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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d857e62 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54763 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54763) diff --git a/old/54763-0.txt b/old/54763-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0b5595e..0000000 --- a/old/54763-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3289 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Homespun, 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: Little Homespun - -Author: Ruth Ogden - -Illustrator: Mabel Humphrey - -Release Date: May 23, 2017 [EBook #54763] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE HOMESPUN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE HOMESPUN - -By Ruth Ogden - -(Mrs. Charles W. Ide) - -Author Of “A Loyal Little Red-Coat” - -“A Little Queen Of Hearts” - -“His Little Royal Highness” - -“Courage” etc. - -With Numerous Original Illustrations By Mabel Humphrey - -New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company - -1897 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0006] - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - -ONE MOMENT PLEASE. - -In a way, this book, “Little Homespun,” is a story quite by itself. In -another way it is a sequel to “Courage,” although you can “catch -its thread” without having read a line of “Courage.” Now some grown -people, and I presume some children, do not care for sequels at all, but -I happen to know that the children who are good enough to read and care -for my stories are fond of sequels. Those who have taken the trouble -to write me, in little letters that are worth their weight in gold -many times over, almost invariably ask for another book about the same -people. Sometimes they tell me just what to put into the new story -and what name to give it. So here lies my excuse if one is needed for -writing “Little Homespun.” Besides, I could hardly help it, for there -seemed to be quite a little yet to tell about Courage and Sylvia, and -some new little friends of theirs. And one thing more--everything -in this story that has to do with real people or actual events is -absolutely true; a little book, named “Historic Arlington,” giving most -of the information needed. Even old black Joe has his counterpart in -Wesley Morris, one of the slaves of Mr. Custis, born on the estate, and -employed for many years following the war as a workman about the grounds -at Arlington. - -“RUTH OGDEN.” - -Oakdene - -Sept. 1, 1897. - - - -[Illustration: 0013] - - -{001} - - - - -LITTLE HOMESPUN - - - - -CHAPTER I.--TWO OLD CRONIES - -JUNE morning, clear and cool as October, and everything far and near -fairly revelling in the early summer sunshine. The Potomac, blue as the -sky above it, sparkling and dancing, the new young leaves on the oak -trees shimmering and shining with the marvellous green of springtime, -and the dear old Virginia homestead, overhanging the river, never -looking {002}more homelike and attractive in all its quiet life. The -reason for this did not lie all in the sunshine either. Just outside -the door, on the wide gallery, a darling old lady sat knitting, for as -_darling_ means “dearly beloved,” no other word could so truly describe -her. Everybody worshipped her and regarded her--as well they might--with -unspeakable devotion; for darling old ladies, as you very well know, do -not grow on every bush--quite to the contrary--a great many old ladies -(bless their tired old hearts!) grow fretful and nervous and fussy, and -are hard to please, not to say cranky. But who would blame them for -this for a minute? Just as likely as not you and I will be cranky enough -ourselves, when we have borne the burden of fourscore years, and are -pretty well worn out in mind and spirit and body. But here was an old -lady who was not worn out. Her hair was white with “the incomparable -whiteness of aged hair,” and there were the indelible marks of age on -the sweet, earnest face, but this dear old lady was “sunny.” She had had -her own full share of sorrows and worries, and she had taken them all -very much to heart--as people must whose hearts are big enough to -take things to at all--and as tender as hearts really ought to be. But -somehow or other, she had learned the {003}secret of not being overcome -by the worries and the sorrows, and so, sitting there knitting that -peerless June morning, she and the sunshine together seemed to glorify -everything about them. - -[Illustration: 0015] - -Presently a little specimen appeared in the doorway; a handsome little -fellow too, though he did not have any curls, as most children do who -find their way into story books, but his hair was golden, and, though -cut quite short, as he insisted upon having it, had a little trick of -straying down on his forehead in quite irresistible fashion. - -“Well, what are we going to do to-day?” said his grandmother, gazing -at him as fondly as only fond grandmothers can. In response the little -fellow merely pointed to two straps of gold braid upon his shoulders, -and looked as though, really “grand_na_na” should have known better than -to ask. - -“Oh! beg pardon, Brevet, I was so intent upon my knitting I had not -noticed,” and she succeeded in foiling a smile that would at least -have proved annoying; for, as every one about the place knew, the gold -shoulder-straps, worn in imitation of a captain’s uniform in the army, -meant but one thing, and that was that Captain Joe was coming down to -carry Brevet-Captain up to Arlington for the day. Indeed at {004}that -moment a cheery “How’dy, Brevet!” rang out on the still morning air, -and at the same moment a donkey and a two-wheeled cart driven by an old -negro came to a stand at the gate. - -“How’dy, Captain, I’m ready for you. Been expecting you ev’ry minute -since breakfast. Good-bye, Gran_na_na, take good care of yourself,” and -a pair of chubby arms gave grandmamma just about as much of a hug as the -old lady could bear up under. - -“Good-mornin’, Miss Lindy,” said Captain Joe, stepping up to the gate -and touching his cap deferentially. “I ’spose the little un tol’ you -I’d like him up to Arlington fur de day if you could spare him.” - -“No, Joe,” answered Mrs. Ellis, smiling, “Brevet does not think that -necessary now-a-days. He simply dons the blue reefer with the -shoulder-straps, and that means he has his orders for the day from his -captain, and grandmammas are not expected to ask questions.” Brevet -stood by, his hands upon his hips in most independent fashion, as much -as to say, “That describes the case exactly.” - -“Well, I reckon he don’ mean no harm, Miss Lindy,” said Joe, a little -anxiously. “He’s dat much in earnest ’bout everythin’, dat he’s a -Brevet-Cap’n sure ’nuff when he gets his straps on.” {005}"Oh, that’s -all right, Joe,”’ answered Mrs. Ellis, “but we’ll just send for you, if -the day comes when we need to court-martial him for insubordination.” - -Brevet did not at all understand this last remark, and so, touching his -little blue cap in true soldier-fashion, turned on his heel and marched -down to the donkey-cart as though in command of an army. - -“Brevet,” said Joe seriously, as they jogged away from the gate, “You -mus’ be ver’ careful ’bout bein’ spectful like to yo’ Grand_na_na, -case if you don’ dere’s no tellin’ but any day yo’ Cap’n ’ll take away -yo’ straps an’ den you’d jus’ be plain Marse Howard again I reckon.” - -“Joe,” said Brevet solemnly, his voice trembling a little, “I could not -bear it if you took away my straps,” and he laid a little brown hand -protectingly upon one shoulder. - -“Well, den you have a care, Honey, ‘bout Miss Lindy, an’ de nex’ -time Joe invites you down to Arlington fur de day, you des ask yo’ -Grand_na_na’s permission. Yo’re my Brevet-Cap’n sure ’nuff, but you’re -yo’ Grand_na_na’s little pickaninny eb’ry day in de week, and don’ you -forget it.” - -“I’ll remember, Captain,” with most soldierlike submission, and then for -awhile they drove along in silence. {006}Happy thoughts of anticipation, -however, soon chased the troubled look from Brevet’s little face, for -there was nothing at all could compare with these occasional days spent -with Joe at Arlington. It was owing to them that he had gained -his dearly-loved title of Brevet and the blue soldier-cap and the -shoulder-straps. Joe had been a member of a coloured regiment and had -fought all through the war, and when at last he had come back and had -settled down in his old cabin at Arlington, he was dubbed Captain, in -recognition of his gallant services, by all the coloured folk of the -neighbourhood. And Joe was by no means unworthy of the honour, for save -for the fact that his regiment had been officered by white men, he might -easily have risen to the command of a company. Time and time again in -the face of the greatest danger he had been notoriously fearless, and -had never in a single instance shown the white feather, which is more -than can be said for many of his black comrades. And so from that time -on it had been Captain Joe, and when some thirty years later little -Howard Ellis came to make his home with his grandmother, and soon -afterward came to know Joe, and to spend many a long summer day in his -delightful company, what more natural than that the little fellow, with -his {007}great passion for everything military, should first aspire -to some of the outward insignia, and then, having attained cap and -shoulder-straps by favour of his grandmother, should later be dowered -with the title of “Brevet-Captain,” by favour of Captain Joe himself? - -[Illustration: 0021] - -“You see it’s des de name fur you, Honey,” Joe had explained, “case -it’ll save any con-fus’n’ of us togedder, an’ at de same time it’s a -very complimentin’ title. It means es how you have it des as a sort of -honour, widout havin’ any of de ’sponsibilities of an out-an’-outer -cap’n like me.” - -From that day forward it was “Brevet-Captain,” very tenaciously insisted -upon by Howard himself, but gradually allowed to be abbreviated to -“Brevet” within the home circle. And so Captain Joe and Brevet, having -long ago arrived at the most satisfactory mutual understanding, sat side -by side in the donkey-cart, without feeling the slightest obligation to -say a word. - -The road from the Ellis homestead up to Arlington lies through the -woods, and has all the charm of a road that has been left to follow its -own way--and a sweet, wild way at that. There were no fences, either new -or old, for none were needed. On each side a forest of oak, interspersed -with an occasional maple or {008}chestnut, stretched miles away, with -seldom a glimpse of a clearing, while immediately bordering the road -grew the veriest tangle of a natural hedge-row, abloom with some sort of -sweet wild-flower from May to October. The original cut through the wood -had been happily a wide one, and so sunshine and shower even, after all -these years, still had abundant chance to slant this way and that across -the road and coax every growing thing to perfection. Wood-violets, white -and yellow and purple, peered out from under the taller growths of fern -in the early springtime. June brought the sweet wild rose, unfolding -bud after bud well into the summer, and the white berry-blossoms of the -briars. With August came the berries themselves, ripening ungathered in -riotous profusion, and following close upon them advance heralds of the -goldenrod and the asters. It was in very truth a beautiful, dear old -road, and it formed a beautiful setting for the little donkey-drawn cart -slowly making its way along it. A pretty contrast, too, that of the old -negro, still alert and sturdy notwithstanding his threescore years and -ten, with the little golden-haired boy beside him. Together they seemed -the embodiment of happy, confiding childhood and trustful, serene old -age. {009}On came the little cart, each of its occupants apparently -intent upon his own thoughts, until at last Brevet commenced humming -a sweet little refrain; very softly and slowly at first, as though not -quite sure of his ground, then more distinctly as he felt himself master -of the situation. Finally the refrain took to itself words; words that -have since grown commonplace, but which had all the charm of novelty for -Joe, and he listened with absorbed delight as Brevet sang cutely,-- - - “I’se a little Alabama Coon - - And I hasn’t been born very long, - - I ‘member seein’ a great big roun’ moon - - I ’member hearin’ one sweet song; - - When dey tote me down to de cotton-field, - - Dar I roll and I tumble in de sun, - - While my daddy pick de cotton mammy watch - - me grow, - - And dis am de song she sung:” - -Brevet paused for the briefest part of a second to see how Joe was -taking it. - -“Go on, Honey, go on,” urged Joe. - -“An’ dis am de song she sung:” repeated Brevet. - - “Go to sleep my little pickaninny, - - Br’er Fox’ll catch if yo’ don t; - - Slumber on de bosom of yo’ ole Mammy Jinny - - Mammy’s gwine to swatch yo’ if yo’ won’t. - - Sh--Lu-la, lu-la lu-la lu-la lu! - - Underneaf de silver Southern moon, - - Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, Mammy’s little baby, - - Mammy’s little Alabama Coon.” - -{010}"Again, Honey, again,” in a voice of actual command, so reluctant -was Joe to have his keen enjoyment for one moment interrupted, and -Brevet obeyed, keeping the air perfectly and singing with all his heart, -too, as though himself a veritable little pickaninny, dwelling upon the -many happy memories of babyhood in a cotton-field. - -“I clar to yo’, Honey,” said Joe, his voice trembling with delight, “I -can just see dat little baby. Seems ter me I neber done hear anythin’ so -pretty, anythin’ dat fit each other like dat song an’ words. Whar eber -did yo’ Tarn it, Honey?” - -“Uncle Harry taught it to me, Joe.” - -“Are der any more verses, Honey?” - -“There’s one more, Joe, but Uncle Harry says it’s so ordinary it doesn’t -belong with the first verse at all.” - -[Illustration: 0027] - -“Well now, dat’s a pity,” said Joe, very regretfully, “but yo’ Uncle -Harry he do beat all for gettin’ hol’ of sweet, catchin’ music an’ I kin -des tell yo’, Honey, you done mus’ sing dat song to yo’ ole Cap’n eb’ry -time we fin’ ourselves togedder fur half a shake of a lamb’s {011}tail. -Gib us yo’ han’ on it, Honey, dat you will.” - -Brevet put his brown hand in Joe’s black one, his own face beaming with -the pleasure he had given, and so the two boon companions jogged on, -until, high on a hill before them, the pillars of a fine old house came -into view, and a few moments later the donkey-cart drew up at a little -cabin, just in the rear of the fine old house, a cabin that had been -Joe’s home ever since he was as little a fellow as Brevet there beside -him. - -“I’ll look around while you put Jennie up,” explained Brevet, as soon as -Joe had lifted him from the cart, and putting his hands in his pockets -he walked up to the big house, straight through the hall, whose doors -stood wide open, and out on to the porch in front. Brevet simply loved -“to look around,” from that porch, and I do not think he ever stood -there without his resolve to be a soldier some day surging up in a -strong, new tide within him. Some of the rest of us, who are quite too -old ever to think of being soldiers, and whose petticoats must at any -age have stood in the way, know exactly how Brevet felt. You know, too, -if you have ever been to Arlington, and, having been born and bred -in these United States of ours, are the true little {012}American you -really ought to be. But in case you never _have_ been to Arlington, and -do not at all know why it should make you feel that you would like to -be a soldier, then let me tell you before you have read another single -line, that Arlington is the great National Cemetery, lying a few miles -out from Washington, and where more than fifteen thousand soldiers lie -buried. From the moment you enter the beautiful grounds, you see the low -mounds stretching away on every side of you, and when you drive up in -front of Arlington House itself, there is brave General Sheridan’s tomb -right in front of you, so you cannot forget for a moment what a host of -noble heroes they were, who fought in our great civil war thirty years -ago, and how grand a thing it is lo be willing to lay down one’s life -if need be, for the honour of one’s country. But perhaps you wonder that -there should be a fine old house in a cemetery, and that Brevet should -so love to go there, thinking a cemetery for your part rather sad and -depressing, and wonder too why Joe should have chosen such a place for -his home; all of which wonders it would take too much time to explain in -this chapter, a chapter that was only meant to introduce you to Brevet -and the Captain, so good-bye for just now to Arlington. - - -{013} - - - - -CHAPTER II.--COURAGE TAKES HEART. - -This time, as before, there is a story to tell because of something -braved and dared for Miss Julia’s sake; something that needed less -nerve, perhaps, than the leap Courage took that night on the drawbridge, -but something that called not only for a world of a different sort of -courage, but for infinite patience as well, and that claimed the -whole summer for its doing. The reason for it all lay in four little -words--Miss Julia was dead. Beautiful, strong, radiant Miss Julia! why, -no one had thought of death for her, save as years and years away in the -serene twilight of a calm old age; and yet it had come, suddenly, after -a week’s brief illness, and Courage was simply broken-hearted. She felt -she had no right to her name now, and never should have again. Miss -Julia had been teacher, mother, friend to her, one or the other almost -since her babyhood, and to care for Miss Julia in return, now that she -herself was grown up, to let every thing else “come second,” had been -her only {014}thought. And now to find her hands suddenly empty, and -all the sunshine gone out of her life--was it strange that she felt -despairing and desolate and that nothing whatever was left? - -“But we are left,” pleaded a chorus of little voices, and Courage seemed -to see four brighteyed little children; bright-eyed because God had made -them so, but with faces almost as sad as her own. “Yes, we are left,” - they continued pleading. “Miss Julia was going to do so much for us this -summer; could not you do it in her place for her sake?” - -Courage shook her head gravely as in answer to her own thoughts. - -“No, I cannot,” she said, firmly. “Everything that I leaned on is gone; -nothing is left to me--nothing.” - -“But could you not try just for her sake?” chorused the little voices -over and over in her heart, day after day, in all the sad hours of -waking, and sometimes even in sleeping, until at last she bravely -brushed the tears away and made answer, “Yes, for her sake I will!” - -She remembered the day of her six-year-old christening, when her -remarkable name had been given her and she had asked: “Is courage -something that people have, Papa? Have I got it?” and he had told her, -“Courage is {015}something that people have, dear, something fine, and I -hope you will have it.” - -Yes, she would try, even in this dark hour, to live up to her father’s -hope for her, and so her resolve was taken. - -But the four bright-eyed little children knew nothing of any resolve; -they would not have understood what it meant if they had, and as for -their singing a pathetic little chorus in any one’s heart, they were -altogether unconscious of that as well. But one thing they did know, and -that was they should never see Miss Julia again in this world, and they -thought they also knew that a beautiful plan she had made for them could -never be carried out. The wisest thing, therefore, for these four little -people was to put, so far as possible, all thought of the plan from -their minds, and Mary, the eldest of the four, said as much to the -others. - -“Oh, don’t let us think about it any more,” she urged, earnestly. “If -we only could have Miss Julia back what would we care for anything else? -Besides, when you think what has happened, it seems selfish, and as -though we did not have any hearts, to grieve over our own little plans -for a moment.” - -“But it wasn’t just over our own little plan,” insisted her younger -brother Teddy, “it was {016}Miss Julia’s plan for us, and I don’t think -it strange a bit that we should grieve over it.” - -“Neither do I,” urged Allan, who came next to Teddy in age. “Of course -us boys, not going to the sewing-school, did not know Miss Julia as well -as you, but I just guess there wasn’t a boy who thought more of her than -I did. What’s more I loved her; not making a fuss over her, to be sure, -like you girls, still I did really love her,” (emphasising the word by a -shake of his head, and firm pursing of his lips). “All the same, I think -it’s natural we should feel awfully disappointed.” Gertrude who was -seven, and the youngest of the four, nodded in approval of the stand -Allan had taken, and continued nodding, as he added, “We haven’t -travelled so much, seems to me, or had so much change in our lives as to -settle back to the idea of a hot summer here in town, instead of going -to the country, without feeling it a bit; that is, I don’t think we -have.” - -[Illustration: 0035] - -Mary sighed and said nothing, as though ready to admit, after all, -that perhaps it was natural that they should take their disappointment -somewhat to heart, but the tears that had sprung suddenly into her eyes -were from real longing for Miss Julia and not from the disappointment. - -This quiet talk in which the little Bennetts {017}were indulging, was -being carried on from the backs of two horses--the two girls mounted -upon one and the two boys astride the other--but they happened to be the -quietest horses in the world; horses that never budged in fact, tailless -and headless, and that belonged to the carpenter who lived on the first -floor. The Bennetts lived on the top floor; but whenever there was -anything to be talked over, down they trooped to the yard and climbed -and helped each other to the backs of these high seats, and when all -were able to declare themselves perfectly comfortable the conclave would -commence. The little Bennetts were great talkers. They simply loved to -discuss things, and this shows, when you stop to consider it, that they -must be, on the whole, an amiable little family, for some little people -that we hear of are quite too impatient and self-assertive to be willing -to discuss things at all. But whatever may have been the faults of the -little Bennetts they did have respect for each other’s opinions, and -were generally ready to admit that two heads were better than one, and -“Four heads,” to quote little Gertrude, “four times as better.” This -habit of discussion, for it really amounted to that, was partly no doubt -the outcome of a little strategy on the part of their mother. Mary and -Teddy and Allan and Gertrude were {018}just a “pair of steps,” as the -saying goes, and sometimes the little living-room on the fourth floor -seemed all too small for the noisy company, and then Mrs. Bennett would -exclaim, and as though the most novel sort of an idea had occurred to -her: - -“Children, why don’t you run down to the yard and have a _good talk?