them tried to get the reins
-      from Ted, and then the horses, that need to be carefully handled at best,
-      broke into a clean run. Where they are now, land knows!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Allyn,&rdquo; said Dr. Arnold, after several minutes of
-      suspense, &ldquo;if Mr. Harris's condition proves not to be serious
-      I will do what I can to shield you both.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, don't bother about me,&rdquo; as though he honestly felt
-      he was not worth it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I will bother about you, for since you told me you live at
-      Windsor, I begin to suspect you are Canon Allyn's son.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The more's the pity, Dr. Arnold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The more's the reason for my doing all in my power to give
-      both of you another chance But we won't talk any more. Now wrap
-      yourself in that comforter Chris has laid in the chair for you, and try
-      and get a little sleep.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      All this while poor wayward Ted, whose name you must have guessed almost
-      from the first, was lying wholly oblivious to everything about him,
-      muttering now and then a few delirious, incoherent words, and yet by
-      degrees subsiding into a gentle, regular breathing that the professional
-      ear was quick to detect, and that was full of good omen for the waking in
-      the morning.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IX.&mdash;GETTING OUT OF IT.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9090.jpg" alt="9090 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9090.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> whole chapter
-      just with grown-up people, and not a very pleasant chapter at that! For
-      one, I had a deal rather be with certain little friends of ours up at
-      Windsor, but we cannot go yet a while; and having seen the little
-      Berkshire cottage turned inside out, as it were, there is nothing for it
-      but to wait and see it put to rights again. Besides, when all is said, Ted
-      is Harold's brother, so that, scapegrace or no, we ought not to
-      deliberately turn our backs, at a time too when matters have reached a
-      crisis, and one wonders how they will go with him. But fortunately they
-      went far better than even the doctor dared to hope, and with the morning
-      came consciousness, and all the dazed bewilderment as well, of one who
-      finds himself in wholly new surroundings, with no idea whatever of how he
-      came there. Everybody was early astir in the cottage, and quite ready to
-      forget the anxiety and excitement of the night in the doctor's glad
-      assurance that the young gentleman certainly was not &ldquo;done for.&rdquo;
-      As for the other young gentlemen, who had been allowed to sleep off their
-      indisposition in Mrs. Hartley's best room, it was agreed between the
-      doctor and Harry Allyn that the sooner they took their departure the
-      better. Breakfast for two was therefore first made ready, and the young
-      fellows, who had gotten up and dressed&mdash;somewhat against their will,
-      it must be confessed&mdash;finally took their seats at the places set for
-      them. Martha, who had no notion of waiting on such sorry customers, was
-      careful to place everything within arm's reach on the table and then
-      to disappear, and the meal was eaten in silence, with no one in the room
-      save the doctor, who kept pacing up and down in a manner that was intended
-      to expedite their departure. The two fellows seemed to realize that they
-      were considered responsible for the whole unhappy affair; indeed, the
-      doctor had told them so pretty plainly, and they were themselves rather
-      anxious to be off and away from such an accusing and uncomfortable
-      atmosphere.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose the old lady ought to be paid something,&rdquo; said one
-      of them, pushing back his chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You can't very well pay for such trouble as you have given,&rdquo;
-      said the doctor curtly. &ldquo;It might not be out of the way though for
-      you to thank Mrs. Hartley for the night's shelter and your
-      breakfast,&rdquo; but Mrs. Hartley was nowhere to be found&mdash;indeed,
-      to all appearances the cottage was quite deserted; and, accompanied by the
-      doctor, they made their way out of the house and down the lane. Not a word
-      was spoken until they reached the road, and then Dr. Arnold, stopping
-      squarely in front of them, said: &ldquo;I have one thing to say to you two
-      fellows, and that is this&mdash;that you are not to tell a living soul of
-      last night's adventure. You have deliberately set about to entrap
-      and disgrace two men vastly your superiors, but so far as in me lies I am
-      going to do all in my power to free them from your clutches and save them
-      from the scandal of this thing, and if I hear of its becoming known
-      through you I'll&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There isn't any use in your threatening us like that,&rdquo;
-      interrupted the older, his heavy face glowing angrily. &ldquo;We'll
-      tell as much or as little as we like.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hadden,&rdquo; said the doctor sternly, &ldquo;I know more of your
-      history than you think. You were mixed up in a more shameful scrape than
-      this not long ago up at Nuneham, and if you and your friend here do not
-      keep close-mouthed about this whole affair, I will tell some of the Oxford
-      officials just what I know as sure as my name is Joseph Arnold. Does that
-      alter the case any?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, rather,&rdquo; drawled the other with cool effrontery; and
-      knowing he had scotched his man, the doctor turned on his heel, and the
-      two men started off in the direction of the Nuneham station, neither
-      sadder nor wiser, it is to be feared, for the lesson of the night's
-      experience. No sooner had these two unwelcome guests vanished from the
-      precincts of the little cottage than Mrs. Hartley reappeared from some
-      mysterious corner and Martha from another, and preparations were at once
-      put forward for the most inviting breakfast the little house could
-      command. Notwithstanding the wretched company in which they had been
-      found, Mrs. Hartley was confident that her remaining guests were surely
-      &ldquo;gentlemen;&rdquo; and as, in addition to this, no one through all
-      the countryside was as widely loved and honored as Dr. Arnold, was not
-      there occasion for elaborate preparation? All this, of course, involved
-      considerable delay, which Chris and the doctor would have gladly foregone;
-      but it gave Harry Allyn a sorely coveted opportunity for an early talk
-      with Mrs. Hartley.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is your mistress in the kitchen?&rdquo; he asked of Martha, who was
-      arranging some sweet peas in a celery glass as a decoration for the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Allyn,&rdquo; very respectfully, for in the mind of the
-      little maid, as in the mind of all the others, there was the conviction
-      that this Mr. Allyn had very little in common with the company in which he
-      had been found. &ldquo;Shall I call her for you?&rdquo; she added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would there be any harm in my going in there?&rdquo; as though he
-      were entreating a favor of a queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bit in the world, Mr. Allyn;&rdquo; and thus reassured Harry
-      at once made his way into the sunny and spotless little kitchen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Hartley was so preoccupied in giving the final stirring to a golden
-      mixture in a great yellow bowl that she did not hear Harry as he came
-      toward her, and so gave a little start when he spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha told me it would be all right,&rdquo; he explained.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, certainly,&rdquo; quickly recovering herself, &ldquo;you'll
-      excuse me if I go right on.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You never can know, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; he said, taking his stand
-      at the end of the table, and leaning a little wearily against the wall at
-      his back, &ldquo;how mortified I am about what has happened, and how sorry
-      that we should have put you to all this trouble; and the bother of it is,
-      Mrs. Hartley, it isn't over yet. The doctor says Ted will not be
-      able to get about for two or three weeks at least. Do you think&rdquo;&mdash;a
-      world of entreaty in his voice&mdash;&ldquo;you can ever manage to keep
-      him as long as that?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I think&mdash;I can,&rdquo; but very slowly and
-      thoughtfully, as though half afraid of promising more than she could
-      perform.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It will be a great care for you, Mrs. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's no denying that, Mr. Allyn; I doubt if I could get
-      along with it but for Chris being home this summer. Has Mr. Harris any
-      folks?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No father or mother, only a younger brother, and I want him never
-      to know about last night's business if I can help it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad you're ashamed of it, Mr. Allyn. It's the
-      best sort of a sign, sir.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ashamed!&rdquo; sighed Harry; and Mrs. Hartley, looking at the
-      white face, with the great dark circles under eyes that during the night
-      had known no wink of sleep, felt sorry in her heart of hearts that she had
-      uttered a single word that would seem to imply reproof.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you will let us pay you liberally for the expense we
-      shall put you to, but I cannot bear to speak of money in connection with
-      something that can never be paid for at all, in any true sense.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The board will not come amiss,&rdquo; and then, straightening
-      herself up a little, &ldquo;though we have no need of being beholden to
-      anybody.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is very evident, Mrs. Hartley, and makes it all the kinder for
-      you to take us in. Does Mr. Hartley know,&rdquo; he asked after a pause,
-      &ldquo;that Ted ought not to be moved? Will he be willing that he should
-      stay?&rdquo; for Harry stood in considerable awe of the master of the
-      house, who, it could not be denied, was conducting himself through this
-      whole affair with no little austerity of deportment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never you fear,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Hartley, with a significant
-      smile that was very becoming to the dear old face; &ldquo;I think I can
-      manage Mr. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0093.jpg" alt="0093 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0093.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      By this time the contents of the yellow bowl were not only in the oven,
-      but sending out of it the most savory of odors; and a few moments later
-      the little household sat down to such a delicious breakfast as the doctor
-      and Harry repeatedly declared they never before had eaten; so that Mrs.
-      Hartley sat proud and radiant behind the plated coffee-urn, and Martha
-      passed the Sally Lunn with indescribable complacency. Indeed, there was
-      reaction on every side from the night of anxiety and foreboding. Even Mr.
-      Hartley could not hold out against the general atmosphere of good cheer,
-      and falling into a friendly discussion with the doctor, forgot to wear for
-      a while a certain uncompromising look, intended to impress Mr. Allyn with
-      the simple enormity of his transgression. But happily Harry Allyn needed
-      no such impressing. It was impossible for any one to regard this adventure
-      in any graver light than he, and yet, strange to say, he was happier than
-      he had been for many a day. It had taken a pretty terrible experience to
-      bring him to his senses; perhaps nothing less terrible would have
-      answered; but he saw plainly enough now what a down-hill road he and Ted
-      had been travelling, and with the realization came the decision to &ldquo;right
-      about face,&rdquo; and with the decision an old-time sensation began to
-      assert itself, and there lay the secret of the happiness. It is an
-      intangible, uplifting something, that sensation that men call
-      self-respect, and when they lose it they seem to lose the capacity for any
-      happiness worth the name, and when they cannot be persuaded to make an
-      effort to get it back again, there seems to be little enough that they're
-      good for. Harry, however, with grateful heart found himself ready for the
-      effort, and, fully aware at last of how much he had been risking, was
-      resolved that regain his self-respect he would, let it cost what it might.
-      He only hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that Ted would come to see
-      matters in the same honest light, and be ready to make the same effort.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Soon after breakfast the doctor took his departure, and then Harry had a
-      quiet little talk with Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You're not to speak a word, old man,&rdquo; he said, as he
-      stood beside the bed; &ldquo;the doctor says so; but there are one or two
-      things he is willing I should say to you. In the first place, Ted, we've
-      had a very narrow escape, and we've no one to blame but ourselves.
-      And the truth is, Ted, we've been a pair of incomparable fools, you
-      and I, and if we don't take this lesson to heart, there's no
-      hope for either of us. In the second place, we can't be too thankful
-      we've fallen into the hands of these good people here. You couldn't
-      be better cared for anywhere, and the best of it is, no one need know
-      where you are, and they need never hear of this disgraceful adventure up
-      at Windsor. Indeed, for the sake of shielding you, I have told the
-      Hartleys that your name is Morris, and it rests with you to tell them your
-      right name some day if you choose; hut the doctor knows the truth about
-      things&mdash;he had to know.&rdquo; A look of inexpressible relief had
-      been stealing over Ted's face, and he started to make some reply,
-      but Harry shook his head in most determined fashion, and was off before
-      the words could get themselves into line. Ted found, too, that his brain
-      responded very slowly to any sort of demand upon it, and was willing
-      enough to be spared the exertion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      A little later Harry set off for Oxford, to bring certain necessities for
-      Ted and himself down to Nuneham, for he meant to take up his abode at the
-      inn, so that he would be near the Hartleys, and be able to render every
-      possible service to them and to Ted. Before he started, however, he
-      underwent quite an ordeal. Feeling he had no right to assume that Ted
-      would stay until he had that permission from Mr. Hartley personally, he
-      sought him out, where he was at work in a corner of the meadow, and the
-      result, as he had anticipated, was a very plain talk&mdash;so unsparingly
-      and pointedly plain that Harry winced a good deal in the process, and once
-      or twice came near resenting a mode of procedure that seemed very much
-      akin to knocking a fellow when he's down. But, after all, what did
-      he not deserve, and as Mr. Hartley said, among other things, that he was
-      not the man to turn a body out of his house, and that Mr. Morris was
-      welcome to stay, he felt he ought to be able to bear with the rest, no
-      matter how humiliating and, in a measure, unmerited. Mrs. Hartley,
-      standing in the kitchen door, imagined from Harry's flushed face, as
-      well as from life-long acquaintance with Mr. Hartley's temperament,
-      that he had been pretty severely dealt with, and so said as he passed,
-      &ldquo;My gude man's a gude man, though,&rdquo; Mr. Allyn and Harry,
-      amused at the loyalty to her husband and kindliness to him combined in the
-      speech, had the grace to answer, &ldquo;Indeed I believe you, Mrs.
-      Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER X.&mdash;A KNIGHT-OF-THE-GARTER PARTY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0097.jpg" alt="0097 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0097.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now,&rdquo; as
-      Albert would say, here we are, for a comfort, back at Windsor, and just in
-      time, too, for there is something special on hand. And somebody else is
-      just in time as well&mdash;somebody who was not expected, and who, I fear,
-      is not wanted. Marie-Celeste, seated in the library window, and busy in
-      transferring some great luscious strawberries from a plate on the seat
-      beside her to a basket in her lap, is the first to discover a familiar
-      little figure turning in at the gate. &ldquo;Bother!&rdquo; she exclaims,
-      her pretty face all of a scowl.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; asks Harold, who is on his knees on
-      the floor, trying to make some very stiff wrapping-paper accommodate
-      itself to the edges and corners of a generous box of luncheon, and is:
-      quite too preoccupied to look up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bother enough! Who do you suppose is coming up the path as large as
-      life? Albert, if you please, and he's all alone, and that means that
-      Margaret has left him at the corner, and that he has come <i>to spend the
-      day</i>.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bother I say too,&rdquo; exclaims Harold; &ldquo;we can't
-      send him home, and with Aunt Lou up in London, there's no one to
-      leave him with here, and of course we can't take him. Oh, why did he
-      happen to come to-day!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the truth of it was that Albert had not happened to come at all. His
-      visit had been deliberately planned for precisely this hour. Could any one
-      suppose for a moment, that he could hear all the beautiful plans fora
-      Knight-of-the-Garter day discussed in his presence, and never make an
-      effort to have a hand in it? To be sure, the children had tried to keep
-      the date a close-guarded secret, but Albert had got wind of it, all the
-      same; and here he was, bright and fresh as the day itself, marching up the
-      path, his little blue sacque folded carefully over one arm, and an
-      inviting luncheon hamper swinging from the other. Fortunately, considering
-      the ungracious mood of the two children in the library, his first
-      encounter chanced to be with Donald, who, arrayed in the white and blue of
-      his summer sailor-suit, was bending over the pansy bed, gathering a few
-      &ldquo;beauties&rdquo; into a bunch for Marie-Celeste; and so absorbed in
-      his task was he that he did not hear Albert's tread upon the walk.
-      &ldquo;Why, where did you come from?&rdquo; he said, looking up surprised.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you knowed where I tum from, Donald,&rdquo; Albert
-      replied in his literal fashion; &ldquo;but where do you s'pose I'm
-      doin'?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To London Town,&rdquo; laughed Donald, to whom it had not occurred
-      to regard Albert's arrival as likely to interfere with the day's
-      programme.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I'm doin' on your Knight-of-de-Garter party.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's cool,&rdquo; whispered Marie-Celeste, concealed
-      by the curtain, and yet near enough to hear all that was said through the
-      open window.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who asked you?&rdquo; queried Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat's de only trouble, Donald; dey didn't ask me,&rdquo;
-      his little face growing sorely worried as he spoke; &ldquo;but I guess it
-      was a mistake, don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder,&rdquo; for the little fellow's
-      aggrieved look was really piteous to see; &ldquo;but how did you get
-      permission to go, Albert?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I jus' told mamma you were all doin', and I jus'
-      begged and begged till she said I could do too; and, Donald, I didn't
-      zackly tell her I wasn't invited, 'cause I knowed it must be a
-      mistake.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bless his heart!&rdquo; whispered Harold, who was also listening by
-      this time under screen of the curtain.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The cunning thing!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste; and so it was easy to
-      see that two hard hearts were slowly but surely relenting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps dey tought I was too little, but I'm not, Donald,
-      really; I can walk all day an' carry my own coat an' basket.
-      Besides, I don't believe Harold will ever have anudder
-      Knight-of-de-Garter day, do you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; now's your chance, I guess,&rdquo; said Donald kindly,
-      slipping a great purple and yellow pansy into one of the buttonholes of
-      Albert's little frilled shirt as he spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where are de children, anyway?&rdquo; asked Albert, wonderfully
-      reassured by Donald's courteous reception; &ldquo;won't you
-      fin' dem for me, please, Donald, and tell dem I won't be a
-      badder, nor ask queshuns, and I'll jus' eat my own lunch and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this the hard hearts relented altogether, and Harold rushed out and
-      gave Albert a toss in the air that was very threatening to the eggs in the
-      luncheon basket; and as soon as he was on <i>terra firma</i> again
-      Marie-Celeste gave him a good hard hug, and both begged his pardon half a
-      dozen times over for ever assuming for a moment that he was &ldquo;too
-      little,&rdquo; and intimated that they felt very small indeed themselves
-      to think they had been so unfeeling as to plan not to include him in the
-      expedition. And so matters were beautifully adjusted, and the
-      Knight-of-the-Garter party set out with Harold Harris, student and devoted
-      admirer of the grand old knighthood, filling the important <i>role</i> of
-      interpreter and guide. And where did they go first but to the castle,
-      preferring to save until the last, because the best, the choir of St.
-      George's, where the banners of the knights are hung and where the
-      knights are duly installed. On the way Harold held forth, Marie-Celeste
-      and Donald walking one on either side of him, and Albert, determined not
-      to miss a word, trotting along at a sort of sidewise angle just in front,
-      and yet careful to keep well out of the way, too, for fear of the remotest
-      chance of &ldquo;boddering.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now to begin,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;you know a knight at first
-      was just a young man who had proved himself strong enough and brave enough
-      to wear armor and be a soldier, and after that there came to be orders of
-      knights. You remember I told you the other day what an order was, and how
-      the Order of the Knights of the Garter happened to be started.&rdquo; Yes,
-      they remembered that, but no one remembered that poor little Albert had
-      not been present on that occasion, and so knew nothing whatever about it;
-      but Albert, so very thankful in his heart that he had been allowed to come
-      at all, did not dare to make mention of the same.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where are we going first?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, who, unlike
-      poor Albert, felt herself at perfect liberty to ask every question that
-      occurred to her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To the Banqueting Hall, because it has more to do with the knights
-      than any other room in the castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, that's where they have the Garter and the Cross of
-      St. George woven even into the pattern of the carpet! And what about St.
-      George&mdash;who was he?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0100.jpg" alt="0100 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0100.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nobody knows, Marie-Celeste. He is supposed to have been a soldier
-      in the Roman Army, and to have killed a monstrous dragon that no one else
-      could overcome, and at last, after being dreadfully tortured for his faith
-      in Christianity, he is also supposed to have died a martyr's death.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Is supposed' isn't very satisfactory, Harold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, it isn't; but it can't be helped. Indeed, they knew
-      so little about him way back even in the fifth century, that one of the
-      popes, when he made up a list of the saints, said 'he was one of
-      those whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose actions are
-      known only to God.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You talk just like a book,&rdquo; remarked Donald, to whom Harold,
-      with his knowledge of men and things, was a never-ceasing wonder.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And good reason why, for I got it out of a book. Don't you
-      remember I told you I'd studied up about it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; as though thankful there was some sort of
-      explanation for such uncanny erudition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But how does this St. George come to be mixed up with the Knights
-      of the Garter?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is the way of it. You know what the Crusades were?&rdquo;
-      Marie-Celeste nodded yes, but intimating, with a significant glance in the
-      direction of Donald and Albert, that probably they did not, Harold took
-      the hint, and began over again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, ever so many years ago great armies of men went out from
-      England to try and get possession of the Holy Land, and each time an army
-      went out they called it a crusade, and on the first one the leader of the
-      army prayed to St. George to help him, and as he was very successful, that
-      made St. George's name very famous. Then afterward Richard Cour de
-      Lion, when he went to the Holy Land, put himself under St. George's
-      protection, and from that time he became the patron saint of England, and
-      that means, Albert&rdquo; (for Albert looked the question he longed to
-      ask), &ldquo;that England regarded him as the saint who would help her
-      most and be her special guardian.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, since Harold apparently considered
-      he had come to a natural pause in the narrative; &ldquo;but you haven't
-      told us what St. George and the Knights of the Garter have to do with each
-      other.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So I haven't; well, all the connection that I know of is,
-      that every year a feast in honor of St. George was ordered to be kept as a
-      holiday, and that the Order of the Garter was founded on that day&mdash;St.
-      George's Day&mdash;and that so the Cross of St. George and the
-      Garter of the Knights came to be a sort of double emblem for the order.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      By this time the children had reached the Norman Gate, and crossing the
-      quadrangle, Harold led the way into the State apartments, and being well
-      known to most of the guides of the castle, was allowed, with his little
-      party, to pass on unattended, and to make his way straight to the Grand
-      Banqueting Hall. From the moment they entered the castle, Donald was of no
-      use as far as receiving instruction was concerned. This being his first
-      visit to any castle whatever, he was far too much astonished and overawed
-      by everything he saw to be able to think of applying his mind to mere
-      historical detail.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Let Harold hold forth as eloquently as he chose about this old knight or
-      that old armor, for him there might never be another visit to this
-      wonderful place, and he was going to see it all in his own way. Harold and
-      Marie-Celeste were at first very much disgusted at his utter disregard of
-      the object of their visit, but disgust gradually gave way to amusement,
-      and the tale of the chivalrous old knights was even suspended for awhile,
-      that they might watch the little fellow's peculiar methods of
-      letting nothing escape him. Gazing in rapt wonder, he moved from one point
-      to another, wholly absorbed in his surroundings, and oblivious to the
-      presence of any one beside himself. Now he was standing in admiration
-      before the great oak chair of State beneath the organ gallery, and now
-      nothing loath he mounts the steps that lead to it and runs a finger along
-      the curves of its elaborate carving, and then, with a most reverent air,
-      touches the embroidered cross and garter with which it is decorated. All
-      this is making very free with State belongings, and one of the guides, in
-      charge of a small party of visitors, starts toward him in a decidedly
-      menacing manner; but Harold intercepts him and explains, and the guide,
-      himself much amused, decides to leave unmolested this gallant little tar
-      of Her Majesty's. And now Donald seeks out a corner of the room and
-      deliberately stretches himself on the floor, clasping his hands under the
-      back of his head. This is done the better to take in the elaborate
-      ceiling, decorated as it is with the armorial bearings of the knights of
-      five centuries, and now, with arm upraised and extended finger, he is
-      entering into some mathematical calculation of his own in connection with
-      the banners that hang just beneath the ceiling. And now what does the boy
-      do but suddenly exchange his vertical position for one quite the reverse,
-      and turn all his attention to the carpet; for did not Harold say it was
-      woven in some special way on purpose? Yes, sure enough! here is the Cross
-      of St. George in the centre of each little panel, and here&mdash;crossing
-      to the edge of the room&mdash;the beautiful circle of the gaiter worked
-      into the design of the border. Oh, but it is a wonderful place! and there
-      are probably other rooms just as wonderful; so a little closer look at the
-      brass shields and the helmets, and the portraits of the sovereigns ranged
-      along one side, and then, wholly unsuspicious of any disapproval, he walks
-      over to the children and remarks &ldquo;that now he would like to see the
-      other rooms, please.&rdquo; His delight in it all, and naïve
-      unconsciousness of anything unusual in his behavior, are altogether
-      irresistible, and Harold and Marie-Celeste, after a whispered conference,
-      decide to suspend Knight-of-the-Garter reminiscences for the time being,
-      and make the tour of the castle with him. Albert, who has found much of
-      Harold's narration quite beyond him, but has &ldquo;never let on&rdquo;
-      for one moment, hails the announcement with great inward rejoicing, and
-      the little quartette make their way to the Guard Chamber, as the place
-      next in interest. In every room Donald brings his own peculiar methods of
-      investigation to bear, not in the least minding a good deal of mirthful
-      laughter at his expense on the part of Harold and Marie-Celeste; and
-      Albert, feeling privileged to join in the general merriment, though
-      evidently half the time without in anywise appreciating the situation,
-      only helps on the jollity of things. Then when at noon, by special
-      permission of a very lenient guardsman, the children establish themselves
-      for luncheon on a terrace beneath the shade of the Round Tower,
-      Marie-Celeste and Albert and Harold agree that they had never had such fun&mdash;never!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you may call it fun,&rdquo; says Donald, quite willing that
-      they should, &ldquo;but I call it something better than that. The grandest
-      time I ever had, that's what I call it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But all the sights were not seen yet, and for the members of the little
-      party who still adhered to the Knight-of-the-Garter research the best was
-      yet to come, in St. George's Chapel. Entering at the door at the
-      south front and crossing to the centre, the children passed directly into
-      the choir, which is really a chapel in itself, and to them of special
-      interest, because the very place where the ceremony of installing'
-      the knights is performed. Harold led the way to the farther end, and they
-      took their seats on the steps of the chancel. Behind them the light fell
-      softly through the stained glass of the window over the altar; above them
-      waved the knights' silken banners, and just below each banner hung
-      the sword, mantle, and helmet of the knight whose crest it bore, mounted
-      against a background of elaborate carving. It was of course the spot of
-      spots for any one who, like Harold, had been initiated into all the
-      mysteries by being present at an installation, and he did justice to the
-      occasion. By this time even Donald, whose powers of endurance were not yet
-      of the strongest, was content to sit by, an apparent listener; but much
-      that Harold had to tell having little interest for him, he resorted to
-      that little trick to which some discriminating ears readily lend
-      themselves, of listening to what appealed to him and letting the rest go.
-      With Albert matters were reversed. He had completely lapsed from his
-      humble estate of the morning, when he felt in duty bound to at least
-      pretend to be an attentive listener, and when they reached the chapel,
-      already such a familiar place to him, he no longer even tried to keep up
-      appearances. A great big collie belonging to the verger, Mr. Brown,
-      sometimes made so bold as to steal in &ldquo;unbeknownst&rdquo; and curl
-      up on the cool marble in a dark corner of the choir, and Albert, who knew
-      the corner well, at once slipped away in the hope of finding him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Yes, there he was in the old place&mdash;dear, audacious old Timothy,
-      stretched close along the wall in the deep shadow of the Oueen's own
-      stall, as though well aware that it was the one spot where he might
-      reasonably expect to escape observation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0105.jpg" alt="0105 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0105.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Timothy,&rdquo; said Albert, approaching him on tiptoe; but
-      the warning was quite unnecessary. Nothing was farther from Timothy's
-      thoughts than to make any disturbance whatever&mdash;why should he? Were
-      they not the best of friends, he and that blessed little Albert? so he
-      never raised his head from where it rested upon his outstretched paws,
-      only looked up with that gaze of implicit confidence peculiar to the kind
-      eyes of the Laverick setter, and which made Albert lose not a second in
-      spreading his little coat out beneath him, throwing his two arms around
-      Timothy's neck, and pillowing his head on his beautiful silky coat.
-      Now, it is not granted to Laverick setters to purr in pussy's
-      demonstrative fashion, but they have a subdued little grateful purr of
-      their own, distinctly audible to an ear placed as close as Albert's
-      chanced to be, and Timothy at once indulged in the same. Outwardly,
-      however, not a sound was to be heard. Only the experienced eye and ear
-      could appreciate how intense were the depths of his canine satisfaction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We've had an awful good time this morning, Timothy,&rdquo;
-      Albert confided in a whisper; &ldquo;we've been all over the castle,
-      learning 'bout Knights of the Garter. Harold knows an awful lot
-      about 'em, but I'm tired of 'em, an' I don't
-      care to hear any more. I'd rather stay here wid you, Timothy. There,
-      please move that paw a little&mdash;that's it; now, Timothy, keep
-      very still! Please, please don't snap for that fly, or they'll
-      hear you; still! still, Timothy, while I stroke your head like this, till,
-      till&mdash;&rdquo; and the subject was dropped indefinitely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, if there are any questions you would like to ask?&rdquo; said
-      Harold, for, dear as was the subject to him, he really could think of
-      nothing more to tell.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed there are,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, who had
-      conscientiously tried not to interrupt, though there were a dozen lines
-      along which she desired information.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;First, will you tell me if they ever let the ladies have any part
-      in all the feasting and good times you have told about?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes! There was a time when the wives of the knights were called
-      Ladies of the Society of the Garter, and they used to be allowed to wear
-      violet-colored or white cloth robes 'furred,' as one old book
-      says, and embroidered with garters. The number of garters depended on
-      their rank. But in the reign of King Henry the Eighth, for some reason
-      that branch of the order was given up. By the way, Henry the Eighth is
-      buried just yonder,&rdquo; pointing a few feet away. &ldquo;There's
-      a royal vault right under those tiles, and Charles the First, whose head
-      Cromwell cut off, is buried there too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You don't mean it!&rdquo; for Donald was all attention the
-      second there was anything so thrilling as cut-off heads in the wind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, there's another thing I'd like to know,&rdquo;
-      said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;and that is, how long do they let a knight's
-      banner hang there? because when a new knight is made his banner has to be
-      put up somewhere.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, of course; and so when a man dies they take away everything
-      except the brass plate at the back of the stall that belonged to him, and
-      that has his name on and all his titles.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I like the American way of not having any titles,&rdquo; said
-      Donald; &ldquo;seems to me they're an awful fuss and bother. Of
-      course <i>you</i> don't believe in them, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't exactly care for the titles and such a
-      ridiculous lot of letters coming after one's name, but I should
-      think it would be nice to know who your greatest grandfather was, and that
-      he was a gentleman into the bargain, for that's what some of the
-      titles mean, you know. They've come down from father to son for
-      centuries.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'd be satisfied just to know who my own father was,&rdquo;
-      said Donald with a sigh, and Marie-Celeste wished she had not said
-      anything to bring that sad fact to mind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you say, Harold,&rdquo; she asked, by way of quickly changing
-      the subject, &ldquo;that Edward the Third, who founded the Order of the
-      Carter, built this chapel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; but I said that the chapel that he did build and dedicated to
-      St. George stood right where this choir is now. This chapel was commenced
-      a hundred years later, and the old one torn down.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Donald, getting onto his feet, &ldquo;one way and
-      another I've learned a great deal to-day&mdash;just about as much as
-      I can hold, seems to me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I'm tired, too,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste admitted; &ldquo;but
-      we're ever so much obliged, it's been very interesting; but
-      look here, Donald, before we go, I want to show you something,&rdquo; and
-      she led the way to a stall of one of the knights.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;See,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, pushing the seat of the stall from
-      beneath, so that it folded up against the back, thereby bringing to view a
-      queer little wooden projection about six inches wide.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, Donald, will you believe that is all the seat the old knights
-      used to have in these stalls? They've preserved them in this way
-      just as a curiosity. Things are more comfortable for them now, you see,
-      but in the old times they were afraid the knights would go to sleep during
-      the service, and so made them uncomfortable to keep them awake.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a bad idea,&rdquo; mused Donald, as though he had more than
-      once in his life experienced a similar temptation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I think it was, then,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste decidedly.
