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diff --git a/old/54133-0.txt b/old/54133-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8eb115a..0000000 --- a/old/54133-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8066 +0,0 @@ -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] - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Queen of Hearts, by Ruth Ogden - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS *** - -***** This file should be named 54133-0.txt or 54133-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/1/3/54133/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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