_” - -There was no resisting this appeal, such untold delights were implied -in Mrs. Bennett’s tone and manner, and the children seldom failed to -act upon the advice, and what was more, seldom failed to light upon some -interesting thing to talk about; and then, always as a last resort, some -one could tell a story. The some one was generally Teddy, for he had the -wildest imagination, and could upon any and every occasion invent most -thrilling romances, which were quite as much of a surprise to himself as -to his hearers. And so the children had come to love their perch in the -corner of the city yard, with the uncertain shade of an old alanthus -flickering over them in summer, and the bright sun streaming full upon -them in its leafless winter days. And this was how it chanced that the -Bennett children found themselves in their old haunt that breezy May -morning, and were easing their heavy little hearts by frankly admitting -to one {019}another how very great indeed was their disappointment. - -Better so, I think. Wrinkles come earlier and plow deeper, and thoughts -are apt to grow bitter and morbid, when one broods and broods, and will -not take hearts near and dear into one’s confidence. The day never dawns -when truly brave hearts cry out for pity, but sympathy is a sweet and -blessed thing the world over, and God meant not only that we should have -it, but that, if need be, we should reach our hands and grasp it. - -There was one little Bennett, however, who did not share in the general -depression. Too short a time in the world to know aught of its joys or -sorrows, Baby Bennett lay comfortably in his mother’s lap, having just -dropped off to sleep after a good half hour of rocking, Mrs. Bennett, -who had herself grown drowsy with her low crooning over the baby, -glanced first at the bustling little clock on the mantel shelf, and -then, leaning her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes; -but instead of falling asleep she fell to thinking, and then her face -grew very sad and tears made their way from beneath her closed eyelids. -So, you see, the mother-heart was heavy as well as the-child-hearts in -the Bennett family, and for the same reason. It was not because they -were {020}not learning to face and accept the thought that Miss Julia, -whom they so dearly loved, could not return to them; they were trying to -be as brave as Miss Julia herself would have had them. But this was the -day, the very day that they were all to have started, and they could not -seem to forget it for a moment; neither could somebody else, and soon -there came a gentle knock at Mrs. Bennett’s door. - -“Come in,” she answered, forgetting the tears in her eyes; and, laying -the baby in its little clothes-basket of a bed, she turned to greet the -newcomer. Courage had mounted the four flights of stairs very bravely, -but the sight of the tears in Mrs. Bennett’s eyes disarmed her, and, -sinking into the nearest chair, she found she would best not try to -speak for a moment. - -“Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Courage, that you should have seen me,” said -Mrs. Bennett, with a world of regret in her voice; “it is so much harder -for you than for anybody, but this was the day, you know, almost the -very hour.” - -“Yes, I know,” Courage faltered; “that was why I came.” - -“It’s like you, Miss Courage; you’ve Miss Julia’s own thoughtfulness, -but I’m thinking it will be easier for us all when this day’s over. -I got rid of the trunk last week; it seemed to {021}make us all so -disheartened to have it standing round.” - -“You didn’t sell it, did you?” - -“No, indeed I did not, for it may be the children will have a chance yet -some day, for a bit of an outing.” - -“I have decided they are all to have it yet, Mrs. Bennett, this very -summer, and just as Miss Julia planned, too. That’s what I came to tell -you, if you will trust them to me.” - -“Trust you! Oh, my dear! but it would be too much care for those young -shoulders; too much by far.” - -“Mrs. Bennett,” said Courage, so earnestly as to carry conviction, “I -thought so at first, too, but the plan has grown to be just as dear to -me as it was to Miss Julia, and now, if you do not let me carry it out, -I do not see how I can ever live through this first summer.” - -“Then indeed I will let you,” and then she added slowly, and with an -accent on every word, “and you are just Miss Julia’s own child!” and -Courage thought them the very sweetest words she had ever heard, or ever -could hear again. - -“May I tell the children?” she asked, eagerly. “Where are they?” - -Mrs. Bennett did not answer. I believe she could not, but she opened the -window and {022}Courage knew that meant the children were below in their -favourite corner. - -“Oh, let me call them, please,” resting one hand on Mrs. Bennett’s arm -and leaning far out over the sill. - -“Children! come up stairs for a moment, I have something to tell you. -Come up quickly.” Courage hardly knew her own voice, it rang out so -cheerily. - -“Oh, Miss Courage!” chorused four little voices, only this time the -sound was in her ears as well as in her heart, and as she watched the -children tumble helter-skelter from the horses in the yard way down -below her, a smile that was almost merry drove the shadows from her -face. - -[Illustration: 0042] - - -{023} - - - - -CHAPTER III.--A DELIGHTFUL DISCOVERY. - - -Why, whatever’s going on here?” exclaimed Brevet. - -“Oh, yes,” said Joe, turning slowly round, for he knew what had -attracted Brevet’s attention. “I done notice it on de way up ter -Ellismere fo’ you dis mornin’, an’ den I was so took up with dat -fascinatin’ song of yo’s as we drove back, dat I didn’t want to -interrupt you long ’nuff to call yo’ attention to it. Looks as dough -dere mus’ be some one come ter live in de pretty little house, doesn’t -it?” - -“Why, yes, it does,” said Brevet, very much interested; “and you don’t -know who it is, Joe?” - -“No, I hasn’t knowed nuffin’ ’bout it, till I seed de whole place -lookin’ so pert like dis mornin’,” and Joe brought old Jennie to a -standstill that they might more fully take in the situation. - -“Don’t you think I ought to find out, Joe?” - -“Why, yes, Honey, seems ter me it would {024}be sort of frien’ly,” and -suiting the action to the word he took Brevet by the arms and dropped -him down over the cart-wheel. - -The change that had come over this point in the road was indeed -remarkable. A little house that had remained untenanted for years, in -the midst of an overgrown enclosure, stood this bright June morning with -every door and window open to the air and sunshine. The vines which had -half hidden it from view had already been cut away, and on every hand -were signs that the place was being brought into liveable shape with all -possible expedition. No one was in sight, so Brevet noiselessly pushed -open the gate, and, making his way to the little front porch, reached -upward and lifted the brass knocker of the open door. The unexpected -sound instantly brought a neatly-dressed, elderly-looking woman from -some room in the rear. - -[Illustration: 0045] - -“How’dy,” said Brevet, instantly put at his ease by the kindness of the -woman’s face. - -“What did you say, dear?” she asked, with a puzzled frown. - -“I said how’dy,” explained Brevet, wondering that the woman’s face still -wore the puzzled look. “We just stopped to ask who was coming. We go -by here very often, Joe and I,” pointing to the cart, “and we were -{025}wondering what was up seeing this place open that’s been closed so -long.” - -“It can’t be that Miss Julia’s self is a comin’ can it?” called Joe, for -the little house was not set so far back from the road but that he could -hear every word spoken between the woman and Brevet. - -“Why, did you know Miss Julia?” she asked, stepping at once to the gate, -with Brevet following close behind her. - -“No, Miss; dat is not personally, but I knowed dat Miss Julia owned dis -little plantation, an’ I often wonder dat she never done come to live on -it. I can ‘member when her Uncle Dave was livin’, an’ it was den des de -_homiest_ little homestead in de country.” - -“You have not heard then of Miss Julia’s death?” - -“No,” exclaimed Joe, with as much feeling in his voice as though Miss -Julia had indeed been an old friend; “you don’ tell me! I’se often heard -what a reg’lar lady she was, and often wished I done have a chance to -lay eyes on her.” - -“She was a very good friend to me,” said the woman, sorrowfully, “and -she had expected to come down here this summer and open the house, and -bring a little family of city children with her who had never spent a -day in the real country in their lives.” {026}"You don’t say so!” said -Joe, shaking his head sadly. “It’s strange what times de Lord chooses to -call de good folks out of dis worl’.” And then he added, after a moment -of respectful silence, “But de place here, am it sold to some new -party?” - -“No; Miss Julia left it in her will to a young lady who was just the -same as a daughter to her, and she has decided to come down in Miss -Julia’s place this summer.” - -“And bring the little children?” asked Brevet, eagerly. - -“And bring the little children,” answered the woman, her face -brightening. “I have come down to make everything ready for them, and -they are coming on Friday.” - -“Oh, do you think I could know them?” - -“Of course you can know them. You must come and see them so soon as ever -they come. But you must tell me your name so that I can tell them about -you.” - -“My name is Howard Ellis, but that name isn’t any use now. Everybody -calls me Brevet since I and the Captain here have grown to be such -friends. It means kind of an officer in the army, and when I grow up -I’m going to West Point and learn how to be a real officer, and not just -kind of a one at all. But till then everybody’s going to call me Brevet. -And {027}now what is your name please, and the children’s, because I -want to tell my grand_na_na all about you?” - -“Well, my name is Mary Duff, dear, and the children are named -Bennett--Mary and Teddy and Allan and Gertrude Bennett.” - -“Oh, are two of them boys?” and Brevet’s face was radiant. “I haven’t -had a boy to play with ever hardly, but I s’pose they’re older boys than -me,” he added, a little crestfallen; “almost all boys are.” - -“Well, Teddy is not very much older, just a little, and Allan is -just about your age I should say. Never you fear, Brevet, you’ll have -beautiful times with them all, I know.” - -[Illustration: 0049] - -“When shall I come then?” wishing to have matters very definitely -arranged. “Do you think they would like to have me here to help them -feel at home right off at the very first?” - -“Well, I should not wonder but they would like that very much indeed.” - -“Then I will come on Friday.” - -“You mean you will ask your gran’_na_na, Brevet,” said Joe, -significantly. - -“Oh, yes; I mean I will ask if I may come.” This last very quickly and -eagerly, remembering his little lecture of the morning. - -“Well, it’s des a comfort to see de ole place in shape once more, an’ -I trus’ you an’ de {028}young lady an’ de chilluns will have des a -beautiful summer. P’r’aps some day,” and Joe’s eyes twinkled with the -thought, “dey’ll all come up and spen’ de day with me at Arlington. -Brevet here alway des loves to come. You know Arlington’s where all de -soldiers am buried. I used to be a slave on de place ‘fo’ de wah, an’ -dere ain’t much happened dere fur de las’ fifty years dat I hasn’t some -knowledge of, and dey done tell me” (indulging in a little complacent -chuckle) “dat it’s mighty interestin’ ter spen’ de day with Joe at -Arlington.” - -“Well, indeed I should think it would be,” said Mary, very much -interested, “and I wish you would stop and see Miss Courage about it the -first time you drive by.” - -“Thank you very much, Miss; and now. Brevet, your gran’_na_na will be -watchin’ fur us an’ we had bes’ be joggin’ on I’m thinkin’.” - -“All right, Captain,” clambering into the cart, and then Joe and Brevet -courteously touched their caps, in true military fashion, and old Jenny -jogged on. - -“Miss _Courage_ did she say?” asked Brevet, the moment they were out of -hearing, just as Joe knew he would. - -“Yes; it soun’ like dat, Honey, but some day we must make inquiries. -Dere mus’ be some ‘splanation of a name like dat.” - - -{029} - - - - -CHAPTER IV.--EVERYBODY HAPPY. - -It is strange and beautiful,” thought Courage as she moved busily about -her room, putting one thing and another into a trunk that stood open -before the fireplace; “strange and beautiful how difficulties take to -themselves wings, when you once make up your mind what is right to do -and then go straight ahead and do it.” - -“Miss Courage,” said a young coloured girl, who was leaning over the bed -trying to fold a black dress in a fashion that should leave no creases -to show for its packing, “I felt all along there was nothing else for -you to do.” - -“Then, Sylvia, why did you not say so?” Courage asked, a little sharply. -“You knew how hard it was for me to come to any decision. It was not -because you were afraid to say so, was it?” - -“Afraid?” and a merry look shone for a moment in Sylvia’s eyes. “No, I -don’t believe I ever could grow afraid of the little curly-headed girl -I used to work for when we {030}were both children together. No, indeed; -it was only because I thought you ought to see it so yourself. It seemed -as though it was just as plain a duty as the hand before your face, and -I felt sure you would come to it, as you have, if we only gave you time -enough.” It was a comfort to Courage to feel that Sylvia so thoroughly -understood her. Indeed, they were far more to each other than mistress -and maid; they were true friends these two, whose only home for a while -had been Larry Starr’s brave lighter, and for both of whom he had cared -in the same kind, fatherly way. Of course you do not understand about -Larry or Larry’s lighter, unless you have read “Courage,” but then on -the other hand there is no reason why you need to understand. Nor -was Sylvia the only one who approved of what Courage had done. The -Elversons, Miss Julia’s brother and his wife, and with whom Courage -and Miss Julia had lived, were as glad as glad could be to have Courage -carry out Miss Julia’s plan; and so in fact was everybody who saw how -sad and lonely Courage was, and what a blessing anything that would -occupy her thoughts must be to her. And so, in the light of all this, -you can see how sad it would have been if Courage had yielded to her -fears, and persistently turned away {031}from a duty, in very truth as -plain as the hand before your face, as Sylvia had put it. But Courage -had not turned away, nor for one instant wavered from the moment her -resolve was taken. - -And now at last the day for the start had dawned. The little Bennetts -had been awake at sunrise. Fancy having three months of Christmas ahead -of you--for it seemed just as fine as that to them. It was a wonder they -had slept at all. They had read about brooks and hills and valleys, and -woods where all manner of beautiful wild things were growing; of herds -of cow’s grazing in grassy pastures; of loads of hay with children -riding atop of them, and of the untold delights of a hay-loft. And -now they were going to know and enjoy every one of these delights -for themselves. Why, they could not even feel sad about leaving their -mother, and indeed she was as radiant as they at the thought of their -going. - -“You see,” she explained to them, “I shall have the baby for company, -and such a beautiful time to rest; and your father and I will take a -sail now and then down the bay, or go to the park for the day in the -very warm weather; and then it is going to be such a comfort to have -your father home for two whole months, and that couldn’t have happened -{032}either, you know, if you had not been going away for the summer.” - The children’s father, Captain Bennett, was one of the pilots who earn -their living by bringing the great ocean steamers into the harbour, and -often he would be aboard the pilot-boat, at sea for weeks at a time, -waiting his turn to take the helm of one of the incoming steamers, and -then, as like as not, he would have to put straight to sea again, -for there were many to keep, and there was need for every hard-earned -dollar. But the Captain’s chance for a vacation had come with the -children’s. He could afford to take it, since four of his little family -were to be provided for, for the entire summer, and so every one was -happy and every one believed that somehow Miss Julia must know and be so -glad for them all. - -But this was the day for the start, as I told you, and the children had -started. They were in the waiting-room at the foot of Cortlandt Street, -where Courage was to meet them. - -“And here she is,” exclaimed Mary, with a great sigh of relief, being -the first to espy Courage coming through the gate of the ferry-house, -“and doesn’t she look lovely!” Mary was right; Courage did look -lovely as, with Sylvia close behind her, she walked the length of the -waiting-room to where the little group {033}were standing. Other people -thought so too, as she passed, and watched her with keenest interest. -Her stylish black dress and black sailor hat were wonderfully becoming, -and the face that had been so pale and sad was flushed with pleasure -now, and with the rather uncomfortable consciousness that she and her -little party could scarcely fail to be the observed of all observers. -Mrs. Bennett was there, of course, to see them off, and the baby and -the Captain, and it must be confessed that the eyes of both father -and mother grew a little misty as they said “Good-bye” to their little -flock. The girl contingent was a trifle misty, too, but the baby was -the only one who really cried outright. However, I half believe that was -because he wanted a banana that hung in a fruit stand near by, and not -at all because the children were going to leave him; some babies seem to -have so very little feeling. But now it was time to go aboard the boat, -and the Captain and Mrs. Bennett saw the last of the little party -as they disappeared within the ferry-boat cabin, and then in fifteen -minutes more the same little party was ranged along one side of a parlor -car on the “Washington Limited”; then the wheels slowly and noiselessly -commenced to turn and they were really off; all of the little party’s -hearts thrilling {034}with the thought, and all sitting up as prim -as you please, in their drawing-room chairs, quite overawed with the -magnificence of their surroundings and the unparalleled importance of -the occasion. - -Courage, very much amused, watched them for a few moments and then -suggested that they should settle themselves for the journey. Bags -were stowed away in the racks overhead, coats and hats banished to coat -hooks, and one thing and another properly adjusted, until at last four -little pair of hands having placed four little footstools at exactly the -desired angle, four pair of brand-new russet shoes found a resting-place -rather conspicuously atop of them, and the four children leaned -comfortably back in the large, upholstered chairs as though now at last -permanently established for the entire length of the journey. But of -course no amount of adjusting and arranging really meant anything of -that sort, or that they could be able to sit still for more than five -minutes at a time, and Courage and Sylvia soon had to put their wits -to work to think up ways of keeping the restless little company in some -sort of order. But fortunately none of the fellow-passengers appeared -disturbed thereby. On the contrary, they seemed very much interested, -and finally a handsome {035}old gentleman came down the aisle, and -leaning over the chair in which Courage was sitting, said courteously: - -“My dear young lady, if you will pardon an old man’s curiosity, and do -not for any reason mind telling me, I should very much like to know what -you are doing, and where you are going with this little family?” - -“And I am very glad to tell you,” answered Courage cordially, for since -that summer spent with Larry there had always been such a very warm -corner in her heart for all old people; and Teddy, who was sitting next -to Courage, had the grace to offer the old gentleman a chair. Then for -some time he listened intently, his kind old face glowing with pleasure -as Courage told him all about the children, and finally of the cosy -little cottage awaiting their coming down in Virginia. - -“But in doing all this,” Courage concluded, “I am simply carrying out -the plans of my dearest friend, Miss Julia Everett.” - -“Oh, you don’t mean it!” the old gentleman exclaimed, his voice -trembling. “I knew Miss Everett well. She always stopped with me when -she came to Washington.” - -“Can it be that you are old Colonel Anderson?” - -“Yes, I am Colonel Anderson, and I suppose {036}I am old,” he added, -smiling; “and can it be you are young Miss Courage, of whom I have heard -so often?” - -“Yes, I am Courage, but you will excuse me, won’t you, for speaking as I -did? I only had happened to hear Miss Julia----” - -Courage hesitated. - -“Oh, yes, dear child, I understand perfectly. You used to hear Miss -Julia speak of me as old Colonel Anderson, and so I am, and I am not -ashamed of it either, although I could not resist the temptation to -tease you a little, which was very rude of me. But now, can it be that -it is to Miss Julia’s estate near Arlington that you are going--to the -home that her Uncle Everett left her when she was just a little slip of -a girl, years before the war?” - -“Yes, that is exactly where, but I have never seen it.” - -“Well, you will love it when you do. It is the dearest little spot in -the world. I will drive out some day and take luncheon with you and the -children, if I should happen to have an invitation. I could tell you -some interesting things about the old place.” - -“Oh, will you come?” exclaimed Mary and Gertrude in one breath, for with -a curiosity as pardonable, I think, as that of old Mr. Anderson, all of -the children had grouped themselves {037}about Courage, and had listened -with keenest interest to every word spoken. And so one more happy -anticipation was added to the many with which their happy hearts were -overflowing. - -At last the train steamed into Washington, although at times it had -seemed to the children as though it never would, and then a carriage was -soon secured, and, three on a seat, the little party crowded into it, -and they were off for their eight mile drive to Arlington. - - -{038} - - - - -CHAPTER V.