-      &ldquo;This church is enough in itself to keep a man awake if he has any
-      thoughts to think, no matter how dull the sermon might happen to be; but
-      then I know&rdquo;&mdash;with an insinuating shrug of the shoulders&mdash;&ldquo;some
-      men, and boys too I suppose, never do have any thoughts to think. If they're
-      not eating or being amused, sleep's the only thing for them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was a whimsical little look in Donald's face, which an
-      American street gamin would have interpreted as &ldquo;what are you giving
-      us?&rdquo; He did not say anything, however; and just then Harold, who had
-      strolled on by himself, came toward them, his face aglow with merriment.
-      &ldquo;I believe&rdquo;&mdash;speaking to Donald&mdash;&ldquo;you said you'd
-      like to see a live Knight of the Garter; now come right along quickly and
-      I'll show you one.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      What could he mean? Donald and Marie-Celeste elbowed each other in their
-      haste to discover, and in the next moment sure enough there he was right
-      before them. He was only a little knight, to be sure, not over four, and
-      sound asleep at that, with one arm thrown around a big dog, who was also
-      sound asleep. A knight he was, however, beyond all dispute, for there was
-      the unmistakable blue garter plainly visible, and in exactly the right
-      place, too, on the left leg just below the knee. He had not meant that any
-      one should know it, such a modest little knight was he; but alas! the
-      weakness of drowsiness had overtaken the valiant little fellow, and in the
-      disorder thereon attendant the shapely little limb had thrust itself forth
-      from the folds of the protecting kilt, and there was the garter plainly
-      visible to the most casual passer-by.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, will you believe it?&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, stooping down
-      for closer inspection, &ldquo;'Honi soit qui mal y pense,' as
-      large as life in gold letters running all round it&mdash;just as near the
-      real thing as possible.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald and Harold were on the eve of laughing outright, but Marie-Celeste,
-      detecting a suspicious blinking in the long curling lashes of the eyelids,
-      kept them still by an imperative gesture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, ladies and gentlemen,&rdquo; she said, imitating exactly old
-      Brown's tone and accent when showing visitors through the chapel,
-      &ldquo;this is a monument erected to the memory of a knight who was killed
-      in battle, together with his noble palfrey. It represents him as he was
-      found, one arm around the neck of his faithful charger&rdquo; (at this the
-      knight's lips also betrayed a certain uncontrollable twitching).
-      &ldquo;The smile upon his face is considered one of the chief charms of
-      the statue; but the way that we know that he is a knight&mdash;in fact,
-      the only way&mdash;is by this blue garter around his knee.&rdquo; At this
-      the little limb was suddenly drawn up, that the tell-tale garter might be
-      hid from view; and then, able to stand it no longer, Albert looked up
-      entreatingly to the children above him, and blushingly explained, &ldquo;Dorothy
-      made it for me, just for a bit of fun, you know;&rdquo; and then sure to a
-      certainty that he never, never would hear the end of that blue garter,
-      buried his blushes in Timothy's long silky coat, and rued the hour
-      when Dorothy had so merrily abetted his desire for this particular &ldquo;bit
-      of fun.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XI.&mdash;WHAT CAME OF A LETTER.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9109.jpg" alt="9109 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9109.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am convinced this
-      is not the best sort of life for Donald. It would be vastly better for him
-      to have something to do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But surely he is not yet in a condition to go to sea again, and it
-      is next to impossible to find any temporary position for him in Windsor.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris were out for a drive behind Harold's chestnut
-      ponies, and, as usual, when something important had need to be talked
-      over, the ponies did pretty much as they liked, and that meant, I am
-      ashamed to say (for they were quite too young to so much as think of being
-      lazy), keeping up the merest pretence of a trot for a while, and then
-      subsiding into a walk altogether.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris, apparently none the wiser, talked on and on, and the
-      ponies put their heads together, as though actually conferring as to the
-      advisability of stopping to graze a little while by the way.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see, this sort of life is too luxurious for the fellow,&rdquo;
-      argued Mr. Harris. &ldquo;It was well enough while he needed care and
-      nursing, but the boy has always had to rough it, and he'll have to
-      rough it again; and I think we're unfitting him for it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But what can we do? It is better for him to be idle here with us,
-      it seems to me, than in some ordinary lodging-house, where things, to be
-      sure, are not by any means luxurious, but where a boy who is not at work
-      meets with so many temptations.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if it would not be a good idea to write Chris Hartley? He
-      told me his grandfather has a snug little place and several head of stock,
-      and, like as not, Donald would make himself of use, or, at any rate, Chris
-      could keep him occupied in some way, and we could pay his board for him
-      there. He won't be strong enough to put to sea before September,
-      that's certain.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's a splendid idea, Fritz; you always seem to be able to
-      construct some sort of a highroad out of every difficulty;&rdquo; and Mr.
-      Harris said, &ldquo;Thank you, madam,&rdquo; with an affectation of
-      profound gratitude; but for all that he was none the less truly grateful.
-      We are a little too apt, most of us, to assume too much with our nearest
-      and dearest&mdash;to take for granted that they know all the thoughts of
-      our heart, and so seldom put our praise of them into words. But what a
-      mistake! Is there anything so precious in all this world as the openly
-      expressed admiration of the people we really love? No matter how one
-      pretends to receive it, it makes one feel very happy at heart all the
-      same, and humble and grateful as well. You'd forgive this bit of
-      what the critics call moralizing&mdash;it is all the outcome of that
-      remark of Mrs. Harris's; nothing was further from my thoughts until
-      she put it into my head by giving Mr. Harris that unexpected little
-      compliment. It was the truth, however. He did have a genius for overcoming
-      difficulties, instead of being overcome by them; and the particular
-      difficulty of what had best be none with Donald being temporarily settled,
-      they proceeded to give themselves wholly to the pleasure of the drive.
-      They readjusted things in the comfortable little phaeton and tucked the
-      lap-robe about them in trimmer fashion, and then the ponies, feeling a
-      tightening grasp on the lines, and intuitively conscious of a whip poised
-      at an easily descending angle, wisely saw fit to make up for lost time.
-      Along the perfect English road they scampered, and out to Virginia Water,
-      at the merriest pace, and then home again at a better pace still, so
-      alluring to their pony imaginations were the box stalls and oats that lay
-      in that direction. They only wished so much time did not have to be wasted
-      after they reached there. How thoughtless it was to walk a pony, who had
-      just come in from a long drive, up and down a lane for half an hour, just
-      for the sake of giving a groom a little exercise! They did protest with
-      their heels now and then, but that only meant a closer, more uncomfortable
-      grip on the halter, and made matters rather worse than better. And so what
-      wonder, with all this fuss and senseless bother, that Mr. Harris had
-      written and mailed a letter to Mr. Christopher Hartley before the ponies
-      had gotten so much as their noses within their own box stalls! As for the
-      letter, you would have thought it harmless enough could you have looked
-      over Mr. Harris's shoulder as he wrote it. It simply related the
-      facts about Donald, and asked if old Mr. and Mrs. Hartley would not be
-      good enough to take him to board for the rest of the summer, and if Chris
-      would not contrive to keep him occupied about the farm in some way that
-      should not overtax his newly gained strength. That was all there was in
-      it, and yet can you not surmise how even that letter was calculated to
-      work great consternation in the mind of some one in the little thatched
-      cottage&mdash;some one who never saw the letter itself, and who did not so
-      much as know of its existence until it had been read and re-read and
-      thought over and answered, but who when one day he was made acquainted
-      with its contents felt as weak as a kitten for hours afterward? He
-      happened to be lying on the lounge in the living-room at the time, the
-      same lounge to which he had been carried more dead than alive apparently,
-      just four weeks before. He looked very pale and white still, but the
-      doctor said he was getting on as fast as could be expected, only Ted&mdash;for
-      of course it is Ted we are talking about&mdash;wished he might have been
-      expected to get on just five times faster. He had had a great deal of time
-      to think during the first part of his illness&mdash;in fact, he had had
-      nothing else to do, for the doctor would not let him use his eyes&mdash;and
-      he had made up his mind that when he was himself once more he was going to
-      begin life all over again, and naturally he was anxious to get to work.
-      There was that in his face, however, that showed plainly enough that he
-      had begun already, though he did not in the least suspect it; an earnest,
-      thoughtful look that even bluff old Mr. Hartley was quick to detect.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Seems like, to look at our new lodger, that he's mendin'
-      in more ways than one,&rdquo; he had said to his wife as they walked to
-      the parish church on a sunshiny Sunday morning, the second after Ted's
-      accident. &ldquo;There's a kind of a light in his eye, as though he
-      was meditatin' turnin' over a new leaf when he gets a chance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's turned it already, I'm thinking, Thomas,&rdquo;
-      answered Mrs. Hartley, with a woman's clearer discernment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And it was on that same Sunday morning, just two weeks before, that Ted
-      had made a discovery. Chris had staid home from church to take care of
-      him, Harry Allyn, who had constituted himself Ted's nurse, having
-      gone for a day or two up to Oxford, where some matters needed his
-      attention. Ted was still in bed at the time, but tired enough of it, and
-      glad to draw Chris into conversation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is queer to think of you as in the employ of 'Uncle Sam,'&rdquo;
-      said Ted, who by this time had come to be on most friendly terms with
-      Chris.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I look as though I belonged right here, don't I?&rdquo; said
-      Chris, glancing down at his English suit of homespun. &ldquo;But you ought
-      to see me in my gray uniform and brass buttons. Really, Mr. Morris, fond
-      as I am of the old people here, I often wish I were back at work again. It
-      seems like my own country over there now, and I've grown to love it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't know exactly&mdash;somewhere about the first of
-      October. Same steamer, if I can manage it, with Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste!&rdquo; exclaimed Ted; and then, bethinking himself,
-      he asked quite casually, &ldquo;Who is Marie-Celeste, I should like to
-      know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, she's just a dear child, Mr. Morris&mdash;a little
-      American of twelve or thereabouts&mdash;but there isn't a little
-      girl in all England can hold a candle to her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Can it be possible there are two little American Marie-Celestes in
-      England this summer?&rdquo; thought Ted; and then, trying with all his
-      might not to betray his excitement, he asked further, &ldquo;How did you
-      come to know her, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She's on my route, Mr. Morris. Along of my being fond of
-      children, I know all of the boys and girls pretty well at the houses where
-      I call; but Marie-Celeste is different from the rest. She just takes your
-      heart by storm, with her confiding, little trusting ways and her interest
-      in you. Here's a picture of her, that her mother let her give me
-      last Christmas,&rdquo; and Chris began a search through many papers in his
-      wallet for the cherished photograph. Meantime, Ted realized how weak he
-      was, that such a matter as this should put him into a tremble; and later,
-      when Chris gave him the photograph, he could only manage by the greatest
-      effort to keep his hand from shaking as he held it, but the picture
-      settled matters. From beneath the curve of a wide-brimmed hat looked forth
-      the familiar face of his own little cousin, Marie-Celeste, and the color
-      rushed up into his forehead.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I guess I'm tiring you with talking so much,&rdquo; said
-      Chris; &ldquo;I'll tell you all about her some other time;&rdquo;
-      and Ted, replying, &ldquo;Well, somehow or other, I do seem to get
-      exhausted precious easily,&rdquo; turned over and closed his eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A nap'll do wonders for you, Mr. Morris;&rdquo; and lowering
-      the shades at the two ivy-grown windows, and adjusting the screen that
-      stood near the bed, Chris left the room. But a nap, as often happens,
-      would not do anything at all for poor Ted just then. It did not have the
-      ghost of a chance, in fact. How could it with so many queer thoughts and
-      sensations chasing each other pell-mell through his mind. Wouldn't
-      Chris be surprised, he thought, if he knew that Marie-Celeste was his own
-      cousin, and living that moment in Ted's own home was one of the
-      precious company from whom he was anxious to keep all knowledge of this
-      worst and last scrape. But he felt like a fraud, lying there in the
-      Hartleys' dear little cottage, and letting them think him another
-      man altogether from the fellow he really was. Indeed, he experienced the
-      same sensation every time any one called him by the name of Morris, which
-      had been the first name to occur to Harry Allyn, in his desire to shield
-      his friend on the night of the accident. &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; argued
-      Ted, &ldquo;I'm doing it to save the folks at home the disgrace of
-      it, and Harry and Dr. Arnold seem to think it all right; and yet, I
-      declare if I know myself what to think. And what a remarkable thing it is
-      that I should have fallen right into the hands of this old friend of
-      Marie-Celeste's! Like as not my secret will out some day in spite of
-      me. It would have been out at once if Chris had not been so considerate as
-      to keep himself out of the way, so that we did not meet that morning on
-      the steamer. I wonder if I ought not to tell just Chris, anyway; but
-      somehow or other I do not seem to have strength enough even to make up my
-      mind, and I'll give up trying for the present;&rdquo; and so,
-      ceasing to make any effort whatever, the little nap that would not come
-      for the asking stole quietly in and laid its blessed touch of oblivion
-      upon poor, troubled Ted. Now, this discovery of Ted's, that Chris
-      was a friend of Marie-Celeste, and the perplexing state of mind that
-      followed, had transpired, you understand, two weeks previous to this
-      particular chapter, and Ted, you remember, is lying on the chintz-covered
-      lounge in the living-room, having gained strength enough in the mean time
-      to walk from his bed to the lounge unaided. Mr. Hartley is reading his
-      morning paper, sitting in the shade just outside the cottage door, with
-      his chair tipped back against the shingles. Now and then, as he comes
-      across anything he thinks will interest Ted, he lets the chair drop on to
-      all-fours, shifts his position so as to bring himself into line with the
-      door, and reads the article or paragraph aloud. Ted, amused, and grateful
-      as well at the manner in which the old keeper has gradually softened
-      toward him, always listens attentively, and courteously feigns interest,
-      when he finds he cannot command the real article. Mrs. Hartley, still busy
-      about her morning household duties, occasionally flits in and out of the
-      room, and Ted's eyes follow her devotedly every moment that she is
-      there. He has grown to love the dear old grandmother with the whole of his
-      wayward heart, and she seems to him the embodiment of all that is calm and
-      loving and benignant. Indeed, it were difficult to tell how much of the
-      blessed change that has been gradually coming over Ted is due to her
-      noble, placid face. He has sufficient knowledge of human nature to realize
-      that nothing but years and years of noblest thinking and doing will bring
-      that look into a face, and he finds his soul fairly bowing down before
-      her. On one of these busy flittings of Mrs. Hartley's, Ted has
-      detained her for a moment, to ask some trifling question, and just as she
-      is about to make a reply, Chris, returning from his daily ride into
-      Nuneham for the mail, swings into the room with his breezy, postman-like
-      air, and empties the contents of the little Hartley mail-bag upon the
-      table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0115.jpg" alt="0115 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0115.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's all settled, granny dear,&rdquo; he says, as he picks
-      out two letters and hands them to Ted; &ldquo;I've had a letter from
-      Marie-Celeste and one from Mr. Harris, and he'll be down to-morrow
-      on the three-o'clock train.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My goodness!&rdquo; mutters Ted under his breath, staring at Chris
-      a moment in blank astonishment, and then straightway pretends to be all
-      absorbed in his own mail. One or two college bills, forwarded by Harry
-      Allyn from Oxford, were all there was to it, for, alas! there were no home
-      letters for Ted in these days of self-imposed exile from kith and kin. The
-      bills, however, gave him a chance to pull himself together, as he made a
-      ruse of carefully examining them, while his heart thumped like a
-      trip-hammer at the thought of Uncle Fritz coming down to Nuneham and
-      finding him stranded there, helpless, good-for-nothing fellow that he felt
-      himself to be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You say you saw a great deal of him on the steamer, Chris?&rdquo;
-      said Mrs. Hartley, who had seated herself in the nearest chair, awaiting
-      the budget of news that Chris always endeavored to bring out from Nuneham,
-      for the enlivening of the old people.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, granny, a great deal. I really don't know how he would
-      have managed but for me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's cool,&rdquo; thought Ted; &ldquo;I'm sure Uncle
-      Fritz seems quite able to take care of himself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he's a good-looking little fellow, is he, Chris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-looking and good-natured, granny dear; you'll take to
-      him right from the start.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Well, this was passing comprehension! Uncle Fritz a good-looking,
-      good-natured little fellow; and forgetting everything else in his
-      amazement, Ted turned from Chris to Mrs. Hartley, and back again to Chris,
-      in hopeless bewilderment, while they, wholly unobservant, continued to
-      converse in what seemed to him most idiotic fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They talked about his illness, and of how kind Marie-Celeste and her
-      Cousin Harold had been to him, and of what wonders they hoped Nuneham
-      would do for him, and of how, for his own sake, they must continue to keep
-      him busy in little matters about the farm.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Really,&rdquo; said Ted at last, able to stand it no longer, and
-      looking pathetically toward Chris, &ldquo;I don't mean to be
-      inquisitive, but do I understand you that the father of your friend,
-      Marie-Celeste, is coming here to your cottage to recruit from some
-      illness, and that you plan to entertain him by putting him to work on the
-      farm?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      If either Chris or Mrs. Hartley had been close observers of human nature,
-      they would have been almost alarmed at the expression on Ted's face.
-      It was as though he felt himself in some way impelled to ask a question
-      which proclaimed him a pitiful lunatic on the face of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dear, no!&rdquo; laughed Chris; &ldquo;I&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's exactly what you said,&rdquo; interrupted Ted.
-      &ldquo;You said you had a letter from Marie-Celeste and one from her
-      father, and that he'd be down on the three-o'clock train
-      to-morrow.&rdquo; Ted spoke petulantly, feeling it was inexcusable to
-      scare a fellow half to death in that manner.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, <i>he</i>, Mr. Morris,&rdquo; ascribing Ted's petulance
-      to the nervousness of slow convalescence, &ldquo;happens to mean a little
-      sailor boy who crossed on the steamer with us, and about whom Mr. Harris
-      and I have been corresponding. It was funny enough that you should have
-      applied all I have said to a man like Mr. Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ted did not think it so very funny, and his face showing it, Chris
-      continued in a half-apologetic tone, &ldquo;I ought to have told you about
-      him, Mr. Morris, and I thought I had and then, by the way of making
-      amends, Chris proceeded to narrate all the details of Donald's
-      various experiences in a way that was somewhat of a bore to one who knew
-      it all as Ted did.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he thought, when he was finally left to himself once
-      more, it's out of the frying-pan and into the fire,' or
-      something very much like it. Of course I'll have to take Donald into
-      my confidence; but like as not he'll come suddenly upon me, and
-      blurt out just who I am before I get a chance to give him a point or two.
-      There's no doubt about it, 'the way of the transgressor <i>is</i>
-      hard'&mdash;very hard indeed and with a grim sort of smile on his
-      face, Ted gathered his dressing-gown about him, and with rather shaky
-      steps sought the seclusion of his own little room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XII.&mdash;DONALD'S NEW QUARTERS.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9119.jpg" alt="9119 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9119.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day for Donald's
-      departure had arrived&mdash;that is, to the extent that the sun, rising
-      clear and bright at four o'clock, shone alike upon the big castle on
-      the hill and the little one beneath it. In the big castle, let us hope,
-      since we may not know, that even crowned heads were resting easily, and
-      that the level rays were powerless at that early hour to waken them to
-      that sense of great uneasiness supposed to be inseparable from the lot of
-      the &ldquo;nobly born.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But alas! I for one know to a Certainty that in the little castle there
-      was rebellion almost amounting to mutiny, and that one curly, uncrowned
-      head, that need not have had a care in all the world, was tossing uneasily
-      on its pillow. It was behaving, indeed, like the most unruly little head
-      imaginable, and obstinately refusing to accept a course of action which
-      heads far older and wiser than the little head in question had agreed upon
-      as in every way desirable. Indeed, the little queen, whose realm was the
-      hearts of her nearest and dearest, would have been obliged to abdicate,
-      for a while at least, I fancy, had she not chosen before nightfall of that
-      same day to bury her head in the lap of her very most loyal subject, and
-      with tears and sohs confess to her extreme unreasonableness and avow her
-      determination not soon again to be overtaken by such a sorry state of mind
-      and temper. Even Donald stared at Marie-Celeste in grieved and reproving
-      wonder, and yet to all appearances it was all for Donald's sake,
-      this defiant, protesting attitude of hers, and Donald knew it. The trouble
-      was that Marie-Celeste did not see or would not see either rhyme or reason
-      in Donald's being sent down to Nuneham.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She gave full rein to a certain &ldquo;little member,&rdquo; and working
-      herself up to the highest pitch of excitement, gave vent in very
-      aggressive fashion to such sentiments as these. For her part, she thought
-      it was a downright shame to send a little fellow, who was just getting
-      over a fever, away to work himself to death on an old farm, where he would
-      surely be ill again before a week was over. And then it seemed so mean not
-      to be willing to pay his expenses outright for just one summer, till he
-      should be able to go to sea, instead of making him go to work and earn
-      money in the mean time.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For her part, too, when somebody (which was Harold) stood ready only too
-      gladly to pay Donald's way on the trip they were to take through the
-      Lake Country, and was just longing to invite him, she thought it was <i>cruelly
-      unkind</i> in somebody else (which was her father) to say he did not think
-      best that he should be invited. If she were Harold, she just believed she
-      would go right ahead as she thought best herself. She should think he had
-      a right to do what he chose with his own without so much as asking &ldquo;by
-      your leave&rdquo; of anybody.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And this unqueenly state of mind lasted, I am sorry to say, for three
-      whole days together, to the dire distress of the truest hearts in her
-      kingdom. And all this while the wilful little queen was trying to convince
-      herself that it was ready for Donald's sake, when the truth was that
-      the long walks with Donald, when Harold&mdash;who was making up some
-      necessary back work at college&mdash;was not at her service, were what she
-      was determined not to give up, and the reading aloud in the evenings, when
-      Donald was such a delightful listener; and, in fact, the hundred and one
-      little amusing things that Donald was continually doing, and that made the
-      days go by in such happy, merry fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      If only at the outset some good little fairy might have held a magic
-      mirror close to her defiant little mind, and she could have seen &ldquo;selfishness&rdquo;
-      written large, right straight across all her motives, there perhaps need
-      never have been this dark chapter in her reign. But lacking the fairies,
-      some of us have to learn a good many things from experience; and though
-      hard enough in the learning, the lessons are worth their weight in gold.
-      Even queens have to goto the same school, and it is a blessed thing for
-      everybody when its lessons are learned <i>by heart</i> and in a way to be
-      always remembered.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But at sunset on the fourth day Marie-Celeste relented, and coming into
-      the house with a white flag of truce at her eyes, threw herself at the
-      feet of her dearest subject, and burying her head, as I have already
-      hinted, in the lap of the same, capitulated body and soul.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald was gone. They had seen him off at the station&mdash;Harold and she&mdash;and
-      Donald, never allowing himself for a moment to regard this whole affair in
-      any light but the true one, kept a stiff upper lip to the last, and smiled
-      the cheeriest good-by as the guard banged the carriage-door and the train
-      glided out from the depot. Before he jumped on the train, however, he had
-      whispered, as the last of many entreaties: &ldquo;I know it's all
-      for my sake, Marie-Celeste, but all the same, it's an awful grind on
-      me the way you're acting; and if you don't come to see it so
-      pretty soon, your father and mother will wish they had never let you do
-      anything for me. Honor bright, Marie-Celeste, you're not fair to
-      them or to me at all. Please give in as soon as you go home, and say you're
-      sorry, because you are&mdash;you <i>know</i> you are.&rdquo; And it was
-      the &ldquo;yes, I am&rdquo; in Marie-Celeste's eyes, though her lips
-      still firmly pressed each other, that made Donald's heart a
-      thousand-fold lighter. And so, as you have read, Marie-Celeste did really
-      give in, without so much as a mental reservation, and other hearts than
-      Donald's were wondrously lightened, and there was joy throughout all
-      the kingdom that the queen had come to her senses.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Donald's train made good time to Nuneham; and there was
-      Chris at the station waiting with open arms to receive him, and, what was
-      more, he took Donald into them in a way that nipped in the bud those queer
-      little misgivings that spring up unbidden when one chances to be leaving
-      old scenes for new. And then when they reached the cottage, there stood
-      dear old Mis, Hartley, looking the picture of motherliness in her
-      snow-white cap and kerchief; and the welcome that she gave Donald made him
-      feel beyond all doubting that he had but exchanged one dear home for
-      another; and that meant worlds to a boy who had come to know for the first
-      time what a dear place home might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0122.jpg" alt="0122 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0122.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      In the hour that intervened between Donald's arrival and supper he
-      had had a chat with Mr. Hartley, in which the old keeper had taken to the
-      boy immensely; had made friends with Martha, as she showed him to the
-      little room under the eaves and helped him to stow away the contents of
-      his sailor chest, and had won his way straight to Mrs. Hartley's
-      heart, who was but a woman, after all, and gratified by the undisguised
-      admiration in his frank, honest eyes. There remained only one inmate of
-      the cottage yet to be encountered&mdash;the gentleman about whom Chris had
-      told him, and who had met with the driving accident a few weeks back; but
-      the gentleman in question bad his own ideas as to the time and place when
-      that dreaded encounter was to be gotten through with, and Donald was not
-      to be favored with an interview that evening.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If it's not too much bother, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; Ted had
-      said, &ldquo;I'll have my supper here in my room to-night. I think
-      for a first drive Harry took me a little too far this afternoon.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was afraid of that&mdash;afraid of that,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Hartley, looking at Ted with the deepest solicitude, so that Ted felt like
-      a fraud, for though tired indeed from the drive, he had quite strength
-      enough to take his seat at the table with the rest but for the presence of
-      that new and undesired guest, Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your sailor-boy arrived all right?&rdquo; asked Ted, partly by way
-      of diverting conversation from himself and partly because there was the
-      possibility of meeting him to be provided against.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; her face lighting up as she spoke; &ldquo;and
-      he seems the most attractive little fellow. I want you should meet him
-      after&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not to-night, I think, Mrs. Hartley, if you don't mind. I'll
-      just see Harry a few moments when he comes and turn in very early. The
-      little sailor-boy will keep all right till morning, won't he?'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Deeply annoyed that Ted's strength should have been so apparently
-      overtaxed, Mrs. Hartley paid no attention to this last remark.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall take Mr. Allyn to task when he comes to-night,&rdquo; she
-      said severely (that is, for her); &ldquo;he should have known better; but
-      if I leave you now perhaps you'll get a good sleep before ever it's
-      time for your supper;&rdquo; and then as she went out Ted drew a long
-      sigh, and had half a mind to call the dear old lady back and take her
-      right into his confidence. But no; on the whole, he thought he would wait
-      and once more consult Harry, and, besides, he was really too tired to
-      enter upon any explanations just then.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, where's Ted?&rdquo; asked Harry Allyn with real concern,
-      as at his usual hour he brought up at the doorway of the little cottage
-      and peered into the room beyond. The evening meal over, the old couple
-      were seated on the settle just outside the door, and Mrs. Hartley made
-      room for Harry between them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've quite used Mr. Morris up!&rdquo; she said reprovingly;
-      &ldquo;you ought not to have gone so far; all these weeks of nursing ought
-      to have taught you better than that, Mr. Allyn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Mrs. Hartley!&rdquo; for from any one so mild this was indeed
-      censure. &ldquo;Really I think you are a little hard on me. It was Ted's
-      own fault. I wanted to turn back two or three times, and Ted wouldn't
-      hear of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You should have turned, all the same. Invalids never know what is
-      best for them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, how used up is he?&rdquo; asked Harry with a sigh, more
-      concerned at the thought of harm done to Ted even than at Mrs. Hartley's
-      disapproval. &ldquo;It is an awful pity if he's going to have a
-      regular set-back.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, it's not so bad as that, I fancy;&rdquo; for sooner or
-      later, Mrs. Hartley always felt self-reproachful, no matter how justly she
-      had taken any one to task; &ldquo;but Mr. Morris wants to see you for a
-      few moments, so you can go in and judge for yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So, you're a wreck,&rdquo; said Harry, entering Ted's
-      room and closing the door gently after him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I'm pretty tired, but I'm here for a reason, you
-      know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; evidently relieved; &ldquo;I thought possibly that was
-      it; you didn't get any chance, then, to have a word with Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; there didn't seem to be any way to manage, so I just kept
-      my room. Some day soon I'm going to tell them here all about myself,
-      but I want to do it in my own time and way, and not seem pushed to it
-      because of Donald's coming, and as though I only told because I
-      thought I couldn't keep them longer from knowing.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Look here, Ted, I'll manage this thing for you,&rdquo; said
-      Harry, after a few moments' silence. &ldquo;I'll drop in to
-      breakfast in the morning, and I'll contrive somehow to get the boy
-      in here for a word with you as soon as he shows his face below stairs.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Agreed,&rdquo; answered Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, good-night, and do you get a good rest, so that Mrs.
-      Hartley will not think me wholly unfit in future to act as guardian on
-      your drives.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      True to his word, bright and early the next morning Harry unbolted the
-      outer door of the inn at Nuneham, where no one was yet stirring, and
-      started for his two-mile walk to the Hartleys'. It was a glorious
-      July morning, the air clear as a bell, and a bird here and there carolling
-      with all the abandon of June in the hedgerows.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      One after the other he passed the typical little English farms that skirt
-      the roadway, seeming in their trim perfection and miniature proportions
-      more like toys to unaccustomed eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was only half-past six by the time he reached the Hartleys', and
-      Donald, as good fortune would have it, had just come downstairs and was
-      standing right in the doorway. Donald, who had been absent on a tour of
-      the farm with Chris when Harry was at the house the night before, at once
-      surmised who the new-comer was, but gazed in blank amazement, none the
-      less, as Harry, calling him by name, commanded him rather imperatively to
-      stay just where he was for a moment. Then opening Ted's door, Harry
-      said in a loud whisper:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He's just outside here, and there's no one else within
-      gun-shot; shall I bring him in?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sighed Ted, since the thing was inevitable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      No sooner said than done. Donald found himself in the stranger's
-      room and with his face aflame with the strangeness and suddenness of the
-      manner of his introduction. But behold! he was no stranger. In bed though
-      Ted was, and pale and white from his illness, one glance was sufficient,
-      and Donald stood transfixed, his hands on his hips in sailor fashion and
-      absolutely speechless.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know me, Donald?&rdquo; said Ted, raising himself on one elbow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; getting the words out with difficulty; &ldquo;you're
-      Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, but stop right where you are, for you're not to mention
-      here who I am. Do you think you can keep a secret?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I choose I can for this was a very queer proceeding, and he was
-      not going to be led blindfold.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, will you please be good enough to choose to keep it
-      till matters can be explained to you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;When will that be?&rdquo; in a business-like way that was rather
-      amusing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Till we can go for a walk after breakfast, and I can enlighten you,&rdquo;
-      said Harry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you mean that now, just for a little while, I am not to let the
-      Hartleys know that we've met before?&rdquo; but as though he did not
-      in the least take to the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Ted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, of course I can't refuse to do that much; but up at
-      Windsor, you know, they think you are off on a driving trip, and are
-      wondering that you don't write.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's nothing to wonder at in that,&rdquo; Ted answered a
-      little sadly; &ldquo;Harold knows I've never been in the habit of
-      writing, or of doing some other things, for that matter, that might
-      perhaps have been expected of me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; was Donald's frank answer; &ldquo;it's
-      an awful pity.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Nough said, my young friend,&rdquo; remarked Harry, and
-      fearing what next might follow, marched him out of the room with a &ldquo;Now
-      be on your guard, young man, and be sure and remember your promise.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIII.&mdash;MADAME LA GRANDE REINE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9127.jpg" alt="9127 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9127.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey had spent a
-      most interesting hour at the Royal Mews, and, rare good fortune, the best
-      was yet to come. They means Mr. Harris and Marie-Celeste and Albert, and
-      the Royal Mews&mdash;since to the average little American the words
-      doubtless are wholly unintelligible&mdash;means the royal stables. Mr.
-      Harris and Marie-Celeste had called by appointment in the phaeton lor
-      Albert, and then leaving the ponies in the care of a groom at the entrance
-      to the stable courtyard, in company with another groom they had visited
-      the royal horses. The place as a whole was rather disappointing to our
-      little party. Harold, who had been all through the stables of the Duke of
-      Westminster at Eton Hall, had described something much finer than this&mdash;imposing
-      buildings surrounding a courtyard paved with bevel-edged squares of stone,
-      with not so much as a whisp of hay or straw to be seen anywhere, and in
-      the centre a noble statue of a high-spirited horse, rearing and pulling
-      hard at the bridle, held in the hand of a stalwart groom, who seems fully
-      equal to the occasion. Here there was nothing of the sort, and yet these
-      were the Queen's stables. Ah, well! these were old and the Duke's
-      were new, and perhaps the royal family were trying to avoid extravagance,
-      and that was of course very commendable. But what seemed lacking in
-      elegance of appointment was made up in the number of horses; and happening
-      to enter one of the courtyards just as three of the court carriages were
-      about to be driven out of it, the children were intensely interested.
-      Marie-Celeste opened her eyes wide for wonder at the novel sight of a
-      coach and four, but with no reins anywhere about the harness, and not so
-      much as the suggestion of a scat for the coachman. The mystery of how they
-      were to be driven was solved in a moment, however, when a faultlessly
-      equipped groom threw himself astride of one of the leaders, and the
-      stablemen, standing at the bridles of the four-in-hand, at one and the
-      same moment let go their hold, and sprang quickly out of the way. It was
-      very inspiring and exciting to see the three coaches, that were to convey
-      some royal guests to the depot, leave the courtyard one after the other,
-      the horses in each case prancing in wildest fashion and perfectly free,
-      apparently, with the exception of the one mounted leader, to do any
-      outlandish thing that they chose.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't see that there's anything at all to keep them
-      from running away,&rdquo; pondered Marie-Celeste gravely, &ldquo;or how
-      they ever manage them at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But dey do,&rdquo; said well-informed Albert; &ldquo;I've
-      seen dem often. Dat cuttin' up is jus' for fun at de start.
-      Dey're trained to behave jus' of dere own selves without any
-      driver, and when dey get out on de road dey always do behave;&rdquo; and
-      then in the moment's pause that followed, Marie-Celeste, remembering
-      certain recent performances of her own, wondered if her father wished that
-      a certain little girl, of whom he had some knowledge, more closely
-      resembled these royal ponies, who, once trained to behave, according to
-      Albert, never dreamed of taking the bit in their teeth or of kicking over
-      the traces.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the best that was yet to come was something of a highly exclusive and
-      highly privileged order&mdash;something in which even Mr. Harris could
-      have no part. From the moment that Albert had climbed into the phaeton at
-      his own door he had held a small square envelope firmly in one hand. Mr.
-      Harris had advised him to put it in his pocket or to consign it to him for
-      safer keeping but to no avail. Albert considered the grip of his own right
-      hand the safest place by far for the valuable little square of cardboard,
-      and which was nothing else than the open sesame to the Queen's own
-      garden, called the East Terrace, and to which the general public only
-      occasionally were admitted. Exception, in this instance, had been made for
-      Marie-Celeste and Albert. It had all been managed in some way by Albert's
-      father, Canon Allyn, apropos of Albert's having repeated a remark of
-      Marie-Celeste's, &ldquo;that she should be happy as a queen herself
-      if just once she could be allowed to walk in that garden.&rdquo; Whether
-      the powers that rule the entrance to the same came to the conclusion that
-      to a little girl of twelve and a little boy of four the term of general
-      public could not honestly be applied, or whether all rules of procedure
-      and precedence were magnanimously waived in their favor, certain it is
-      that the little card in question bore the incredible inscription: &ldquo;Admit
-      Master Albert Allyn and his little friend, Miss Marie-Celeste Harris, to
-      the East Terrace between the hours of twelve and three on Thursday. By
-      order of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And this was Thursday, and by Mr. Harris's watch, long ago carefully
-      adjusted to English time, it was precisely five minutes to twelve. The
-      skies were blue above them and a delightful little breeze was blowing out
-      of the west; so that everything was just as it should be when two pairs of
-      eager little feet were to be allowed to tread the paths of the Queen's
-      own garden. And such a garden as it proved! with its fountains and statues
-      and vases, and the orangery on one side, and on the other three sides a
-      beautiful sloping lawn, ascending from the level of the garden to the gray
-      stonewall at the outer edge of the terrace; and to think that here they
-      were actually walking about in this beautiful garden, instead of merely
-      peering through the fretwork of the iron gate, as some other little
-      children with envious eyes were doing that very moment. Marie-Celeste was
-      so impressed with the greatness of the privilege accorded them, that for
-      the first five minutes or so she kept Albert's hand tight in her
-      own, and spoke never a word save a whispered &ldquo;yes&rdquo; or &ldquo;no&rdquo;
-      to Albert's questions. But to Albert, who had been born beneath the
-      castle walls, it must be confessed royalty was less awe-inspiring, and to
-      walk about hand in hand in that stately fashion and talk in suppressed
-      whispers was not his idea of the way to enjoy the Queen's garden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0129.jpg" alt="0129 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Finally he resolved to take matters into his own hands by suddenly
-      slipping away from Marie-Celeste's grasp; and then drawing off a
-      little, and folding both hands behind his back, as though neither of them
-      were to be longer at anybody's disposal, he said aggressively:
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now what are you afraid of, Marie-Celeste? Do you
-      sink somebody's goin' to soot you from de top of one of de
-      towers if you speak out loud?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why no, of course not,&rdquo; with a little nervous laugh; &ldquo;really,
-      I didn't know I was just whispering; but it seems such a wonderful
-      place to me, as much for what has happened here as for what is here now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert looked at Marie-Celeste a little whimsically, and then said dryly:
-      &ldquo;Well, I don' know much about what's happened here, and
-      I s'ouldn't sink jus' an American little girl would know
-      so very much eider.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps not,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, half angry at Albert's
-      insinuation; &ldquo;but 's'ouldn't sink' or no, I
-      could tell you a good deal if I chose to about one little queen who lived
-      here&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I remember. You did promise to tell me 'bout her
-      some day. Right here, where she used to live, would be a good place,
-      Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, it would,&rdquo; but in a tone as though nothing was farther
-      from her thought than the telling of it. She would show this presuming
-      little Albert that &ldquo;jus' American little girls&rdquo; were not
-      to be so easily conciliated.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert looked crestfallen, but hoped still to win by strategy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She was a little French girl, wasn't she?&rdquo; he asked,
-      quite casually.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, she was.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you s'pose she used to play in this garden?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm sure I don't know,&rdquo; with an indifferent shrug
-      of the shoulders.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her name was Isabel, wasn't it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, her name was Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And she was only nine when she was a queen.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only nine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert gave Marie-Celeste a look which said as plainly as words: &ldquo;That
-      jus' American little girls could be awful mean,&rdquo; and evidently
-      deciding it would be best to leave that kind of a girl to herself, turned
-      on his heel and walked straight off toward the castle with a consequential
-      air, and as though bent on reporting such unseemly conduct to Her Majesty
-      in person.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste looked after him a moment with a most amused smile, and then
-      growing to feel more at home amid royal surroundings, turned to
-      investigate the little miniature elephants that flank the steps leading
-      down from the eastern terrace. Then she wandered on, making a partial
-      circuit of the garden, stopping here and there to gaze at some statue that
-      struck her fancy or to touch with reverend hand the rich carving of the
-      vases, and finally bringing up at the fountain in the centre.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, what had not that audacious Albert ventured! The rapid and
-      indignant pace at which he had sought to put as much space as possible
-      between the offending Marie-Celeste and himself had brought him in a trice
-      to the foot of the double flight of steps that ascend from the garden to
-      the terrace. And what more natural, when you find yourself at the foot of
-      a flight of steps, than to walk up them, no matter if the place does
-      chance to be Windsor Castle; and then if at the top you find an open door
-      confronting you, what more natural than to walk in, particularly if there
-      happens to be no one to say you nay, and you have half a mind, besides, to
-      seek an audience of the Queen, and report the ungracious conduct of an
-      ungracious little American, who has been unworthily permitted to tread the
-      paths of the royal garden. A few moments later he was bounding down the
-      stone stairway, flying toward Marie-Celeste with the breathless
-      announcement: &ldquo;She wants us to come in.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo; screamed Marie-Celeste, half stiff with fright; &ldquo;not
-      the Queen?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; called Albert, who was not to be delayed by
-      explanations, and was already half-way back to the steps again; &ldquo;the
-      Queen's mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Queen's mother!&rdquo; thought Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;she
-      must be very old.&rdquo; But this was time for action rather than thought.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Please wait for me, Albert;&rdquo; for Albert had scaled the
-      stairs, and in another second would be out of sight; and for a wonder,
-      Albert waited&mdash;touched, perhaps, by the entreaty in her voice, and
-      perceptibly enjoying the turn of affairs that left him master of the
-      situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did the Queen's mother come out and ask you to come in?&rdquo;
-      whispered Marie-Celeste, detaining Albert by main force, while she
-      straightened his necktie and gave his hopelessly frowsy curls a
-      rearranging touch.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I went in and asked her to tome out; nes I did, really,&rdquo;
-      in refutation of the astonished incredulity on Marie-Celeste's face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The door was open, an' I jus' walked in, an' I
-      dess dey sought I was jus' a little prince or somethin', cause
-      nobody said anythin' to me till I tame to the room where de Queen's
-      mother was; an' I asked her wouldn't she tome out in de garden
-      an' see you; an' she said no, she did not feel able to walk
-      very much, but for me to go an' bring my little friend in.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And nothing could, by any possibility, have been more patronizing than the
-      tone in which Albert uttered the words &ldquo;my little friend.&rdquo; And
-      this was all the light that was ever thrown on Albert's unsolicited
-      <i>entree</i> into Windsor Castle. If he met with a rebuff from any
-      quarter or had to push his way in the face of any difficulties, he has
-      never owned up to them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Be that as it may, a very sweet-faced lady met them at the door as they
-      entered, and saying reassuringly, &ldquo;Come this way, children,&rdquo;
-      led them through a corridor resplendent with statues and portraits, and
-      thence by a wide folding-door into a large room, with windows looking out
-      over the Long Walk and away to the grand old Windsor Forest.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, who had already become familiar with the appointments of this
-      apartment, stepped at once to the table, near which an elderly lady was
-      sitting, and laying his sailor-hat, nothing loath, atop of a miniature of
-      His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, announced cavalierly, &ldquo;And&mdash;and
-      now, this is my little American friend, Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you do, dear?&rdquo; said the lady, extending her hand,
-      which Marie-Celeste, her cheeks aflame with the unexpected abruptness of
-      Albert's introduction, took in hers, in a pretty deferential sort of
-      way, as though fully conscious of the dignity of her surroundings. Albert,
-      on the other hand, apparently as much at home in the Queen's private
-      sitting-room as anywhere else in the world, had worked himself way back
-      into a deep-seated, gilded armchair, so that his dusty little feet stuck
-      straight out into the air before him. Meanwhile, the sweet-faced lady had
-      drawn a little <i>tête-a-tète</i> sofa nearer the table, and invited
-      Marie-Celeste to take a seat beside her, and then there followed a few
-      general remarks as to the warmth of the weather and the beauty of the
-      garden, etc., while Marie-Celeste gazed in unconcealed admiration at
-      everything about her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is very beautiful,&rdquo; she said in the first pause of the
-      conversation, &ldquo;to be allowed to see the inside of this part of the
-      castle, but I am afraid it was very rude in Albert to walk right in the
-      way he did.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Very rude?&rdquo; Indeed! Albert's eyes flashed, and there is
-      no telling what rejoinder he might have made but that the sweet-faced lady
-      gave him no opportunity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; she said cordially; &ldquo;Albert
-      told us he was Canon Allyn's little boy, and that made us very glad
-      to see him, for the Queen has a very high regard for Canon Allyn; and then
-      when he told us he thought you would like to come in too, the Queen sent
-      for you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was very kind of the Queen,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste
-      gratefully, while Albert looked mystified, for he was not at all aware of
-      the Queen's having had any part in the transaction; but he thought
-      it was a good time to gain a little useful information.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose de Queen is always very busy,&rdquo; he said, addressing
-      the young lady, &ldquo;and never has any time jus'&mdash;jus'
-      to sit around like dis?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The young lady hesitated a moment before she answered, and glanced toward
-      the Queen, for the elderly lady was none other, if you please, than
-      Victoria herself, though it never entered the children's heads for
-      one moment to suspect it. A Queen in black silk and a lace cap! Why, the
-      thing was simply incredible. Albert had not passed the statue on Castle
-      Hill almost every day since he learned to walk for nothing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0135.jpg" alt="0135 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0135.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      He guessed he knew how a queen ought to look in her robes of velvet and
-      ermine, and with characteristic self-sufficiency had at once settled it in
-      his venturesome little mind that this was the Queen's mother; and
-      Marie-Celeste, presuming he knew whereof he spoke, simply took him at his
-      word. And so both the children almost at once betraying their utter
-      unconsciousness of the Queen's presence, the Queen and her companion
-      were naturally greatly amused, and by an interchange of glances decided
-      not to enlighten their unsuspecting little visitors.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her Majesty,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore, the lady-in-waiting, after
-      hesitating a moment, not knowing how to answer, &ldquo;has of course many
-      things to occupy her mind, but still she often spends a quiet hour or so
-      in this very room.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, does she?&rdquo; for this fact at once added a new lustre to
-      everything for Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;where does she generally sit?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Generally where I am sitting,&rdquo; answered the Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and I know jus' how she looks sitting dere,&rdquo;
-      said Albert; &ldquo;she has a beautiful crown on her head and a long kind
-      of veil coming down from de crown, and a kind of gold stick in her hand
-      dat papa says is called a&mdash;a&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sceptre,&rdquo; suggested Marie-Celeste, coming to the rescue;
-      &ldquo;and then she wears&rdquo;&mdash;for Marie-Celeste had studied the
-      statue too&mdash;&ldquo;a beautiful broad ribbon coming from one shoulder,
-      crosswise this way to her belt, doesn't she?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, sometimes,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And on it she wears the badge of the Order of the Garter, doesn't
-      she?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that is right, too; but what do two little people like you
-      know about the Order of the Garter?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We know all dere is,&rdquo; said Albert grandly; &ldquo;we had a
-      Knight-of-the-Garter day las' week;&rdquo; and then recalling the
-      matter of the foolish little garter, his face grew crimson, and he begged
-      Marie-Celeste not to tell.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean by a Knight-of-the-Garter day?&rdquo; said the
-      Queen, smiling at Albert's embarrassment and keenly enjoying the
-      novelty of the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, it was a day,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste explained, &ldquo;when we
-      came to the castle here and went into the different rooms and then into
-      St. George's Chapel, and Harold Harris, my cousin, who lives here,
-      and who has read up a great deal about the knights, told us all he knew
-      about them. But there is one thing,&rdquo; added Marie-Celeste, changing
-      the subject, because unwilling that so important an occasion should be to
-      any extent devoted to any mere narrating of their own childish doings,
-      &ldquo;I would very much like to know, and that is, if Victoria is ever
-      called Madame La Grande Reine?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why no, my dear, I don't know that she is,&rdquo; said Her
-      Majesty; &ldquo;but what a little French woman you seem to be.&rdquo; At
-      this Albert rudely clapped one little hand over his mouth, as though to
-      keep from laughing outright. Marie-Celeste a little French woman! Why he
-      didn't believe she knew more than a dozen French words to her name.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But why do you ask if she is ever called by that title?&rdquo;
-      continued the Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because on the steamer coming over I learned all about the
-      Queen whom they used to call Madame La Petite Reine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What are you saying, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; said Albert impetuously;
-      &ldquo;I don't understan' you at all;&rdquo; for not for one
-      single moment was this conversation in the Queen's own sitting-room
-      to rise above the level of his comprehension, if it lay in his power to
-      prevent it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am talking about the little French Queen, Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; greatly relieved that the matter could be so easily
-      explained; and then he added, turning beseechingly to Her Majesty, &ldquo;Won't
-      you please make her tell it? Se always says se knows a great deal about
-      her, but se never tells what se knows.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was Marie-Celeste's turn to color up now, and she looked at
-      Albert, considering for a moment in what way she should proceed to
-      annihilate him, when Her Majesty happily put to rout all such revengeful
-      intentions. &ldquo;I should love to talk with you about the little Isabel,&rdquo;
-      she said, &ldquo;for I know all about her too, and there are some things
-      here in the castle that used to belong to her that I should be glad to
-      have you see. It seems to me you two little people will have to remain to
-      luncheon, and afterward we will have a good talk about the little French
-      Isabel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, thank you,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;but I don't
-      believe we can,&rdquo; the idea of actually sitting down to the royal
-      table being almost too overpowering.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, nes we can, too,&rdquo; said Albert, &ldquo;if you sink the
-      Queen won't mind.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; said Her Majesty, with difficulty
-      concealing her amusement, &ldquo;I am confident she will be most glad to
-      have you entertained at the castle; and now, Miss Belmore, will you summon
-      Ainslee, that she may show our little friends through the private
-      apartments?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ainslee proved to be a motherly-looking, middle-aged woman with a bunch of
-      keys hanging from her ample girdle. After she had received a word or two
-      of direction from Miss Belmore, the children set off under her guidance,
-      with unconcealed delight on their faces at the prospect of seeing with
-      their own eyes these mysterious apartments, and with a deep-seated hope in
-      each quick-beating heart that in all the full regalia of crown and sceptre
-      and ermine they might somewhere encounter the marvellous Queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, imagine the astonishment of the inmates of the Little Castle to
-      have a finely mounted groom, in the royal livery of the big Castle, ride
-      up to their door, and with that indescribable condescension inherent in
-      even the most ordinary of grooms, hand in a communication, which on being
-      opened imparted the rather astounding information &ldquo;That Her Most
-      Gracious Majesty the Queen, having accidentally made the acquaintance of
-      the little visitors to the East Terrace, had invited them to remain for
-      luncheon at the Castle, and would see that they reached home safely under
-      proper escort later in the afternoon.&rdquo; The note also mentioned that
-      similar word had been sent by special messenger to Canon Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Gad, but they're lucky!&rdquo; said Harold: and then he sent
-      for his pony and started off for a long gallop, hoping thereby to get the
-      better of certain absurdly jealous feelings that would not down at his
-      bidding.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIV.&mdash;MADAME LA PETITE REINE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9139.jpg" alt="9139 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9139.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>h, the wonder, for
-      Marie-Celeste, of that tour through the private apartments! As for Albert,
-      it is to be doubted if he quite rose to the occasion. Nothing could be
-      more awe-inspiring or majestic than the picture of the Queen he had formed
-      in his mind; but as they were shown from room to room and failed to
-      encounter her, his interest began to flag a little. There were apartments
-      more grand than these, with which he was already familiar, in the other
-      part of the Castle; and when Ainslee hurried them past two or three rooms
-      with the explanation that some of the royal family were in them, he felt
-      some-the very object of their of them, and he thought Ainslee might at
-      least have told them which one, even though they were not to be permitted
-      to have a sight of her. But with Marie-Celeste it was very different, She
-      stood in worshipful admiration before all the royal belongings, and when
-      permitted to gaze into one or two of the bedrooms where royalty actually
-      put itself to bed, behind beautiful embroidered draperies, her sense of
-      the privilege accorded her fairly made her hold her breath. At last, when
-      Ainslee announced that they had made the tour of all the private
-      apartments, they were ushered into a little boudoir where a maid waited in
-      readiness to assist them in making their toilettes for luncheon. The maid,
-      however, standing stiff and straight, with a towel thrown over her arm and
-      a whisk-broom in hand ready to attack them, looked so very formidable that
-      Marie-Celeste begged Ainslee not to leave them; and Ainslee, herself
-      appreciating the overbearing self-importance of the maid Babette, was good
-      enough to accede to her request. And then followed such a freshening of
-      toilette as was fairly humiliating in its thoroughness. The trying feature
-      of the proceeding lay in the fact that they were in no way taken into the
-      confidence of the party officiating, or told what move was impending. Side
-      by side they were thrust on to a little low seat, and their shoes and
-      pumps being quickly removed, were consigned to the keeping of a
-      condescending boots, who, summoned by the touch of an electric bell,
-      carried them away at arm's length. Marie-Celeste was never more
-      thankful in her life than that every button was on, and that Albert's
-      little patent leathers were just as good as new; in fact, that nothing
-      could be urged against those little articles of foot-wear save the
-      grievous offence of dust from the royal garden. Their faces and hands were
-      scrubbed with wholly unnecessary vigor, and in Albert's case even
-      ears, and then both children were thrust on to the little low seat again,
-      and drawing a stool in front of them, Babette laid an elaborate manicure
-      set open upon her lap, and gave her whole mind to the shaping and
-      polishing of their nails&mdash;a process in which Albert took great
-      interest, and which was accomplished, it must be confessed, most
-      dexterously and with great expedition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have beautiful nails, child,&rdquo; said Babette, the instant
-      she took Marie-Celeste's extended hands in hers; and this compliment
-      from so high and experienced an authority made Marie-Celeste at once feel
-      repaid for all the dainty care her mother had always insisted upon. At
-      last the little toilettes were completed, even to the reformation of
-      Albert's curls around an ivory curling stick; and with embroidered
-      dress and well-starched kilt none the worse for the decorous experiences
-      of the morning, they emerged from the little boudoir as &ldquo;spick and
-      span&rdquo; as from the depths of the traditional bandbox. Luncheon being
-      served, they found a most imposing butler awaiting them in the hallway,
-      and therefore were obliged, but with evident reluctance, to turn their
-      backs on Ainslee. When they reached the dining-room, Miss Belmore was
-      already seated at the table, ready to receive them; but as places were set
-      for only three, two little hearts were again doomed to disappointment, for
-      two little minds, without any sort of consultation, had separately arrived
-      at the conclusion that all that elaborate preparation could certainly mean
-      nothing less than luncheon with Her Majesty in person. Otherwise it is to
-      be doubted if they would have put up half so civilly with the
-      uncompromising treatment they had received at Babette's hands. Their
-      disappointment, however, could not long hold out against the odds of their
-      immediate surroundings. The butlers&mdash;for there were two of them&mdash;could
-      not have seemed more anxious to please or more obsequious to a veritable
-      little prince and princess; the luncheon was delicious, and no one could
-      possibly have been more kind and friendly than Miss Bel-more. Therefore it
-      happened that to their own surprise they became almost at once at their
-      ease, and Albert chattered away in such a cunning, irresistible fashion
-      that the royal dining-room rang with the merriest peals of laughter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now,&rdquo; said Albert, when the luncheon at last
-      was concluded, and having clearly in mind the talk about the little Queen
-      that was to follow, &ldquo;where sail we find de old lady?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We shall find her in the sitting-room, Albert,&rdquo; said Miss
-      Bel-more, her kind gray eyes dancing with the amusement which she was
-      making such an effort to conceal. So it was quite plain that these little
-      uninvited visitors to Windsor Castle were mistaking Her Majesty for Her
-      Majesty's mother! She wondered for the moment if she ought not to
-      tell them of their absurd mistake; and yet no&mdash;she hardly had the
-      right to do that either; for had not a little conference with Her Majesty
-      resulted in the conclusion that they would not disillusionize their little
-      guests if they could help it? If possible they should leave the Castle as
-      they entered it&mdash;the Queen of England still the dream-queen of their
-      imagination, regal and stately always, and perennially arrayed in crown,
-      ermine and jewels, and all the royal insignia of her office. They, at any
-      rate, would not be the ones to acquaint them with the fact that even
-      queens sometimes grow to be grandmothers, taking more comfort in
-      rocking-chairs than thrones, vastly preferring lace caps to crowns, and
-      behaving in general like other dear grandmothers the world over. And, in
-      the mean time, what a pleasure to talk familiarly with these same bright
-      little visitors, who more likely than not would have retired into
-      speechless embarrassment had anyone ventured the announcement that the
-      great Queen of England was none other than the friendly &ldquo;old lady&rdquo;
-      with whom they were taking all the liberties of commonplace, every-day
-      acquaintance! And so, happily, no doubt, for their ease of mind, no one
-      felt called upon to make the announcement.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you been here ever since?&rdquo; asked Albert, the moment they
-      reached the sitting-room and descried the Queen in the same chair in which
-      they had left her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ever since,&rdquo; answered Her Majesty.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And haven't you had any luncheon?&rdquo; in a tone of real
-      concern, and going close to her side, so that he leaned against her knee.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I have had my luncheon served right here, to save me the
-      trouble of moving; and now I am ready and waiting to have our talk about
-      little Isabel de Valois.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did these belong to her?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, standing in
-      open-eyed wonder before a mosaic table, which had been cleared to make
-      room for a quaint collection of foreign-looking, childish possessions&mdash;a
-      mandolin, a well-worn little missal, a remarkable doll, a necklace or two,
-      numerous little childish trinkets, and thrown over a chair, standing close
-      to the table, a little gown of white silk and exquisite embroidery, yellow
-      and limp with age, but none the less dainty and lovely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, all of them,&rdquo; answered the Queen, keenly enjoying the
-      child's undisguised pleasure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, who preferred that everything should be done decently and in
-      order, placed a chair for Marie-Celeste on the other side of the Queen's
-      little table, and then seated himself on the gilded sofa beside Miss
-      Belmore, in such a comfortable, snuggling-up way that Miss Belmore had to
-      put one arm right round him and give him a sound little kiss by way of
-      punishment, which Albert was courteous enough not to resent,
-      notwithstanding he considered that sort of treatment somewhat humiliating
-      for a boy of four.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now tome, please, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; he pleaded; &ldquo;let's
-      hear about de tings before we look at dem and Marie-Celeste, feeling that
-      they were all waiting for her, reluctantly did as she was bid, and dropped
-      into the chair Albert had placed for her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert modestly, considering himself master of
-      ceremonies, &ldquo;please have Marie-Celeste tell what she knows first,&rdquo;
-      for the suspicious little reprobate was keenly anxious to put her boasted
-      knowledge to the test.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I should love to hear the story as she has heard it,&rdquo;
-      answered the Queen. &ldquo;Will you tell it to us, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-      And Marie-Celeste, nothing loath, and willing at last to substantiate her
-      claims in the ears of doubting Albert, rested a hand comfortably on either
-      arm of her chair, and commenced, preceding her narration with the request,
-      &ldquo;You will correct me, won't you, if you find I do not tell it
-      right?&rdquo; to which Her Majesty smilingly acceded, first asking Miss
-      Belmore to hand her a little jewelled miniature case from among the other
-      treasures on the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this little queen,&rdquo; began Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;was the
-      child of a French king, and she was born in the Louvre, the King's
-      palace in Paris, and she was born in a very troubled time&mdash;such a
-      troubled time, that her father, the King, went crazy; and then the little
-      Isabel spent most of her time in the Hotel de St. Pol, on the Seine, that
-      belonged to one of her father's ambassadors.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder that you remember such a queer name as St. Pol and such a
-      long word as ambassadors,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore incredulously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I have tried very hard to remember all the names, because you
-      can't tell the story very clearly without them. Besides, I wrote
-      them all down in my journal one day on the steamer, and because I was
-      coming here to Windsor to-day, I read them over only last night.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You haven't tol' us de name of de king den,&rdquo; said
-      Albert.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The king was Charles the Sixth of France,&rdquo; explained the
-      Queen, who was not going to have her little story-teller disconcerted if
-      she could help it; but Marie-Celeste confessed with perfect honesty,
-      &ldquo;I am afraid I had forgotten that name;&rdquo; and Albert felt
-      ashamed of himself, and confided in a whisper to Miss Belmore &ldquo;dat
-      he dessed he wouldn't be so mean aden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; continued Marie-Celeste, pausing thoughtfully a moment
-      to think out the order of the story, &ldquo;at that time and all the time
-      in those days there was war between France and England, and the French
-      wanted to have peace; and so the ambassador, St. Pol, who had married the
-      sister of King Richard in England, went to Richard and told him if he
-      would sign a truce with France Charles would give him his daughter Isabel
-      for his queen, and with a larger dowry than was ever given to a royal
-      bride.&rdquo; (Albert was becoming too deeply impressed with the extent of
-      Marie-Celeste's knowledge to venture the question as to what a dowry
-      might be.) &ldquo;And King Richard agreed to that; but it must just have
-      been because he thought it would be a wise thing to do, for Isabel was
-      only eight years old, and it would be so many years before she could
-      really reign as a queen at all. But that's the way with kings and
-      queens; they always have to do the things that's wise, no matter how
-      they may feel about it, don't they?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste, to
-      whom even the motives of royal conduct were of deepest interest, felt one
-      could hardly ask for a more reliable source of information than the Queen's
-      own mother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is certainly true,&rdquo; said Her Majesty a little gravely,
-      &ldquo;that the rulers of a great country like England have often to set
-      aside their own preferences; but these are better times than those in
-      which the little Isabel lived, and the idea of a king marrying a little
-      girl of eight, no matter for what reason, would hardly be tolerated now,
-      you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, is that so?&rdquo; with a look of real surprise, for
-      Marie-Celeste's idea of royalty had come to her largely through her
-      knowledge of the little Isabel; and her childish mind did not readily lend
-      itself to the thought that royalty, as well as everything else in the
-      world, was subject to change and possible improvement. Indeed, she did not
-      care to realize anything of the sort, choosing, rather, to think of the
-      Windsor of Isabel's time as much the same as the Windsor of Victoria's,
-      and she would have been not a little grieved and surprised had any one
-      insisted on pointing out to her in how many, many ways the old differed
-      from the new.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0145.jpg" alt="0145 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0145.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But the beauty of it was,&rdquo; she continued, after meditating a
-      moment over the Queen's answer, &ldquo;that little Isabel was really
-      a darling, and that the King called her 'his dear little sister,'
-      and really loved her; because sometimes kings and queens do not love each
-      other at all.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And sometimes they do and Her Majesty spoke so seriously, and with
-      such a depth of earnestness, that Marie-Celeste, and Albert too, for that
-      matter, looked up at her in wondering silence.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But go on with the story, dear,&rdquo; the Queen added; &ldquo;we
-      shall make but slow progress if we allow too many interruptions.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, it wasn't a bit strange that the King loved her, for
-      even the King's men who were sent to bring her to England thought
-      she was perfectly lovely, and indeed she was a most unusual little girl.