--HOWDY - -And meantime what excitement in the little cottage down in Virginia! -Everything was in readiness and everybody was on the tiptoe of -expectation. Everybody meant Mary Duff, (it was she, you know, who had -cared for little Courage through all her babyhood, and who had been sent -down to get everything in order), and besides Mary Duff, Mary Ann the -cook, old Joe and Brevet. - -It must be confessed, Brevet had had a little difficulty in winning his -grandmother’s consent to this visit, but he had been able to meet every -objection with such convincing arguments, that he had come off victor in -the encounter. - -“You see, Grand_na_na,” he had confidentially explained, with his pretty -little half-southern, half-darkey accent, “I is a perfec’ stranger to -them now I know, but then everything is strange to them down here, so -don’t you s’pose it would be nice for me to be right there waiting at -the gate, where I can call out {039}'How’dy’ just so soon as ever they -come in sight, and so for me not to be a stranger to them more’n the -first minute, and have them find there are folks here who are very glad -to know them right from the start? Besides, the lady--Mary Duff was her -name--told me she just knew those little Bennetts would love to see me, -and that she would surely expect me down to-day for certain.” - -And so “Grand_na_na” succumbed, not having the heart to nip such noble -hospitality in the bud, and at two o’clock precisely, the best carriage -wheeled up to the door and Mammy and Brevet were quickly stowed away -within it, to say nothing of a basketful of good things covered with a -huge napkin of fine old damask. But who is Mammy? you ask, and indeed -you should have been told pages ago, for no one for many years had been -half so important as Mammy in the Ellis household. She is an old negro -woman, almost as old as Joe himself, and when on the first of January, -1863, President Lincoln issued the proclamation that made all the slaves -free, she was among the first to turn her back upon the plantation where -she was raised, and make her way to Washington. It was there that Mrs. -Ellis had found her, when in search of a nurse for her two little boys, -and from that day to this she has been the faithful worshipper of the -whole Ellis family. Now in her old age her one and only duty has been to -care for Brevet, a care constantly lessening as that little fellow daily -proves his ability to look out more and more for himself. - -Brevet was not to be allowed, however, on the occasion of this first -visit to their new neighbours, to make the trip alone. “Grand_na_na” had -been very firm about that, somewhat to his chagrin, and so, if the truth -be told, Mammy’s presence in the comfortable, old-fashioned carriage was -at first simply tolerated. But that state of affairs did not last long. -Try as he would, Brevet was too happy at heart to cherish any grievance, -imaginary or otherwise, for many minutes together; and soon he and -Mammy were chatting away in the merriest fashion, and the old nurse was -looking forward to the unusual excitement of the day, with quite as -much expectation as her little charge of seven. Had she not devoted the -leisure of two long mornings of preparation to the shelling of almonds -and the stoning of raisins, and then when the day came, with eager -trembling hands, packed all the good things away in the great, roomy -hamper that seemed now to look at her so {041}complacently from the -opposite seat of the phaeton? Yes, indeed, it was every whit as glad a -day for Mammy as Brevet, and she peered out from the carriage just as -anxiously as they drove up to the gate and Mary Duff came out to greet -them. But Mammy had something to say before making any motion to leave -the carriage. - -“Are you quite sure, Miss, dat dis yere little pickaninny of ours -ain’t gwine to be in any one’s way or nuffin?” she asked, bowing a -how-do-you-do to Mary, and keeping a restraining hand upon Brevet. - -“Oh, perfectly sure.” - -“He done told us you wanted him very much,” but in a half-questioning -tone, as though what Brevet “done told them” was sometimes “suspicioned” - of being slightly coloured by what he himself would like to do, -notwithstanding his general high standard of truthfulness. - -“Brevet is perfectly right--we do want him very much,” Mary answered, -heartily. - -“Even if you have to take his old Mammy ‘long wid him, kase Miss Lindy -wasn’t quite willin to ‘low him ter come by hisself?” - -“And we’re very glad to see you, Mammy,” Mary answered cordially, and -so the last of Mammy’s scruples, which were not as real as {042}Mammy -herself tried to think them, were put to rest, and Brevet was permitted -to scramble out of the carriage, while Mary Duff lent a hand to Mammy’s -more difficult alighting. - -“Is dere ere a man ‘bout could lift dis yere basket ter de house for -us?” she asked, looking helplessly up to the hamper, “kase Daniel dere -has instructions from de Missus neber to leave de hosses less’n dere -ain’t no way to help it.” - -“Well, I guess dere is,” chuckled a familiar voice behind her back, and -Mammy turned to discover Joe close beside her. - -“Well, I klar, you heah!” she exclaimed. “Why, it seems like de whole -county turn out to welcome dese yere little Bennetts. Seems, too, like -some of us goin’ to be in de way sure ‘nuff.” - -“Howsomever, some on us don’ take up so much room as oders,” grunted -Joe, surmising, and quite correctly, too, that Mammy considered his -presence on the scene something wholly unnecessary and undesirable. -“I’se heah to help wid de trunks, Mammy,” he then added; “what you heah -to help wid?” - -Mammy, scorning the insinuation, turned to Mary Duff as they walked up -the path. - -“You know, Honey, de Lord ain’t lef’ no choice ter most on us as ter -what size we’ll be, {043}but pears like you’d better be a fat ole Mammy -like me, than such a ole bag o’ bones as Joe yonder.” - -[Illustration: 0067] - -But Joe by that time was depositing his basket in the hall-way of the -cottage, and was fortunately quite beyond the fire of this personal -attack. Mary Duff was naturally much amused at the real but harmless -jealousy of these old coloured folk, and realised for perhaps the five -hundredth time what children we all are, be race and nationality what -they may. - -Meantime Brevet had taken his position on the top rail of the gate, with -one arm around a slim little cedar that stood guard beside it. - -“May I stand right out here, Miss Duff,” he called back to Mary, “so as -to see them a long way off?” - -“Bless your heart, yes!” Mary answered, quite certain in her mind that -since Courage herself was a little girl she never had seen such a dear -child. Brevet’s watch was a brief one. - -“They are coming! Hear the wheels! They are coming,” he cried -exultingly, with almost the next breath. In just two minutes more they -really _had come_, and Brevet was calling out “How’dy, how’dy, how’dy” - at the top of his strong little lungs, to the wide-eyed {044}amazement -of the Bennetts, who had never heard this Southern abbreviation of the -Northern “How-do-you-do.” Then jumping down from his perch, he ran up to -the carriage, repeating over again his cordial welcoming “How’dy.” - -“How’dy, dear little stranger!” replied Courage, waving a greeting to -Mary; “and who are you I would like to know?” - -“I’m Howard Stanhope Ellis, but that’s not what you’re to call me, I -have another name. It’s the name they give--” but he did not finish -his sentence, for charming little fellow though he was, he could not be -allowed to monopolise things in this fashion, and Mary gently pushed him -aside to get him out of her way. - -“And so here you are at last,” she said joyously; “welcome home, Miss -Courage. How are you, Sylvia?” while she bent down with a cordial kiss -for each friendly little Bennett. Meantime Courage was making friends -with Brevet, and a moment later the children were crowding close about -him. - -“My, but I’m glad to see you all,” he exclaimed, with an emphasising -shake of his head, “and I think I know who’s who too. I believe this is -Gertrude,” laying one little brown hand on Gertrude’s sleeve, “and you -are Mary, because Mary’s the oldest, and you {045}Teddy, because Teddy -comes next, and you--you are Allan.” Brevet had learned his lesson from -Mary Duff quite literally by heart, and altogether vanquished by his’ -joyous, friendly greeting, the children vied with each other in giving -him the loudest kiss and the very hardest hug, but from that first -moment of meeting it was an accepted fact that Allan held first place. -There was no gainsaying the special joyousness of his “And you--you are -Allan.” The boy play-fellow for whom he had hitherto longed in vain had -come, and to little Brevet it seemed as though the millennium had come -with him. - -All this while Joe and Mammy, barely tolerating each other’s presence, -waited respectfully in the background, so that Mary had a chance to -explain who they were, as Courage stood in the path, delightedly looking -up at the dear little house that was to be her home. But Sylvia had -already made their acquaintance. After paying the driver and making sure -that nothing had been left in the carriage, she went straight toward -them. “I thought I should find some of my own people down here in -Virginia,” she said, cordially extending a hand to each as she spoke, -“but I did not expect they would be right on the spot, the very first -moment, to welcome me,” {046}"Miss Duff done tol’ us ‘bout Miss Sylvy -bein’ of de party,” said Joe with great elegance of manner, while Mammy -looked daggers at him, for replying to a remark which she considered -addressed chiefly to herself. It was queer enough, the attitude of these -two oldtime slaves toward each other, and yet to be accounted for, I -think, in their eagerness to be of use to those whom they claimed the -privilege of serving; and each was conscious, by a subtle intuition, of -a determination to outwit the other if possible in this regard--which -was all very well, if they only could have competed in the right sort of -spirit. - -But there is no more time in this chapter for Mammy or Joe, nor anything -else for that matter. Indeed, it would take quite a chapter of itself if -I should try to tell you of the unpacking of Grandma Ellis’s basket, and -then of the children’s merry supper; but it seems to me there are more -important things for me to write about, and for you to read about, than -things to eat and of how the children ate them. By nine o’clock quiet -reigned in the little cottage, and “the children were nestled as snug in -their beds” as the little folk in “The Night before Christmas.” Joe and -Mammy and Brevet had long ago gone home, and Courage and Mary Duff were -sitting together in the {047}little living-room, while Sylvia, in the -hall just outside, was busy arranging the books they had brought with -them, on some hanging shelves. - -[Illustration: 0073] - -“I think this has been the happiest day in all my life,” said Courage. -“I have simply forgotten everything in the pleasure of those children.” - And then, sitting down at the little cottage piano and running her hands -for a few moments over the keys, she sang softly,-- - - “For all the Saints, who from their labour rest, - - Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.” - -The sweet, familiar hymn brought Sylvia to the door. - -“Miss Courage,” she said, standing with her arms folded behind her back, -as she had always a way of standing when deeply interested, “you have -forgotten yourself and your sorrow to-day, but not for one moment have -you really forgotten Miss Julia,” and Courage knew that this was true, -and closed the little piano with tears in her eyes and a wondrous joy -and peace in her heart. - - -{048} - - - - -CHAPTER VI.--ARLINGTON BEFORE THE WAR. - -No sooner were our little New Yorkers settled in their pretty summer -home than they naturally desired that it should have a name, and after -much discussion, according to the Bennett custom, they all agreed that -“Little Homespun,” one of the names that Courage had suggested, seemed -to fit the cosy, unpretentious little home better than anything else -that had been thought of. No sooner were they settled either before they -became friends firm and fast of the household up at Ellismere. It needed -but very little time to bring that about, because everything was--to use -a big word because no smaller one will do--propitious. You can imagine -what it meant to Courage--taking up her home in a new land, and with -cares wholly new to her--to have a dear old lady like Grandma Ellis call -upon her, as she did the very first morning after her arrival. Of -course Courage had to explain how it was she had come way down there to -Virginia with the little Bennett children in {049}charge. Indeed, almost -before she knew it, and in answer to Grandma Ellis’s gentle inquiries, -she had told her all there was to tell--about Miss Julia, about herself -and Mary Duff and Sylvia, and finally, as always with any new friend, -the why and wherefore of her own unusual name. The tears stood in -Grandma Ellis’s eyes many times during the narration, and her face was -aglow with love and sympathy and admiration as Courage brought her story -to a close. - -[Illustration: 0079] - -“And now, my dear,” she had said, “I want you should know what little -there is to tell about _us_. We live just three miles from here, and in -the same old Virginia homestead where my husband was born. We, means my -son Harry, and Brevet and myself. Brevet, as you already know, perhaps, -has neither father nor mother. His mother died when he was six months -old, and his father, my oldest son, was drowned when the _Utopia_ went -down, off the coast of Spain five years ago. We are doing our best, -Harry and I, to make up to Brevet for his great loss; but it is sad that -the little fellow should only know the love of an old grandmama like me, -and never of his own young mother. But I do not want to burden you with -my sorrows, dear child; I only want you to know we must all be the best -of friends {050}the whole summer through. It seems to me we just need -each other, and in order to commence right, you must all come and spend -the day with us to-morrow.” - -And on the morrow they all did go up to Ellismere, Mary Duff and Sylvia -with the others; the children went again the day after that, and then -all hands from Ellismere came down to Homespun for the day, and so what -with constant coming and going from one house to the other, in just two -weeks’ time it was as though they had known each other always. And -then it was that Joe arranged with Courage for the day to be spent at -Arlington. - -“The Ellis’s will all come,” Joe explained, “Mammy wid de res’ of ‘em, -I suppose,” (but very much as though he preferred she should not) “and -I done wish de Colonel could be persuaded to drive out from Washington, -case ‘tween us we knows mos’ dere is of interest happened at Arlington. -He use’ to visit at de big house when General Lee lived in it ’fo’ de -wah, an’ I was a slave on de place.” - -“You don’t mean Colonel Anderson, do you, Joe?” - -“De berry same, Miss.” - -“Well, then, of course he’ll come. He is an old, old friend of Miss -Julia’s. I met him on {051}the train when we came down and he asked me -to invite him out some time,” and so Courage wrote a note of invitation -that very day which Joe, with his own hands, carried into Washington. It -was written on pretty blue paper, which had “Homespun” engraved at the -top of the sheet and Tiffany’s mark on the envelope as well. It must be -confessed that Courage had a little extravagant streak in her; that is, -she loved to have everything just about as nearly right as she could. -Sister Julia had encouraged the little streak, knowing the peculiar -pleasure that the reasonable indulgence of a refined taste brings into -life, “but, dear,” she had often said to Courage, “there is one thing to -look out for, and that is that the more you gratify your own taste -the more you must give to the people who have no taste at all, or very -little of anything that makes life enjoyable,” all of which good advice -Courage had taken to heart and remembered. But extravagant streak or no, -the stylish little blue note accomplished its purpose, for at precisely -nine o’clock the next morning Colonel Anderson wheeled up at Joe’s -cabin, in his high, old-fashioned carriage, and at almost the same -moment arrived the Homespun buckboard with its load of eight (for Sylvia -and Mary Duff were to be in {052}as many good times as possible) and a -moment later Grandma Ellis, Harry, Brevet and old Mammy drove upon the -scene. - -“Now, how would we best manage things, Joe?” asked Colonel Anderson, -after everybody had had a. little chat with everybody else, and luncheon -baskets and wraps had been safely stowed away in Joe’s cabin. - -“Well, seems ter me we’d better take a look over de house first, den -take a stroll through de groun’s an’ come back to de shade of dat ol’ -ches’nut yonder for de story. You can’t make a story bery interestin’ -when you hab a walkin’ aujence, an’ de aujence what’s walkin’ can’t -catch on ter de story bery well either.” - -It was easy to see that this suggestion was a wise one, so with -the exception of Grandma Ellis and Mammy, for whom comfortable -rocking-chairs were at once placed under the chestnut tree, the little -party made its way into the old colonial house. - -“Arlington House is rather a cheerless looking place now, I admit,” - sighed Colonel Anderson, as they walked through the large empty rooms, -“but wait till we have the story and we’ll fill it full enough.” - -“Yes, but don’t let us wait any longer than we have to,” answered -Courage, and as this was the sentiment of the entire party, they -{053}hurried from the house for the walk that was to follow. The four -little Bennetts kept close to each other all the way, Mary, the -eldest, leading little Gertrude by the hand. They were very quiet, too, -wondering and overawed by the unbroken lines of graves on every side. - -“I wonder if Teddy and I will have to go to a war when we grow up,” said -Allan at last, half under his breath, with a perceptible little shiver -and as though barely mustering courage to speak. - -“We’ll go if there is a war, I can tell you that,” Teddy replied, rather -scornfully. - -“Then we’ll be buried here, I suppose,” and Allan shook his head -hopelessly, as though standing that moment at the foot of their two -soldier-graves. - -“And so will I,” affirmed Brevet, who had kept his place close beside -his favourite Allan from the start. “I’ll speak to be buried right by -both of you, too, just as though I was one of your family,” and Brevet -stood as he spoke with his arms folded and his brows knit, in solemn and -soldier-like fashion. - -Now and then the little party would group itself around Colonel Anderson -as he read the inscription from some monument or headstone, telling of -the valour of the man whose grave it marked and often of the brave deed -{054}dared that cost the hero his life. And so some idea was gained of -the beauty and significance of the great soldier cemetery, and then all -hurried back to Grandma Ellis, and Colonel Anderson began his story. - -An odd assortment of rush-bottomed chairs had been brought from Joe’s -cabin for the grown-ups, and the children were scattered about on shawls -and carriage rugs on the ground. - -“Now, it isn’t easy,” said Colonel Anderson thoughtfully, “to know just -where to commence.” - -“Den I’ll tell you,” said Joe, who was seated at the Colonel’s elbow. -“Dere ain’t no such proper place ter begin as at de beginnin’. Tell ‘em -as how der was a time when Arlington was a great unbroken forest, an’ -how way back early in de eighteen hundreds, George Washington Parke -Custis came by de lan’ through his father and built Arlington House.” - -“If you are going as far back as that, Joe, you ought to go farther, -and tell how there was an old house here even before this one, which was -built way back early in the seventeen hundreds. It was a little house, -with only four rooms, and it stood down yonder near the bank of the -river, and was bought {055}with the land by John Custis from the -Alexanders. John Custis, you know, children, was Martha Washington’s -son, for she was a widow with two children when she married General -Washington; and George Washington Parke Custis, who lived for awhile -in the little house before he