-      They say that her father was very foolish, but good, and that her mother
-      was wicked, but clever, and that the little Isabel was like her father for
-      goodness and her mother for cleverness. And they say, too, that she was
-      never twice alike; that sometimes she was grave and sedate as could be,
-      and sometimes she was full of fun and frolic, but always so sweet and good
-      and innocent that she was like a bright little star in those dark times,
-      for there was war between England and France, and they say only the
-      children can be light-hearted in war time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you any idea, Marie-Celeste, how this little Isabel looked?&rdquo;
-      asked the Queen, keeping the little jewelled case close covered in her
-      hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I think I know exactly. She was fair, but her eyes were
-      black, with dark lashes curling over them, for her grandmother was an
-      Italian, you know; and her head was put on her shoulders in a pretty sort
-      of way, and she had a cunning, sweet look on her face that just made
-      people love her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like to see her picture?&rdquo; and the Queen, attempting
-      to open the case she held in her hand, both the children were instantly
-      bending over it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0147.jpg" alt="0147 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0147.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Se looks jus' as Marie-Celeste said,&rdquo; remarked Albert
-      proudly, his sceptical spirit of the morning wholly transformed into one
-      of profound admiration; and Marie-Celeste, asking that she might hold the
-      case in her own hand, and gazing entranced upon the dear little face
-      looking out at her, said joyfully, &ldquo;Yes, she does look as I said,
-      doesn't she?&rdquo; Then she reverently laid the miniature back upon
-      the Queen's lap, as though counting it quite too precious to be long
-      out of royal keeping. &ldquo;It seems to me now I can just see,&rdquo; she
-      said, gazing fondly down at the picture where it lay, &ldquo;the way she
-      looked that day when the King's men went to bring her to England.
-      One of them dropped on one knee and said, 'Madame, if God pleases, you
-      shall be our Queen and lady;' and then she made a little courtesy
-      like this, and answered without a word from anybody, 'Sir, if it
-      please God and my lord and father, I shall be most happy, for I am told
-      the Queen of England is a very great lady.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Nothing could have been prettier than the wholly unconscious way in which
-      Marie-Celeste impersonated the grandeur and dignity of the little Isabel,
-      courtesy and all; so that the Queen said admiringly, &ldquo;My dear, you
-      are a real little queen yourself, and your kingdom must lie in the hearts
-      of all who know you;&rdquo; and Albert, anxious at once to acquit himself
-      as most loyal of her subjects, shook his head emphatically and remarked,
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste is a daisy, and she ought to live in a castle jus'
-      as fine as anybody;&rdquo; and then, to prove the wealth of his devotion,
-      he threw his two arms around her waist, which was as high as he could
-      reach, in most uncourtly fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, blushingly pushing him
-      from her, for this demonstration was as embarrassing as unexpected;
-      &ldquo;please go and sit down by Miss Belmore, for we are not half
-      through, are we?&rdquo; looking toward the Queen for confirmation of the
-      fact.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, no indeed! Little Isabel isn't even married yet, Albert;&rdquo;
-      and Albert climbed back, just as he had intended to do, to his seat beside
-      Miss Belmore, but with the most supercilious smile on his little face, as
-      though he, to whom story-telling was the most delightful thing in the
-      world, did not know whether a story was finished or not. But no matter, he
-      did not mind being misunderstood, even by the Queen's mother, if
-      Marie-Celeste would only go on; and Marie-Celeste, as eager to talk as her
-      listeners to hear, went on.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And so it came about that they took the little Isabel to England,
-      and Madame de Coucy, a lady whom Isabel dearly loved, came with her to be
-      her governess; and next to Madame de Coucy, Isabel loved Simonette.
-      Simonette was a poor little slave brought to France from one of the
-      crusades, and I suppose they grew more fond of each other every day,
-      because when they came to England both were so far away from their old
-      home. On the way to England Richard came to meet the little Isabel at
-      Calais, in France, and then she was escorted to London in fine style, and
-      after that all her queen's fixings were taken off and she was
-      brought here to this very Castle, that was to be her home, and everybody
-      called her Madame La Petite Reine.&rdquo; Albert would have given a good
-      deal to know what those French words meant, and wished he had not made
-      such a row when his mother had once suggested a French bonne; but he would
-      not betray his ignorance for anything, and Marie-Celeste was allowed to
-      proceed uninterrupted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And here in this dear old Castle La Petite Reine had a beautiful
-      time. She used to study with Madame de Coucy in the mornings and go for
-      walks among the flowers out in the garden there in the afternoon, and way
-      beyond it too sometimes, and Richard would often come down from London for
-      a visit, and he taught her English courtly ways and to play the mandolin&rdquo;
-      (Albert looked significantly toward the quaint mandolin, with a faded blue
-      ribbon attached to it, that was lying among the other treasures on the
-      table); &ldquo;and when the King could not come for a regular visit, he
-      would just ride down for a word and kiss. And so the time went by, and
-      sometimes Isabel would go to hear the canons preach in St. George's,
-      and sometimes she would watch the knights riding in the tilt-yard from one
-      of the Castle windows; only sometimes, when one knight hurt another with
-      his spear or tumbled him from his horse, so that he was carried away
-      stunned and bleeding, she saw more than she wanted to see, and would not
-      go near those windows again for days. And then at last there came a sad
-      time for Isabel, for the King had decided he must go himself and take
-      charge of his army, which was trying to put down an insurrection in
-      Ireland. But before he rode away from Windsor Castle, he said he would
-      have a great tournament in the tilt-yard in honor of St. George, and he
-      had a beautiful green uniform made, and he was to carry the Queen's
-      device of a little white falcon, and Isabel and her maids were to be
-      present and give the crown to whichever knight should be victorious. But
-      very few came to the tournament, for there were very few who really cared
-      for the King, and it was all a failure, and the Castle seemed a very sad
-      place for La Petite Reine, because the King was going away.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert, appealing to the Queen, for he felt
-      that quite too much was being taken for granted, &ldquo;will you please
-      tell me what is a tilt-yard? and what it was dat de knignts would not tome
-      to? and what was dat little white ting of the Queen's dat de King
-      carried?&rdquo; and impatiently as Marie-Celeste brooked the interruption,
-      there was nothing for it but to wait while Her Majesty explained that the
-      tilt-yard was a sort of riding-school for the knights, where they
-      practised for the tournaments, and that the tournaments were occasions
-      when the knights, spear in hand, came together to ride against each other,
-      with a great many people looking on, and when the one who unseated all
-      those who rode against him won the prize. As for the little white thing of
-      Isabel's, that was a falcon&mdash;that is, a pretty live white bird,
-      which was Isabel's device or emblem; and when the King carried that
-      he showed how he delighted to honor his own little child-queen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would be glad if you would go on and tell the rest,&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste; &ldquo;all that happened afterward was so doleful I do not
-      like to tell it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, let me think,&rdquo; said her Majesty. &ldquo;I doubt if I
-      can get all that followed quite straight and then there was silence for a
-      few moments.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will <i>somebody</i> please go on,&rdquo; remarked Albert, when he
-      thought there had been quite enough time for thinking. The shadows were
-      lengthening out there in the garden, and oh if they should have to go home
-      before the story was done!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then &ldquo;somebody&rdquo;&mdash;that is, the Queen&mdash;(who, as
-      you know, was a good deal more of a <i>somebody</i> than Albert gave her
-      credit for)&mdash;endeavored at once to allay the little fellow's
-      impatience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;how sad was the parting between
-      the King and the little Queen! How he walked with her, hand in hand, from
-      the Castle into the lower ward, at the head of a long procession of loyal
-      servants, and then into St. George's Chapel for a farewell service,
-      and how they kneeled down before the altar, side by side, while the choir
-      sang very sweetly. And then how he lifted the little Queen in his arms,
-      for to him she was just a darling little sister, and kissed her over and
-      over again, while she sobbed and sobbed, and begged him not to leave her
-      all alone. After that he led her into the deanery&mdash;those are rooms
-      set aside for different uses in connection with the chapel&mdash;and there
-      he gave her a royal box of candies, and sat down and ate some with her,
-      and tried to joke with her, and sipped a little wine, and then another
-      long farewell, and he was gone, never to see the little Queen again.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which died?&rdquo; asked Albert, in a hoarse whisper.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, neither of them died, dear; only as soon as Richard returned
-      from Ireland he was taken prisoner by the English nobles and compelled to
-      resign his crown, and so was never able to come back to claim his Castle
-      or his little bride. But for all that Richard fared no worse than he
-      deserved, for though he was kind and good to little Isabel, he was false
-      and cruel to almost every one beside. Indeed, he was false to little
-      Isabel too, for while he was still at Windsor he gave orders to have
-      Madame de Coucy, whom Isabel loved as her own mother, dismissed and sent
-      back to France soon after he should have gone, and he was not honest
-      enough to tell little Isabel of the plan. But, as the old chronicles say,
-      'Madame de Coucy was a woman of spirit,' and when the time
-      came refused to go. 'Holding her office from the King of France, she
-      owned no master but the King of France;' and although driven from
-      the Castle, she remained at Windsor, and succeeded in keeping up some
-      connection with the little Queen. And now the misfortunes of the poor
-      little Isabel followed thick and fast. The partings from Richard and her
-      governess Madame de Coucy, had thrown the child into a fever, and Richard's
-      uncle, the Duke of York, in whose care she had been left, was at his wit's
-      ends to know what to do. Meantime, Henry Bolingbroke, a nephew of Richard's,
-      and a brave prince, had landed in England, and the people, who loved him,
-      were ready to receive him and make him King in Richard's place. And
-      now the Duke of York, fearing that Windsor was no longer a safe place for
-      the little Queen, moved her to a castle called Wallingford, which had been
-      built only for defence, and was stronger than Windsor. But it was all to
-      no purpose. Everything gave way before the march of Henry Bolingbroke and
-      his army. Windsor surrendered to a blast of trumpets, and a few days later
-      the little Queen was yielded up a captive into Henry's hands, and
-      was carried with faithful Simonette, her Saracen maid, to the Castle of
-      Ledes; but Ledes, fortunately, proved to be a beautiful castle, with a
-      large garden, and she was not treated harshly or unkindly. Madame de
-      Coucy, meanwhile, started for France posthaste, and was the first to carry
-      the news to the court of Charles that Madame Isabel had been captured and
-      dethroned, and then you may be sure all France was up in arms, as they
-      say, in a moment, threatening to avenge La Petite Reine. But,
-      notwithstanding the threats of the French, nothing could be done at once
-      to release the little Queen, and so it was a comfort to know that all this
-      while Henry was caring for her welfare most kindly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this point in the story the Queen, fearing that the long page from
-      history might prove wearying to even so eager a little listener as Albert,
-      suggested to Miss Belmore to bring some of the treasures from the table
-      that they might have a closer look at them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0152.jpg" alt="0152 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0152.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And was this her very own?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste, handling the
-      mandolin with reverent touch&mdash;&ldquo;the very one on which Richard
-      taught her to play?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Belmore; &ldquo;and this pretty dress&rdquo;&mdash;holding
-      up the little short-waisted gown of lace and satin&mdash;&ldquo;was the
-      one she wore that day Richard took his last leave of her in the deanery of
-      St. George's Chapel.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only to think,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said solemnly, &ldquo;that I
-      should hold in my own hands things that belonged to the little Isabel! Mr.
-      Belden never guessed when he told me all about her on the steamer such a
-      wonder would come to pass. I wish he could know about it some day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But who has kept all dese old tings so long, and how old are dey
-      anyway?&rdquo; asked more practical Albert, inspecting with curious,
-      critical gaze a little necklace of hammered gold and silver which Miss
-      Belmore had dropped into his lap as one of the few treasures his rather
-      inquisitive touch would not damage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The keepers of the wardrobe, one after another, have cared for them
-      carefully, Albert, for nearly five hundred years,&rdquo; Miss Belmore
-      explained; &ldquo;and it is only by a special order from the Queen that
-      they can ever be taken out of the precious chest where they are stored for
-      a single moment, except twice a year or so, to be cleaned and brushed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And did the Oueen give a special order for us to-day?&rdquo; asked
-      Marie-Celeste, more impressed than ever with the greatness of their
-      privileges.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Certainly, my dear.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, de Queen's a daisy too, den,&rdquo; ventured Albert,
-      who, alas! was no respecter of persons.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hush, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, blushing, but very
-      thankful that Miss Belmore and the Queen's mother seemed more amused
-      than shocked; and then she added, amid deeper blushes, &ldquo;Oh, will you
-      please tell Her Majesty for me that I never could thank her enough, never?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what happened to her next?&rdquo; asked Albert, for there was
-      no telling when the story would ever go on again, if Marie-Celeste was
-      allowed to indulge too freely in these sentimental flights of hers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her Majesty waited a moment, hoping Marie-Celeste would take up the thread
-      of the story, which she did almost unconsciously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, she had a dreadful time, Albert. Richard left her in the care
-      of a man named Huntington, and I don't believe there ever was a man
-      so bad as he. Why, when Henry Bolingbroke was made king he had pardoned
-      this Huntington, though he had been as untrue to Henry as he could be,
-      because he was his sister's husband. But no sooner was he pardoned
-      than he laid a deep plot with some other men as wicked as himself to
-      overpower the King. As part of the plan, they were going to surprise
-      Windsor Castle; and Huntington, if you will believe it, hoped to murder
-      the four sons of Henry with his own hand; and they did march on Windsor
-      Castle, but not before Henry and his sons had heard of the dreadful plan
-      and ridden safely away. But Huntington could not believe that they had
-      gone, and they searched everywhere in the castle here for them, and he was
-      so angry at not finding them, that he let his soldiers in and they stove
-      in doors and tore down curtains and cut up furniture and carried off
-      silver, so that in five hours the castle was ruined.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is that true?&rdquo; whispered Albert to Miss Belmore. It seemed so
-      incredible that Windsor Castle, with its present state and grandeur, could
-      ever have been in such a sorry plight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only too true, dear. There would be many more priceless treasures
-      in the castle to-day but for the untold mischief of that terrible morning.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste waited with a decidedly martyr-like air till this
-      inexcusable whispering was through with, chiming in again at the first
-      opportunity. &ldquo;And then what did the wretch do but hurry to little
-      Isabel, and tell her that he had freed Richard from the Tower, and that he
-      would soon be kins: again; so that Isabel was glad to go with Huntington.
-      But it was all a lie, for Huntington simply wanted to have Isabel for his
-      own prisoner instead of Henry Bolingbroke's. And so the poor little
-      thing was right in Huntington's camp, among his rough soldiers; and
-      what was worse, as soon as Huntington found himself in a tight place, and
-      had to fly for his life, he deserted her, and Henry Bolingbroke's
-      men came and carried her up to London, and then she was Henry's
-      prisoner once more. But Huntington got what he deserved at last&rdquo;
-      (and the smile of grim satisfaction with which Marie-Celeste adorned the
-      statement showed how simply enormous to even her childish mind seemed the
-      crimes of the fiendish Huntington), &ldquo;for after he deserted Isabel he
-      fell into the hands of some peasants, who knew what a wretch he was, and
-      who took him and drove a chopper through his neck, and so made an end of
-      him. And then what did King Henry do but decide that it would be a good
-      thing for England to keep friends with France, if that were possible; and
-      so he said, 'The Pope shall say Isabel is no longer the wife of
-      Richard, and I will marry her to my son Harry.' Of course everybody
-      thought that would suit little Isabel well enough, for Harry was tall and
-      handsome, just Isabel's age, and would make a line man some day; but
-      Isabel would not hear of such a thing. She still loved the weak, bad man,
-      older than her own father, who had fed her on sugar-plums, called her his
-      little sister, fingered her mandolin, and sung with her at morning mass.
-      Then besides her own feeling, the French themselves did not seem to want
-      to be friendly with England, or to have Isabel stay here; and so at last
-      she was sent back to her own people, and she died at Blois in France, when
-      she was only twenty years old.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And&mdash;and now I think dat's a very sad an'
-      interestin' story and Albeit, pondering over the remarkable tale,
-      shook his head gravely from side to side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And the saddest part,&rdquo; said Her Majesty, &ldquo;is that there
-      would probably have been no Joan of Arc nor Agincourt nor siege of Rouen
-      if only the little Isabel had chanced to fancy the little Prince Hal.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Agincourt and the siege of Rouen were only names to the children's
-      ears. But there was time for no more questions; the flower garden was
-      almost all in shadow now, and besides it had occurred even to Albert that
-      the &ldquo;old lady&rdquo; might be growing a little tired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We have had a beautiful time,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, with a
-      sigh, as though unable to give full expression to her appreciation;
-      &ldquo;but I hope we haven't stayed too long;&rdquo; and then, as
-      though reluctant to take final leave of the little Isabel, she added:
-      &ldquo;Don't you think it is more comfortable just to be one of the
-      people, and be a regular little girl, and grow up always near your mother,
-      like other children?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; there must be some nice things about belonging to the people,&rdquo;
-      Her Majesty replied, smiling; &ldquo;but then, you know that poor little
-      Isabel's history was very unusual, and that many little princes and
-      princesses have grown up near their mothers, as you and Albert have, and
-      have been just regular little children for ever so many years.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat's good,&rdquo; said Albert, apparently immensely relieved
-      to have his fears as to the general fate of princes and princesses
-      removed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, Miss Belmore had brought their hats, and after a most friendly
-      parting with their kindly hostess and her lady-in-waiting, the children
-      were conducted to another doorway from the one by which they had entered.
-      There one of the court carriages, with a gallant outrider, stood in
-      waiting, and the footman, after receiving directions as to the whereabouts
-      of the Little Castle, sprang to his place, and they were off.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0156.jpg" alt="0156 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0156.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To think, Albert,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, turning on Albert the
-      moment the door was closed, and seizing his little wrist by way of
-      emphasis, &ldquo;we are in one of the Queen's own carriages, and we've
-      been spending the day&mdash;spending the day, Albert, in Windsor Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes,&rdquo; said Albert complacently; &ldquo;we must do aden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was time for scarcely more than this before the carriage wheeled up
-      at Canon Allyn's, and Albert was safely landed at his own door, and
-      another three minutes brought it to the Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold, conjecturing that the children might be sent home in this courtly
-      fashion, was on hand on the steps to receive the favored recipients of
-      royal hospitality.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose you feel too high and mighty to speak to a fellow,&rdquo;
-      he said. &ldquo;I don't believe you'll ever get over it,
-      Marie-Celeste.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, we have had a magnificent day&rdquo;&mdash;allowing herself
-      to be detained for a moment, notwithstanding her eagerness to rush
-      straight to the bosom of her family&mdash;&ldquo;we spent the whole
-      afternoon with the Oueen's mother.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Oueen's mother! Marie-Celeste, she's been dead ever
-      so many years.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who was she, then?&rdquo; almost angrily; &ldquo;she was an old
-      lady.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Queen herself, of course.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Oueen an old lady?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why not? She has a host of grandchildren.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But she wore no crown, Harold.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you goosey, of course not! She does not put her crown on once
-      in an age. Who told you she was the Queen's mother?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only Albert, Harold;&rdquo; and then realizing at a bound Albert's
-      positive genius for jumping to wrong conclusions, Marie-Celeste leaned
-      against the door from very weakness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Harold, who, like other boys, was rather
-      inclined to rub a thing in, &ldquo;it's the very best joke I have
-      heard in all my life.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are very unkind, Harold,&rdquo; answered Marie-Celeste
-      accusingly. &ldquo;It is the most mortifying thing that ever happened, if
-      she really was the Queen,&rdquo; and then, trying to gather a little new
-      courage, she added, &ldquo;but I am not going to believe it till I have
-      to. There must be a mistake somewhere. The lady we saw is not one bit like
-      the pictures or the statues,&rdquo; and yet all the time Marie-Celeste
-      felt that she was clinging to a forlorn hope. During their stay at the
-      castle there had been an occasional exchange of glances between their
-      royal hostess and Miss Belmore and a frequent amused look in their eyes,
-      which she had been at a loss to account for; but this would explain it
-      all. Ah, yes! she knew almost to a certainty that their long talk about
-      Petite Reine of other days had been with none other than La Grande Reine
-      of to-day, and the crimes of the dreadful Huntington seemed hardly worse,
-      for the moment, than that of that most audacious Albert!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XV.&mdash;A DARING SUGGESTION.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9159.jpg" alt="9159 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9159.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p>
-      It was a close foggy morning in London, and Mr. Everett Belden, having
-      breakfasted a whole hour earlier than usual, stood gazing out upon the
-      street from one of the windows of the Reform Club. It is two months now
-      since we let him go his lonely way from the steamer; and this may surprise
-      you, for what with the doings up at Windsor and the complications in the
-      cottage at Nuneham, you may not have kept any track of the time. None the
-      less is it true that in all this while we have not given so much as a
-      thought to Mr. Belden or to aught that concerns him; and for all I know it
-      is just as well. The little &ldquo;buttons&rdquo; who keeps guard during
-      the day at the door of the Reform Club and the smartly liveried Irishman
-      who takes his place at night would both tell you that Mr. Belden has come
-      in and out all the while with great regularity, having his saddle horse
-      brought around at precisely the same hour every clear morning, and going
-      out for a walk at precisely the same hour every afternoon. There is no
-      evidence that in all these weeks he has been of the least real use to
-      anybody, or that, notwithstanding his recent encounter with a little girl
-      who had set him thinking rather seriously for a time, he had in any way
-      altered or modified his selfish way of living. They are creatures of habit
-      these self-centred old bachelors, and it takes a great deal to start them
-      out along any new line of action, and doubly so when, like Mr. Belden,
-      they do not know what it is to feel buoyantly well and strong. And so to
-      all outward appearances there was no change whatever in this particular
-      old bachelor, and the little sermon Marie-Celeste had unconsciously
-      preached on the steamer and the reading of the &ldquo;Story of a Short
-      Life&rdquo; had only given him a glimpse of what a noble thing life might
-      be, without awakening any real determination to make his own life noble.
-      But outward appearances, as often happens, are not by any means the
-      infallible things the world would have us believe, and deep down in Mr.
-      Belden's heart had dropped a little seed of unrest that made itself
-      felt that sultry August morning; not but that his heart was all unrest for
-      that matter, for there is no restlessness in the world like the
-      restlessness of doing nothing; but this little seed was of a new and
-      different character, and with such power of growth in it that, tiny though
-      it was, it finally compelled Mr. Belden to take it into account.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How queer it is,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;that I should
-      feel constrained in this way to run out to Windsor! Land knows! I have no
-      desire to come to be on intimate terms of acquaintance with Evelyn's
-      boys; and what would be the satisfaction of prowling around just to see
-      where they live? Their father gave me up after that time he spoke his mind
-      so freely about my aimless life&mdash;as he was pleased to call it&mdash;and
-      there is no reason whatever why I should bother myself about my sister's
-      children, since she, poor thing! is dead and gone, and they have enough of
-      this world's goods to make them comfortable. But I would give&mdash;yes,
-      I would give a great deal for another glimpse of that child Marie-Celeste&mdash;for
-      another talk with her, too, before she goes sailing back to the States, if
-      only that were possible without my coming in contact with any of the rest
-      of the household. Well, there seems to be nothing for it but to go to
-      Windsor to-day, for it looks as though I should not get the best of this
-      state of mind till I do.&rdquo; Then he turned from the window, put on his
-      coat, which was lying in readiness beside him, strolled out from the club,
-      called for a hansom, directing the driver to take him to the station, and
-      never for one minute admitted to himself that he had risen a whole hour
-      earlier in order to do this very thing, or that he was acting on any
-      stronger impulse than that of a passing fancy, born of the midsummer day,
-      and desire for a little variety. So, out to Windsor he went, and choosing
-      from among the carriages at the depot one that was manned by a
-      respectable-looking old party, took his place on the front seat beside
-      him, remarking that he had simply come down to see the town, and would
-      first like to drive about for an hour.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The driver, judging from Mr. Belden's faultless attire and
-      distinguished bearing, had rated him at once as one of those high and
-      mighty Londoners, and had expected that he would of course entrench
-      himself on the back seat of the little turnout and, preserving a dignified
-      silence, condescendingly allow himself to be driven about and to be very
-      much bored into the bargain&mdash;all of which, it must be confessed,
-      would have been more in keeping with Mr. Belden's usual manner of
-      conducting himself. To-day, however, he had an axe to grind, and the
-      friendly intercourse of the front seat would prove more conducive to the
-      end in view.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ever been ere before?&rdquo; questioned the coachman, ready to
-      prove himself friendly with the friendly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was at Eton half a term when a boy, but I didn't take to
-      the old place, and cut and run away the first chance.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And 'aven't you 'ad any schoolin' since,
-      sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I tutored awhile at home&mdash;just enough to wriggle my
-      way into Cambridge; and I studied just enough there to get my degree&mdash;no
-      more, I can tell you. I have been one of those fellows who didn't
-      believe in taking unnecessary trouble.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You look it,&rdquo; said the man honestly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked Mr. Belden, thinking he was willing
-      to face the music.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you 'ave a lazy, listless sort of look&mdash;begging
-      your pardon, sir&mdash;like most of those men who loaf their lives away at
-      the clubs up in London.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden naturally felt irritated at the fellow's blunt honesty,
-      but there was no sense in resenting a state of affairs which he had
-      deliberately brought down upon himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You look the perfect gentleman, all the same,&rdquo; added the man;
-      and endeavoring to extract a grain of comfort from this last remark, Mr.
-      Belden thought best to change the subject.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you happen to know,&rdquo; he asked quite casually, &ldquo;of
-      any people here in Windsor named Harris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, sir; there are two young gentlemen named 'Arris,
-      whose mother died two years back, living in the Little Castle. Do you know
-      them, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know of them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would you like to call there, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I'd rather like to see the house, though.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a 'alf a mile back, sir, near the big Castle. We
-      can take it in on our way 'ome.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; turn round; if it's all the same to you we'll go
-      there now;&rdquo; and this last a little gruffly; for one has to be a good
-      deal of a philosopher to continue on the friendliest of terms with a man
-      that has just informed you that you look listless and lazy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The driver was rather surprised at Mr. Belden's changed mood, but
-      the little carriage was turned round promptly in obedience to orders, and
-      the old horse whipped into a canter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't do that,&rdquo; said Mr. Belden sharply; &ldquo;there's
-      no need to hurry and the horse was instantly jerked down to a pace more in
-      accordance with his own ideas of comfort and propriety.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me what you know about these Harris boys,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Belden imperiously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm not in the way to know much, sir&rdquo;&mdash;preferring
-      to be civil at any cost than to lose the probable extra shilling &ldquo;the
-      young un is an Eton boy, and the older one studies up to Hoxford. The old
-      un's a tough un, they say, but he seems a decent enough sort of
-      fellow.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Does the young one live alone here at Windsor?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't know about that, sir; but I've 'eard they
-      'ave some company from the States this summer. That's the
-      house yonder, with the pretty terrace and the tower. They calls it the
-      Little Castle.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden looked in the direction indicated, and&mdash;could he believe
-      his eyes!&mdash;was there not a familiar little figure coming leisurely
-      down the path from the Little Castle, which when it reached the gate in
-      the hedgerow turned in the same direction as they were driving?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whip up,&rdquo; ordered Mr. Belden impatiently, for he wanted to be
-      a little more sure in the matter. Yes, it was certainly Marie-Celeste.
-      There was no mistaking the free, quick step nor the alert bearing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; commanded Mr. Belden, and the carriage came to a
-      standstill with paralyzing abruptness &ldquo;Now, turn your wheel and let
-      me out. There's your money.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Instantly perceiving that he had been generously compensated, the man
-      smiled an appreciative &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; and then watched Mr.
-      Belden stride up the street, with the conclusion that he was &ldquo;a
-      little off;&rdquo; but the more &ldquo;off&rdquo; the better, he thought,
-      if it meant three half-crowns for a drive of a quarter of an hour.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste walked briskly on up the hill, and Mr. Belden would have
-      given three half-crowns more with a will to any one who could have told
-      him where she was going. He would prefer to come across her more by
-      accident apparently than by running to catch up with her, and when so
-      near, too, to the Little Castle as to suggest that he had probably come to
-      Windsor purposely to see her. If she should happen to turn in at some
-      house, he decided he would try to intercept her before she rang the bell,
-      so that they might have at least a few moments' chat, but otherwise
-      he would bide his time a little while and see what came of it. She had a
-      sort of portfolio under her arm; it was not unlikely she was going to some
-      lesson or other, and if so, alas! where would the chat come in? But, as
-      you and I happen to know, nothing was farther from Marie-Celeste's
-      thought that happy summer, withal she was learning so much, than any idea
-      of lessons, and on she went till she vanished from sight through one of
-      the castle gates. Then Mr. Belden quickened his steps, and arrived at the
-      inner side of the same gate just in time to see her disappear within St.
-      George's Chapel.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which way did that little girl go?&rdquo; he asked of the sexton,
-      who was vigorously burnishing a brass memorial tablet just within the
-      doorway of the chapel.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you mean Marie-Celeste, sir?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0164.jpg" alt="0164 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0164.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes;&rdquo; but naturally wondering that the man should know her
-      name.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are likely to find her right in there, sir,&rdquo; indicating
-      the direction by a nod of his head. &ldquo;She was coming in some day to
-      copy off part of the inscription from the Prince Imperial's tomb.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So this old sexton and Marie-Celeste were evidently on the best of terms,
-      and the child, with her genius for making friends, was probably in the
-      confidence of half of Windsor by this time; and Mr. Belden selfishly
-      wished she would not be so indiscriminate in her friendships.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The &ldquo;right in there&rdquo; of the sexton evidently referred to Braye
-      Chapel, within a few feet of the door by which he had entered; and
-      glancing in through the open-work carving of the partition enclosing it,
-      he discovered Marie-Celeste seated on a cushion on the floor, her back
-      against the wall, busily writing away on the portfolio on her lap.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Belden moved noiselessly to the doorway, and stood unobserved, looking
-      down upon her for several seconds, until glancing up for the next sentence
-      in the inscription, she suddenly beheld him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Mr. Belden!&rdquo; she cried, transfixed with surprise;
-      &ldquo;how long have you been there, and wherever did you come from?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have been here about a minute, I should say, and I ran out from
-      London this morning to take a look at old Windsor, and, you see, I have
-      had the good fortune, as I half hoped I should, to run across my little
-      steamer friend.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you wouldn't have come down to Windsor without coming to
-      see me, Mr. Belden?&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, suddenly realizing that her
-      position was not the most dignified in the world, shut the portfolio
-      together and stood up to receive him in more courteous fashion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, to be quite honest, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; for the half-truths
-      of conventional acquaintance did not enter into this friendship, &ldquo;I
-      think I might; I'm nothing of a hand at calling, you know, but I'm
-      awfully glad, I can tell you, to have met you just in this way, only you
-      mustn't let me interrupt you. You keep right on with your copying,
-      and I'll wander about till you've finished.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I had so much rather show you the chapel,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      said eagerly. &ldquo;I can finish the copying any time, and I know about
-      it almost as well as the vergers themselves&mdash;<i>will</i> you let me?&rdquo;
-      evidently afraid that he would express a preference for a professional
-      guide.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I can't imagine anything more delightful;&rdquo; for
-      which cordial endorsement Marie-Celeste blushed her thanks.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, very much impressed with the dignity of the
-      opportunity afforded her, &ldquo;suppose we commence right here with this
-      monument to the Prince Imperial. Of course you will have to let me tell
-      you which are my favorites, and this is one of them. Somehow it seems to
-      me the very saddest monument in all the chapel; but I think it was
-      beautiful in Queen Victoria to have it placed here out of sympathy for the
-      poor French Empress, who had lost everything&mdash;husband and kingdom,
-      and, last of all, this brave son; for I think he must have been brave, don't
-      you, Mr. Belden? The same sort of bravery that Leonard&mdash;you remember
-      the 'Story of a Short Life,' don't you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do, indeed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I mean the same sort of bravery that Leonard would have shown
-      if he had lived to grow up, as he so longed to do, to be a soldier like
-      the Prince. And yet Leonard was just as brave in his own way, wasn't
-      he? It was the prayer that the Prince wrote in his mass-book that I was
-      copying; it is very beautiful, isn't it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was no need for Mr. Belden to do aught but look and listen, and drop
-      a word of assent now and then, when Marie-Celeste saw fit to impart her
-      information in a somewhat interrogative form; and in this way they went on
-      from monument to monument, giving of course but a passing glance to many
-      and stopping longest, by tacit agreement, at those which had some special
-      charm or attraction for Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is one of my greatest favorites,&rdquo; she exclaimed
-      enthusiastically, as they came to the late Dean Wellesley's
-      monument, in the north aisle; and she stood in rapt admiration looking
-      down at the beautiful recumbent figure. &ldquo;Isn't that a glorious
-      face, Mr. Belden?&rdquo; she said in an earnest, low voice; &ldquo;and I
-      love what it says about him here on the side&mdash;'<i>Trained</i>
-      in a school of duty and honor'&mdash;because his face bears it out,
-      Mr. Belden. It shows, I think, how noble he must have been through and
-      through all his life long.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What a little hero-worshipper you are, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said
-      'Mr. Belden, looking kindly and thoughtfully down at her glowing
-      face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Marie-Celeste as thoughtfully, &ldquo;I don't
-      see how anybody can help being a hero-worshipper, and doing all they can
-      to be heroes themselves.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, some people do, Marie-Celeste&mdash;I have helped it all my
-      life somehow.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; I remember you told me something like that on the steamer; but
-      it's a great pity, and it seems to me&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What seems to you?&rdquo; for Marie-Celeste hesitated.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Are you sure you will not mind, for I only mean to be friendly?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Surely I will not mind.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, it seems to me I would try to be a hero at one great
-      jump, to make up for all the lost time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And how would you manage it, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I believe I would begin to think out some beautiful thing to do
-      with my money before I died.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is a great deal in what you say, dear child,&rdquo; Mr.
-      Belden replied earnestly, &ldquo;and I will think about it; and yet, do
-      you know, I would not have let anybody else in the world make that
-      suggestion to me;&rdquo; but significant as this last remark was intended
-      to be, Marie-Celeste, to Mr. Belden's surprise, paid little heed to
-      it; for what difference did that make, so long as, without taking offence,
-      he had allowed her to tell him what was for his own good?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Isn't this a beautiful inscription?&rdquo; she said, pausing
-      for a moment before the monument of George V., the last king of Hanover.
-      &ldquo;They say he was blind, and that after his death his kingdom became
-      just a part of Germany, and that is the reason they wrote here, 'Receiving
-      a kingdom which cannot be moved,' and, 'In thy light shall he
-      see light.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so the tour of the chapel was at last made; and although his little
-      guide had omitted much historical detail that the professional would have
-      furnished, she had put in with telling force many little points of her
-      own.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When they reached the doorway of the chapel, Mr. Belden stood watch in
-      hand, for he had decided he would take the two-o'clock train back to
-      London, while Marie-Celeste ran on telling how Donald had gone to stay
-      with Chris at Nuneham, and various other matters about Ted and Harold that
-      were of more interest to Mr. Belden than she had any idea of. Finally, in
-      breathless, excited fashion, she told of the visit to the Queen she and
-      Albert had made, and of how she had handled with her own hands treasures
-      that had belonged to Madame La Petite Reine. Of course it seemed almost
-      incredible, but then the &ldquo;incredible&rdquo; was coming to seem
-      rather a part of Marie-Celeste's make-up in Mr. Belden's mind.
-      At last, when he felt that he must not delay another moment, he took leave
-      of her, saying as he went, &ldquo;Well, as usual you have set me thinking,
-      my little friend,&rdquo; but as though he were grateful for the same; and
-      Marie-Celeste, turning back to finish the copying of the Prince Imperial's
-      prayer, wondered in her practical little way if anything would come of the
-      thinking, and if so, if she would ever happen to hear what it was; and yet
-      at the same time not a little sceptical as to any tangible result
-      whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVI.&mdash;MARIE-CELESTE'S DISCOVERY.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9169.jpg" alt="9169 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9169.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>verything was
-      ready for the start, but no one knew how much that meant as well as Harold
-      and Uncle Fritz, for they had thought of nothing else for three whole
-      weeks together. The others would find out by degrees what a delightful
-      thing it was to have had everything so carefully arranged and well thought
-      out beforehand. The start was to be for the English Lake Country, and the
-      being ready meant that everything that could by any possibility be needed
-      on a month's driving tour had been carefully stowed away somewhere.
-      It was a select little party of six&mdash;Uncle Fritz and Aunt Lou,
-      Marie-Celeste, Miss Allyn, Harold and Mr. Farwell, a young American artist
-      whom Uncle Fritz had come to know. Mr. Farwell was invited, if the truth
-      be told, more to fill up than for any other reason; for three in a row is
-      the invariable rule for an English break, unless you are willing to be
-      shaken about rather more than is by any means agreeable. The back seat was
-      reserved for the two grooms, and a bundle of wraps and rugs strapped to
-      the cushion between them showed that they at any rate recognized the
-      desirability of not having too much room at their disposal. The break that
-      was brought into requisition belonged to Theodore, and was simply
-      appropriated by Harold, for there was no saying &ldquo;by your leave&rdquo;
-      to a fellow who went driving through the country himself without even
-      taking the pains to enlighten you as to his whereabouts.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who knows but we shall meet him somewhere?&rdquo; thought Harold,
-      knowing that Ted's trip was also to be through the English Lakes;
-      &ldquo;and if we do, I'll give him another piece of my mind, for he's
-      been more than rude to Aunt Lou and Uncle Fritz, never putting himself out
-      the least bit for them. Oh, if Ted were only a different sort of fellow!
-      He ought to be the sixth one in this party instead of Mr. Farwell. But,
-      heigho! it would be a shame to let Ted spoil this trip for me, and I'm
-      not going to think of him again&mdash;that is, if I can help it&mdash;unless
-      we happen to meet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold was indulging in this meditation as he stood waiting by the break
-      for the rest of the party, for thinking comes very easy when one has
-      nothing to do; but wise are the folk, big or little, who, like Harold,
-      resolve to banish uncomfortable thoughts from the mind when convinced that
-      thinking is not in the least likely to better them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of course, as you may imagine, there was one little heart sadly rebellious
-      and envious over the setting out of this happy party. &ldquo;Not quite big
-      enough to fill up,&rdquo; was the chief excuse given; but the little
-      Knight of the Garter knew full well that he was considered too small every
-      way to be for one moment taken into the calculation. Oh, what would he not
-      have given if only his arrival in this world might have been timed in
-      closer proximity to Harold's and Marie-Celeste's&mdash;it was
-      such an insupportable thing to be seven long years behind! But, all the
-      same, his time would come, and his little envious heart secretly cherished
-      the revengeful hope that he, in turn, might have the grim satisfaction of
-      informing other young hopefuls that their extreme youth and diminutive
-      proportions excluded them from participating in this or that pleasure to
-      which his riper age entitled him, all of which unknightly and most
-      unchristian sentiments we trust will be put to rout when he comes to years
-      of discretion. But this aside about Albert has been merely by way of
-      parenthesis while the party from the Little Castle are mounting the steps
-      to the break, and stowing themselves away in their places. Uncle Fritz,
-      who had spent all his boyhood on a New England farm near Franconia, and
-      taken many a trip on a White Mountain coach by the side of an indulgent
-      driver, had early mastered the secret of competent four-in-hand driving,
-      and was therefore first to take his seat on the driver's almost
-      perpendicular cushion. Next to him sat Harold, who could also manage the
-      four-in-hand whenever Uncle Fritz thought best to resign in his favor, and
-      next to Harold, Marie-Celeste, grateful for the arrangement that accorded
-      to her a seat on the outside edge. On the middle seat Aunt Lou sat alone
-      in solemn grandeur, but only until they could cover the little distance to
-      the White Hart Inn to take aboard Mr. Farwell, and then wheel round to
-      Canon Allyn's for Dorothy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dorothy Allyn was standing in the doorway ready and expectant, and looking
-      as pretty as a picture in a gray costume and a hat with a wide-rolling
-      brim, that in her case was vastly becoming. Albert's disconsolate
-      face was pressed close to a window-pane, which was as near as he cared to
-      come to such a joyous company. Marie-Celeste declared she could almost see
-      the lump in the poor little fellow's throat, and the recollection of
-      the utter hopelessness of the teary brown eyes lingered rather sadly for a
-      while in the memory of all of the party.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But who could long be grave at the outset of so promising an expedition!
-      The idea of a leisurely driving trip through the lovely Lake Country,
-      stopping here and there, as the spirit moved them, at the comfortable
-      little inns and hotels that abound in the region, had been such a
-      supremely delightful idea, even in mere anticipation, that now that they
-      were actually off enthusiasm knew no bounds, and mirth was literally
-      unconfined. Not that any very remarkable things were said, but one can
-      laugh very easily, you know, and at almost nothing, when one's heart
-      is light as a feather and the &ldquo;goose hangs high,&rdquo; as the queer
-      old saying has it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And yet for all that, to all those happy hearts there might have been
-      added one extra touch still of lightness. Mr. Farwell was no doubt a most
-      desirable addition, and all were delighted that he could come; but the
-      place belonged by rights to Ted&mdash;wilful, wandering, selfish Ted, who
-      might have added so much to their pleasure if he had not chosen to turn
-      his back upon them all and prefer any company in the world, apparently, to
-      that of kith and kin and old friends at Windsor. The thought and half hope
-      that they might meet him somewhere on the trip was in every mind but one.
-      Dorothy knew better. Dorothy knew a great deal, in fact, for her brother
-      Harry had made one surreptitious visit home; that is, he had arrived by
-      night and left again by night, and no one outside of his own family had
-      been a bit the wiser. And during that visit Harry, under pledge of perfect
-      secrecy on the part of his mother and Dorothy, had told them everything.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You see, the reason why I want you to keep so dark about it all,&rdquo;
-      Harry had explained, &ldquo;is because of Ted. I believe the fellow's
-      just as ashamed of this last year at Oxford as I am, but you know,
-      Dorothy, as well as I do (as, alas! Dorothy did know to her sorrow), that
-      Ted's awfully touchy and sensitive, and it takes a very little thing
-      to turn him one way or the other. Well, now, let Harold, who is pretty
-      well out of the notion of Ted already, come to hear of this last scrape,
-      and, youngster as he is, I believe he'd throw him over; and Ted, you
-      know, wouldn't stand any nonsense of that sort and would tell Harold
-      'to go his own way and welcome,' and who knows what the upshot
-      of that would be! If Ted does not feel he must make an effort to lead a
-      different sort of life for Harold's sake, he may come to the
-      conclusion that the thing's not worth trying. You see, you can't
-      feel sure about a fellow's good resolutions till you have had a
-      chance to test them, and Ted's haven't had to stand any strain
-      as yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Now, to know all this was naturally a great comfort to Harry's
-      mother and sister, for they had of course been not a little anxious on
-      Harry's own account at the way things seemed to be going, but there
-      was one thing they were content not to know for a while&mdash;for the
-      reason that Harry strongly urged it&mdash;and that was where he and Ted
-      were staying. There need be no difficulty on this account about their
-      writing, because letters could be forwarded promptly from Oxford, whereas
-      if they were able to say where Harry was, then Ted would have to be
-      accounted for, too, and there was no telling where that would end. Now,
-      this narration is simply by way of telling you how Dorothy had come to
-      know that there was no sort of use in hoping to come across the two
-      seniors, who, like themselves, were supposed to be enjoying all the
-      delights of driving through the English Lake Country.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been decided that Oxford was to be the first stopping-place of the
-      driving party, and quite a stop it was to be. Mr. and Mrs. Harris and Mr.
-      Farwell had never been there, and they planned to spend at least two days
-      prowling about the dear old colleges. But Marie-Celeste and Harold had a
-      scheme on foot in comparison with which all the colleges put together
-      could not offer the least attraction. They were to be permitted to go down
-      early Saturday morning to Nuneham, take Chris and Donald by surprise, and
-      spend the whole day with them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0173.jpg" alt="0173 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0173.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Why, that plan in itself was worth all the rest of the trip; and when Mr.
-      Harris, to whom the idea had first occurred, suggested it, Marie-Celeste
-      had put her two arms round her father's neck, declaring &ldquo;he
-      was just a darling and yet, when you come to think of it, he was the very
-      same old curmudgeon of a papa, and not one whit altered either, who had
-      been so soundly berated for insisting that it would be better for Donald
-      to have some easy work to do than to idle away the whole summer.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ah, well! the little Queen had deeply repented that sorry episode; and
-      endeavoring ourselves to forget it, let us agree never again so much as to
-      allude to it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So down to Nuneham they went bright and early Saturday morning, and,
-      feeling fine as a lark, or as two larks, to speak more correctly, they
-      preferred doing the walking themselves over the mile and a half out from
-      Nuneham to engaging a most unpromising horse attached to a little
-      carry-all to do it for them. They would at least seem to be getting over
-      the ground at a faster rate, and be able to work off considerable
-      superfluous energy into the bargain. And it was really marvellous how soon
-      they reached their destination. Far too excited to converse by the way,
-      every breath was reserved for the exertion of walking, and so it happened
-      that they made almost the best time on record. And when they reached the
-      cottage, or rather the little lane that runs down between the hedgerows,
-      who did they see at once but Chris himself, busy at work in the garden,
-      and Donald, hoe in hand, close beside him, cutting vigorously at the weeds
-      round some hop-vines, and both working away with such a will and such a
-      farmer-like air that it looked as though both had mistaken their calling.
-      But working with a will sometimes means nothing more than determination to
-      do one's duty; and from what we happen to know, Chris would much
-      have preferred setting cheerily forth on his round in Uncle Sam's
-      far-away city, and Donald was probably dreaming of the blue boundless sea
-      and the steamer ploughing its way in the teeth of a driving nor'easter.
-      But wherever their thoughts may have been, they instantly both stopped
-      thinking, for first they heard the familiar bugle-call of the steamer ring
-      out on the air in the clearest sort of a whistle; and then&mdash;could
-      they believe their eyes?&mdash;there stood Marie-Celeste and Harold right
-      before them on the other side of the hawthorn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I never!&rdquo; cried Chris, and in one bound was over the
-      hedgerow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My eyes!&rdquo; was Donald's surprised exclamation, and then
-      he took to his heels and ran to the cottage as fast as his legs could
-      carry him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; he panted, with what little breath his run had
-      left him, &ldquo;your brother has come&mdash;he's just out in the
-      lane there with Marie-Celeste, and they'll both be right in here in
-      a minute.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What stuff you are talking, Donald,&rdquo; for Ted could not
-      believe his ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's the truth, sir, and you've only a minute, unless
-      you want to see him but it was so very plain that Ted didn't want to
-      see him, that Donald, who more fully took in the need for haste, pressed
-      Ted's hat and cane into his hand, and then throwing open one of the
-      shutters of the back windows of his room, helped him to make the best
-      possible time getting through it. It was rather heroic treatment for a
-      convalescent, who was barely equal as yet to even commonplace modes of
-      proceeding, but there was nothing else to be done if the secret was still
-      to be kept.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Go down to the big apple-tree in the corner of the meadow,&rdquo;
-      directed Donald, half under his breath, &ldquo;and, look here! you had
-      better take this with you,&rdquo; dragging a steamer rug from the couch,
-      and flinging it out after him, &ldquo;and I'll come down just as
-      soon as ever I can and let you know how things are going and then Donald
-      drew the shutters noiselessly to and sped back to the lane at as tight a
-      run as he had left it. All this was accomplished in less time than it
-      takes to tell it, and Donald found the children still chatting with Chris
-      in the lane. Chris, having instantly surmised the object of Donald's
-      disappearance, determined that he should have all the time needed; and
-      nothing was easier, under conditions that called naturally for so many
-      explanations, than to engage the children in such an absorbing
-      conversation on the spot as to make no move toward the cottage; but the
-      ring of Donald's feet on the path was the signal that it was safe to
-      lead the way in that direction.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you are glad to see a fellow,&rdquo; said Harold, &ldquo;to
-      take to your heels and run in that fashion the moment you spied us.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There was something I suddenly remembered that I had to see to that
-      very minute,&rdquo; stammered Donald, shaking bands with Marie-Celeste and
-      Harold at one and the same moment; &ldquo;but you may just believe I'm
-      glad to see you and the warmth of Donald's welcome fully atoned for
-      the few moments of unexplained delay.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you tell Granny they had come, Donald?&rdquo; asked Chris, his
-      face fairly beaming at the thought of being able to actually introduce
-      Marie-Celeste to the dear old grandmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; I stopped for nothing more than I just had to,&rdquo; said
-      Donald honestly; but Mrs. Hartley, who had been busy in the kitchen wing
-      of the little cottage, and had not heard the commotion in Ted's
-      room, but had happened to catch sight of Donald's flying heels, had
-      come out to see what the matter was.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, you don't tell me this is Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; she
-      said, putting one hand on Marie-Celeste's shoulder and looking
-      gladly down at the sunny, upturned face. &ldquo;Why, do you know,&rdquo;
-      she said, shaking hands with Harold as she spoke, &ldquo;you have
-      succeeded, I am sure, in giving Chris the very best surprise in all his
-      life.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That they have, Granny,&rdquo; said Chris warmly; &ldquo;and they're
-      not going back till late this afternoon, and we're going to make a
-      beautiful day of it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And a beautiful day of it they made; and early in the afternoon
-      Marie-Celeste made something beautiful besides, quite on her own account&mdash;nothing
-      else than the discovery which gives its name to this chapter, and which
-      happened to be a beautiful discovery, because it was the means of making
-      somebody take new heart and see things in general in a newer and truer
-      light.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They had been together the entire morning&mdash;all the little household,
-      with the exception of the gentleman who, Donald had explained, had met
-      with the accident, and who had gone off for the day. Donald had previously
-      whispered to Mrs. Hartley that Ted was down under the big apple-tree, not
-      feeling much like talking or caring to meet their unexpected company. You
-      see, Donald, having been taken so unreservedly into Ted's
-      confidence, had turned into a thorough diplomat, and had determined to aid
-      and abet his plans in every possible way. Indeed, from what he himself
-      knew of Harold's intense nature, he felt very sure that it would be
-      far wiser and safer that he should never know of all that had happened&mdash;not,
-      at any rate, unless Ted, having had a chance to prove the strength of his
-      new resolutions, chose some day himself to tell him. Harold was so proud
-      and Ted was so proud they simply mustn't come together yet awhile if
-      it could in any way be helped. But we must not let this little aside about
-      Donald's attitude toward the whole affair take another moment of our
-      thoughts, for more important and vastly more interesting matters are
-      awaiting our attention.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of course it goes without saying with those of us who have come to know
-      Mrs. Hartley, that as regal a little dinner was served for the guests from
-      Royal Windsor as the larder of the cottage could afford; but to Martha was
-      due all the praise of actual performance. Mrs. Hartley simply took her
-      knitting, and sat the entire morning right in the midst of the little
-      party just outside the cottage-door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must manage somehow,&rdquo; she had said seriously to Martha;
-      &ldquo;I must see all I can of Chris's little Marie-Celeste to-day,
-      for you know it is hardly likely, Martha, that I shall ever see her again.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'm quite sure I can manage, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; the little
-      maid said proudly, confident that her long apprenticeship had made her
-      fully equal to the occasion, and inwardly rejoicing in the full sense of
-      responsibility.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the exact hour agreed upon as the best time for dinner, the little
-      maid, turned cook and waitress, announced the meal as ready, and her
-      reward came in the children's demonstrative approval. &ldquo;Never
-      tasted anything so delicious&rdquo; was on their lips repeatedly; and
-      Marie-Celeste having told, to the supreme delight of all who listened, the
-      story of her visit to the Queen, even went so far as to declare that she
-      was enjoying it more than the luncheon in the Castle. Mrs. Hartley said,
-      &ldquo;Oh, my dear!&rdquo; in a most deprecating way; but there was no
-      gainsaying the evident sincerity of the declaration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps it's because I feel a little more at home in a
-      cottage,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste explained; &ldquo;and then, besides,&rdquo;
-      looking affectionately toward Chris, &ldquo;it's so fine to be with
-      old friends, you know;&rdquo; and Chris shook his head and glanced toward
-      his grandmother as much as to say, &ldquo;Well, now, Granny dear, did you
-      ever see such a darling?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Granny dear&rdquo; shook her head as much as to say, &ldquo;No,
-      Chris, I never did;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, daintily preoccupied with a
-      drum-stick, was fortunately none the wiser for this exchange of open
-      admiration.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At the conclusion of dinner Chris took the boys off to a neighboring farm
-      to show them some wonderful Jersey cattle that were expected to take the
-      prize at a coming county fair; but Marie-Celeste, preferring Mrs. Hartley's
-      society, decided to remain at home. No sooner were they gone, however,
-      than Mrs. Hartley, arriving at the decision that she knew better than Mr.
-      Harris himself what was best for him, and that it would doubtless do him
-      good to meet this bright little girl, entered immediately into a bit of
-      diplomacy on her own account.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;will you do a little favor
-      for me? Will you run and ask Martha if one of the cup-custards was left
-      over from dinner?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Martha says yes, Mrs. Hartley.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, will you ask her to give it to you on a little tray,
-      and a piece of sponge-cake besides, well powdered with sugar?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here it is, Mrs. Hartley,&rdquo; carefully bringing the laden tray,
-      and looking every whit as pretty as the picture of La Chocolatière, and
-      not unlike her in her pose and gentle dignity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now do you think you could carry it to somebody way down under
-      the apple-tree that you can just see the top of from here?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Surely I could,&rdquo; her pretty face glowing with the pleasure of
-      the errand, &ldquo;but I should like to know who the somebody is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you would. Well, it's the gentleman, Mr. Morris,
-      who met with the accident, and who's been staying with us these six
-      weeks.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, all right, then,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste tripped away, at the
-      same time taking care not to stumble, to the apple-tree down in the
-      meadow. But since this chapter is growing rather long, and you have
-      already surmised what it was that Marie-Celeste discovered, it may be as
-      well to stop a moment, draw a long breath, and take another chapter to
-      tell about it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVII.&mdash;INTO TED'S CONFIDENCE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9179.jpg" alt="9179 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9179.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arie-Celeste!&rdquo;
-      gasped Ted, letting his book fall from his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Ted!&rdquo; gasped Marie-Celeste; and flop went the
-      cup-custard over on one side, and then rolled off of the tray altogether.
-      Perhaps you think gasped is a pretty strong word; but when you are fairly
-      taken off your feet with surprise, you can't for the very first
-      moment do much better with words than gasp them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where did you come from, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo; Ted demanded almost
-      roughly, and as though she had no right in the world to come from any
-      place whatsoever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you come to be here, Cousin Theodore?&rdquo; parrying
-      question with question, and drawing her little figure to its full height,
-      in resentment of the tone in which Ted had spoken.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, you need not make any pretence,&rdquo; Ted said sarcastically.
-      &ldquo;Donald has been mean enough to go back on me, and you know all
-      there is to tell. I can see through the whole thing, cup-custard,
-      sponge-cake and all, and Harold 'll be down here in a moment to help
-      lord it over the prodigal.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What do you mean. Ted?&rdquo; for she really did not understand all
-      he said. &ldquo;Donald hasn't told me anything, nor Harold, nor
-      anybody. They've all gone off to see some cows somewhere, and Mrs.