built this beautiful big one, was her -grandson. He was a fortunate young fellow, as the world counts being -fortunate, for he had more money than he knew what to do with. As soon -as this fine house was completed, George Custis was married and brought -his bride to his new home, where for the next fifty years they lived the -most happy and contented life imaginable. They had one daughter, a very -beautiful young lady, as I myself clearly remember, for my birthday and -her wedding-day fell together, and that was why I was allowed to -attend the wedding. My mother and Miss Mollie’s mother were the warmest -friends, but I was only a boy of ten, and would have been left at home, -I think, but for the coincidence of the birthday. I remember my mother -told me Miss Custis said she would like me always to think of her -wedding-day, when my birthday came round, and I can tell you, children, -I always do, even though I am an old man and have started in the -seventies.” {056}"An’ so do I,” chimed in Joe; “I neber done think of -one without de oder, so closely are dey ’sociated in my min’.” - -“Why, were you there too, Joe?” asked Brevet, with a merry little -twinkle in his eyes, for if there was one story more often told than any -other for Brevet’s edification, it was the story of Miss Mary Custis’s -wedding. - -“Sho’ as yo’ born, Honey,” quite overlooking Brevet’s insinuation in his -absorbing interest in the subject. “It was a bery busy day for me, de -day Miss Mollie was married.” - -“How ole was you, Joe, ‘bout dat time?” asked Mammy, her old eyes -a-twinkle with mischief as well as Brevet’s, for Joe’s age, as every -one knew, was a mere matter of guesswork, so careful was he that no one -should ever come to a knowledge of the same. - -“Seems ter me dat question ain’t no wise relavent,” replied Joe, -bristling up a little, “but de Colonel and I warn’t so bery far apart -when we was chilluns.” - -“Why, were you friends then?” asked Allan Bennett. - -“Well, that day made us friends,” answered Colonel Anderson, “and this -was the way it happened. Everything was ready for the wedding. As many -of the guests as it would hold were assembled in the drawing-room, the -{057}room on the left of the front door there as you go in, but the -clergyman had not arrived. Then it was that Mr. Custis, beginning to -grow nervous, called to Joe there, who stood on the porch, as fine as -silk in his best clothes and white cotton gloves, ready to open the -carriage doors for the guests as they arrived. - -“‘Joe,’ called Mr. Custis, ‘run down the road, and see if you see a sign -of a carriage anywhere in sight,’ and, children, what do you suppose -Joe did? Well, he just stood stock still, looking down at his bright -polished boots, and he never budged an inch.” - -“It’s de truf,” said Joe, shaking his head regretfully, for the children -were looking to him for confirmation of the story. - -“You see the boots were very shiny,” continued the Colonel, in a tone -of apology for Joe, “and the roads were very very muddy, so that he just -couldn’t bring himself to do it. Fortunately for Joe, I imagine, Mr. -Custis had not waited to see him start, taking for granted, of course, -that he would obey at once, and then what did I do but spring down the -steps and run on Joe’s errand for him, only too thankful if I could do -anything to prove my gratitude for being allowed to be present at that, -to me, greatest of occasions. I had to wait less than five minutes -before I discovered the open {058}chaise, which had been sent into -Washington to bring the dominie, tearing up the road. - -“‘They’re coming, they’ll be here in a minute,’ I called, hurrying back -to Joe, and then he rushed away in his new shiny boots and delivered -my message to Mr. Custis, pretending, as the rogue confessed to me -afterward, to be quite out of breath from the haste with which he -had come. And then in the next moment Mr. Meade, for that was the -clergyman’s name, was really there, but he came in at the back door and -slipped upstairs as quickly as he could, followed by Joe and myself. You -see he had driven right into the heart of a heavy thunder shower, just -outside of Washington, and was drenched to the skin. There was nothing -for it but that he must make a change of clothing as quickly as he -could, so Joe, who knew where Mr. Custis kept his clothes, ran hither -and thither, bringing one article after another, and I helped the -minister into them--but my, how he did look! Mr. Custis was short and -stout, and Mr. Meade was tall and thin, and I didn’t see how any one -could keep their faces straight with such a guy of a minister. They -couldn’t have done it either, if they had seen how he looked, could -they, Joe?” - -“No, Colonel, not for a minute,” chuckled Joe. {059}"But why didn’t they -see?” questioned eager little Allan. - -“Why, because, of course, he had brought his gown with him, and it -covered him all up,” for Brevet, able to anticipate much of the familiar -story, was glad to have a hand in its telling. - -“I wish you could know how the house looked in those days,” said the -Colonel with a sigh of regret, echoed by a much louder and deeper sigh -on the part of Joe. “It was full of the most beautiful things. There was -a magnificent array of old family portraits; among them two or three of -George and Martha Washington. Then there was a marvelous old sideboard -that held many beautiful things that had belonged to Washington. I -remember in particular some great silver candlesticks with snuffers -and extinguishers, and silver wine-coolers, and some exquisite painted -china, part of a set that had been given to Washington by the Society of -the Cincinnati.” - -“I do not think you have told the children,” interrupted Grandma Ellis, -“who it was that Miss Custis married.” - -“Can that be possible?” provoked that he should have left out anything -so important. “Why, it was General Robert E. Lee!” {060}"I’m afraid we -don’t know who General Lee was,” said Mary Bennett, blushing a little, -and then she added quickly, “you see we live so far away from where -the war was fought,” for Brevet’s undisguised look of astonishment was -really quite paralysing. - -“We only know what we have learnt at school,” Teddy further explained, -“and we don’t remember so very much of that.” - -“Why, General Lee,” said Brevet earnestly, feeling that he must come -personally to the rescue of such dense ignorance, “was the greatest -general they had down South. He would have whipped us Yankees if any one -could.” - -“He was a fine man though, a fine man,” said Joe, solemnly. “He and Miss -Mary lived right on here at Arlington after dey was married and dere -wasn’t a slave of us on de place who wouldn’t hab let Lieutenant Lee -walk right ober us if he’d wanted to. So den when Mr. Custis died in -1857, and Lieutenant Lee done come to be de haid of de house, it was -changin’ one good master for anoder.” - -“Was Joe a slave?” asked Allan, drawing himself up to Mammy’s knees, -near whom he happened to be sitting, and speaking in an awe-struck -whisper. - -“Why, yes, Honey, Joe was born in a cabin {061}nex’ where he lives -to-day, an’ we was all slaves down here ‘fo’ de wah, but de coloured -folks here at Arlington was always treated ver’ han’some. I wasn’t so -fortunate, Honey--I belonged down to a plantation in Georgia, where de -Missus was kind, but where our Master treated us des like cattle, an’ I -had my only chile sold away from me, when she wasn’t no mo’ den fo’teen -or fifteen, an’ I don’ know ter this day whether she be livin’ or daid.” - -“Oh, Mammy!” was all Allan could say in reply, but his little face -looked worlds of sympathy. - -Meanwhile Joe and Colonel Anderson between them went on with the story -of Arlington, now one and now the other taking up its thread. Joe told -of the many cosy cabins at that time dotted about the place in which -the slaves lived, and of their happy life on a plantation where they all -felt as though they were part of the household, and took as great pride -and pleasure as the Master himself in everything belonging to it. -He described, too, to the great delight of the children, the wild -excitement of the Autumn hunting parties, when Mr. Custis and a whole -houseful of guests would start off at sunrise, coming home at night -with their game-bags full to a banquet in the house and an evening of -unbounded fun and merri{062}ment. The Colonel told about the house -itself, for from the time he became a young man until the day when, -about to take command of a Washington regiment, he came to say goodbye -to Lieutenant Lee, he had been a constant visitor there. He told of the -luxury and comfort of the delightful home, now so bare and desolate; of -the pretty sewing-rooms in the right wing, set apart for Mrs. Custis -and Miss Mary; of the cosy library in the left wing, and then of the -pictures painted on the walls by Mr. Custis. The pictures represented -five of the battles of the Revolution, and Washington was the central -figure in them all. There is just a trace of some of his work left now -on the rear entrance of the wide hall, but Colonel Anderson admitted -they could never have been considered very fine, rather detracting than -adding to the other beautiful finishings of the house. - -“But what became of all the beautiful things and how did the place -ever happen to become a national cemetery?” asked Courage in one of -the pauses, when both Joe and the Colonel seemed to be casting about -in their minds for what would best be told next. She had listened as -intently as any of the children to the whole narrative, and was every -whit as much interested. {063}"Well, it seems to me that is almost a -story in itself,” Colonel Anderson answered, “and that we would better -have out the luncheon baskets and take a bit of rest.” - -Even the children agreed but half-heartedly at first to this -interruption, but the avidity with which they afterward settled down to -sandwiches and sponge cake showed that they really had minds not above -the physical demands of life. - -[Illustration: 0093] - - -{064} - - - - -CHAPTER VII.--ARLINGTON AFTERWARD. - - -Miss Sylvy,” asked Joe, rather solemnly, “would you be so kin’ as ter -tell me whar you hail from?” - -“Do you mean where I was born?” Joe nodded. “Well, I’m very sorry, but I -can’t tell you,” and the colour surged perceptibly under her dark skin. - -“H’m,” said Joe, pressing his lower lip over the upper one, as he had a -habit of doing when he considered any matter required careful thought. -Then after a pause, “Well, your las’ name, Miss Sylvy, will you tell me -dat? I don’ rightly remember eber to have heard it.” - -“Sylvester, Joe, but it’s a name I chose for myself. I do not know what -name I was born to.” - -“Why, however, Miss Sylvy, did dat happen?” and Joe showed such deep and -tender interest that Sylvia, who cared to talk on the subject with very -few, gladly entered into a full explanation. She told him, as she had -{065}told Courage that summer night so many years before on Larry’s -lighter, how she had found herself landed in the orphan asylum, with -no name as far as any one knew, excepting just Sylvia, and how she had -named herself Sylvester after one of the ladies who came to the asylum -to teach. And then she continued, giving a brief outline of her life -since that time, all of which proved most absorbing to Joe, because with -the telling of Sylvia’s story he learnt so much of interest about Miss -Courage as well. - -“But, Honey,” he asked at the end of the story, with a sigh as of one -who has listened with an intentness bordering upon fatigue, “who put you -in dat ’sylum?” - -“Some one just left me at the asylum at night, with a card pinned on -to my dress with ‘Sylvia’ written on it, and saying that I had neither -father nor mother, and then ran away in the darkness, but I don’t -believe any one related to me would have treated me like that. I would -rather you would not say anything about all this, Joe. It is only -because you are one of my own people and seem so kind and interested -that I have told you.” - -“Thank you bery much for de confidence, Miss Sylvy, for my ole heart -went right out to you from de day you done come walkin’ up de {066}path -at Little Homespun, but I’ll keep it safe, Miss Sylvy, never you fear.” - -Joe and Sylvia had been busy washing dishes and clearing up after the -luncheon, and it was when their work was finished and they were waiting -under the chestnut tree for the others to come back, that they had had -their little talk. It reached its natural conclusion just as Colonel -Anderson came strolling up from the river, blowing a shrill whistle -between two fingers, the signal previously agreed upon to call the -children together. - -“Now, do you know,” he said, when the little company had bestowed itself -in much the same fashion as in the morning, “I have an idea that you -will have to let Joe and me do all the talking now. We have only a short -afternoon before us, and there is a great deal to tell.” - -No one looked as though that would be the least hardship, and Joe -explained that he himself would rather listen than talk, “less’n de. -Colonel disremembered somethin’ very important.” - -“Likely as not I shall, Joe, but it seems the point at which to commence -this afternoon is with General Lee. At the time that he married Miss -Mollie Custis he was a lieutenant in the United States Army, but he had -gradu{067}ated at the head of his class at West Point only two -years before. After he was married, as you know, he made his home at -Arlington, but he had to be away from it much of the time because of his -duties in the army. He was a fine fellow, I can tell you, and held one -responsible position after another. He was right in the thick of our war -with Mexico, and won rapid promotion for his courage and daring. After -a brilliant charge at Chapultepec, when he was severely wounded, he was -made a brevet-colonel by General Scott. It seemed after that as though -he was everywhere where a brave, fearless man was needed. He was in -command in Texas when the Indians were attacking the settlers there; and -was in many a bloody engagement. Later on, he was the commanding officer -when the house was charged at Harper’s Ferry, where John Brown had taken -refuge. I wish there was time, children, to stop and tell you about John -Brown. You know the old song about ‘John Brown’s body lies a mouldering -in the grave, but his soul goes marching on.’ Get Joe here to sing it -for you some day, if you don’t. Well, you see by all this that General -Lee had done a great deal for his country; but there came a day when he -felt it his duty to turn against it, that is, to take up arms against -the {068}United States. You all know how the great civil war finally -came about; how the Northern States thought the Southern States should -not hold slaves, and how the Southern States thought they had the right -to decide whether they should or not without any interference from the -North, and so banded themselves together and said they would secede from -the United States and form a confederacy of their own. This Virginia, -whose air we are breathing this minute, was one of those states, and -was General Lee’s native state as well; and when the time came to -choose between his state and his country, he decided to side with the -Confederacy. Then, of course, there was nothing for him to do but to -resign from the United States Army. He sent his letter of resignation to -General Scott on the twenty-second of April, 1861, and then at once -left Arlington with his wife and children, for it was quite too near -to Washington for him to stay now that he had taken a stand against the -Government, and the very next day he was made commander-in-chief of the -army in Virginia. A few days before this, that is, on the fifteenth -of April, President Lincoln had called for seventy-five thousand -volunteers, and three days after the Lees had left, the great army of -the North came pouring into Washington and all the {069}country round -about. Camp-fires crackled among the oaks at Arlington, and the house -itself was taken possession of by the officers, When the troops first -arrived at Arlington they tramped through the deserted rooms, remaining -just as the Lees had left them, and concluding that ‘all’s fair in love -and war,’ they simply helped themselves to the forsaken treasures. - -“Oh, but dose were drefful days!” said Joe, as though he must give -vent to the thoughts Colonel Anderson’s words had stirred: “I neber can -forgive dose Union soldiers, neber. Seems as dough dey might done have -respect for a gentleman’s place, but not a bit of it. Seemed as dough -dey could not be spiteful ‘nuff ’gainst de General. Des fancy seein’ -things dat had belonged to Washington himself carried out of de house, -and sol’ in de streets up dere in de city of Washington, and some of de -negroes--shame on ’em!--ran away with things an’ sol’ ’em for more -money dan dey themselves would have sol’ for ’fo’ de wah. Oh, it was -pitiful to see the flower beds and lawns tramped over, as dough dey had -been so much rubbish, and it wa’n’t long befo’ de smooth green terraces -were just ragged mud-banks. You’d have thought I’d have gone away, -wouldn’t you? But I couldn’t bring my{070}self to leave de ole place, -until I ’listed an’ went down to Alabama wid a coloured regiment. -Dere, Colonel, I done interrupt you, didn’t I? But really, I was des -thinkin’ aloud more dan talkin’, for I des can’t keep my thoughts to -myself, when I grows ’stracted over de troublousness of dose times.” - -“I don’t blame you, Joe, I don’t blame you,” said Colonel Anderson; -“but, as for me, I was feeling pretty hot against General Lee those -days. I didn’t see how he could make up his mind to regularly take up -arms against his country, and I have an idea that I felt for awhile that -he was treated no worse than he deserved; but that’s all bygones now, -as well as the dear old Arlington home, that will never be a home again. -You see, almost at the commencement of the war, children, Washington, -with all the country immediately about, became the hospital centre, and -soon a surgeon’s staff was quartered in the house yonder, in addition -to the officers already there; and at the same time long canvas shelters -were constructed in those woods, to which the poor sick and wounded -soldiers were brought from camp and battlefield--and sadly enough many -of them died here. At first all who died were taken to the Soldiers’ -Home Cemetery on the other side of Washington to be {071}buried, but the -day came, as you know, when this very place was turned into a cemetery, -and this was how it came about. One afternoon as President Lincoln was -starting for his usual drive, which seemed to be the only way by which -he could gain any relief from the burdens of that anxious time, he met -General Meigs (who was Quarter-master General then of the United States -Army) walking in the White House grounds. Noticing how tired and worn -out the General looked, the President invited him to drive with him, and -General Meigs accepted. It was the President’s purpose to drive out to -Arlington, and when they reached there, the President started off for a -quiet stroll; but General Meigs, whose thoughts were very busy just then -as to what should be done with the poor soldiers, dying in such numbers -in and about Washington, was soon deep in conference with the surgeons -in charge. You see there would soon have been no more room in other -cemeteries, and it was for the Quarter-master General to decide what was -to be done in the matter. Now they say that General Meigs indulged in -very bitter feelings toward his old friend General Lee, and that when he -rejoined the President he said, ‘Lee shall never return to Arlington, no -matter what the issue of the war may be,’ {072}feeling evidently that he -should be fully punished in any case for the stand he had taken. Just at -that moment a sad little procession came that way. The bodies of several -poor fellows, who had died in the hospital tents, were being carried -on canvas stretchers to a spot from whence they could be taken to the -Soldiers’ Home Cemetery. - -“‘How many men are awaiting burial?’ asked General Meigs of the Sergeant -in charge of the squad. - -“‘Altogether a dozen, sir,’ the Sergeant answered. - -“‘Bury them there,’ ordered the General, pointing to a low terrace -bordering the garden.” - -“But did General Meigs have any right to turn General Lee’s place into a -cemetery?” asked Courage, a little warmly, feeling that an interruption -was excusable under the circumstances. To be fair always, if possible, -to everybody, was a working principle with Courage, and this proceeding -of General Meigs’s did not seem to her quite fair. - -“Yes, I think he had a perfect right, Miss Courage. In time of war the -Government certainly has a right to take possession, if necessary, of -property belonging to any one in open rebellion against it; and besides, -five {073}months before Arlington was converted into a cemetery, the -place had been put up at public sale and bought by the Government. It -was not, I believe, until 1873, however, that the Lees received any -money for the estate, and that I admit does not seem fair at all. And -there is another right of which I am certain, and that is that the -brave fellows whose bodies rest in these graves had a right to the most -beautiful spot anywhere in these United States of ours for their last -resting-place. No, I think it was fitting that Arlington should become -one of our national cemeteries, and I believe even Joe yonder, thinks so -too.” - -“Yes I do, Colonel Anderson,” Joe answered, solemnly. “Much as I love -General Lee, I can’t forget what de war cos’ de country in de loss of -human life, and General Lee done took a great ’sponsibility ’pon -him, when he help de war on by takin’ command of de Southern troops. -Yes, I’m glad dat de fine ole place has been pressed into de service of -de country, in des de way it has been.” - -Colonel Anderson’s question put to Joe and Joe’s reply seemed to loosen -the tongues of the little company. Almost every one from Brevet up had -some question or other to ask of the Colonel, and he was quite willing -that they should, for they had all listened so atten{074}tively that -the story had been told more quickly than either Joe or the Colonel had -thought possible. - -“And now, children,” said Brevet, with the air of a little grandfather, -“do you wonder that I love to come and spend the day with Joe? Why, -there isn’t a minute when I’m here, that he isn’t telling me something -‘bout before the war, or since the war, and when we go back to the cabin -and Joe makes the hoe-cake and broils a chicken for luncheon, and I -get the china down from the cupboard and set the table, with both of us -talking most interesting all the time, and the smell of the cooking just -filling all the cabin,--well, there isn’t ever such a happy time, is -there, Joe?” Brevet had made his way to Joe’s side as he spoke, and -reaching up, put one chubby little arm around his neck. - -“No, bless yo’ little white heart, dere never is quite such a happy -time!” and Joe drew the little fellow into his lap and held him close, -as though he would love to keep him there forever. - -“Is being in the cabin and having Joe cook the hoe-cake and the chicken -nicer than having luncheon out here in the grass like this?” asked Allan -Bennett, a whole world of envy in his tone. - -{075}"A heap nicer,” was Brevet’s not uncertain reply. - -“Do you really t’ink so, Honey?” asked Joe, smiling from ear to ear. -“Well, den, all you little Bennetts is invited on de spot, to take Fo’th -of July dinner wid me in my cabin, an’ if Miss Courage will honour me -wid her presence, an’ de Colonel will come out from Washington, an’ Miss -Sylvy will lend me a hand wid de preparations, strikes me we might hab a -good time sure nuff.” - -Everybody accepted Joe’s invitation with alacrity, and there could -not have been a happier ending to a perfect day than to have just such -another perfect day planned for at its close. It simply took all the -bitterness out of the parting that followed soon after. - -“Miss Lindy,” whispered Joe importantly, as he helped Grandma Ellis -into the carriage, “I ’spects you and Mars Harry for de Fo’th of July -dinner, but as dere won’t be no room for Mammy I didn’t make no public -mention of your two names. Seemed as dough it might make her feel a bit -uncomfortable if she was de only one not mentioned; but you understan’, -Miss Lindy, de cabin am small an’ Mammy large, an’” (putting his hand -to his mouth and speaking in a still lower whisper) “seems like Mammy -gettin’ {076}too old to be of much use to anybody. You un’erstan’, Miss -Lindy?” - -“Oh, yes, I understand perfectly,” Grandma Ellis answered, very much -amused, “and I’ll make it all right with Mammy.” But from Grandma -Ellis’s point of view Mammy did not seem to be growing old one whit more -rapidly than old Joe himself. - - -{077} - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--TO SAVE BREVET. - -Between one happy time and another the summer passed on at Little -Homespun. Not that there was not occasionally an unhappy time--if -everything had moved perfectly smoothly for three whole months together, -in a house where there were four irrepressible children, with many of -the faults common to the average child the world over, it simply would -have been a miracle outright. No, indeed; there were times now and then -when Courage quite lost her patience and would have liked to box and -ship those four little Bennetts straight back to their mother, and there -were days when even good-natured Mary Duff lost her patience completely, -and declared she would chastise the first one of them that dared to -cross the threshold of the kitchen; but then, to be quite fair, I have -more than a glimmering notion that Courage and Mary Duff had their -naughty moods too, as well as the children. You can’t feel perfectly -right, you know, and always behave just as {078}you should every minute -simply because you happen to be grown up. It would be very fine if you -could, and there is no doubt that with both grown-ups and children, -trying hard to get the best of the naughty moods will in time accomplish -wonders. - -But taken as a whole the unhappy times at Homespun were nothing more -than motes in the Homespun sunshine. Most of the time merry, happy -voices rang through and about the house from dawn till sunset. Peals -of happy laughter, that made any one laugh who heard them, echoed -everywhere. Bits of childish song floated down stairs and up stairs or -came in at the open windows--“I’se a little Alabama Coon” always the -burden of the refrain when Brevet was down for the day. Then, toward -twilight, or more often a little later, when it had really grown quite -dark, the same dear childish voices blended in a sweet evening hymn -would float out at the open windows, and the little people whose whole -minds had been given to play the long summer day through, would quiet -down and then go contentedly off to bed, their childish hearts full of -a sweet peace that they hardly understood, and which was not strange -at all, for it was simply the peace that “passeth all understanding.” - {079}But not all the days by any manner of means were spent in or about -Little Homespun. Joe’s Fourth of July dinner had been a great success, -and there had followed several all-day excursions carefully planned in -all their details by Uncle Harry, and every one of them voted a great -success. The fall that had broken Uncle Harry’s arm had proved a -veritable “windfall” for the children, if a windfall means something -very pleasant that comes in your way quite by accident, like apples -strewn by the wind unexpectedly at your feet. It had not been altogether -an unpleasant experience for Uncle Harry either, notwithstanding, though -it was now late in August, the arm was still in a sling. Twice it had -had to be reset, and that had of course been very trying; and yet but -for that arm he would have been delving away the whole summer through -in a hot office up at Washington, and the children, without knowing -of course what they were missing, would in fact have foregone half the -delight of the summer. In Uncle Harry’s profession, no right arm to use -meant nothing to do whatever, and so he was thankful enough that Courage -and the Bennetts had found their way down to old Virginia, and that -he had been able to plan and carry out so many delightful excursions -{080}for their enjoyment. But the summer’s crown of pleasure, as far as -the Bennetts were concerned, had been the days spent at Ellismere with -Brevet on his island. - -I half believe I have not mentioned this island before, for which -omission I am perfectly confident Brevet would never forgive me. The -idea of trying to write anything whatever about him and not tell about -that island the very first thing! It was altogether a wonderful place, -I assure you. It lay about a hundred feet out from the shore, just in -front of the Ellismere homestead; and as there was not another island -within sight of it, Brevet always gratefully cherished the belief that -it had been placed there just for him. It was about seventy feet long, -and almost as wide, and it boasted a steep little ledge of rock on the -side near the shore and two very respectable little pine trees. But it -was what the hand of man had achieved upon this little island that made -it the wonderful place it was, and that hand none other than old black -Joe’s. It was he who had said one sunshiny May morning: “Brevet, I’ll -build a camp for you over on that island,” and true to his word Joe had -driven up to Ellismere every day that summer that he could spare from -his not very arduous duties at Arlington, and he had worked {081}away as -zealously as though he had assumed the work under contract. - -As a result it had been finished the October previous, and Brevet had -had several weeks to enjoy it before the cold weather obliged him to -break camp for the winter. Grandma Ellis’s contribution to the scheme -had been a cedar row-boat and a pair of spoon oars, by which to have -communication with the island, but for everything else Joe was to be -thanked. He had cut and sewed the tent, to say nothing of a canvas -cot. He had manufactured tables and chairs, and best of all a soldier’s -chest, with - - HOWARD STANHOPE ELLIS - - BREVET-CAPTAIN - -burned in clear-cut letters upon the lid. There was even a little desk -of rude contrivance upon which Brevet, after the successful conclusion -of most exciting battles, would write cheering letters home to his -grandmother. Outside of the tent hung a good-sized kettle over a bed of -ashes, that bore witness to many a good meal cooked within it, while on -the rocky ledge above, a toy brass cannon commanded the harbour, making -the island quite invulnerable from any assault that might be attempted -from the side near the shore. {082}Was it strange then that to the -Bennetts, and especially to the boys Teddy and Allan, this unique little -spot, with its perfect equipment, offered more possibilities of -good times than anything they themselves could in any way concoct or -invent?--and they had lived up to their possibilities, though that had -involved living at Ellismere most of the time. However, Grandma Ellis -assured Courage they were not a bit of trouble, and Courage took her at -her word, for the sake of what it meant to the children. - -But, of all the wildly-exciting and happy days, none had seemed quite so -exciting and happy as the day to which we have now come in this story. -Perhaps the fact that there could not by any chance be many more of -these times, lent its own specially brightening charm to the blessings -that must soon take their flight; for it was the 27th of August by -the calendar, and by the middle of September Little Homespun would be -closed, and Courage and the Bennetts have taken their departure. Joe -had been with the children all day, and he was the one to be thanked -for most of its wildly exciting features. Single-handed, but supposed to -represent a whole regiment, he had tried in a score of ways to effect -a landing on the island; but by dint of unceasing vigi{083}lance the -children had succeeded in keeping him at bay, until at last, despairing -and exhausted, he had beaten a retreat to the main land. Indeed, so hard -and unremitting had been the labours of the children, that about the -middle of the afternoon Courage, who had been having an all-day -chat with Grandma Ellis and was afraid the children would quite wear -themselves out, succeeded in coaxing them to the shore, under promise -of a story, and it was not to be any ordinary, made-up story either. -Naturally in her daily contact with the children, Courage had alluded -now and then to her own childhood, and with the result that they had -extracted from her the pledge that she would tell them all about it some -day. But as yet Courage’s “some day” never had dawned, although they had -repeatedly begged for the story--now they concluded the time had come to -take a stand. - -“Will you tell us the story about yourself if we come over?” Teddy -called from the island. “We are all agreed we cannot think of laying -down our arms unless you will.” - -“Agreed,” Courage called back, glad to commit them to an hour of quiet -at any cost; and so the children embarked and rowed over, and Grandma -entreated so hard that she might be allowed to listen too, that Courage -{084}yielded, and the little group gathered itself about her big -rocking-chair on the gallery. Joe was also permitted to form one of the -party; but there was another listener, who would not have been tolerated -for a moment if his whereabouts had been known. He was stretched -full length on the hair-cloth sofa just between the windows in the -living-room, and, knowing it would be quite impossible for him to gain -permission to be a hearer, he was just sufficiently unprincipled to -listen without so much as saying “by your leave.” - -You know the story that Courage told--if not you may read it if you have -a mind, in the little book to which this is a sequel. At the outset, -of course, she told how she had come by her unusual name, which was the -greatest relief to Joe and Brevet. They had wanted so much to have that -explained the whole summer through and yet had not quite liked to -ask. The remainder of the story was new to all save Grandma Ellis, and -Courage, now that she had really started, tried to be faithful to -every detail that could possibly have any interest, from the day of her -christening to the night when the draw was open and she took her wild -leap in the darkness. When she had finished every one sat perfectly -still for a minute. Courage told her own story much better {085}than -any one else has told or could tell it, and her great absorbing love -for Miss Julia shone out like a golden thread all through the telling. -Grandma Ellis was the first to draw a long breath and break the silence. - -“Oh, but I wish I might have known your Miss Julia,” she said. - -“You know somebody who is just exactly like her,” said Mary Bennett, -putting her arm about Courage; “_just exactly!_” and this she said very -slowly and firmly, as though she thought Courage might be inclined to -differ with her, but Courage only said, “Dear child,” in a low whisper, -so grateful was she for the most blessed praise that could possibly come -to her. - -“Let us see Miss Julia’s picture now, please,” urged the children, and -Courage drew from her dress an exquisite miniature, set in pearls, and -attached to a violet ribbon worn about her neck. They had all seen it -many a time before, but it seemed to take on a new beauty in the light -of all they had been hearing. It was when the picture had been passed -slowly from hand to hand, and the natural thing seemed to be for the -little party to break up, that Allan was the first to discover that one -of the party had disappeared. - -“Why, where is Brevet?” he exclaimed, as {086}though part of his -personal belongings had given him the slip. - -“Why, sure ‘nuff, where is dat chile?” queried Joe, getting up from his -chair a little stiffly and peering up to the gallery roof and to the -branches of the trees, as though the most unlikely spot imaginable was -precisely the spot in which to expect to find his little Captain. “Seems -to me it looks a little ugly over there toward Fort Meyer,” he added, -stepping to the end of the porch and shading his eyes with his hand. - -At these words Harry, who had been thinking over all he had heard, rose -noiselessly from the lounge and slipped away to the rear of the house. -There he saw at a glance that it did indeed look more than “a little -ugly” over toward Fort Meyer. A large, funnel-shaped cloud of a dark -brown color loomed high on the horizon and Harry’s heart sank within -him. He had seen and known during a summer’s surveying in the West, the -wreck and ruin that may follow in the train of such a cloud, and he -knew that everything should be gotten into shape as quickly as possible. -Hurrying quickly to the front porch he said, with as much composure as -he could muster: - -“You would better go directly into the house, Grandma, we may be going -to have {087}quite a storm. Send the children through all the rooms and -have every shutter drawn to, and every window closed and fastened.” - -“But Brevet,” said Grandma, trying her best to keep her voice steady, -“no one knows where Brevet is. No one saw him go, or has any idea where -he went.” - -“Oh, he can’t be far away,” Harry answered, cheerily. “Joe and I will -find him in a jiffy. Now you do as I say, Grandma,” gently pushing her -toward the door, “and, children, whisk these chairs into the house, and -then make for the doors and windows and close them tightly. Don’t stop -to look, or lose a single minute.” - -Harry succeeded in speaking calmly, but his manner showed how urgent -he deemed the need of haste, and try as she would Grandma found herself -unequal to the occasion. Her limbs refused to support her, and once -inside the house she sank into the nearest chair, and, burying her face -in her hands, broke into an agony of sobs and tears. To have little -Brevet missing at such an anxious moment was more than her over-strained -nerves could bear. Courage saw instantly it was for her to take command -of the situation, and sending the children hither and thither through -the house as Harry had directed, she herself hurried {088}away for the -stimulant of which Grandma Ellis so sorely stood in need. - -Meanwhile poor old Joe, who in his alarm for Brevet’s safety had lost -his head completely, had been wasting precious moments in looking in the -most impossible places. - -“Oh, Mars Harry, whar can dat blessed child be?” he said, coming up to -Harry with the tears streaming down his face. - -“Have you looked over on the island, Joe?” - -“Oh, I never thought of dat, Mars Harry,” but the misery that was -in Joe’s voice showed that he took in instantly all the dreadful -possibilities, if the storm should break with Brevet alone on the -island. They hurried as fast as they could to the shore, and there, sure -enough! was Brevet, hard at work, getting his little camp into shape for -the coming storm he had evidently been the first to discover. At that -precise moment he was busy hauling down the little camp flag, but that -he was not in the least disconcerted was perfectly evident. In the awful -ominous hush preceding the storm, they could even catch the familiar -strain of “I’se a little Alabama Coon.” - -“We must not frighten him, Joe,” Harry said, his breath coming short and -fast, “we must just call to him to come right back. {089}But where is -the boat, Joe? _Where_ is the boat?” - -“Oh, Mars Harry! Mars Harry! look dere,” and now the fear in Joe’s voice -had turned to veriest anguish; and Harry looking, saw the precious boat -in mid-river, the oars still resting in the oar-locks, but as hopelessly -beyond reach as though in mid-ocean. - -“Oh, Joe!” cried Harry, looking down at the helpless arm bound firmly -in the splints. Then, crying, “I will get a man from the stables; -stay right where you are, Joe,” he was gone in a flash. A man from the -stables! Joe knew how long that must take. No, there was just one thing -to be done, and stripping off boots and jacket, in the next second he -was breast deep in the water, and in the next striking out bravely -for the island. It was a hard tug for the old man, for the current was -strong; but Brevet, still unmindful of his danger, sang away with a -will, and the words came distinctly over the water,-- - - “I’se a little Alabama Coon, - - I hasn’t been born very long.” - -“Bless your heart, no you hasn’t,” muttered Joe, keeping his head well -above water. “You hasn’t been born long ‘nuff ter go out dis worl’ -yet awhile, I’m thinkin’,” and nerved by {090}the little fellow’s -unconscious calmness, Joe put all his strength in four or five more good -strokes, and reached the camp, but he had no breath left with which to -speak when he reached it. It was dreadful to waste the precious moments, -but his breath was still too laboured from the strenuous effort he had -been making for him to voice a single Word. Just at that moment Brevet -turned to hurry down from the camp, and then stood riveted to the spot, -his face white with terror. He did not see Joe in the dismay of his -discovery. - -“Oh, my boat is gone!” he cried, lifting his two little clenched hands -in helpless consternation. - -[Illustration: 0121] - -“But here’s your Cap’ll,” rang out a dear familiar voice, and Joe -thanked God that he was able to instantly dispel the little fellow’s -fears. One bound, and Brevet was at Joe’s side. - -“Did you swim over for me, Captain?” his two arms locked about Joe’s -neck in his joy. - -“Yes, I done swim ober for you Honey, an’ now we done goin’ ter swim -back again. Des get on my ole back, dis a-way, Honey, only have a care -not ter choke me an’ don’ be a-feared for a moment.” - -It was hardly necessary for Joe to have added that, for on Joe’s back -Brevet felt as {091}safe as any of the rest of us on the deck of an -ocean steamer. Besides, it was such fun to be carried ashore in that -fashion. Only once it seemed to cross his little mind that it might -perhaps be rather hard work for Joe. - -“If I’m too heavy, I think I could swim all right. Shall I leave go?” - -“No,” gasped Joe, fearing the dauntless little fellow might put his -suggestion immediately into practice, “for Heben’s sake, no, Brevet!” - and then Brevet tightened his hold as though realising there might be -some danger. How great the danger only Joe himself knew, and he feared -more than once that he would have to give up--that he could not save -Brevet after all. - -Harry’s search for help had been futile, and, rushing back to the shore, -what was his joy to discover that Joe had dared to disobey orders and -had safely crossed to the island! But what a terrible risk the old man -was running, and, oh, the chagrin, young man that he was, of not being -able himself to attempt the rescue! With bated breath he watched Joe’s -start for the mainland, and then saw instantly how even the first return -strokes taxed his strength to the full. At the point for which he was -making the far-spreading limbs of two old live-oaks extended out over -the river, and Harry, plung{092}ing into the water and clinging by his -good arm to the heavier of two parallel branches, was able to make his -way to its extreme end, quite a distance from the shore. - -“Steer right for me, Joe,” he called, in a voice of earnest entreaty. -“See where I am, Joe, I can help you from here.” But a sudden blackness -had come before Joe’s eyes, and he could see nothing. - -[Illustration: 0129] - -Meantime Courage had hurried from the house the first moment she could -be spared; had reached the river’s edge and instantly took in the -situation. It would be little enough Harry could do even if poor Joe -succeeded in reaching him--it was for her to gain some point as near him -as possible, and be ready to lend a hand as well. Throwing aside a cloak -she had caught up for protection, she strode into the water, and by aid -of the same strong limb to which Harry was clinging, was