-      Hartley asked me if I would not take this little tray down to Mr. Morris,
-      the gentleman who had met with the accident,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste gave
-      a comprehensive glance through the little orchard, as though still
-      expecting to discover the real object of her search under some neighboring
-      tree.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am the gentleman who met with the accident,&rdquo; said Ted,
-      smiling in spite of himself, &ldquo;and my name is supposed to be Morris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The smile relieved matters somewhat, and Marie-Celeste, setting the little
-      tray on the ground, picked up the cup-custard, which had suffered nothing
-      by its fall, and putting it back in its place on the tray, took a seat in
-      the corner of the rug, to which Ted motioned her, and then clasping her
-      two hands round her knees, asked in a tone of most earnest inquiry,
-      &ldquo;Now tell me, Cousin Theodore, why do you do things like this?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mean, why do I let myself be thrown out of my trap in a runaway
-      accident, and then be foolish enough to let myself be almost killed into
-      the bargain?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you really had an accident, Ted?&rdquo; with a solicitude that
-      went straight to Ted's heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, considerable of an accident. I fancy it would have done for
-      me, Marie-Celeste, if I had not fallen into the hands of these good people
-      here.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But oh, Ted,&rdquo; why didn't you send us word? Mamma and I
-      would have come down and taken care of you every moment and she spoke as
-      though they would have just loved to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste, you are a dear child;&rdquo; and Ted, who was
-      hungering at last for the love of kith and kin, could not keep his eyes
-      from growing a little misty. He realized, too, how he had done absolutely
-      nothing; to warrant this little affectionate outburst, and felt sorely
-      humiliated&mdash;a sensation which had been very common to poor Ted of
-      late.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How did the accident happen?&rdquo; asked Marie-Celeste; and
-      touched by his grave face, she moved a little farther up on the rug.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, by being a fool, as usual! We were off on a lark, four of us,
-      and I got into a fix so than I couldn't manage the horses, and&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ted, do you mean&rdquo;&mdash;and then Marie-Celeste hesitated&mdash;&ldquo;do
-      you mean that you really took so much wine that you did not know what you
-      were about?&rdquo; for she wanted to understand the whole matter clearly,
-      no matter how shocking it might prove.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that was it, Marie-Celeste;&rdquo; but the child little
-      guessed how the high-strung fellow winced under the confession, and how
-      his self-disgust never reached quite such high-water mark as at that
-      moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, go on,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste in a tone of utter
-      hopelessness; and then she added, with the air of a little grandmother,
-      &ldquo;don't keep anything back, Ted; I would rather know all there
-      is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's about all there is, Marie-Celeste, and it's
-      enough, isn't it? I was caught under the trap as it went over, and
-      they picked me up as good as dead and carried me into the Hartleys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you told us all at Windsor you were going on a driving trip
-      with Mr. Allyn.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So I was before the accident.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste paused a moment to straighten things out in her mind; then
-      she asked, &ldquo;But why, Ted, did you tell them your name was Morris?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Harry Allyn did that. He knew I would feel awfully mortified, and
-      he wanted Harold never to know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He never shall,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste said slowly, giving her full
-      endorsement to that part of the proceeding, and Ted inwardly pronounced
-      her a dearer child than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where is Harry Allyn now?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He stops up at the hotel at Nuneham, and comes down to look after
-      me ever day.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do his people know?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They know about the accident, but not where we are staying.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well, that makes me understand why Miss Allyn said she hardly
-      believed we would meet you on this driving trip. All the rest of us were
-      hoping we would. Miss Allyn would have hoped so, too, if she had not
-      known, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't suppose anything of the kind,&rdquo; said Ted,
-      &ldquo;but what's this about your driving trip, Marie-Celeste?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, we're on your break, Ted&mdash;Harold couldn't
-      write to ask for it, you know, because we didn't know where you
-      were, and we're stopping at Oxford now; but we left papa and mamma
-      and Miss Dorothy and Mr. Farwell for to-day, because Harold and I
-      preferred coming down here to surprise Chris and Donald to seeing all the
-      colleges in the world.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is Mr. Farwell?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, he's a very nice young artist, a friend of papa's.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he is taking a driving trip on my break, is he?&rdquo; said Ted
-      demurely, and not appearing exactly to fancy the idea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course, as he's in our party, Ted.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand; and now, Marie-Celeste, you are going to help me
-      keep my secret, are you? But you know you're not to tell anybody for
-      a while, not even your father and mother; do you think you can do it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will surely do it, Cousin Theodore, if you will do something for
-      me; will you promise me you will?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I can, little cousin;&rdquo; for who could withstand the
-      entreaty in the earnest childish voice?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will you come home, Cousin Theodore, as soon as ever you can?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What's the use, Marie-Celeste? Nobody cares for me there any
-      more, I've been such a selfish, ungracious fellow this long while.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We all care for you, Ted, really, very much&mdash;papa and mamma
-      and Harold and I.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, that's very kind indeed of you; but then I suppose, as
-      you're my relations, it's only Christian for you to care a
-      little.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But people care who are not your relations&mdash;Miss Dorothy Allyn
-      cares, and Albert.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How do you happen to know that.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, because one day after Miss Allyn had been playing the organ in
-      St. George's&mdash;and oh! doesn't she play beautifully!&mdash;we
-      talked a little while on the Castle terrace, and we talked about you, and
-      I asked her if you were ever so nice as Harold, because we couldn't
-      help being a little disappointed in you, Cousin Ted, and she said yes,
-      that you used to be every bit as nice, and if you had not been spoiled up
-      at Oxford you would have turned out all right. She didn't say just
-      those words, you know, but that was the meaning.&rdquo; Ted was silent for
-      a few moments, and when at last he spoke he said slowly, &ldquo;Yes, I
-      will come home, Marie-Celeste, as soon as I can; I promise.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0183.jpg" alt="0183 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0183.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Thank you, very much,&rdquo; as though Ted had done her the
-      greatest personal favor; and then, seeming to feel that their talk had
-      come to a natural end, she asked quite casually, &ldquo;Will you have the
-      custard now?&rdquo; and Ted remarking quite as casually, &ldquo;Yes, thank
-      you, I will,&rdquo; she lifted the tray carefully into his lap. &ldquo;Don't
-      take very long to eat it, please,&rdquo; she urged, &ldquo;for fear Mrs.
-      Hartley should wonder why I do not come hack and Ted obeyed orders with an
-      alacrity rather menacing to his digestive powers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What shall I say to Mrs. Hartley?&rdquo; Marie-Celeste asked with a
-      puzzled frown.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Say everything, Marie-Celeste; tell her all about me. Explain to
-      Donald first, and get him to take Harold off' somewhere, and then
-      tell all the others&mdash;Mr. and Mrs. Hartley and Chris and Martha. It is
-      not that I lack the courage to tell them myself, it's only that it
-      will be easier for them to learn it from you, you have such an innocent
-      way of going straight to the heart of a matter. Besides, how could they
-      hear it better than from my good little angel?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your good little angel! Oh, you don't know me, Cousin Ted! I'm
-      anything but an angel. I was bad as I could be for three whole days
-      together a few weeks ago&mdash;you ask Donald! Listen! they are calling me
-      up at the cottage. Take that last spoonful of custard quickly, please; it's
-      good for you. Good-by, now,&rdquo; printing a hearty little kiss on his
-      grateful face, &ldquo;and remember your promise;&rdquo; and then,
-      carefully lifting the tray, she sped back to the cottage, cheerily
-      calling, &ldquo;Yes, I'm coming,&rdquo; to Donald, who was on his
-      way to meet her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Marie-Celeste, what have you done?&rdquo; and Donald's face
-      looked the picture of despair as he came toward her; nevertheless, he was
-      gallant enough to relieve her of the tray, with its empty dishes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mean about my finding out about Cousin Ted?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald simply nodded yes; he had no heart for words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I couldn't help it, Donald; Mrs. Hartley asked me to
-      carry some custard and sponge-cake to the gentleman under the apple-tree&mdash;was
-      it my fault that the gentleman happened to be Ted, I'd like to know?&rdquo;
-      for never were there more accusing eyes than Donald's.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; not your fault, but it's a pity to have the whole
-      thing spoiled. We've kept the secret so carefully.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And do you think it can't be a secret any longer because I
-      happen to be in it?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was exactly what Donald felt sure of, but he contrived to say,
-      &ldquo;I didn't suppose you'd see the need of its being kept&mdash;I'm
-      glad if you do;&rdquo; but there was no real gladness evident, for Donald's
-      tone was hopeless in the extreme.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All the same, you don't think I'll keep it, Donald,&rdquo;
-      her little face really grieved. &ldquo;You think because I'm a girl
-      that I'll tell mamma, and then before I know it somebody else,&rdquo;
-      and therein Marie-Celeste proved herself a veritable little mind-reader.
-      &ldquo;Well, now, Donald, you'll see! and perhaps you'll come
-      to understand girls better this summer, and have more respect for them in
-      the future.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald took his lecture very meekly, knowing well that he deserved it, but
-      still doubtful of Marie-Celeste's boasted ability in the
-      secret-keeping line.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Ted has more confidence in me than you, Donald,&rdquo; still
-      exercising her mind-reading proclivities. &ldquo;He's asked me to
-      tell the Hartleys all about him this very day. He doesn't want any
-      unnecessary secrets kept any longer, and you're to take Harold off
-      somewhere while I tell them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It seems to me Ted ought to tell them himself,&rdquo; said Donald,
-      shaking his head in disapproval; for you see he really feared that Ted
-      lacked the necessary courage, although he could understand how much it
-      must mean to him to have the Hartleys realize that he had such a good
-      friend as Marie-Celeste at court. But Donald afterward exonerated Ted from
-      any lack of courage, and was of course delighted when he found that she
-      had pleaded his cause so eloquently as to convince even the old keeper
-      that Ted was fully justified in the course he had thought best to pursue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0185.jpg" alt="0185 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0185.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      Never was fairy tale listened to with more rapt attention than
-      Marie-Celeste's narration of the ups and downs of Ted's life
-      as she knew them, and never was heart more gladly grateful than hers when
-      she realized that these good friends were more than willing, for the sake
-      of the end in view, to condone the deception practised upon them. It is
-      such a fine thing when people show themselves fair-minded and reasonable
-      under circumstances that put their fair-mindedness to so much of a test.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, well, well, it's a queer world,&rdquo; said old Mr.
-      Hartley, resting his elbows on his knees, and drawing circles and squares
-      with his cane on the gravel beneath the old settle&mdash;&ldquo;it's
-      so remarkable that Mr. Morris (for he could not drop the name at once)
-      should have fallen right into our hands here. Seems to me as though God
-      never changed any of the real laws of things, but as though He ordered the
-      working of them together for good in a very wonderful way, just as the
-      Scripture says He do;&rdquo; and a good many other people, who have not
-      lived in this world more than half as long as old Mr. Hartley, are willing
-      to go the whole length of this statement, and to defend it, if need be,
-      with page after page from their own experience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was just at this point in the conversation that Donald and Harold came
-      upon the scene, and hearing all of Mr. Hartley's last remark, Donald
-      felt sure that the old keeper, of whom he, as well as Ted and Harry Allyn,
-      stood in not a little awe, was not going to take offence at the new turn
-      affairs had taken; while Harold, to whom it sounded as though they had
-      been having a somewhat prosy sermon, rather congratulated himself that
-      Donald had carried him off to see a neighbor's kennels down the
-      river. But now there was time for little more than good-bys, and Chris,
-      who had slipped away to harness Jennie, was at the door; and with
-      farewells as hearty as though they had been friends for a lifetime, Harold
-      and Marie-Celeste climbed into the Saxon wagon, and amid much
-      demonstration on every side were off for the Nuneham station; but Harold
-      wondered that Donald did not drive into Nuneham with them, and said so.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, addressing Chris with a
-      knowing look in her eyes, &ldquo;he has things to attend to about the farm
-      this time in the afternoon?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, he has,&rdquo; answered Chris, with a look just as knowing,
-      for both were well aware that as soon as their backs were turned Donald
-      would fly to Ted's rescue from his overlong quarantine down under
-      the apple-tree, and all the significant glances went on right under Harold's
-      eyes, with never a suspicion on his part. Indeed, Chris and Marie-Celeste,
-      just for the fun of it, indulged in some decidedly pointed remarks,
-      relying (and in Harold's case with considerable risk ) upon the
-      literalness of the average boy of sixteen to let their real meaning escape
-      him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Custard and sponge-cake is not very staying,&rdquo; said Ted, after
-      Donald had told him the good news of how kindly the Hartleys had received
-      Marie-Celeste's surprising revelations, and they were on their way
-      to the cottage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, you haven't had any dinner, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; a
-      paralyzing recollection coming over him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who promised to bring it to me, Donald?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Harris, it's all my fault! Martha gave it to me just
-      before our own dinner was ready, and I set it on the feed-box a moment,
-      while I shook down some hay for Jennie in the barn, and Chris called me,
-      and that was the last I thought of it, and it must be there now.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Donald was mistaken; one of a litter of rather young setter puppies,
-      but with the sense of scent well developed, had scaled the sides of the
-      low feed-box, and now lay on its side by the empty plate, feeling somewhat
-      the worse for its foraging expedition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But dinners are not so reviving as good news, Donald,&rdquo; said
-      Ted excusingly; and indeed, notwithstanding diminished rations, he felt
-      wonderfully toned up both in mind and body, now that the good friends in
-      the cottage knew just who he was and there was no longer need for any sort
-      of duplicity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      With all Ted's faults he was as open as the day, and the part which
-      Harry and discretion and the Doctor had mapped out for him to play had
-      been harder than you can imagine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVIII.&mdash;RATHER A BOOKISH CHAPTER.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9188.jpg" alt="9188 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9188.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he old belfry
-      clock was striking eight as Harold and Marie-Celeste put in an appearance
-      at the lodgings where the little party were staying in Oxford, and of
-      course there was a great deal to be told; but alas! too, for Marie-Celeste
-      so much that must not be told, under any circumstances. If you think it
-      easy to be sole possessor of a piece of news that would rejoice the hearts
-      of your nearest and dearest, and yet for extreme precaution's sake
-      have given your promise on no account to divulge it, why then all that can
-      be said is that you were never in Marie-Celeste's shoes. If it had
-      been an uncomfortable piece of news it would have been vastly easier.
-      There ought to be no pleasure at all in conveying bad news to people,
-      though here and there, it must be confessed, one sometimes meets
-      individuals who seem to rejoice in any news whatsoever, and the more
-      startling and surprising the better.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Marie-Celeste succeeded in getting through the first few hours without
-      telling: the two hours with Harold on the train, a very trying half hour
-      when she was all alone with her mother, and another trying half hour the
-      next morning, when she was sitting in the breakfast-room with Dorothy; and
-      after that the worst was over, so many delightful things came along to
-      claim everyone's thought and attention. And one of the most
-      delightful things of all&mdash;at least in the children's estimation&mdash;came
-      with that Sunday afternoon in Oxford, and Dorothy was the one to be
-      thanked for it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It seemed that in one of the colleges somebody lived who Marie-Celeste
-      would have given more to see, next to the Queen (and, as you know, she had
-      seen her without the asking), than any one else in England, and that was
-      the man who calls himself Lewis Carroll, and who has written those
-      incomparable books, &ldquo;Through the Looking-Glass&rdquo; and &ldquo;Alice
-      in Wonderland.&rdquo; If it is possible that any little friend of these
-      stories of mine has never happened to have read them, then let me urge you
-      at once to give Aunt Bess or Uncle Jack no rest till both are in your
-      keeping, with your name written very legibly across the fly-leaf of each,
-      so that you can keep them for your very own till you've no more use
-      for any books whatsoever. And while you are about it, why not put in a
-      plea for Kingsley's &ldquo;Water Babies,&rdquo; too, which is of the
-      same beautiful dreamland type; and please do not think for a moment that
-      you are too old for any of the three. Why, some one I know, who is well on
-      to forty, just revels in those same three books, and, for that matter,
-      there are some things in them that you cannot fully take in even then. And
-      in this connection perhaps it is fair to tell you, in case you do not
-      happen to know it already, that it is twenty years and more since these
-      books were written; but then of course you are sensible enough to see that
-      that is ever so much more to their credit. Indeed, it was just because
-      they were written so long ago that the visit of which I am about to tell
-      you came to pass. Twenty years before Dorothy's father had been
-      rector of a church there in Oxford, and though Dorothy was only two years
-      old at that time, and her brother Harry but a year and a half older, they
-      had been great pets, babies though they were, with the author of &ldquo;Wonderland&rdquo;
-      and &ldquo;Through the Looking-Glass,&rdquo; and Mr. Dodgson&mdash;for
-      that is Lewis Carroll's real name&mdash;had been in and out of Canon
-      Allyn's house almost every day in the week. And what was true of
-      Canon Allyn's house was true of many another house in Oxford where
-      there were children; and so you see it was because of this old-time
-      intimacy with Lewis Carroll that Dorothy had made bold to write and ask if
-      she might bring Harold and Marie-Celeste to call upon him. But for some
-      reason or other Mr. Dodgson no longer cares to see as much of the little
-      people as formerly; in fact, he rather runs away from them when they seek
-      him out; and when he received Dorothy's letter, what did he do but
-      write her that he was very sorry to say that he would not be at home on
-      the afternoon in question, but that if it would be any pleasure to her
-      little friends to see his rooms, she might bring them there and welcome,
-      and that he would leave some old photographs that he thought would
-      interest them ready to her hand in a portfolio on the writing-table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so they were not to see &ldquo;Lewis Carroll,&rdquo; which was of
-      course considerable of a disappointment to Marie-Celeste and Harold, and
-      to Dorothy as well; but all the same the recollection of that Sunday
-      afternoon in Oxford will doubtless long hold its place among the most
-      delightful memories of their lives.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was only two o'clock when they set out, and a walk up the
-      beautiful High Street, past the spires and domes, brick windows and
-      massive gateways of the old churches and colleges that line it, and then a
-      turn at the corner of Aldgate Street, soon brought them to Christ Church.
-      Mr. Carroll's rooms&mdash;for he prefers doubtless to be Mr. Carroll
-      to those of us who know him only through his books&mdash;. were of course
-      the first object of interest, and Dorothy, who remembered where they were
-      from a more fortunate visit of a few years before, when they had not been
-      obliged, as to-day, to count without their host, led the way through the
-      Entrance Gateway, well worthy of its old name of &ldquo;The Faire Gate.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Over this entrance looms the beautiful tower containing Great Tom, an old,
-      old bell that tolls a curfew of one hundred and one strokes every night as
-      a signal for the closing of the college. And Great Tom looks down on one
-      of those quadrangles which at Christ Church, as indeed at all the
-      colleges, forms one of the most attractive features. In many cases the
-      walls of the buildings which surround the quadrangles on the four sides
-      are almost hid beneath a luxurious growth of English ivy, while from April
-      to December the lawns that carpet them are green with the wonderful depth
-      of color peculiar to lawns that have been cultivated for centuries.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The windows of Mr. Carroll's rooms open on the &ldquo;Ton Quad,&rdquo;
-      as it is called, because of the nearness to Great Tom, and they found the
-      janitor, who had been informed of their coming, ready to unlock the door
-      for them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you think we have driven Mr. Dodgson away by planning to come
-      here this afternoon?&rdquo; asked Dorothy, feeling that this invasion of a
-      man's room in his absence bordered on intrusion, and hesitating to
-      step over the threshold.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Like as not, mum,&rdquo; replied the old janitor honestly, &ldquo;he's
-      grown that averse to mingling much with folk, be they big or little.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But he wrote me very cordially to come, only that he had an
-      engagement and would not be at home.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then he probably told you the truth, mum. He often goes off on a
-      ten-mile tramp of a Sunday afternoon with one of the professors. He left
-      word that he'd not be home till six, mum, so you needn't be
-      thinking of leaving till half-past five, mum;&rdquo; and so it was plainly
-      evident that Lewis Carroll wanted to run no risk of seeing them at either
-      end of their visit, and Dorothy could not help feeling a little piqued.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sorry Mr. Dodgson is so much afraid of meeting us,&rdquo; she
-      said with a sigh; &ldquo;we used to live in Oxford, and he was a good
-      friend of mine when I was a child. It seems strange he ceases to care for
-      his little friends as soon as they are grown up.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must leave an old bachelor to his foibles, mum. It seems as
-      though they must have them of one sort or another. I'm a bachelor
-      myself, mum, and have me own little peculiarities, they tell me, mum.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy, please look here! These are the photographs Mr.
-      Carroll wrote you about!&rdquo; called Marie-Celeste, for she and Harold
-      had had no misgivings whatever about making their way into a room to which
-      they had been granted privileged entrance; and after a reconnoitring tour
-      round its borders had naturally brought up at the portfolio, to which
-      their attention had been specially directed in Mr. Carroll's note.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The door has a spring lock, mum,&rdquo; explained the janitor;
-      &ldquo;will you kindly make sure to close it on leaving?&rdquo; and with
-      this parting injunction he left them to their own devices.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It seems that in the old days, when Lewis Carroll loved to play host to
-      the children, they would often come to take afternoon tea in his lodgings,
-      and then likely as not, if the light were good, he would spirit them into
-      a 'room fitted up for the purpose and take their pictures; and then,
-      if they promised to be good and not to bother, they might follow him into
-      the queer-smelling little room where he made the pictures come out, and
-      they would be permitted to have a look at the dripping glass plate, from
-      which they could seldom make head nor tail, held up against the dark-room's
-      lantern for inspection. But, all the same, their faith in the result was
-      supreme; for what could a wizard not do who could weave fairy-tales so
-      wonderfully as not to have them seem like fairy-tales at all. And so this
-      portfolio, extended to its uttermost, was literally stuffed with pictures;
-      and what did they discover, to their surprised delight, lying right on the
-      top of the pile, but three or four unmistakable photographs of Harry and
-      Dorothy Allyn, which had evidently been placed there by design. Dorothy
-      was pleased at this little attention, and partly forgave Mr. Carroll his
-      antipathy to renewing old friendships.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0192.jpg" alt="0192 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0192.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      The pictures themselves were as funny as could be, and the Harry Allyn of
-      those days was wonderfully like the Albert Allyn of these; so that a
-      council was held on the spot, and the resolution carried that they would
-      leave a little note on Mr. Carroll's table, humbly begging for one
-      of the pictures, that they might have the pleasure of showing them to
-      interested parties at Windsor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The inspection of the photographs once over, the little party settled
-      themselves to &ldquo;taking the little sitting-room in,&rdquo; as they
-      said, and there was little, you may be sure, that escaped them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The curious old fire-irons were noted, the subjects of the pictures on the
-      walls, the books on the shelves, and a remarkable paper-knife and quaint
-      old inkstand upon the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste, to whom this visit meant more than to Harold and Dorothy,
-      even made so bold as to glance through an intervening portière to the
-      bachelor bedroom beyond; and yet you must know that there was not a
-      vestige of prying curiosity in this investigating mood of hers. The next
-      thing, and sometimes a better thing than knowing your favorite author, is
-      to know how and where he lives; and it was a matter of supreme delight to
-      Marie-Celeste that henceforth when she should open Lewis Carroll's
-      books she should be able to picture him working away here in his study,
-      and just as he really looked, too, for by chance or accidents full-length
-      photograph stood on the mantel, which Dorothy, from her visita few years
-      before, was able to pronounce an excellent likeness, and very
-      characteristic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would like to be able to say I had sat exactly where 'Alice'
-      was written,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, slipping into the chair at the
-      writing-table. &ldquo;Do you think I could honestly?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, both table and chair look old enough,&rdquo; Dorothy
-      considerately replied; &ldquo;but I don't believe books like those
-      are written much in regular places at all. It seems as though 'Alice'
-      must at least have been made up out on the river, even if there were not
-      three little pairs of childish hands to steer and guide the boat, as the
-      verses at the beginning would have us believe.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, but I do believe there were, Miss Dorothy!&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste warmly; &ldquo;don't you remember it says,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      &rdquo;' All in the golden afternoon
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Full leisurely we glide,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      For both our oars with little skill
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      By little arms are plied,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      While little hands make vain pretence
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Our wanderings to guide.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then in another verse in just so many words, 'Thus grew the tale
-      of Wonderland.' Oh, yes, I choose to believe everything in those two
-      books.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I don't blame you,&rdquo; laughed Dorothy, &ldquo;for
-      everything is told as a matter of course, and it seems the most natural
-      thing in the world for a rabbit to carry white gloves, and for little
-      girls to seek advice of caterpillars.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, the parts I used to like best were the verses;&rdquo; for
-      Harold, after the manner of the genus who pride themselves on early
-      outgrowing many of the best things of life, relegated the books to the
-      days of his early childhood; &ldquo;the stories themselves always seemed
-      more meant for girls than for boys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, excuse me, Harold,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, bristling up a
-      little, &ldquo;but I don't see why you boys are so afraid of peeping
-      into what you call a girl's book. Of course there are books that
-      tell only about girls that you wouldn't like. To tell the truth, I
-      don't care much for them myself; but if a book ever happens to have
-      a kind of girlish name to it, that settles it at once. Now, suppose it
-      were possible for any one to write a story about me; I presume they would
-      have to give a sort of girl's name to the story; but would that mean
-      that it was all about girls? Well, I guess not;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste
-      laughed as she realized how wide such an estimate would fall of the mark.
-      &ldquo;Chris would be in it, of course, and you and Donald and&mdash;&rdquo;
-      and Marie-Celeste was going to say Ted, but checked herself in time to
-      make an exchange for Mr. Belden&mdash;&ldquo;and Albert. Why, gracious,
-      Harold, come to think of it, I haven't a girl friend this summer&mdash;only
-      Miss Dorothy here, if she will excuse me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it's a pity about me, isn't it, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo;
-      said Dorothy slyly, &ldquo;for the author might feel that as I am your
-      friend he ought to put mein somewhere, and that would make it a little
-      more about girls, you see, and probably spoil the story.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy, you know what I mean; it isn't that I don't
-      like girls, it's only that a book like 'Alice' ought to
-      have just as much interest for boys as girls;&rdquo; for all Marie-Celeste
-      had in mind was the defence of the imputation that Lewis Carroll's
-      books were &ldquo;just girls' books.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If all the remarkable things in those two stories,&rdquo; she
-      continued, &ldquo;had happened to a 'Jack' instead of an
-      'Alice,' I should have loved it just as much, I am sure.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well, you needn't be quite so hard on me,&rdquo; Harold
-      replied, improving the first opportunity to put in a word, and very much
-      amused at Marie-Celeste's little tirade. &ldquo;I fancy, on the
-      whole, you don't know much more about 'Alice's'
-      adventures than I do.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      This last remark Marie-Celeste chose to regard as a challenge, and then
-      followed such a rehearsal of Alice's varied experiences as would
-      have done Lewis Carroll's heart good to hear. Both eager to show how
-      much they remembered, the moment either paused for the fraction of a
-      second, the other would take it up, and so the whole ground was pretty
-      well gone over. Harold's principal achievement lay in &ldquo;The
-      Walrus and the Carpenter,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste's in the
-      recitation of &ldquo;Jabberwocky&rdquo; from &ldquo;Through the
-      Looking-Glass;&rdquo; for not only was she able to slip its almost
-      unpronounceable words quite easily from her tongue, but she remembered the
-      explanation of them given by Humpty Dumpty, when Alice appeals to him a
-      little later on in the story, and he modestly informs her that he can
-      explain all the poems that ever were invented, &ldquo;and a good many
-      beside that haven't been invented just yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's getting near four o'clock,&rdquo; said Dorothy,
-      feeling at last that she must interrupt the flow of conversation, no
-      matter how interesting; &ldquo;let us write the note asking for the
-      picture, and then see something of the rest of the college.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So the note was written and left conspicuously upon the writing-table; and
-      then with one long farewell glance about them, and a flower stolen from a
-      vase by Marie-Celeste and laid between the leaves of her prayer-book, they
-      turned their backs on all they would ever be permitted to know of Lewis
-      Carroll, and the door with the spring lock swung to behind them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It had been part of the plan to attend the five-o'clock service in
-      Christ Church Cathedral; and after spending a half hour or so in wandering
-      through the cloisters and gaining something of an idea of the college as a
-      whole, they went early into the cathedral, that they might also stroll for
-      a while through the beautiful old church whose history dates as far back
-      as the middle of the eighth century. At five o'clock promptly the
-      beautiful choral service began, and the sweet music and the earnest spirit
-      of the service seemed to round out to a fitting close that always to be
-      remembered Sunday afternoon in Oxford.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIX.&mdash;DONALD TURNS VALET.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9196.jpg" alt="9196 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9196.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>ou might not care
-      much for it, but to me it would be a delight to follow our friends on Ted's
-      break as they rolled merrily out from town on the bright Monday morning
-      succeeding their two days' stay at Oxford, and to keep with them all
-      the way; not that anything momentous or wildly exciting happened on the
-      trip, only that if it were possible to put all its charm onto paper, there
-      is no question but you would enjoy it. Somebody has put it onto paper,
-      however, and very successfully, too; so that I should advise you, in case
-      a driving trip through the English Lake Country does not soon happen to
-      come your way, to look between the covers of &ldquo;The Strange Adventures
-      of a Phaeton,&rdquo; as soon as you grow a bit older, and see if you do
-      not discover the charm of it for yourself. But whether we would or no, we
-      have not the time just now to bowl quietly along in leisurely fashion
-      through that lovely region of hills and lakes. Besides the party on the
-      break are quite sufficient to themselves, while down at Nuneham there is a
-      fellow who would be thankful enough for any advice that we could give him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What had I better do?&rdquo; is the question that Ted is turning
-      over and over in his mind, for the time has come for Ted to do something,
-      and there are more difficulties confronting him than any one has an idea
-      of. He has not even taken Harry Allyn fully into his confidence, so proud
-      is this same foolish Ted. Besides, Harry Allyn, who, as you know, is in
-      dead earnest about his &ldquo;new leaf,&rdquo; is up at Oxford delving
-      away, midsummer though it is, at some back work that was sadly neglected
-      in the spring term, and has actual need to be made up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Finally Ted, who finds himself simply reasoning in a circle, decides to
-      lay the whole matter before Donald; for Donald, boy that he is, has
-      opinions of his own which he does not fear to express, and, what is more,
-      Ted in desperation feels that he simply must turn to somebody. And so it
-      comes about that at the close of an August afternoon, when Ted has the
-      house to himself (Chris having taken the old keeper and his wife off for a
-      drive), that he calls to Donald, who, coming up from a day's work in
-      the kitchen garden, is on his way to put his tools away in the barn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, what is it, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; leaving rake and hoe against
-      the cottage shingles and slipping into the chair nearest the door, out of
-      regard for Mrs. Hartley's clean-swept carpet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's just this, Donald. I'm in a fix, and I want you to
-      help me out.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A new fix, Mr. Harris?&rdquo; with a long breath, as though he
-      thought there had really been rather too much of that sort of thing
-      already.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, an old one, Donald, and I fancy you know enough of my record
-      these last four years to imagine what it is.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder if you're in debt,&rdquo; for Ted
-      had hinted as much once or twice to Donald.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly, head over heels in debt;&rdquo; and although Ted's
-      words were light enough, his manner was very serious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you want me to help you out?&rdquo; said Donald, remembering
-      the three or four sovereigns knotted up sailor fashion in a handkerchief
-      with a few other treasures, and representing all his worldly store.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm not going to take any savings of yours,&rdquo; said
-      Ted, imagining that Donald might so have understood him; &ldquo;but I want
-      to put the case to you, and have you tell me what to do;&rdquo; and Donald
-      listened attentively while Ted &ldquo;put his case&rdquo; plainly and
-      without any mental reservations whatever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's a terrible big sum,&rdquo; said Donald, when all was
-      told, &ldquo;but you say you have money enough to pay it several times
-      over if you could only get at it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly; but I can't get at it any more than though it didn't
-      belong to me&mdash;not till I'm twenty-five, and that's two
-      years off. You see, my father thought he had given me a generous income,
-      and he had&mdash;rather too generous for my good, it seems.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose the people you owe it to would wait two years if they
-      felt sure they would get the money then for Donald, with the wisdom of an
-      older head, was trying to look at the matter from all sides.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Donald, that wouldn't do. They're trades-people,
-      most of them, and they've waited longer than they can afford to
-      already. I must manage to borrow the money somewhere&mdash;but where, that's
-      the question.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Couldn't Harold help you a little?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not to any extent. Harold can't touch his money any more than
-      I; besides, Harold is not to know,&rdquo; and Ted spoke decidedly, as
-      though in that direction his mind was fully made up, and he needed advice
-      from no one.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Aren't there men up in London who make a business of lending
-      money?&rdquo; for Donald hadn't knocked about the world without
-      gaining some knowledge of men and affairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, there are, but I want to keep this thing just as quiet as
-      possible. I do wish I had some friend to turn to.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, looking Ted squarely in the face,
-      &ldquo;it's an awful pity about you; there is no sense at all in
-      your going on the way you have. When a fellow has a home and friends and
-      money, there isn't any excuse for that sort of thing. Seems to me it
-      would be so easy then to keep straight.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ted winced a little under Donald's frankness, knowing all that lay
-      beneath it. It had sometimes been very difficult for the boy there before
-      him, to whom home and money had been always lacking, and friends as well
-      until within these last few weeks, to live up to the best that he knew. No
-      boy puts to sea, as Donald had done, without coming face to face with some
-      sore temptations, but his whole look and bearing showed how manfully he
-      had resisted them, and the earnest honesty of his eyes preached a sermon
-      as they met Ted's.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is an awful pity,&rdquo; said Ted, echoing Donald's words,
-      and hating his own record more than any one else could hate it; &ldquo;but
-      all that is left me is to try and mend matters. The only comfort is that I've
-      come to my senses at last. A great many never do, you know.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, who had been listening to Ted and
-      doing his own thinking at one and the same time, &ldquo;there was an
-      Englishman came over on the steamer with us, who grew to be great friends
-      with Marie-Celeste, and Marie-Celeste told me all about him one of those
-      afternoons when I was too weak to do anything but lie in my berth, and she
-      tried to entertain me. She said he was a bachelor, and rich as could be,
-      and she thought the best thing that could happen to him would be to do
-      somebody a good turn with his money. If you feel that you want to keep
-      this matter sort of quiet, just between gentleman and gentleman (which was
-      a phrase Donald had heard Mr. Harris use, and was glad to be able to
-      appropriate), why don't you go up to London and hunt him up? He
-      lives at one of the big clubs. You could easily find him. His name was
-      Belden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this Ted gave a start of surprise, as did Miss Dorothy Allyn when
-      Marie-Celeste made the same announcement the day of their talk in St.