able to take -her place close behind him. Meantime not for one instant did Harry -intermit his calls of encouragement, until at last the overhanging -branch was almost reached. - -“Joe,” he then called, in a voice of commanding entreaty, “one stroke -more! Now lay hold of me and you’re safe.” Joe had hardly consciousness -enough left to obey, but he made one stroke more, and then his arms -{093}grasped something, he hardly knew what, with an iron grip, and -barely keeping his head above water, his body dragged helplessly down -the river with the current. - -“And what shall I do?” gasped Brevet quickly, for he had at last fully -realised the struggle of the crossing and knew that Joe’s strength was -all but gone. - -“You lay hold of my arm, Brevet,” cried Courage; “now let go of Joe; -now cling to me and pull yourself up here on this limb. Quick, quick, -Brevet, don’t lose a moment--there--now lie flat down and keep perfectly -still with your arms firm around the branch under you. Now what?” in a -voice of bewildered appeal to Harry. - -“Can you shift yourself to that other limb and bend it within Joe’s -reach? I am helpless.” Harry spoke through teeth clenched with the -effort of supporting Joe and his own dead weight by that one arm’s hold -on the branch beside him. - -It was not an easy thing that Harry asked, but retreating toward the -shore a little way, to a point where the branches came more closely -together, she safely swung to the other limb, but in making her way out -into the water again, she felt the ground fall gradually away beneath -her feet, {094}"Careful, careful,” called Harry; “don’t get beyond your -depth.” - -“I am all right,” Courage answered calmly, though she knew for a -certainty that she was already beyond her depth--but what did that -matter in the imperative need of the moment? All this while Joe, with -closed eyes, still realised that the one thing for him to do was to hold -on. Notwithstanding the deeper water Courage succeeded in working out -along the branch until near enough to Joe to bend it by her weight -within his reach. Then she cried peremptorily, with what little breath -was left her: - -“Joe, open your eyes.” Joe mechanically obeyed. “Now see this branch, -Joe; reach for it and get upon your feet. The water is not deep.” - -Harry felt Joe’s grasp relaxing from his body, but at the same time -it was apparent that he was too weak and dazed to fully take in the -situation, and was not about to make the effort necessary to seize the -overhanging limb. - -“Brevet,” cried Harry, under his breath, “speak to Joe. He is not going -to try to save himself----” - -“Joe! Joe!” called Brevet, an agony of appeal in his voice. Joe’s eyes -opened again. {095}"Reach for that branch, Joe, and try to get ashore. I -want you, Joe, I want you------” - -Brevet’s dearly loved voice, with its deep sob of entreaty, seemed to -reach some inner consciousness of Joe’s. If Brevet needed him, he must -make one last effort; and, letting go his relaxed hold of Harry, he -reached for the branch; struggled to his feet, stumbling heavily against -Courage; took the necessary steps to reach the shore, and then fell -utterly unconscious. - -Meantime the storm had broken in all its fury. A great yellow whirl of -dust and sand came sweeping down upon them, carrying broken twigs -and larger branches, in a twinkling, past them; then came the rain in -torrents, and vivid flashes of lightning. Brevet clung terrified to the -limb, but, manly little fellow that he was, made no outcry. Harry, with -but one arm at his service, hung where he was; the water serving to buoy -his body up, and to sustain his weight, but he was powerless to alter -his position. Courage, by the aid of the limb, made her way to the -shore. Then calling back to Harry, “I will bring help at once,” she -dropped on to her hands and knees, for it was impossible to stand -against the wind and rain, and began creeping up the embankment. But -fortunately for them all, help was {096}at hand. Teddy Bennett, fairly -blown along by the wind, appeared on the ledge above her. Courage, -leaning heavily upon one hand, pointed down the river, and Teddy in -another minute was in the water and close at Harry’s side. It was the -work of but a moment, strong young swimmer that he proved himself, to -help Harry ashore, and then throwing themselves flat upon the ground and -calling out every minute to Brevet to “Hold on and keep a brave heart!” - they waited for the terrible storm to pass over. - - -{097} - - - - -CHAPTER IX.--JOE HAS AN’ IDEA. - -It was two weeks now since that dreadful afternoon up at Ellismere, and -it has been a quiet two weeks for all of our little party. No one has -had the heart for very much fun, for Grandma Ellis has been very ill -up at Ellismere, and dear old Joe is lying helpless in bed in his own -little cabin. After the storm had spent its force they had carried Joe -up to the house, and there he had lain unmindful of everything about -him for three whole days together. Then, when at last consciousness came -back, power to move either right arm or leg did not come with it, and -then they learned that poor old Joe was paralysed. As soon as possible -after that they moved Joe up to Arlington, for he longed for his own bed -and his own familiar cabin. And who do you suppose went up to care for -Joe, but Mammy! “If you can spare me. Miss Lindy,” Mammy had said to -Grandma Ellis, “I would like to look out for Joe de res’ of his days. I -ain’t allers been ober kin’ to dat ole gem’an, an’ I ain’t had no idea -what splendid stuff he had in {098}him,” and it seemed a very little -thing to Grandma Ellis to spare Mammy for the sake of the one who -had saved Brevet’s life. That Joe had saved it there was but little -question, for the storm had seemed to be at its very height when it -reached the island, levelling and demolishing everything upon it. The -tent had been carried off bodily, no one knew where, and the little -pine trees uprooted lay wedged in the rocks as though pounded in with an -anvil, so that it seemed impossible that Brevet could have escaped -being hurled into the river, or dashed against the rocks with the same -terrible force as the pine trees. - -Harry had been unable to bring any one from the stables, for both the -men, as it happened, were three miles away at the blacksmith’s, and but -for Joe’s instant action, any help would have come too late. - -I doubt if Teddy will ever quite forgive Grandma Ellis, or his sister -Mary, for forbidding him to join the party in search of Brevet, or ever -cease to be thankful that at last, rushing out of the house in spite of -all their protests, he was able to render such timely aid. - -As for Joe, he accepted his utter helplessness with a beautiful -resignation, but there was something on Joe’s mind, and one day he said -to Mammy: {099}"Would you min’, Mammy, just sendin’ fo’ Miss Courage to -come heah for awhile dis ebenin’. I’se somethin’ important ter say ter -lier, ‘Tain’t dat I couldn’t trus’ you wid it, Mammy, only you knows dey -am times when a ‘spectable cullud pusson seem ter need der advice of a -pusson what is born ter a different colour and station.’ - -“Miss Courage shall be sent for dis bery ebenin’, Joe,” for Mammy had -made up her mind that Joe was to be humoured in every particular. And so -Courage came, and with Brevet, who had happened to be spending the day -at Homespun, for her companion. They stopped to leave the buckboard at -the stable, where a young mulatto boy was now doing Joe’s work, and then -Brevet asked permission to run on ahead. He had something on his mind, -as well as Joe, and he was longing to ask him a question that had just -occurred to him the day before, and which had made his little heart very -heavy. - -“Joe,” he said in an awed whisper, stepping into the cabin and looking -quickly about to see if Mammy happened to be out of hearing, “are you -asleep, Joe?” - -“No, bless your little heart,” and Joe’s old face lighted up with -the joy of Brevet’s coming, “I was des habin a bit o’ a day-dream.” - {100}"Joe,” whispered Brevet, tip-toeing close to his side, “I want you -to tell me something. You’re paralysed, you know, Joe.” - -“Yes, Honey, I knows.” - -“Well, it wasn’t because you went in the river for me, was it, Joe? It -just happened to come then, didn’t it, Joe?” in anxious inquiry, and as -though to find out that he was responsible for Joe’s illness would be -more than he could bear. - -“Des happen? o’ course, chile, des happen. Why, des look at me, Honey! -I’se pow’ful ole; reckon nobody knows how ole I be,” (which was the -truth, for Joe, if he knew himself, had never told any one), “whereas -mos’ white-haired cullud pussons is par’Iysed long afore my time o’ -life, par’Iysed all over too, not des a sort o’ half par’Iysed like me. -No, neber you b’lieve it anythin’ but des happened, no matter what folks -say, case you ‘member Joe tol’ you so, an’ I ought ter know, I reckon, -better’n anybody.” - -It was as though a great shadow had been lifted from Brevet. Courage, -wondering how to account for the little fellow’s apparent spiritlessness -all day, wondered now, as she entered, at the little illumined face. - -“See here, Brevet,” said Joe, smiling a welcome to Courage, “will you -look ober de {101}place while I’se talkin’ ter Miss Courage. Go up to -de house and down ‘roun’ General Sheridan’s grave, an’ my Oder special -fav’rites, an’ see if eberythin’ is bein’ kept up ter de handle, case no -one knows as well as you, Brevet, how Joe allers like ter hab ‘em kep’.” - -Brevet joyously obeyed, proud to be sent on such an important errand; -and after Courage and Joe had exchanged a few words of greeting, Joe at -once settled to the particular business in hand. - -“Miss Courage,” he said, very solemnly, “I don’ b’lieve dey’s such anoder -mean contemptible good for nothin’ darkey in all dis county as I is. -Look at dis cabin! des as orderly as can be, an’ den ‘member how I’se -allers treated Mammy. She ain’t nowhere roun’, is she?” raising himself -on one arm and looking cautiously about the room. - -“No; Mammy is way up the hill yonder, knitting under the chestnut tree. -I met her as I came, and she told me that you had something important to -say to me, and that she wouldn’t come back until I called her.” - -“Beats me,” answered Joe, “ter see Mammy so considerate an’ behavin’ -hersel’ in dis fashion. Why, dere ain’t nothin’ Mammy can think of to -make me mo’ comfortable dat she doesn’t up an’ do in a jiffy. Why, when -yo’ {102}Sylvy comes down ebry day or so, ter see if she can len’ a hand -as you are so good as ter sen’ her, dey ain’t, as a rule, nuffin lef for -her ter do, ‘ceptin’ Mammy set her ter make some little relish for me -to pay her fo’ de trouble of cornin’. Now can you ‘magine, Miss Courage, -how all dis mak’ me feel, case I’se allers been down on Mammy? You -‘member I neber so much as invite her ter my Fo’th July dinner. I allers -‘spect Grandma Ellis staid away so as to let Mammy think she was nowise -invited either.” - -“But you mustn’t blame yourself too much, Joe,” Courage interrupted, -“for if I’m not mistaken, Mammy has been always rather down upon you. No -wonder that she wants to make amends. You’re a perfect hero in all our -eyes now, Joe. Just think of the terrible risk you ran and of all it has -cost you, Joe--” - -“‘Tain’t cost me nuffin, Miss Courage,” Joe said, almost angrily. “Oh, I -des hope for Brevet’s sake dey won’t be sayin’ any such foolish t’ing as -dat. I happen ter know dat Brevet would neber get over it if he thought -he was ‘sponsible for me lyin’ here in bed. No, Miss Courage, dat -paralysis des happened ter come. I want it ter be so understood. I’d had -the queerest numb sort o’ feelin’s creepin’ over me a whole week ‘fo’ I -took dat plunge {103}in de riber--but---but, what I sent for you for am -dis: I’se had a heap o’ time, lyin’ heah, an’ I’se been usin’ my eyes, -an’ sure huff I hab an idea. You know your Sylvy? Well, she tol’ me dat -day when ole Colonel Anderson an’ all of you were at Arlington, an’ we -was clearin’ up de dinner dishes, dat she been ris up in an institution -in Brooklyn, an’ so far as she knew she didn’t hab a relashun in de -worl’. Now, do you happen ter know, Miss Courage, who took Sylvy to dat -‘sylum?” - -“No, Joe; and I’m quite sure Sylvia once told me that nobody knew; but -if you wish, I can write and make some inquiry. But why do you want to -know, Joe?” - -“Why, case I b’lieve it isn’t de mos’ impossible t’ing in de worl’ dat -Mammy and Sylvy is related,” and Joe lowered his voice to an almost -imperceptible whisper. - -“But whatever do you found that upon?” Courage asked, eagerly. - -“Observation, Miss Courage, an’ what you might call human probability,” - (Joe was perfectly delighted to find two such fine long words at his -command) “an’ as I tol’ you, I’se been usin’ my eyes lyin’ heah, an’ dey -has little ways an’ gestures, Mammy and Sylvy, common to bof of ‘em. Den -you know Mammy had a daughter sol’ way from her des befo’ de {104}wah, -an’ as Sylvy ain’t no idea what name she was born to, ‘tain’t impossible -is it, dat she should be Mammy’s gran’chile?” - -“No, it isn’t impossible, Joe, but I must honestly say I do not think it -probable. Just think how very little you really have to build upon.” - -“Mighty little, I grant you, Miss Courage, ‘cepting dose little ways an’ -gestures; but you’ll write, won’t you, case there ain’t the least harm -in writing is there?” - -“Yes, indeed I will, Joe, this very night, but you mustn’t hang too many -hopes upon it, so as not to be too much disappointed.” - -“Dey’s hung dere already. Miss Courage,” said incorrigible Joe, “an’ -I’se not goin’ter take ‘em down till I has ter.” - -“All right,” laughed Courage. “May I call Mammy back now? for I should -like to see her for awhile before I go home.” - -“Yes, you call her, an’ des you notice, now your ‘tention’s called ter -it, if dere isn’t some ways dat ‘mind you of Sylvy.” - -And Courage did notice, and was really so surprised at some points -of resemblance, that she wrote her letter that night with a deeper -conviction that they might be on the verge of a discovery than she had -that morning thought possible. - - -{105} - - - - -CHAPTER X.--BREVET SCORES A POINT. - -“Is anybody going to die in this chapter?” asked a little girl who is -very dear to me, as we were reading aloud last evening. The chapter had -certainly a rather ominous title, and if any one was going to die she -preferred to go to bed. Now if we had happened to have been reading this -story together, I am pretty sure I should have met the same question; -for, what with Joe ill in bed, and Grandma Ellis ill at Ellismere, and -both of them pretty old people, it does look, I admit, as though there -might be something sad to write about it. But, happily, for that happy -summer there was to be no sorrowful ending. Grandma Ellis was soon quite -herself again, and Joe improved so much that it seemed as though he -would probably be able to move about his cabin again some day. And so -everything would have been bright and hopeful enough save for this--the -time had come for Courage and the Bennetts and Mary Duff and Sylvia to -go home, and all hearts as a result were as heavy as lead. The Bennetts -were eager to {106}see their father and mother and the baby, but they -did not want to go back to the great, crowded city. And Courage--well, -she wondered what she possibly could find to do at home that would so -absorb her whole thought and time as this Little Homespun household, -and keep her half as happy and contented. She feared that when she went -back, the old loneliness would surely come surging down upon her, and -that life without Miss Julia would seem again intolerable. She was -thinking just such sad thoughts as these as she sat alone in the little -living-room, stitching away at a dress of Mary Bennett’s that needed -mending for the journey on the morrow. Every one but herself and Mary -Duff had gone up to Arlington for a good-bye call upon Joe. Courage was -not planning to go until late in the day, calculating that the afternoon -mail would surely bring her some word from the asylum; and so, as she -sat alone with her own sad thoughts, she was suddenly surprised by a -little figure in the doorway and a larger figure looming above it. - -“Where’s everybody?” asked Brevet. “May we come in?” - -“Yes, indeed, come in!” Courage answered, cordially. “Indeed, I am glad -to see you, for I’m as blue as can be.” {107}"So are we,” said Brevet, -sitting disconsolately down in a huge armchair that made him look more -disconsolate than ever “Uncle Harry’s hardly spoken to me all the way.” - Harry made no denial and dropped into the nearest chair. - -“And you’ll be bluer still, Brevet, to find that no one’s at home,” - Courage added. “They have all gone up to Arlington.” - -“Well, that doesn’t matter,” Brevet replied, philosophically, “we shall -see them all tomorrow when we come down to see you off; but what we all -care the most about is your going, Miss Courage. Grand_na_na a cries -every time she thinks of it, and Uncle Harry says it will be just like a -funeral all the time for him until he is able to go back to the office, -and I’m just as miserable as I can be.” - -“Well, it’s very kind of you all,” sighed Courage. “It seems to me there -never were two such dear places as Homespun and Ellis-mere, and you -cannot imagine how I hate to leave them.” - -“What will you all do anyway when you get back to New York?” Brevet -asked, a little sullenly, as though he felt in his heart that really -they were to blame for going. - -“Well, we are not going because we want to, Brevet,” Courage answered -almost sharply, {108}for she was herself just down-spirited enough to -be a trifle touchy and childish. “There is no reason why Mary Duff and -Sylvia and I should stay since the Bennetts will not be here to be cared -for.” - -“But what is the _reason_ for your going home, Miss Courage?” asked -Brevet, determined to have the whole situation explained. - -“Well, Mary Duff is needed at the hospital, where she has charge, you -know, of a whole ward full of little babies; and, as for Sylvia and me, -our home is there you know--we belong there--and I shall try very hard -to find something to fill up all my time, for that is the only way for -me to manage now that I no longer have Miss Julia.” - -“But do people always belong to just one place?” - -“No, not always,” Courage was forced to admit. - -“Well, you and Brevet seem to be having things all your own way,” said -Harry, really speaking for the first time since he had entered. - -“Yes; I was thinking it would be more polite if you should join in the -conversation,” Courage answered, colouring a little, for she had felt -annoyed at Harry’s apparently moody silence. - -“Well,” he added, slowly, “I do not know {109}on the whole that there is -anything for me to say.” - -“Then why did you come?” - -“Simply to see you once more.” - -“And what was the use of that?” Courage asked, she hardly knew why. - -“No use, simply to enjoy the pathetic sort of pleasure of all last -times; but I do not myself understand why you could not have stayed on -and made us a visit? You would have made my grandmother very happy.” - -“Oh, Harry, come off!” said Brevet, who had unavoidably acquired a boy’s -measure of slang, and who was old enough to appreciate when Harry was -not his frank, honest self. “That’s all stuff about Grand_na_na--you -want Miss Courage to stay for yourself just as much as Grand_na_na wants -her for herself and I want her for myself.” - -“‘Children and fools speak the truth,’” said Harry, looking straight at -Courage. - -“Yes, that’s the blessed beauty of them,” looking straight back at him. - -“Other people don’t dare,” said Harry. - -“Other people lack courage.” - -“I quite agree with you. I know a fellow who feels that with Courage he -could defy the whole world.” - -“Brevet,” said Courage, folding away the {110}mended dress, “there is a -pile of pictures yonder that I have been collecting from the magazines -and papers for your scrap-book. Bring them here and let us look them -over.” - -Brevet was not to be diverted. It was always one thing at a time with -him. The pictures could wait--he couldn’t. He had one or two questions -yet to ask, and he came and stood beside Courage as though to compel her -undivided attention. - -“But why couldn’t you visit us? Didn’t you want to?” - -“Yes, I should have been glad to come, Brevet; I cannot explain to you -why I couldn’t.” - -“I suppose it was because there wasn’t anything particular for you to -do; you always want to be doing something. Now, Miss Courage, I have -heard Grand_na_na say that if Uncle Harry would bring a wife home to -Ellismere some day she would give her all the housekeeping. Now, don’t -you think you could come that way, because then you would have a great -deal to do?” - -“Can you not stop this child?” said Courage, turning with a look of -indignant appeal to Harry. - -“He is doing very well,” Harry answered, without looking up. -{111}Brevet, intent upon his own line of thought, paid not the least -attention to either of the last remarks. - -“Now, Miss Courage,” resting one arm on her chair and speaking -thoughtfully and slowly, “couldn’t you--don’t you think you -could--perhaps--be Uncle Harry’s wife and so belong up to our house and -have lots of things to do?” - -“Yes, couldn’t you--perhaps?” said Harry, very earnestly. - -Courage gave one glance toward Harry, and then sat gazing straight at -Brevet with a look on her face as though endeavouring to frame some -sort of answer; while Brevet, with appeal in his eyes more eloquent than -words, waited in solemn silence for her answer. - -“But, Brevet,” she said, at last, “are you sure, perfectly sure that -your Uncle Harry would not mind?” - -“Perfectly sure!” but not so much as looking toward Harry, so completely -did he regard the matter as resting wholly between Courage and himself. - -“Well, then, Brevet, I believe I could.” - -Then for the first time Brevet showed an inclination to include Harry -in the conversation, but for that matter he had to, for Harry was close -beside Courage now. “There,” he {112}said, with a great sigh of relief, -“what did I tell you? Perhaps she doesn’t care enough to do it for you, -but she cares enough to do it for us all three together.” - -“Run, Brevet!” said Courage. “See, there is Mary coming with the mail. -Run, and bring it quickly.” - -Brevet scampered off in high feather, and Courage instantly straightened -herself up and looked accusingly at Harry. - -“Do you mean to say that you actually talked all this over with Brevet?” - -[Illustration: 0147] - -“No,” he answered, never looking so handsome or so happy in his life. -“He talked it all over with me. He seemed to think it the one way out of -the difficulty.” - -“And you knew he was--he was going to say all this to me?” - -“No, I never so much as dreamt it for a minute, I assure you, or that he -was going to take matters into his own hands. On the contrary, I wanted -to come alone this afternoon, but come he would. He had evidently -thought out his own course of action, and I shall bless him for it all -my life.” - - -{113} - - - - -CHAPTER XI.