-      George's Chapel. And then Ted asked, as had she: &ldquo;Are you sure
-      it was Belden? You see, Donald,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;I've an
-      old bachelor uncle whose name is Selden&mdash;my mother's brother&mdash;and
-      who answers to your description to a dot&mdash;a surly old customer, who
-      would do little enough for me, or any one else, I imagine.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No; it was Belden sure. Everybody called him Mr. Belden, and it was
-      so on the passenger list; I've got one in my chest upstairs; I'll
-      bring it, and you can see for yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Ted, when, the list having been produced, he
-      felt that the balance of evidence was not in favor of Mr. Belden and Mr.
-      Selden being one and the same, &ldquo;that is a happy thought of yours,
-      and up to London I will go.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You oughtn't to go alone, Mr. Harris; you're not strong
-      enough for that yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder if Chris would let you turn valet for me and go too.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'd give a great deal to see London again,&rdquo; said Donald
-      enthusiastically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Would wages have to be taken into account?&rdquo; laughed Ted;
-      &ldquo;you know the state of my finances, Donald.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Board and expenses&mdash;that is all, sir,&rdquo; and so the
-      serious talk ended with this bit of pleasantry; and Ted realizing that he
-      had not been disappointed in feeling that Donald would somehow be able to
-      help him, found himself entering into the new scheme with rather more hope
-      than circumstances would seem to justify.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was by no means a cheery announcement to the household in the little
-      thatched cottage when Ted told them that evening, that two days later he
-      must gather his belongings together and turn his back on the home and the
-      friends that had formed his little world during all the long weeks of
-      convalescence; and then when he asked if Donald might perhaps be permitted
-      to go up to London with him, Mrs. Hartley felt that all the brightness of
-      the summer was fast slipping away. No one could appreciate what new life
-      had opened up for the old couple with the coming of Chris and Ted and
-      Donald, and now two were proposing to go at once, and only five weeks
-      more, and Chris would be bidding them farewell on his way to the Majestic
-      down at Liverpool, and on which it had been arranged that Donald at the
-      same time should once more put to sea. So no wonder that at first they all
-      declared that the boy could not be spared; but the more they thought of it
-      the more they felt that Ted really needed him. As a result, a telegram was
-      finally sent to Mr. Harris, which caught the driving party at Windemere,
-      asking if he would approve of Donald's going up to London with a
-      convalescent gentleman who greatly needed his services. The telegram was
-      signed Christopher Hartley; and Mr. Harris, concluding that Donald and
-      Chris were quite able to decide what was best in the matter, telegraphed
-      back, &ldquo;No objection, of course, if you think it advisable;&rdquo;
-      and its welcome message brought more joy to the hearts of Ted and Donald
-      than they could graciously give expression to in the face of Mr. and Mrs.
-      Hartley's regret at their departure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was astonishing with what celerity Donald had seemed to merge the
-      sailor-boy in the farm-hand, and now in turn the farm-hand in the valet.
-      He brushed away at Ted's clothes as vigorously as though that had
-      been his calling from his youth up, and stowed away his belongings in the
-      boxes that Harry Allyn had sent down from Oxford with an economy of space
-      that was truly amazing. And now at last there was no more to be done, and
-      Mrs. Hartley bade her boys God-speed with lips that from trembling could
-      hardly frame the blessing, and on which face&mdash;Ted's or Donald's&mdash;loving
-      gratitude found deeper expression it would have been difficult to have
-      told. The old keeper pressed Ted's hands, and actually said
-      something about feeling he had been a little hard on him at first; and
-      then turning to Donald, made him promise to count Nuneham as his home ever
-      afterward, and run down for a Sunday between voyages whenever he could
-      manage it; and the words were about the most precious that had ever fallen
-      on Donald's ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The hotel to which the two travellers betook themselves in London was a
-      modest one, as befitted their circumstances. Ted, however, who, in spite
-      of himself, had still considerable regard for appearances, could not
-      resist the temptation of investing&mdash;though Donald urgently protested
-      against such extravagance&mdash;in a suit of clothes, somewhat less
-      conspicuous than the nautical blue jersey and wide-flapping trousers of
-      Donald's Sunday best, and better adapted to his new calling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, Donald,&rdquo; said Ted, who found himself relying on Donald's
-      advice in truly remarkable fashion, &ldquo;what's to be the first
-      step in the programme? Shall we try to look up your Mr. Belden in the
-      London Directory?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;As you say, sir,&rdquo; said Donald, who was amusing himself and
-      Ted as well by endeavoring to acquit himself as the most respectful of
-      valets. So forth they fared together, for the little hostelry was by far
-      too unpretentious to boast a city directory; but the morning was so fine,
-      notwithstanding mid-August weather, that they were tempted to stroll on
-      and on, deferring a little, by tacit consent, the immediate object of
-      their expedition. Along the Thames embankment they strolled from their
-      quarters up near Blackfriar's Bridge, past the Savoy Hotel, and
-      keeping near the river until, reaching Northumberland Avenue, they turned
-      in the direction of Trafalgar Square.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Harris,&rdquo; said Donald, attracted by a sign over a doorway,
-      when they had gone a few squares farther on, &ldquo;I believe this is Mr.
-      Belden's club. Marie-Celeste told me its name once, and I'm
-      almost sure this is it.&rdquo; Whereupon Ted straightway found himself
-      feeling very much dismayed at the announcement, and his heart misgave him,
-      as hearts have a way of doing when the time has come for mere intention to
-      take the more definite form of action. The object of this search of theirs
-      seemed all at once to Ted the most ridiculous thing imaginable. The idea
-      of expecting that a stranger, to whom his only introduction was that of a
-      cabin-boy of the White Star Line, would be likely to take an interest in
-      him to the extent of making him a loan of a large sum of money at rather a
-      low rate of interest; and then Ted realized what some of us have realized
-      before, that all he had practically to build upon was Marie-Celeste's
-      remark to Donald, &ldquo;that she felt very sure that the best thing that
-      could happen to this same rich Mr. Belden would be to do a good turn to
-      somebody and Ted once more scored himself a fool to have seriously
-      considered the thing for a moment. But it was too late now to retreat, for
-      Donald was having an animated talk with the buttons of the door of the
-      Reform Club; and Ted, who stood just out of earshot, was the victim of all
-      sorts of uncomfortable sensations as to what the result might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It looks,&rdquo; said Donald, coming down the steps and back to
-      Ted, with a puzzled frown on his face, &ldquo;as though there really might
-      be a mistake somewhere. I am perfectly sure this is the name of the club,
-      and the buttons says they have a Mr. Selden, but no Mr. Belden.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; said Ted almost savagely &ldquo;let us walk away
-      just as quickly as possible. There is no doubt about it now. The man you
-      mean is my uncle, and I wouldn't put myself in his way for all the
-      world. Can't you walk faster, Donald?&rdquo; But meantime, the uncle
-      in question was hastening to put himself in Ted's way with all
-      possible speed, or rather in Donald's, which, as it happened, was
-      one and the same thing. It seemed that Mr. Selden (circumstances
-      permitting, it is better to call people by their real names) had
-      discovered Donald from the dining-room window just as he was descending
-      the steps, and recognizing him instantly flung his napkin onto the table,
-      and hurrying from the room seized his hat from the rack as he passed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Bring that boy back!&rdquo; was his breathless older to the
-      buttons; but the door being open, he rushed through it himself, deciding
-      that the matter was too important to be delegated to any one less
-      interested than himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Donald,&rdquo; he called, overtaking him at last, a whole square
-      away&mdash;&ldquo;Donald, were you looking for me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Donald turned, and the next moment was shaking hands warmly with Mr.
-      Selden, his face fairly beaming with glad surprise; but Ted stood by, the
-      picture of hopeless despair. His first absurd impulse had been to run, for
-      though first impulses are magnificent things as a rule, they do sometimes
-      suggest the most outlandish performances. His second, which was
-      fortunately the one upon which he acted, was to stand and see the thing
-      through, giving himself over to his fate with an air of most woebegone
-      resignation to whatever might be in store for him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who is your friend?&rdquo; said Mr. Selden, politely lifting his
-      hat to Ted; for his own greeting over, poor Donald was at his wit's
-      end, not knowing whether Ted would wish to be introduced or no. What was
-      his relief, then, when Ted, lifting his hat politely in return, said:
-      &ldquo;You don't recognize me then, Uncle Everett?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Why, yes I do, Theodore for although it was years since he had seen him,
-      the momentarily uncovered head had at once established his identity;
-      &ldquo;but how do you and Donald happen to be in each other's
-      company? Marie-Celeste told me Donald was on a farm down in Oxfordshire,
-      and that you&mdash;well, that nobody knew where you were exactly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's rather a long story,&rdquo; said Theodore slowly; and
-      then remembering his uncle's stolid indifference to things in
-      general, he added coldly, &ldquo;I doubt if it would have much interest
-      for you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Selden understood the case perfectly, knowing that his former record
-      with Ted would justify his speaking in this fashion; but he only said:
-      &ldquo;All the same, I would like to know about it. Will you come back to
-      the club with me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The eyes of the valet waited upon his master, but they said very plainly,
-      &ldquo;Do let us go;&rdquo; and the master, after hesitating a moment,
-      accepted this most unexpected of invitations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XX&mdash;DOROTHY CALLS MARIE-CELESTE TO ACCOUNT..
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0048" id="linkimage-0048"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9205.jpg" alt="9205 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9205.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arie-Celeste, here
-      is a letter for you, and it is the third one you have received under cover
-      of direction to me; and, if I am not mistaken, I recognize the handwriting
-      on this one; I believe it is from Theodore Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Marie-Celeste, with a meek little &ldquo;thank you,&rdquo; simply took the
-      letter from Dorothy's extended hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; Dorothy continued, &ldquo;you are not
-      showing them to your mother. They come enclosed in these envelopes, and
-      that is so that she shall not know that you receive them, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; but with her mind quite intent on the
-      letter, and therefore rather absent-mindedly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, do you know, I believe I shall tell her.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; with all the absent-mindedness gone in a
-      minute, and with gravest reproach in the dark brown eyes, &ldquo;you
-      wouldn't&mdash;you wouldn't do that!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, my dear child, I almost feel as though I ought to; it is such
-      an uncommon thing for a little girl of twelve to be in surreptitious
-      correspondence with at least three different people, for there has been a
-      different hand on every letter. It seems wrong to me to-be helping on such
-      a mysterious proceeding, with no idea whatever of what it all means.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Dorothy,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste, &ldquo;I am in a great big
-      secret, that's all, but I do wish&mdash;I do wish very much that you
-      were in it too,&rdquo; which was indeed the truth, for this not being able
-      to talk over matters with anybody was almost more than she could longer
-      endure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, don't you believe it would do to take me in, then?&rdquo;
-      said Dorothy rather entreatingly. &ldquo;I confess I would like to know
-      what Theodore Harris is writing to you about; and besides it doesn't
-      seem fair to put too much upon a little girl like you. You seem to be
-      thinking so hard so much of the time.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are pretty nice thoughts, though,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste
-      replied, &ldquo;as you'll see when I tell you, because I've
-      about decided to tell you. I think it's right, too, and I don't
-      believe they'll mind, and I am going up to the house to bring the
-      other two letters and read them to you. It will make you happier than
-      anything you ever heard,&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste spoke truer than she
-      knew.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Dorothy sat gazing out over beautiful Lake Coniston, wondering
-      if she were really doing the right thing in persuading Marie-Celeste to
-      confide in her, and unable to arrive at any decision. She was sitting on a
-      little rustic seat down by the water's edge, which Marie-Celeste,
-      with her passion for exploring new surroundings, had discovered the
-      evening before, almost immediately upon their arrival at the Waterhead
-      Hotel. It was here that Dorothy had counted on finding Marie-Celeste, and
-      it was here that she was left alone with her thoughts while Marie-Celeste
-      ran off on her self-imposed errand. It was a beautiful little sheet of
-      water that lay there at her feet, with its densely wooded banks and its
-      wilderness still uninvaded by civilization; and just across the lake the
-      setting sun was crimsoning the chimneys and pointed gables of the only
-      house upon that farther bank. It is this home that lends its own special
-      interest to the little lake, for it is the home of that grand old
-      idealist, Ruskin. It is just such a home as you would know that wise
-      philosopher would choose, far from the haunts of men and all the
-      devastating improvements of the age. A grand place, too, to work, you
-      think; and then you recall with a sigh that the light of that glorious
-      mind has well-nigh gone out, 'neath the weight of physical weariness
-      and infirmity, and then the solitary home begins to look a little like a
-      prison in your eyes, as you realize how glad its inmate would be to
-      exchange it for the Palace of that King whose divine intent for the world
-      he has so marvellously interpreted for us all in the days when soul was
-      still master of hand and brain.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But there was no room in Dorothy's mind just then for musings either
-      on nature or Ruskin, and it is to be feared that the dancing blue of the
-      water and the purple shadows on the hills and golden glow of the sunset
-      made little impression on her wholly preoccupied mind. What could Theodore
-      Harris be writing to Marie-Celeste about, and who could the other two
-      letters be from? Those were the absorbing questions of the hour; and at
-      last Marie-Celeste is back again on the little seat beside her, ready to
-      unlock her precious secrets, and with the three mysterious letters spread,
-      one upon the other, open in her lap.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, think a moment, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Dorothy seriously;
-      &ldquo;are you sure it is perfectly right to tell me?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you said you'd tell my mother if I didn't,&rdquo;
-      laughed Marie-Celeste.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, dear! I didn't put it quite like that. I only
-      wondered if, perhaps, it was not my duty. But I know from what you have
-      already told me that everything is all right. You see, I did not quite
-      like to have a hand in anything so very unusual without being taken just a
-      little into your confidence. You remember, when the other letters came,
-      you scampered off in most excited fashion to read them all by yourself
-      somewhere, and then never opened your lips about them afterward, so that I
-      could not help feeling that it was a very queer proceeding, and that I
-      really ought to look into it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I understand perfectly, Miss Dorothy; and Ted says right here
-      at the end of his letter: 'Tell Miss Allyn all about things if you
-      think best.'&rdquo; And of course that settled matters beautifully,
-      quieting the last little suggestion of a compunction on Dorothy's
-      part.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, the best way to tell you,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste began, &ldquo;will
-      be to read the letters. This first one is from Donald. 'London,
-      August 20th'&rdquo;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;London, Marie-Celeste!&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Wait, Miss Dorothy; it will explain itself,&rdquo; smiling with
-      delight at the pleasant surprises contained in those three precious
-      letters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'London, August 20th. My dear friend' (you know, Donald
-      has to begin that way, because he didn't like to say Marie-Celeste,
-      and so never called me anything), 'you will be surprised to find I
-      am in London, and, what is more, that I have come up to London as a valet
-      for a gentleman, and the gentleman, let me tell you, is your cousin, Mr.
-      Harris. You know we grew to be good friends all those weeks together down
-      at the Hartleys', at Nuneham!'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you mean to say,&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy&mdash;for the letter
-      was not explaining things quite as fully as might be desired&mdash;&ldquo;that
-      Donald has actually been staying in the same cottage with Theodore?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You knew about Ted's accident, didn't you, Miss
-      Dorothy? Ted said you did, that your brother had told you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I knew about that, but I do not know where it happened or
-      where he has been staying all these weeks.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You've heard me talk about Chris, our postman, haven't
-      you, who came over on the steamer with us?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, certainly.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, then, if you will believe it, it was just by his grandfather's
-      cottage, just outside of Nuneham, where the accident happened, and they're
-      the people who've been caring for him; and then when Donald went
-      down there to work on the farm, of course he discovered him; and then when
-      I went down the other day from Oxford, I discovered him too, and poor Ted's
-      had a very hard time to keep his secret.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But Harold was with you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; said Dorothy
-      eagerly; &ldquo;does he know, too?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, Harold doesn't know; it's all on his account that
-      there's any secret about it now; you know Ted wants to prove to
-      Harold that he means to do the right thing before he lets him know the
-      worst there is about him. He means to tell him everything some day.&rdquo;
-      And then Marie-Celeste proceeded to narrate at length her unexpected
-      encounter with Ted under the apple-tree, so that Dorothy gradually came to
-      a clear comprehension of how matters stood, and Marie-Celeste was free
-      once more to let Donald speak for himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'And what we came up to London for,' continued the
-      letter, 'was to see a gentleman about some business matters; and the
-      gentleman we wanted to see was Mr. Belden&mdash;your rich old bachelor
-      friend you know&mdash;and who did he prove to be but a Mr. Selden, Mr.
-      Theodore's own uncle? His name was printed Belden by mistake on the
-      passenger list, and when Mr. Selden made friends with you that first day
-      out, and found out that you were going to visit his nephews at Windsor, he
-      didn't tell anyone it was wrong, because he didn't want you or
-      your father or mother to know who he was.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What did I tell you, Marie-Celeste,&rdquo; interrupted Dorothy with
-      a little air of superiority, &ldquo;that time you told me about him in St.
-      George's? I knew it must be the same man.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But, Miss Dorothy, ever since this letter came I've been
-      wondering why he didn't want us to know who he was.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Because he has chosen forever so long not to have anything to do
-      with any of his relations, for fear they'd bother him, I suppose.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, he's gotten over that,&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste;
-      &ldquo;you'll see when I read his letter.&rdquo; And Dorothy looked
-      as though she thought wonders would never end, which was exactly the way
-      Marie-Celeste wanted her to look, and would have been vastly disappointed
-      if she had not.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Land knows,' read Marie-Celeste, resuming the letter,
-      'why he wanted to be so mum about things; that's his own
-      affair, of course; but he's been awfully good to us, and he has
-      fixed up some matters that were bothering your cousin a great deal just
-      beautifully. All the same, he doesn't look a bit well,
-      Marie-Celeste, and he's a sad sort of man. It seems as though he had
-      something on his mind, but he's not going to let anybody know what
-      it is&mdash;that isn't his way. We've been in London now
-      nearly a week, stopping in lodgings in the same house with Mr. Selden. We've
-      had to stay because of the business matters, but to-morrow we are going
-      down to Oxford to see to some things there, and then in a day or two home
-      to the Little Castle. You see, I've been able to make myself real
-      useful to Mr. Harris, because, you know, he's not overstrong yet,
-      and accustomed, besides, to having a valet&mdash;which is what I happen to
-      be at present; but it's not going to be for long, and between us,
-      Marie-Celeste, I'm not sorry. I half believe that father of mine,
-      that I don't know anything about, must have been a sea-captain.
-      There are times when it's all I can do to keep from running away
-      from everything and putting to sea again as fast as ever I can on any old
-      tub that'll take me; but, of course, I really wouldn't do
-      anything so mean; and all told, I have had a beautiful summer. Chris has
-      decided to go back to the States on the Majestic, sailing the first of
-      October, and I'm to take my old place on that trip, too. It seems as
-      though you all ought to be on board with us. Couldn't you get your
-      father to bring it about somehow? Whew, what a long letter I have written!&mdash;the
-      longest in my life, and I never wrote more than half a dozen, anyway. Don't
-      stay away too long. It's going to be rather lonely at Windsor
-      without you all, and there isn't so very much time left now. Won't
-      Mr. Harold be surprised to find his brother in the Little Castle ready to
-      receive him! Mr. Theodore's getting to be a brick, I can tell you.
-      Good-by. As long as your people are not to know what's in this
-      letter, Mr. Harris tells me to put it in an envelope addressed to Miss
-      Allyn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours truly,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Donald.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0211.jpg" alt="0211 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0211.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So much for Donald;&rdquo; and Marie-Celeste, pausing to catch her
-      breath, hesitated to which of the other two letters to give the
-      preference. &ldquo;I think I'll read Theodore's next, Miss
-      Dorothy, because it's the latest, but really Donald's the most
-      interesting of the three. This letter, is from Windsor, and it was written
-      only yesterday morning. It is dated 'The Little Castle.' 'Dear
-      little Coz,' it says, 'here I am, you see, and I assure you I
-      have kept my promise to the letter, and have come home as soon as ever I
-      could.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why were you so anxious to make him promise that?&rdquo; asked M
-      iss Dorothy wonderingly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, because home's the best place for him; don't you
-      think so? He has not been there half enough these last few years, and,
-      besides, that's where he belongs&mdash;&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But having the Little Castle all to himself probably does not seem
-      home-like,&rdquo; suggested Dorothy sympathetically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that's just what he says,&rdquo; laughed Marie-Celeste;
-      so that Dorothy thought her a trifle hard-hearted. &ldquo;And now I'll
-      begin over again. 'Dear little Coz, here I am, you see, and I assure
-      you I have kept my promise to the letter, and have come home as soon as
-      ever I could; but home doesn't seem a very cheery sort of place when
-      all your relatives are off on a lark, and on your own brake at that, and
-      you must fain content yourself with the companionship of your valet. He's
-      a fine little valet, however, Marie-Celeste, and he tells me that he has
-      stolen my thunder in a long letter he wrote you from London; so you know
-      all about my going in search of your friend, Mr. Belden, and finding in
-      his place my uncle, Mr. Selden. Well, this letter is just to tell you what
-      I told you once before, you remember, and that is, that you are my good
-      little angel, no matter how bad you may have been for three whole days
-      together,&rdquo; and to ask you not to forget that there is rather a
-      lonely fellow here at Windsor, who hopes you are having a good time, but
-      who honestly thinks that the sooner you come home the better. Tell Miss
-      Dorothy all about things if you think best, but don't paint me any
-      blacker than you feel you really have to.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours faithfully,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Theodore.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I haven't painted him very black, have I?&rdquo; said
-      Marie-Celeste complacently; but Dorothy was far too absorbed in her own
-      thoughts to make any answer, and Marie-Celeste looked at her a little
-      curiously, wondering what was going on in her mind.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps you'd rather be left to yourself?&rdquo; she added
-      half mischievously, after a minute or more of unbroken silence.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      'Oh, no; you didn't paint him black at all for Dorothy was able
-      instantly to bring her thoughts hack and say what was expected of her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This other letter,&rdquo; explained Marie-Celeste, looking askance
-      at the note in her hand, &ldquo;is rather spooney; I don't believe I
-      had better read it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Selden write a spooney letter! that's impossible!&rdquo;
-      exclaimed Dorothy, who thought 'she knew her man,' as the
-      saying goes; whereupon Marie-Celeste, of course, straightway read the
-      letter in order to prove her premises.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Reform Club, London, August 20.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'They tell me, dear Marie-Celeste (and they means, of course,
-      your Cousin Theodore and Donald), that you are taking a driving tour
-      through the English lakes, and that if I should address a letter to you,
-      care of Miss Dorothy Allyn, no one would be any the wiser; and that's
-      just what I've done, you see, as, for reasons of his own, your
-      Cousin Theodore seems to prefer it. You know already that this same Cousin
-      Theodore has been up here in London several days with me, and as a result
-      we have had many a long talk together; but you do not know, perhaps, that
-      we came to the conclusion that your coming to England this summer had been
-      just the best thing that could have happened to both of us. Likely as not
-      you do not exactly understand how that can be, and it is as well, perhaps,
-      that you should not; only take my word for it, that it is true, and ask no
-      questions. This much, however, I will tell you. Ted said to me one day, 'I
-      can tell you one thing, Uncle Everett, it was a talk I had with that dear
-      child under an apple-tree, down at Nuneham, that made me feel that some
-      people whom I care a great deal for still had faith in me, and it was she
-      who gave me courage by what she told me to go home as fast as ever I could
-      get there and then, Marie-Celeste, what do you suppose I said to him?
-      Well, I just, told him that that same dear child had preached me two
-      blessed sermons&mdash;one on the deck of the Majestic and the other
-      exactly where a sermon should be preached, beneath the roof of dear old
-      St. George's, and that what there was left of my life was going to
-      be set in a new key.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This letter will not make you proud, Marie-Celeste, I know, only
-      very grateful, and one day I believe you will understand better than it is
-      possible for you now to understand to-day how even in this world the
-      prophecy comes true sometimes that &ldquo;a little child shall lead them.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must write and tell me when you are going home, for somehow or
-      other I must contrive to see you before you go, and what is more, I mean
-      to seek out a chance for a good talk with your father and mother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Yours faithfully,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Everett Belden.'&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you call that a spooney letter! Marie-Celeste, you ought to be
-      ashamed of yourself,&rdquo; and Dorothy tried to look the reproach she
-      felt the occasion called for.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I only meant, Miss Dorothy, that it said some nice things about me.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, is that all? Well, then, I'll forgive you; but that is
-      not what people usually mean by spooney,&rdquo; and Dorothy putting her
-      arm about Marie-Celeste, they strolled up to the house together. &ldquo;And
-      you understand&mdash;don't you, dear?&mdash;that I did not mean to
-      force your confidence in any way, only it did seem so mysterious?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I understand perfectly; and you understand too, Miss
-      Dorothy, how I would have told you about it long ago, if I thought I could
-      and everything at last being mutually understood, there was happily no
-      need for further explanations.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXI.&mdash;WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN ENGLAND.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0050" id="linkimage-0050"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9215.jpg" alt="9215 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9215.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or some reason or
-      other the spirits of our driving party seemed steadily rising. It was
-      simply impossible to put anybody out of humor, no matter what happened.