--A RED-LETTER AFTERNOON. - -They were a happy trio that set out for Arlington a half hour later. -Harry and Courage walked closely, side by side, for there was much to be -said that could not by any chance have any interest for Brevet; besides, -you could not have kept Brevet still enough for five seconds together to -listen to anything. He was quite as wild with joy as any little -terrier, liberated from his kennel for the first run over the hills in -a fortnight. But the joy that made him run hither and thither, and come -bounding back to press a flower into Courage’s hands, or simply to look -up to her face, or brush affectionately against her in true terrier -fashion, was something more than animal spirits. Courage was coming up -to Ellismere to live! Courage was coming! No little May-time songster -was ever more joyous over the coming of Spring, and Brevet would have -trilled as glad a carol if he could. But of the three Courage was, if -possible, the very happiest, for she had such a happy secret in her -{114}keeping--that is, in her pocket--for the mail had brought the -expected letter. The secret, however, must stay a secret until she -should reach Arlington and could have a little private talk with Joe; -and so she hurried Harry along much faster than was at all to his -liking, for Harry would have been glad to have that walk last for “a -year and a day,” and so perhaps would Courage, save for the letter. - -It was not that it contained any wonderful revelation--it simply said -that unfortunately the asylum authorities knew nothing more of Sylvia’s -antecedents than she herself knew; that she had simply been thrust in at -the asylum door by some old woman who succeeded in beating a mysterious -retreat into the darkness before any one had seen her. A scrap of paper -pinned to her dress bore the name of Sylvia, and the statement that -the child had neither father nor mother. In addition to this the only -possible clew lay in two or three articles found at the time in Sylvia’s -keeping. They had been given to her when she left the institution, the -matron impressing upon her the need and importance of guarding them -carefully, as they would possibly prove of great value some day. They -regretted very keenly that they were unable to furnish any further -information. But, nevertheless, the letter stirred the first {115}real -hope for Courage that Joe was right in his conjecture, for it reminded -her of the little belongings Sylvia had once shown her--a coral -necklace, a gay little silver belt set with imitation turquoise and -rubies in great variety, and a much-used devotional book. She remembered -there was no writing in the book save the name of what appeared to be -some gentleman’s country-place and some date way back in the fifties. -She could not recall the name, but she thought she would know it if she -heard it, and felt quite sure, now that she came to think of it, that -she had heard a name on Mammy’s lips that sounded like it. No wonder -that something seemed far more important just then than even her own -great happiness, and that she was impatient to reach Joe’s cabin. - -“I will hurry on,” she said, when they came in sight of the cabin. “You -capture Brevet, Harry, and make him understand that he will be reduced -to the ranks if he says one word down here of what has happened up at -Homespun--your mother must be the first to know.” - -“You have set me a rather difficult task,” laughed Harry; but he saw the -wisdom of it, and bearing down upon Brevet he detained him an unwilling -little prisoner until he had {116}extracted--but slowly and painfully it -must be confessed--the required promise. Courage found the little cabin -full; that is, Mary Duff, Sylvia and the children all were there as she -expected, but a word to Mammy, to whom Courage’s slightest wish was -law, and the little cabin was cleared in a twinkling, all hands finding -themselves peremptorily shooed like a pack of geese to the pond below, -under some foolish pretext or other. - -“Has the letter come?” Joe asked, breathlessly. “Any news in it?” - -“Yes, I have a letter,” and Courage drew a rocking-chair close to the -bed; “but there is nothing new in it, only it suggests something to me. -It speaks of some treasures of Sylvia’s that might throw a little light -on the subject. I remember now that Sylvia once showed them to me, and -I do not see why I have been so stupid as not to think of them before. -They were a string of coral beads, a gay belt of some sort, and a little -devotional book.” - -“Anythin’ written in de book?” interrupted Joe, his clasped hands -trembling with excitement. - -“Nothing much, Joe. We mustn’t grow too hopeful quite yet, but I am -quite sure it was some name such as would belong to a gentleman’s -country-place, and I think I should {117}recall it if I heard it. Now, -doesn’t Mammy sometimes speak of the plantation where she used to live, -by some name or other?” - -“Sunnyside,” panted Joe, “Sunnyside; it’s on her lips eb’ry day or two. -Do you t’ink--do you t’ink dat’s it?” - -“Oh, I don’t dare to think, Joe, it would be so easy for me to be -mistaken----” - -“Call Mammy then, call Sylvy,” Joe cried, excitedly, “call dem quick!” - -“Yes, I will call them right away, but, Joe, we must all try to be calm” - (for she feared the effect of so much excitement). “You must be calm for -your own sake, Joe, and for theirs, and if we should chance to be on -the verge of a happy discovery, we must not spring it too suddenly -upon them. Let me talk to them a little before you ask Sylvia about the -name.” - -But Courage in her own mind was quite joyously sure that Sunnyside was -the name in the little book. Mammy and Sylvia came in answer to the -call from Courage--Mary Duff and the Bennetts, wondering what was up, -remained perforce just as obediently behind. - -“Sylvia,” said Courage, signalling Joe to be quiet for a moment, “do you -remember once showing me a little devotional book of yours? I was trying -just now to remember its name.” {118}"'Words of Jesus,’ Miss Courage.” - -“‘Words of Jesus,’” said Mammy solemnly. “Oh, but I loved dat little -book. My Missus gave it to me years ago, an’ I gave it to my little girl -when she was sol’ away from me way down in Alabama.” - -“And, Sylvia, there were some other little things, were there not?” - -“Yes, Miss Courage, a little string of coral beads, and a tinsel belt, -you remember.” - -Joe and Courage were looking straight at Mammy, who, ashy white under -her dark skin, leaned against the foot of the bed; but Sylvia, all -intent upon Joe, did not notice. - -“Come nearer, chile,” said Joe, for his turn had come now, although his -voice all but failed him as he took Sylvia’s hand in his. “Was somethin’ -written in de little book?” - -“Yes,” said Sylvia, her own voice unsteady now, for she knew there must -be some object in all this questioning. - -“Have a care now, Mammy,” cried Joe, exultingly. “Something may be going -to happen, Mammy. Was it Sunnyside, chile?” - -“Yes, it was Sunnyside,” she answered, eagerly. “What do you know about -it, Joe?” - -But before Joe could explain, Mammy’s arms were about her in one wild -ecstasy of delight, {119}and then dropping into a chair she drew Sylvia -to her lap. - -[Illustration: 0155] - -“O’ course it was Sunnyside, chile! what else could it be after yo’ -sayin’ you owned de corals an’ de tinsel belt? I gave dem all three to -my little daughter thirty years an’ more ago. Yo’ b’longs ter me!” - -“But, Mammy dear, who do you suppose I am?” her arms close about Mammy’s -neck. - -“Yo’ my little gran’chile, Honey, my little gran’chile come back ter me -after all dese years-----” - -“But how can you be sure, Mammy? My having the things doesn’t surely -make me your grandchild,” and Sylvia looked as though not to be able to -be perfectly certain at last would quite break her heart. - -“Sure by eb’ryt’ing ‘bout you, Honey; by yo’ face, by yo’ hands, by de -way you walk, by yo’ ebery motion, by de way you drink a cup o’ tea. -Maria was jus’ about yo’ age when she was sol’ away from me, an’ -sometimes you’ve so much ‘minded me of her I could scarce bear to look -at you, neber dreamin’ you could possibly b’long ter me. But, Sylvy,” - and Mammy’s voice at once grew troubled with the thought that occurred -to her, “why hab you neber done try to fin’ yo’ own people, chile?” - {120}"Why, Mammy! I knew nothing about myself at all. I was just pushed -into the door of a coloured orphan asylum in Brooklyn, when I was a -little bit of a girl, by a very old woman I remember, and I never saw -or heard of her again. There was a little piece of paper pinned on to -my dress which merely said, ‘This little girl hasn’t got any father or -mother,’ and that my name was Sylvia.” - -“Then yo’ mamma’s daid, is she?” said Mammy in a low voice, as though -speaking to herself. “I wonder who she married an’ how she drifted ‘way -up North, an’ why she never wrote to her old Mammy--but we’ll never know -in dis work, will we, Honey?--but no matter, no matter, we’s got each -oder now, Sylvy,” and Mammy stroked Sylvia’s hair with one trembling -hand, as the happy realisation chased all the sadness from her face. -“Maria coaxed that little belt from me,” she continued, never one moment -taking her eyes from Sylvia’s face, “one day long ’fo’ she was sol’ -from me. My Missus had given it to me when I was jus’ a slip of a girl. -She gave me the dear book too, but I put that into Maria’s pocket an’ -begged her to read it now an’ again, cause Maria allers seemed too -lighthearted to give much ’tention to religion. Seems as d’ough _I_ -could hardly wait, Sylvy, {121}to lay my eyes on d’ose little keepsakes -once more. An’, Sylvy chile, do you ‘member what you said first words -you spoke ter me an’ Joe? You said, ‘I thought I should find some of my -own people down here in Virginia.’ ‘Lor, chile, you didn’t dream what -gospel trufes you were speakin’.” - -Meantime Harry and Brevet had appeared upon the scene, and astonished -beyond measure at what they saw and heard, sat down on a bench beside -the door and listened in mute wonder. - -“But who,” said Mammy at last, when she could bring her confused -thoughts into some sort of order, and with Sylvia still seated upon her -lap, “who was de one to find all dis out for me?” turning toward Courage -for an explanation. But Courage simply looked toward Joe for answer. - -“Yes, Mammy,” replied Joe, leaning comfortably back against his pillows, -the embodiment of dusky radiance, “I has dat honour, Mammy. Lyin’ here -so helpless when I was first brought back ter de cabin, an’ watchin’ you -an’ Sylvy move roun’ de room togeder, it came home ter me how you took -after each oder in a hundred little ways, an’ den ’memberin’ how Sylvy -had tol’ me one day how she knew nothin’ ’bout who b’longed ter her, -it {122}des ’spicioned me dat she might b’long to you, an’ so Miss -Courage here, she wrote up to de ’sylum an’ de answer des come dis -bery afternoon. But o’ co’se, as you know from Sylvy, dey couldn’t tell -us nuffin, but ter ’mind Miss Courage of de little treasures Sylvy -had in her possession, an’ den Miss Courage ’minded how Sylvy had once -showed dem to her an’ how dere was somethin’ written in de little book, -but o’ co’se we could not des be sure it was de same name as de ole -plantation whar you lived till we sent for Sylvy an’ asked her. An’ oh! -but it’s a happy day for Joe; de happiest day in all my life, an’ it’s -all come of me being par’lysed an’ havin’ a chance ter notice,” and Joe -spoke as though the paralysis was unquestionably something for which he -had need to be devoutly thankful. - -“Joe,” said Mammy, who had left her chair and was standing close at his -bedside, “I’se been hard on you an’ unfair to you mos’ o’ my life, Joe,” - and she stood looking down as shamefacedly as any little school culprit. - -“Don’t you say nuffin, Mammy. Hasn’t I allers been hard on you an’ -unfair to you?” - -“Don’t either of you say anything,” interrupted Courage. “If ever two -people in this world have made up for bygones, I think you two people -have,” and Joe and Mammy shook {123}their old heads in assent, for -happily for them both they knew that Courage had spoken but the truth. - -Meantime Brevet had slipped away and had enjoyed the exquisite pleasure -of telling Mary Duff and the Bennetts the wonderful news, whereupon -they had of course hurried pell-mell up to the cabin and joined in the -general jubilation. It was well-nigh sunset before the good-byes were -said--those last good-byes they had come for the purpose of saying--and -before they were all started on their walk home. - -Then Courage turned to Harry. - -“I think I will run back and _just tell_ Joe and Mammy----” - -“Tell all the world,” said Harry, proudly, “the sooner the better.” - -A few minutes later Courage appeared in the cabin doorway. - -“Come here,” she said, motioning to Mammy and hurrying to Joe’s side. -“There’s another secret in the wind this afternoon, and I want to tell -it to both of you myself. I think I shall come down here to live for -good and all before _very_ long----” - -“De Lord be praised!” ejaculated Joe and Mammy in one breath. - -“And I’m coming because I am going to marry Harry Ellis----” {124}"'Tis -de Lord’s own doin’s,” cried Joe, fervently, “for we all need you.” - -“And never you fear but Sylvia will live here too,” said Courage, -turning radiantly to Mammy. Then in a flash she was gone to hurry after -the little party over the road. With Harry and Brevet, Courage went -straight up to Ellismere that night to see Grandma Ellis, and then -another dear old heart was gladdened beyond all words by the good -news she had to tell. The next day Courage went back to town with the -Bennetts, leaving Sylvia to stay with Mammy until she should return, and -Courage was to return before very long. A good deal had been talked -over and arranged for in the evening spent at Ellismere, and among -other things that there should be a wedding at Little Homespun late -in October. By that time, probably, Joe would be able to drive up from -Arlington, and Colonel Anderson would come down from Washington, and -Courage knew that the Everetts and a few other dear friends would come -down just as gladly from New York, and another matter that had been -as fully agreed upon was, that although Courage’s home was to be -at Ellismere for the winter, she and Harry should move up to Little -Homespun the coming summer, and Mary Duff should bring {125}down some -other party of little city-children to run wild and enjoy all the -delights of the unknown country just as the little Bennetts had done. - -And so it came about that there was no real sadness in the good-byes -which were said on the morrow--even the Bennetts found they were glad -to go, now it came to the point, for when all is said, home is home the -world over. Harry and Brevet drove up to Washington to see the little -party off and then drove back to Ellismere, not saying much to each -other by the way, but both very contented and happy. Brevet was humming -his own favourite air, as in all serene and quiet moods, until at last -as though to give vent to the joy within him he broke into the old -words,-- - - “I’se a little Alabama Coon - - I hasn’t been born very long-” - -“Right you are,” laughed Harry, interrupting, “and a dear little coon -into the bargain, and who has been born quite long enough to make the -time tell.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Brevet, with puzzled frown. - -“Oh, I mean you’ve been born long enough to accomplish quite a great -deal, on the whole, {126}and the finest work you ever put in was up at -Little Homespun yesterday.” - -“You mean about asking Miss Courage to come back?” - -“Exactly. I think your name will always stick to you now--I’m sure I -shall never call you by any other----” - -“You mean my name. Brevet?” - -“Yes.” - -“But why? I do not quite understand,” for Brevet’s ideas had really -grown a little hazy as to the full meaning of his name. - -“Why, Joe gave you the name, you remember, because that is a title given -in the army simply as a reward of merit. You have the honour, that is, -of being a captain without the responsibility. Now it seems to me the -title belongs to you more than ever since yesterday afternoon. You -sailed right in and have won all the glory of persuading Miss Courage to -come back to Virginia, but I do not see that you have assumed a grain -of responsibility. It is a serious thing to have induced her to exchange -her home for ours. Now who’s going to see when she comes that she’s -always perfectly happy and contented, I’d like to know?” - -“You are the one to see to that, Uncle Harry. Isn’t that what husbands -have to do? Besides, I don’t think it’s fair to blame me {127}when you -yourself wanted her so much to come.” - -“_Blame!_ bless your dear little heart! who thought of blame for a -minute? Irresponsible little rascal though you be, you have earned your -proud title and _Brevet_ you shall be to the end of the chapter.” - -Brevet did not quite understand this either, but that did not matter. He -knew that he had succeeded in making everybody very happy, Uncle Harry -in particular, and for the present that was quite enough to know and to -understand. - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Homespun, by Ruth Ogden - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE HOMESPUN *** - -***** This file should be named 54763-0.txt or 54763-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/6/54763/ - -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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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: Little Homespun - -Author: Ruth Ogden - -Illustrator: Mabel Humphrey - -Release Date: May 23, 2017 [EBook #54763] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE HOMESPUN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - LITTLE HOMESPUN - </h1> - <h2> - By Ruth Ogden - </h2> - <h3> - (Mrs. Charles W. Ide) - </h3> - <h4> - Author Of “A Loyal Little Red-Coat” “A Little Queen Of Hearts” “His Little - Royal Highness” “Courage” etc. - </h4> - <h3> - With Numerous Original Illustrations By Mabel Humphrey - </h3> - <h4> - New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company - </h4> - <h3> - 1897 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0006.jpg" alt="0006 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0006.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ONE MOMENT PLEASE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>LITTLE HOMESPUN</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.—TWO OLD CRONIES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—COURAGE TAKES HEART. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—A DELIGHTFUL DISCOVERY. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—EVERYBODY HAPPY. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—HOWDY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI.—ARLINGTON BEFORE THE WAR. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—ARLINGTON AFTERWARD. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—TO SAVE BREVET. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—JOE HAS AN’ IDEA. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—BREVET SCORES A POINT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—A RED-LETTER AFTERNOON. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ONE MOMENT PLEASE. - </h2> - <p> - In a way, this book, “Little Homespun,” is a story quite by itself. In - another way it is a sequel to “Courage,” although you can “catch its - thread” without having read a line of “Courage.” Now some grown people, - and I presume some children, do not care for sequels at all, but I happen - to know that the children who are good enough to read and care for my - stories are fond of sequels. Those who have taken the trouble to write me, - in little letters that are worth their weight in gold many times over, - almost invariably ask for another book about the same people. Sometimes - they tell me just what to put into the new story and what name to give it. - So here lies my excuse if one is needed for writing “Little Homespun.” - Besides, I could hardly help it, for there seemed to be quite a little yet - to tell about Courage and Sylvia, and some new little friends of theirs. - And one thing more—everything in this story that has to do with real - people or actual events is absolutely true; a little book, named “Historic - Arlington,” giving most of the information needed. Even old black Joe has - his counterpart in Wesley Morris, one of the slaves of Mr. Custis, born on - the estate, and employed for many years following the war as a workman - about the grounds at Arlington. - </p> - <h3> - “RUTH OGDEN.” - </h3> - <p> - Oakdene - </p> - <p> - Sept. 1, 1897. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0013.jpg" alt="0013 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0013.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">001</span><a name="link001" id="link001"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - LITTLE HOMESPUN - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I.