-      Everything was lovely and just as it should be, even to the pelting
-      showers that came down with such swift suddenness as to almost soak them
-      through before they could get under cover of waterproofs and umbrellas,
-      and then a moment after left them stranded in brilliant sunshine, fairly
-      steaming within the rubber coats which, with much difficulty, had but just
-      been adjusted. Indeed, every day seemed more full of enjoyment than the
-      one that preceded it and to call for more enthusiasm. If any one had asked
-      Mr. Harris, for instance, how he accounted for this, he would probably
-      have laughed good-naturedly at the question, and answered: &ldquo;Why,
-      easily enough! How could it be otherwise with this glorious weather, this
-      beautiful country, and our jolly little party!&rdquo; But the real secret
-      of what made the party so jolly was, in fact, quite beyond Mr. Harris's
-      ability to divine. The real secret lay with Marie-Celeste and Dorothy in
-      the good news that had been committed to their keeping; and, strange to
-      say, it seemed to mean as much to Dorothy, who was no relation of Theodore's,
-      as to Marie-Celeste, who was. As a result, they were both brimming over
-      with fun and merriment; and as there is, fortunately, nothing in the world
-      more contagious than good spirits, the other members of the party were
-      equally merry without in the least knowing why. Even Mr. Farwell, who had
-      simply been invited to fill up and because he was a friend of Mr. Harris's,
-      fell under the spell, and bloomed out in a most surprising and delightful
-      manner, and by the time the first week was over felt as though he had
-      known them all all his life, and, indeed, very much regretted that such
-      was not in truth the case.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      From the Waterhead Hotel, at Coniston, the plan had been laid to retrace
-      their way a few miles over the same road by which they had come from
-      Windermere, make a stop for two or three hours at the Rothay Hotel, and
-      then drive on to Keswick that same afternoon. But just as they were
-      rolling into Grasmere, the off-leader, with the total depravity peculiar
-      to animal nature, struck the only stone visible within a hundred yards on
-      that perfect roadway, laming himself instantly and in most pronounced
-      fashion. This chanced to be the first mishap; but then could you really
-      call an accident a mishap that simply necessitated a three-days'
-      stay in the beautiful Wordsworth district? Our sunshiny little party, at
-      any rate, chose not so to regard it, and scoured the whole lovely region
-      on foot, reading Wordsworth's poetry in their halts by the roadside,
-      and growing familiar with every foot of the lanes he so dearly loved. Not
-      content with their morning spent in the Grasmere Church, and beside his
-      grave in the little churchyard without, they even made their way to
-      Wordsworth's old home&mdash;beautiful Rydal Mount&mdash;hoping, on
-      the strength of a card of introduction to the gentleman residing there, to
-      possibly be allowed to see the house. The gentleman, however, when they
-      presented themselves at his door, politely bowed them out instead of in,
-      and they were fain to content themselves with the lesser privilege of
-      inspecting the prettily terraced garden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When, after the three days' rest, the off-leader had been coaxed
-      into proper driving condition, they started off once more, but rather late
-      in the afternoon, planning to take things in quite leisurely fashion, out
-      of regard for the same off-leader, and depending upon the wonderful
-      English twilight to bring them into Keswick before ten o'clock. It
-      happened to be a local holiday in Cumberland, and as a result here and
-      there they encountered a solitary specimen of humanity prone upon his back
-      or his face, just as it chanced, by the roadside, or, not quite so badly
-      off as that, reeling along to wherever home might be in that apparently
-      houseless region. At six o'clock, on one of the highest points on
-      the road that leads to Keswick, they stopped at the Nag's Head, a
-      typical roadside inn, for supper, the sounds of revelry in whose tap-room
-      at once accounted for the sorry customers they had met upon the road
-      before they reached it. It was exceedingly interesting to the American
-      contingent of the party to gain a little insight into the life of the
-      English &ldquo;navvies;&rdquo; and they passed the little tap-room,
-      reeking with smoke and smelling of pipes and beer mugs, rather more often
-      than circumstances would warrant, for the sake of looking in on the jolly
-      fellows, and catching a sentence or so of their almost unintelligible
-      dialect. A truce to all this, however, for fear you should imagine, and
-      with reason, that even at this late stage I am going to fare so wide of my
-      province of story-teller as to conduct you in guide-book fashion through
-      the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland. But, nevertheless, up to this
-      same Nag's Head Inn we simply had to come, because some one else, in
-      whom we have an interest, is coming there too as fast as a good road-horse
-      can carry him. It seems that opposite the Nag's Head Inn the Church
-      of England has built a tiny edifice, and as though to apologize for the
-      apparent unreasonableness of building any church there whatsoever, they
-      have made a most miniature affair of it. A placard suspended within
-      proclaims the fact that it is the smallest church in all England, and
-      beneath it a contribution-box, of dimensions out of all proportion to the
-      surroundings, invites spare shillings for the maintenance of the lonely
-      little parish.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The peculiar isolation of the place appeals to the average tourist in most
-      pathetic fashion, and no sooner have our friends of the driving party
-      crowded within the diminutive door than Mr. Harris, hat in hand, commences
-      to take up a collection, with a view to making a radical addition to the
-      contents of the roomy contribution-box. Just as he is concluding the
-      exercise of this truly churchly function, and Marie-Celeste is dropping
-      her very last sixpence into the depths of the appealing hat, the little
-      doorway is suddenly darkened&mdash;-as it has need to be when any one
-      comes through it&mdash;and in the next second Ted is standing in their
-      midst. The collection goes sliding on to the floor, to be re-collected at
-      leisure, and everybody, with the exception of Mr. Farwell, is trying to
-      seize Ted's hand at once. Precedence, however, is given to the
-      claims of Marie-Celeste, and the upturned face is greeted with the most
-      prodigious kiss.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought we should happen to meet you somewhere on this trip,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, when things had subsided enough for an attempt at
-      conversation, groping the while on all-fours, and with Harold's
-      help, for the fugitive shillings on the floor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, you can hardly call it happening to meet, when I've
-      been riding since early this morning to catch you. I expected to overtake
-      you at Grasmere, but found you were well on your way to Keswick by the
-      time I reached it.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, where did you come from, anyhow, old fellow?&rdquo; asked
-      Harold, pleased beyond measure that Ted had seen fit to follow them up in
-      this fashion. He could not imagine whatever had suddenly brought it about,
-      after all the neglect of the summer; but that did not in the least
-      diminish his delight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I came from home, Harold,&rdquo; Ted replied; &ldquo;I went back
-      there two weeks ago, but it was so lonely I couldn't stand it, and
-      so when I found out through the Allyns about where you were, I came
-      posthaste after you. Besides, you know, when I discovered that my brake
-      had been walked off with in a rather cool fashion, I concluded I had some
-      rights in the case, and came to look after them. I see it's been
-      terribly abused,&rdquo; glancing in the direction of the brake, which,
-      minus the horses, stood in front of the inn across the narrow road;
-      &ldquo;it was as good as new when you started.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But these last remarks, so like the old Ted, but for the fact that he was
-      not in the least in earnest, were hardly listened to at all by Harold. He
-      was thinking his own glad thoughts. Five weeks yet till the Harrises would
-      sail for home! Ted would have a chance to redeem himself in that time and
-      make up for all his coldness and neglect; and the joy of it all was that
-      it looked as though he was going to try to do it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Half crown, please, for being permitted to join the party,&rdquo;
-      said Mr. Harris, presenting the hat to Ted, after making sure that none of
-      the coins were still missing; and Ted, though wholly bent on practising
-      close economy, felt the circumstances justified the outlay, and did as he
-      was bid.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was only one person to whom Ted's coming was not a source of
-      unalloyed pleasure. The addition of a seventh member to the party made it
-      necessary that some one should occupy the vacant back seat on the brake
-      between the grooms, and Mr. Farwell was gentleman enough to insist upon
-      being allowed to take his regular turn in the matter. He would not have
-      minded this much, however, only that, being endowed with average qualities
-      of discernment, he soon realized he had been obliged to take a back seat
-      in more senses than one. Dorothy continued to be most polite and friendly,
-      but that Ted filled the role of an old and privileged friend was at once
-      evident on the face of things, and Mr. Farwell endeavored to accept the
-      situation with the best grace possible, and succeeded, be it said to his
-      credit, remarkably well.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. and Mrs. Harris were soon taken into Ted's confidence&mdash;the
-      very next day, in fact, as they were sitting in the garden of the hotel at
-      Keswick&mdash;and listened as raptly to his narration of all that had
-      happened these last few weeks as the little circle outside the cottage
-      door had listened to Marie-Celeste. Ted, however, made no excuses for
-      himself, whereas Marie-Celeste's account was full of them; and so
-      one narration was naturally far less plausible than the other. The one
-      fact that seemed to Mr. and Mrs. Harris to defy credulity was that Ted
-      should have fallen into the hands of the Hartleys, for in what other
-      little cottage in all England could such a transformation have been
-      wrought? Where else could he have been brought into such close touch with
-      all the old home interests as he had been there, first through Chris and
-      afterward through Donald and Marie-Celeste, and where else could he have
-      come to see so clearly that he had been wilfully trampling upon all that
-      is truest and best in life? &ldquo;Fritz,&rdquo; said Mrs. Harris that
-      evening, as in company with Marie-Celeste they were strolling home from an
-      hour spent in the little churchyard where the great poet Southey is
-      buried, &ldquo;I think it is beautiful to realize what a grand part
-      Providence plays in the world.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Providence!&rdquo; said Marie-Celeste thoughtfully; &ldquo;really,
-      I do not know just what people mean by Providence.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The word is from the Latin,&rdquo; said her father, who, with most
-      college men, liked to bring his knowledge of derivations to the front now
-      and then, &ldquo;and the dictionary, I think, would tell you that it means
-      God's thoughtful care for everything created.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Exactly,&rdquo; said Mrs. Harris, &ldquo;only it seems to me that
-      people are often in too much of a hurry to make use of the word, for you
-      can't he certain until you are able to look hack upon a thing
-      whether it was surely of God's ordering or man's short-sighted
-      scheming. Still I am inclined to believe, even at this stage of the
-      proceeding, that our coming over here this summer has indeed been a
-      beautiful providence and a few weeks later, for good and sufficient
-      reasons, there was not a shadow of doubt on that score left in the mind of
-      any one.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXII.&mdash;THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW INMATES.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0051" id="linkimage-0051"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9221.jpg" alt="9221 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9221.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>othing could have
-      exceeded the air of importance with which Albert was striding along the
-      streets of Windsor, and notwithstanding the shortness of his legs, his <i>valet
-      de chambre</i>, in the shape of a newly acquired French nurse, had
-      difficulty in keeping up with him. The fact was, Albert was intrusted with
-      a most important piece of information&mdash;the bearer of a message that
-      had cleared his own mental horizon from so much as the vestige of a cloud,
-      and which he felt sure would bring equal joy to the others for whom it was
-      intended. The destination toward which he steered, without deviation to
-      right or left, and with great regard for economy of time and space at
-      corners and crossings, was the Little Castle, and he marched up the path
-      from terrace to terrace, and rang the bell with all the complacency of a
-      drum-major.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was expected, of course, that faithful old Margaret, who was master in
-      chief of affairs in the Little Castle, would, as usual, in the absence of
-      the family, answer the bell, and the message intended for her was half way
-      over Albert's lips before he took in the fact that the individual
-      who had opened the door bore about as close resemblance to Margaret as the
-      tower of the Little Castle to its door-mat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why, who are you?&rdquo; asked Albert as soon as he could
-      check the impassioned utterance of his message, and instantly demanded in
-      the next breath, &ldquo;and&mdash;and where is Margaret?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here I am, dear,&rdquo; said Margaret, coming toward him as rapidly
-      as an extra touch of rheumatism would permit, &ldquo;and I suppose you
-      wonder who this is who has let you in?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes,&rdquo; said Albert, whose anxiety as to who this intruder
-      might be was somewhat allayed by Margaret's appearance on the scene.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this is Mr. Everett Selden, Harold's uncle, who has
-      come down from London to make us a little visit,&rdquo; Margaret
-      explained.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dat's all right den!&rdquo; favoring Mr. Selden with a
-      benignant smile; &ldquo;and&mdash;and now, Margaret. I came round to tell
-      you dat dey are coming home on Saturday. We've had a letter from
-      Dorothy dis morning, and dey sent me down to tell you.&rdquo; (Margaret
-      fortunately was considerate enough not to take the wind out of the little
-      fellow's sails by informing him that they had had letters of their
-      own that morning.) &ldquo;And, Margaret, dey will get here in time for
-      luncheon, and I would have a very good luncheon, Margaret, and everything
-      all b'ight and shiny.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Just as you say, Master Albert,&rdquo; making a little curtsey to
-      this self-appointed master, and with difficulty restricting her emotions
-      to a smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meanwhile, Mr. Selden stood on one side immensely entertained, for he had
-      previously had no idea that executive ability ever made a showing at quite
-      such an early age.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Albert, free to turn his attention to less
-      important matters, &ldquo;did you open the door for me because you saw a
-      little boy coming up the terrace?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that was the way of it,&rdquo; Mr. Selden replied.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you did not know what little boy I was?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I did; Marie-Celeste told me about you one day when I had
-      a good talk with her in St. George's.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Elaine,&rdquo; said Albert, turning abruptly to the French nurse,
-      &ldquo;I would like to talk to Harold's uncle, and I would like to
-      stay to luncheon&mdash;I often stay to luncheon, don't I, Margaret?&rdquo;
-      Margaret's answer was that he often did, and Mr. Selden's
-      assurance that nothing would give him greater pleasure at once settled the
-      matter, and Elaine was compelled to return without her charge, but
-      entrusted with the message to Albert's mamma that Mr. Selden would
-      himself bring him home early in the afternoon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I remember that Marie-Celeste told me,&rdquo; said Mr. Selden,
-      placing a comfortable chair for Albert opposite his own, near the open
-      window, &ldquo;that you were very fond of a good talk now and then; and I'm
-      very glad of that, because there isn't anything else that I could do
-      to amuse you.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why isn't there?&rdquo; said Albert, noting Mr. Selden's
-      dressing-gown, and impressed with his semi-invalid air; &ldquo;aren't
-      you strong enough to do anything but talk?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I'm not so badly off as that yet, Albert; but you see I've
-      lived alone so long; that I haven't much of an idea how to amuse
-      little boys.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why did you tome down here when ev'rybody was away?&rdquo;
-      for Albert felt that the case needed to be still further investigated;
-      &ldquo;were you inwited?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed I was invited! Harold's brother Ted invited
-      me&mdash;urged me, I may say, to come whenever I chose, and to stay as
-      long as I liked.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How long do you sink you will like to stay?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think I would like to stay always.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Always till you die?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I think I should&mdash;that is, if you don't mind,
-      Albert;&rdquo; for Albert's sense of proprietorship in the Little
-      Castle was very evident.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, I'll not mind&mdash;perhaps we'll grow to be
-      friends, and often have long talks. Marie-Celeste said you had long talks
-      on the steamer&mdash;that was how she came to know you so well.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, we did have beautiful talks on the steamer, but the very best
-      one of all was in St. George's Chapel, a month or so ago.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes, I know,&rdquo; as though there was little of interest to
-      Marie-Celeste that was not sooner or later confided to him. &ldquo;Did she
-      tell you dat time, Mr. Selden, 'bout our Knight-of-de-Gartcr day?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And 'bout dis?&rdquo; groping in the side-pocket of his
-      sacque, and producing a little circle of blue ribbon.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can't quite make out what it is, Albert,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Selden, peering anxiously at the rather indistinguishable little object.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, dat's what it is and drawing up his kilt and the
-      trouser leg underneath, Albert slipped the garter over his foot and up to
-      its right place, just above the knee. This brought the gold lettering
-      partly into view, and enabled Mr. Selden to grasp the situation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you made believe you were a
-      little Knight of the Garter yourself.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nes; just for a bit of fun, I made believe I was a little knight
-      all dat day; but of course I didn't tell anybody, only Dorothy, who
-      made it for me. But do you know,&rdquo; very confidentially, &ldquo;dat I
-      felled asleep in de church beside Timothy, so dat de garter showed, and
-      den de children teased me awfully 'bout it, and Marie-Celeste calls
-      me her little knight now almost always. But you won't ever tell dat
-      I told you why she calls me dat, will you?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, I promise, Albert;&rdquo; and Margaret coming in just then to
-      announce luncheon, the blue garter was surreptitiously removed and left
-      for the time being on the library table, and was not thought of again by
-      its rightful owner. Mr. Selden, finding it there later in the afternoon,
-      slipped it into his pocket, with an idea of the use he might some time
-      make of it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For the next three days, to Mr. Selden's delight and amusement,
-      Albert was a constant visitor at the Little Castle, and when Saturday came
-      he put in an appearance at a prematurely early hour, for fear, by any
-      chance, the driving party should reach home before the time appointed; and
-      as that was exactly what they did do, he congratulated himself very highly
-      for his extraordinary forethought. Not but what he had full three hours to
-      spare, only the Allyns, who were invited to luncheon at the Castle,
-      failing to reach there before the arrival of the brake, he felt that
-      nothing but his own timely precaution had spared him a similar
-      disappointment.
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dat sounds like dem,&rdquo; said Albert for about the fiftieth time
-      to Mr. Selden.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hardly, I think;&rdquo; but humoring Albert to the extent of
-      stepping out on to the door-step; &ldquo;it is a whole hour ahead of time
-      yet.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Hut Albert was right, and a moment later the four-in-hand wheeled up at
-      the gate, and the glorious driving trip was over.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who can that possibly be with Albert?&rdquo; queried Harold,
-      naturally mystified at the appearance of a gentleman, in the easy costume
-      of house coat and slippers, standing complacently in the doorway of the
-      Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It's Uncle Everett, that's who it is;&rdquo; and
-      clambering down the side of the coach, Ted was up the path, and had him
-      cordially by the hand in less than a minute.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, this beats all,&rdquo; said Harold to himself; &ldquo;what is
-      going to happen next, I wonder?&rdquo; But he had the graciousness to
-      defer his own greeting to Uncle Everett until he assisted Aunt Lou and
-      Dorothy and Marie-Celeste to dismount, by aid of the brake's steps,
-      and which much practice, by the way, enabled them to accomplish very
-      skilfully.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Albert, you may be sure, was standing as close as possible to the foot of
-      the steps, and tumbled curls and rumpled collar soon bore witness to an
-      exceedingly hearty exchange of greetings. But the beauty of it was, that
-      everybody seemed to have every whit as glad a welcome for Uncle Everett as
-      Ted himself; and for Mr. and Mrs. Harris the surprise was in store of
-      finding that Marie-Celeste's steamer friend and Uncle Everett were
-      one and the same person; but surprises being the order of the day just
-      then, everybody was coming to take them quite as a matter of course. Mr.
-      Selden soon sought out an opportunity to tell why he had been so
-      ungracious as not to reveal his identity on the steamer, though he felt
-      naturally that his explanation did not reflect very much to his credit, as
-      was indeed the truth; but Mr. and Mrs. Harris were not the people to bear
-      a grudge against anybody if it could by any reasonable possibility be
-      dispensed with, and of course other explanations were called for. Uncle
-      Everett's presence had to be explained to Harold, and Ted told him
-      all about their week together in London, but not yet about the borrowed
-      money. That confession, together with all the rest, would be made a little
-      later on, when Harold and he should have gotten a little nearer still to
-      each other.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Well, it was a merry luncheon they had in the Little Castle, but after
-      luncheon the situation grew rather serious and pathetic. They had had such
-      a good time together for four happy weeks, it seemed hard each to have to
-      go his own way and realize that all the good times were over; and,
-      happily, even Mr. Farwell felt very sorry, too, notwithstanding he had
-      been obliged to concede rather more than was altogether agreeable after
-      Ted made his advent among them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXIII.&mdash;FOR LOVE OF MARIE-CELESTE.
-    </h2>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0053" id="linkimage-0053"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="figleft" style="width:20%;">
-      <img src="images/9228.jpg" alt="9228 " width="100%" /><br /><a
-      href="images/9228.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </div>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>mong the letters
-      that Mr. Harris found awaiting him was one from Chris, telling him that he
-      and Donald were booked for the Majestic, sailing from Liverpool the first
-      of October. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Mr. Harris to himself; &ldquo;we
-      go, too, then, if we can,&rdquo; which was somewhat of a question,
-      considering the crowded state of autumn ocean travel. But good fortune
-      still favored our little party, and Mr. Harris's telegram reached
-      Liverpool just in time to secure state-rooms which, within the same hour,
-      had been relinquished. So there was only one month more before them now,
-      and one week of that Mr. and Mrs. Harris and Marie-Celeste were to spend
-      in London. But the household in the Little Castle tried to make it a happy
-      month&mdash;as happy as they could, that is, with the cloud of coming
-      separation hanging over them. There was another cloud, too, that broadened
-      and deepened as the month drew near its close; Uncle Everett was far from
-      well. Just at first he had entered into the excursions and driving to
-      which much of the time had been given over, but latterly he had preferred
-      to stay at home, and now for a week he had been confined to his room. All
-      the while, however, he was utterly uncomplaining, seeming to be bent upon
-      making up for all the fretful moodiness of the selfish old bachelor days
-      up in London. And so the first of October came round, finding him still in
-      his room, and there was no help for it but for the Harrises to take leave
-      of him there.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Everybody tried to make the farewells as cheery as possible, and Mr.
-      Selden promised to visit the States later in the fall if he grew stronger.
-      &ldquo;If not,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I'll see you all when you come
-      over next spring to Ted's wedding&rdquo;&mdash;for that was another
-      beautiful outcome of the summer. Ted was to be married at the close of his
-      senior year, and the Little Castle was again to have a dear little
-      mistress&mdash;a mistress as like to Dorothy as you can possibly imagine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When, at last, the moment had come for turning their backs on the Little
-      Castle, two carriages were waiting at the door, for quite a party were
-      going up to see them off at Liverpool&mdash;Ted and Dorothy and Harry
-      Allyn and Albert, but not Harold. His good-byes were said at the station,
-      as it was planned they should be; and then dismissing the carriages, he
-      hurried home as fast as ever he could and straight up to his Uncle Everett's
-      room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, Harold, boy, what does this mean?&rdquo; glancing from his
-      easy-chair toward the clock on the mantel; &ldquo;can it be the train has
-      gone without you?&rdquo; and Uncle Everett's face could not possibly
-      have looked more troubled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I meant it should,&rdquo; for Harold had &ldquo;tied up,&rdquo; as
-      he called it, to Uncle Everett with all his heart these last four weeks,
-      and he was not going to leave him alone and half ill in his room for even
-      twenty-four hours, if he could help it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Harold, you ought not to have done it!&rdquo; but Uncle Everett
-      showed how deeply he was touched by this strong mark of devotion; and
-      Harold, drawing up a chair, sat silent for a few moments. The house had
-      seemed so terribly bereft and lonely as he had come up through it, that he
-      found he had hardly the heart to talk. And yet what had he stayed at home
-      for if not to be, if possible, of some cheer and comfort? But there was no
-      use in making an effort to talk about anything but exactly what was
-      uppermost.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We're going to miss them a great deal, Uncle Everett,&rdquo;
-      he said at last, &ldquo;and it will be a comfort to get right to work at
-      the studying&rdquo;&mdash;for it was high time that he and Ted were back
-      at work again, for both had had to be excused from the opening days ol the
-      term. &ldquo;All the same, I shall manage to spare you, Uncle Everett, for
-      your visit to the States when you get stronger;&rdquo; for it was
-      understood now that Uncle Everett's permanent home was to be within
-      the walls of the Little Castle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Selden sat thoughtfully a moment looking into the air before him, and
-      then arriving at a decision, he turned in his chair toward Harold: &ldquo;It
-      may not be kind,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;to tell you of it just
-      now, when your heart is already heavy enough; but, Harold, I shall never
-      be any stronger. The doctors told me what I had already suspected a month
-      ago up in London.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never be any stronger!&rdquo; exclaimed Harold, almost defiantly
-      and almost overcome with intensity of feeling. &ldquo;Well, I don't
-      believe it, Uncle Everett, and they had no right to tell you that; it
-      takes away half a man's chances.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I made them tell me, Harold, I had so many things to arrange, and
-      it is because they told me that I came post-haste down here to Windsor
-      while you were all still away, for I felt, whenever it happened, I wanted
-      to die in the Little Castle, in a place I could call home, if for only a
-      little while. But, Harold, I cannot bear to sadden you. It may be I shall
-      live ever so much longer than they think, and get the best of the doctors.
-      I only wanted you to understand that you wouldn't get rid of me for
-      any visit.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Harold tried to smile, but the situation was too serious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The reason I've told you now, Harold, is because we may not
-      have such another good chance for a talk; and the reason I have told you
-      at all is because there is something more I want to tell you. I have been
-      wondering naturally what I should do with my money, and I've decided
-      to leave a fourth of it to you and a fourth to Ted. Yes, I know you don't
-      need it, but you are my sister's children, and I want to do just
-      this with it. But the other half, Harold&mdash;what do you suppose I am
-      going to do with that?&rdquo; his pale face glowing at the thought.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, Uncle Everett?&rdquo; Harold's interest to learn
-      relieving for the moment the overmastering ache at his heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am going to build a Home down in Sussex&mdash;that's where
-      your mother and I were born, you know&mdash;and a lady up in London&mdash;a
-      lady, mind you, Harold, but who has lost husband and children and
-      everything else in the world, is going to take care of it for me. Then as
-      soon as it is ready all the institutions for children in London are to be
-      told about it, and whenever a little girl comes along who seems to be too
-      fine, in the best sense of the word, for the life of the ordinary
-      institution, down she is to go to Cranford, to be cared for in the Home;
-      and it is to be a home, Harold, prettily furnished, with rooms for ten
-      children, and everything as dainty as can be. You see, you can only keep
-      it home-like if you limit it to rather a small number. And then when it
-      comes to be well known with its family of dear little daughters, I hope
-      that, once in a while, people who have had little children and lost them,
-      and people who have never had them at all, and now and then a maiden lady,
-      or even an old bachelor, will come down there and carry off one or more of
-      the little girls, to bring them up as their own in their own homes, and so
-      room will be made for others.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Uncle Everett, that's the most beautiful&rdquo;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Wait a moment, Harold, for it isn't all told yet. In the
-      living-room of the Home I am going to have a beautiful open fireplace (for
-      of course there won't be any parlor)&mdash;the most beautiful that
-      can be made&mdash;and right above the tiles and under the ledge of the
-      mantel I am going to have the legend, in gold letters, that will shine
-      even in the twilight, 'For love of Marie-Celeste&rdquo; and then Mr.
-      Selden paused to see how the idea seemed to strike him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Excuse me for a moment, Uncle Everett,&rdquo; for when boys'
-      hearts grow too full, they prefer to go off by themselves, and it is not a
-      bad plan, by the way. &ldquo;I was a goose,&rdquo; he said, coming back in
-      a few moments, and putting his arm lovingly along the back of Uncle
-      Everett's chair; &ldquo;but, you see, it was one thing coming right
-      on the top of another so,&rdquo; knowing that Uncle Everett understood.
-      &ldquo;Isn't there more to tell now?&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, only this, Harold, and that is, that the orders are all given,
-      and that whether I live or die, the Home will be ready by next autumn;&rdquo;
-      and who would have imagined, to look at the light in the two faces, that
-      they were really standing face to face with the grave, mysterious thought
-      of death.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The Majestic is lying, with all steam up, out in the Mersey. Chris is
-      leaning over the ship's side, and Donald, again in sailor rig, is
-      close beside him; for Ted had dispensed with Donald's services when
-      he decided to follow up the driving party, and he had at once hurried back
-      to Nuneham to help Chris, who was trying to get everything into shape for
-      the old people before leaving. The tender, with its second and last load
-      of passengers, is bearing down on the steamer, and now they can
-      distinguish the Harrises and Albert&mdash;of whom Chris has heard so much&mdash;mounted
-      on Theodore's shoulder. Marie-Celeste holds in her two hands a
-      generous bouquet, which was handed to her just as she stepped aboard of
-      the tender. Its roses are bound together with a little blue garter, which
-      she was quick to recognize, and she knows very well she has need to thank
-      Uncle Selden for this priceless souvenir of that happy
-      Knight-of-the-Garter party.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Foremost among the number to leave the tender is a man in livery, which
-      some of the passengers have at once identified as none other than that
-      worn by the servants of the Oueen.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Whom do you want, may I ask?&rdquo; questions Donald politely,
-      since the man, once aboard, seems hesitating which way to turn. Inclined
-      at first to resent the interference, the man stares at Donald a moment,
-      and then, possibly conciliated by the semi-official aspect of his sailor
-      costume, condescends to reply:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have these,&rdquo; motioning toward the articles in his hands,
-      &ldquo;for one of the passengers&mdash;Miss Marie-Celeste Harris.&rdquo;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here she is, then,&rdquo; answers Donald, for the Harrises have
-      that moment come aboard.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0054" id="linkimage-0054"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0233.jpg" alt="0233 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0233.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Are you Miss Marie-Celeste Harris?&rdquo; asks the man, taken aback
-      by the suddenness of her advent on the scene.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I am,&rdquo; Marie-Celeste replies in a voice all but
-      inaudible with surprise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then the Queen's compliments, miss, and a <i>bon voyage!</i>&rdquo;
-      and grandiloquently delivering himself of this little speech, he presses
-      two packages into her hands and retreats to the tender before she has at
-      all had time to take it in. Marie-Celeste stands a moment, the observed of
-      all observers, and especially of those who have overheard the message.
-      Then our little party, moving off a short distance by themselves, crowd
-      close about her in breathless excitement while the papers are removed from
-      a glorious bunch of orchids. There is a card attached that reads,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      For the Little Queen of Hearts,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent30">
-      FROM
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Madame La Grande Reine.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The other package proves to be a tiny velvet box, containing a curious,
-      quaint necklace, and this bears the inscription on one of its ends of
-      faded ribbon,
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-
-    <p>
-      <br /> <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0055" id="linkimage-0055"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0234.jpg" alt="0234 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0234.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <div style="height: 6em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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-</pre>
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-06 21:43:53 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-06 21:43:53 -0800
commit	7589851cc015c995d5e181e77d07a7c060173707 (patch)
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