—TWO OLD CRONIES - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>UNE morning, clear - and cool as October, and everything far and near fairly revelling in the - early summer sunshine. The Potomac, blue as the sky above it, sparkling - and dancing, the new young leaves on the oak trees shimmering and shining - with the marvellous green of springtime, and the dear old Virginia - homestead, overhanging the river, never looking <span class="pagenum">002</span><a - name="link002" id="link002"></a>more homelike and attractive in all its - quiet life. The reason for this did not lie all in the sunshine either. - Just outside the door, on the wide gallery, a darling old lady sat - knitting, for as <i>darling</i> means “dearly beloved,” no other word - could so truly describe her. Everybody worshipped her and regarded her—as - well they might—with unspeakable devotion; for darling old ladies, - as you very well know, do not grow on every bush—quite to the - contrary—a great many old ladies (bless their tired old hearts!) - grow fretful and nervous and fussy, and are hard to please, not to say - cranky. But who would blame them for this for a minute? Just as likely as - not you and I will be cranky enough ourselves, when we have borne the - burden of fourscore years, and are pretty well worn out in mind and spirit - and body. But here was an old lady who was not worn out. Her hair was - white with “the incomparable whiteness of aged hair,” and there were the - indelible marks of age on the sweet, earnest face, but this dear old lady - was “sunny.” She had had her own full share of sorrows and worries, and - she had taken them all very much to heart—as people must whose - hearts are big enough to take things to at all—and as tender as - hearts really ought to be. But somehow or other, she had learned the <span - class="pagenum">003</span><a name="link003" id="link003"></a>secret of not - being overcome by the worries and the sorrows, and so, sitting there - knitting that peerless June morning, she and the sunshine together seemed - to glorify everything about them. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0015.jpg" alt="0015 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0015.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Presently a little specimen appeared in the doorway; a handsome little - fellow too, though he did not have any curls, as most children do who find - their way into story books, but his hair was golden, and, though cut quite - short, as he insisted upon having it, had a little trick of straying down - on his forehead in quite irresistible fashion. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what are we going to do to-day?” said his grandmother, gazing at - him as fondly as only fond grandmothers can. In response the little fellow - merely pointed to two straps of gold braid upon his shoulders, and looked - as though, really “grand<i>na</i>na” should have known better than to ask. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! beg pardon, Brevet, I was so intent upon my knitting I had not - noticed,” and she succeeded in foiling a smile that would at least have - proved annoying; for, as every one about the place knew, the gold - shoulder-straps, worn in imitation of a captain’s uniform in the army, - meant but one thing, and that was that Captain Joe was coming down to - carry Brevet-Captain up to Arlington for the day. Indeed at <span - class="pagenum">004</span><a name="link004" id="link004"></a>that moment a - cheery “How’dy, Brevet!” rang out on the still morning air, and at the - same moment a donkey and a two-wheeled cart driven by an old negro came to - a stand at the gate. - </p> - <p> - “How’dy, Captain, I’m ready for you. Been expecting you ev’ry minute since - breakfast. Good-bye, Gran<i>na</i>na, take good care of yourself,” and a - pair of chubby arms gave grandmamma just about as much of a hug as the old - lady could bear up under. - </p> - <p> - “Good-mornin’, Miss Lindy,” said Captain Joe, stepping up to the gate and - touching his cap deferentially. “I ’spose the little un tol’ you - I’d like him up to Arlington fur de day if you could spare him.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Joe,” answered Mrs. Ellis, smiling, “Brevet does not think that - necessary now-a-days. He simply dons the blue reefer with the - shoulder-straps, and that means he has his orders for the day from his - captain, and grandmammas are not expected to ask questions.” Brevet stood - by, his hands upon his hips in most independent fashion, as much as to - say, “That describes the case exactly.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I reckon he don’ mean no harm, Miss Lindy,” said Joe, a little - anxiously. “He’s dat much in earnest ’bout everythin’, dat he’s a - Brevet-Cap’n sure ’nuff when he gets his straps on.” <span - class="pagenum">005</span><a name="link005" id="link005"></a>"Oh, that’s - all right, Joe,”’ answered Mrs. Ellis, “but we’ll just send for you, if - the day comes when we need to court-martial him for insubordination.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet did not at all understand this last remark, and so, touching his - little blue cap in true soldier-fashion, turned on his heel and marched - down to the donkey-cart as though in command of an army. - </p> - <p> - “Brevet,” said Joe seriously, as they jogged away from the gate, “You mus’ - be ver’ careful ’bout bein’ spectful like to yo’ Grand<i>na</i>na, - case if you don’ dere’s no tellin’ but any day yo’ Cap’n ’ll take - away yo’ straps an’ den you’d jus’ be plain Marse Howard again I reckon.” - </p> - <p> - “Joe,” said Brevet solemnly, his voice trembling a little, “I could not - bear it if you took away my straps,” and he laid a little brown hand - protectingly upon one shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Well, den you have a care, Honey, ‘bout Miss Lindy, an’ de nex’ time Joe - invites you down to Arlington fur de day, you des ask yo’ Grand<i>na</i>na’s - permission. Yo’re my Brevet-Cap’n sure ’nuff, but you’re yo’ Grand<i>na</i>na’s - little pickaninny eb’ry day in de week, and don’ you forget it.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll remember, Captain,” with most soldierlike submission, and then for - awhile they drove along in silence. <span class="pagenum">006</span><a - name="link006" id="link006"></a>Happy thoughts of anticipation, however, - soon chased the troubled look from Brevet’s little face, for there was - nothing at all could compare with these occasional days spent with Joe at - Arlington. It was owing to them that he had gained his dearly-loved title - of Brevet and the blue soldier-cap and the shoulder-straps. Joe had been a - member of a coloured regiment and had fought all through the war, and when - at last he had come back and had settled down in his old cabin at - Arlington, he was dubbed Captain, in recognition of his gallant services, - by all the coloured folk of the neighbourhood. And Joe was by no means - unworthy of the honour, for save for the fact that his regiment had been - officered by white men, he might easily have risen to the command of a - company. Time and time again in the face of the greatest danger he had - been notoriously fearless, and had never in a single instance shown the - white feather, which is more than can be said for many of his black - comrades. And so from that time on it had been Captain Joe, and when some - thirty years later little Howard Ellis came to make his home with his - grandmother, and soon afterward came to know Joe, and to spend many a long - summer day in his delightful company, what more natural than that the - little fellow, with his <span class="pagenum">007</span><a name="link007" - id="link007"></a>great passion for everything military, should first - aspire to some of the outward insignia, and then, having attained cap and - shoulder-straps by favour of his grandmother, should later be dowered with - the title of “Brevet-Captain,” by favour of Captain Joe himself? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0021.jpg" alt="0021 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0021.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “You see it’s des de name fur you, Honey,” Joe had explained, “case it’ll - save any con-fus’n’ of us togedder, an’ at de same time it’s a very - complimentin’ title. It means es how you have it des as a sort of honour, - widout havin’ any of de ’sponsibilities of an out-an’-outer cap’n - like me.” - </p> - <p> - From that day forward it was “Brevet-Captain,” very tenaciously insisted - upon by Howard himself, but gradually allowed to be abbreviated to - “Brevet” within the home circle. And so Captain Joe and Brevet, having - long ago arrived at the most satisfactory mutual understanding, sat side - by side in the donkey-cart, without feeling the slightest obligation to - say a word. - </p> - <p> - The road from the Ellis homestead up to Arlington lies through the woods, - and has all the charm of a road that has been left to follow its own way—and - a sweet, wild way at that. There were no fences, either new or old, for - none were needed. On each side a forest of oak, interspersed with an - occasional maple or <span class="pagenum">008</span><a name="link008" - id="link008"></a>chestnut, stretched miles away, with seldom a glimpse of - a clearing, while immediately bordering the road grew the veriest tangle - of a natural hedge-row, abloom with some sort of sweet wild-flower from - May to October. The original cut through the wood had been happily a wide - one, and so sunshine and shower even, after all these years, still had - abundant chance to slant this way and that across the road and coax every - growing thing to perfection. Wood-violets, white and yellow and purple, - peered out from under the taller growths of fern in the early springtime. - June brought the sweet wild rose, unfolding bud after bud well into the - summer, and the white berry-blossoms of the briars. With August came the - berries themselves, ripening ungathered in riotous profusion, and - following close upon them advance heralds of the goldenrod and the asters. - It was in very truth a beautiful, dear old road, and it formed a beautiful - setting for the little donkey-drawn cart slowly making its way along it. A - pretty contrast, too, that of the old negro, still alert and sturdy - notwithstanding his threescore years and ten, with the little - golden-haired boy beside him. Together they seemed the embodiment of - happy, confiding childhood and trustful, serene old age. <span - class="pagenum">009</span><a name="link009" id="link009"></a>On came the - little cart, each of its occupants apparently intent upon his own - thoughts, until at last Brevet commenced humming a sweet little refrain; - very softly and slowly at first, as though not quite sure of his ground, - then more distinctly as he felt himself master of the situation. Finally - the refrain took to itself words; words that have since grown commonplace, - but which had all the charm of novelty for Joe, and he listened with - absorbed delight as Brevet sang cutely,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “I’se a little Alabama Coon - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And I hasn’t been born very long, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I ‘member seein’ a great big roun’ moon - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I ’member hearin’ one sweet song; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - When dey tote me down to de cotton-field, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Dar I roll and I tumble in de sun, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - While my daddy pick de cotton mammy watch - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - me grow, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And dis am de song she sung:” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Brevet paused for the briefest part of a second to see how Joe was taking - it. - </p> - <p> - “Go on, Honey, go on,” urged Joe. - </p> - <p> - “An’ dis am de song she sung:” repeated Brevet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Go to sleep my little pickaninny, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Br’er Fox’ll catch if yo’ don t; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Slumber on de bosom of yo’ ole Mammy Jinny - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Mammy’s gwine to swatch yo’ if yo’ won’t. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Sh—Lu-la, lu-la lu-la lu-la lu! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Underneaf de silver Southern moon, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, Mammy’s little baby, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Mammy’s little Alabama Coon.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">010</span><a name="link010" id="link010"></a>"Again, - Honey, again,” in a voice of actual command, so reluctant was Joe to have - his keen enjoyment for one moment interrupted, and Brevet obeyed, keeping - the air perfectly and singing with all his heart, too, as though himself a - veritable little pickaninny, dwelling upon the many happy memories of - babyhood in a cotton-field. - </p> - <p> - “I clar to yo’, Honey,” said Joe, his voice trembling with delight, “I can - just see dat little baby. Seems ter me I neber done hear anythin’ so - pretty, anythin’ dat fit each other like dat song an’ words. Whar eber did - yo’ Tarn it, Honey?” - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Harry taught it to me, Joe.” - </p> - <p> - “Are der any more verses, Honey?” - </p> - <p> - “There’s one more, Joe, but Uncle Harry says it’s so ordinary it doesn’t - belong with the first verse at all.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0027.jpg" alt="0027 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0027.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Well now, dat’s a pity,” said Joe, very regretfully, “but yo’ Uncle Harry - he do beat all for gettin’ hol’ of sweet, catchin’ music an’ I kin des - tell yo’, Honey, you done mus’ sing dat song to yo’ ole Cap’n eb’ry time - we fin’ ourselves togedder fur half a shake of a lamb’s <span - class="pagenum">011</span><a name="link011" id="link011"></a>tail. Gib us - yo’ han’ on it, Honey, dat you will.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet put his brown hand in Joe’s black one, his own face beaming with - the pleasure he had given, and so the two boon companions jogged on, - until, high on a hill before them, the pillars of a fine old house came - into view, and a few moments later the donkey-cart drew up at a little - cabin, just in the rear of the fine old house, a cabin that had been Joe’s - home ever since he was as little a fellow as Brevet there beside him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll look around while you put Jennie up,” explained Brevet, as soon as - Joe had lifted him from the cart, and putting his hands in his pockets he - walked up to the big house, straight through the hall, whose doors stood - wide open, and out on to the porch in front. Brevet simply loved “to look - around,” from that porch, and I do not think he ever stood there without - his resolve to be a soldier some day surging up in a strong, new tide - within him. Some of the rest of us, who are quite too old ever to think of - being soldiers, and whose petticoats must at any age have stood in the - way, know exactly how Brevet felt. You know, too, if you have ever been to - Arlington, and, having been born and bred in these United States of ours, - are the true little <span class="pagenum">012</span><a name="link012" - id="link012"></a>American you really ought to be. But in case you never <i>have</i> - been to Arlington, and do not at all know why it should make you feel that - you would like to be a soldier, then let me tell you before you have read - another single line, that Arlington is the great National Cemetery, lying - a few miles out from Washington, and where more than fifteen thousand - soldiers lie buried. From the moment you enter the beautiful grounds, you - see the low mounds stretching away on every side of you, and when you - drive up in front of Arlington House itself, there is brave General - Sheridan’s tomb right in front of you, so you cannot forget for a moment - what a host of noble heroes they were, who fought in our great civil war - thirty years ago, and how grand a thing it is lo be willing to lay down - one’s life if need be, for the honour of one’s country. But perhaps you - wonder that there should be a fine old house in a cemetery, and that - Brevet should so love to go there, thinking a cemetery for your part - rather sad and depressing, and wonder too why Joe should have chosen such - a place for his home; all of which wonders it would take too much time to - explain in this chapter, a chapter that was only meant to introduce you to - Brevet and the Captain, so good-bye for just now to Arlington. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">013</span><a name="link013" id="link013"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II.—COURAGE TAKES HEART. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his time, as - before, there is a story to tell because of something braved and dared for - Miss Julia’s sake; something that needed less nerve, perhaps, than the - leap Courage took that night on the drawbridge, but something that called - not only for a world of a different sort of courage, but for infinite - patience as well, and that claimed the whole summer for its doing. The - reason for it all lay in four little words—Miss Julia was dead. - Beautiful, strong, radiant Miss Julia! why, no one had thought of death - for her, save as years and years away in the serene twilight of a calm old - age; and yet it had come, suddenly, after a week’s brief illness, and - Courage was simply broken-hearted. She felt she had no right to her name - now, and never should have again. Miss Julia had been teacher, mother, - friend to her, one or the other almost since her babyhood, and to care for - Miss Julia in return, now that she herself was grown up, to let every - thing else “come second,” had been her only <span class="pagenum">014</span><a - name="link014" id="link014"></a>thought. And now to find her hands - suddenly empty, and all the sunshine gone out of her life—was it - strange that she felt despairing and desolate and that nothing whatever - was left? - </p> - <p> - “But we are left,” pleaded a chorus of little voices, and Courage seemed - to see four brighteyed little children; bright-eyed because God had made - them so, but with faces almost as sad as her own. “Yes, we are left,” they - continued pleading. “Miss Julia was going to do so much for us this - summer; could not you do it in her place for her sake?” - </p> - <p> - Courage shook her head gravely as in answer to her own thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “No, I cannot,” she said, firmly. “Everything that I leaned on is gone; - nothing is left to me—nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “But could you not try just for her sake?” chorused the little voices over - and over in her heart, day after day, in all the sad hours of waking, and - sometimes even in sleeping, until at last she bravely brushed the tears - away and made answer, “Yes, for her sake I will!” - </p> - <p> - She remembered the day of her six-year-old christening, when her - remarkable name had been given her and she had asked: “Is courage - something that people have, Papa? Have I got it?” and he had told her, - “Courage is <span class="pagenum">015</span><a name="link015" id="link015"></a>something - that people have, dear, something fine, and I hope you will have it.” - </p> - <p> - Yes, she would try, even in this dark hour, to live up to her father’s - hope for her, and so her resolve was taken. - </p> - <p> - But the four bright-eyed little children knew nothing of any resolve; they - would not have understood what it meant if they had, and as for their - singing a pathetic little chorus in any one’s heart, they were altogether - unconscious of that as well. But one thing they did know, and that was - they should never see Miss Julia again in this world, and they thought - they also knew that a beautiful plan she had made for them could never be - carried out. The wisest thing, therefore, for these four little people was - to put, so far as possible, all thought of the plan from their minds, and - Mary, the eldest of the four, said as much to the others. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don’t let us think about it any more,” she urged, earnestly. “If we - only could have Miss Julia back what would we care for anything else? - Besides, when you think what has happened, it seems selfish, and as though - we did not have any hearts, to grieve over our own little plans for a - moment.” - </p> - <p> - “But it wasn’t just over our own little plan,” insisted her younger - brother Teddy, “it was <span class="pagenum">016</span><a name="link016" - id="link016"></a>Miss Julia’s plan for us, and I don’t think it strange a - bit that we should grieve over it.” - </p> - <p> - “Neither do I,” urged Allan, who came next to Teddy in age. “Of course us - boys, not going to the sewing-school, did not know Miss Julia as well as - you, but I just guess there wasn’t a boy who thought more of her than I - did. What’s more I loved her; not making a fuss over her, to be sure, like - you girls, still I did really love her,” (emphasising the word by a shake - of his head, and firm pursing of his lips). “All the same, I think it’s - natural we should feel awfully disappointed.” Gertrude who was seven, and - the youngest of the four, nodded in approval of the stand Allan had taken, - and continued nodding, as he added, “We haven’t travelled so much, seems - to me, or had so much change in our lives as to settle back to the idea of - a hot summer here in town, instead of going to the country, without - feeling it a bit; that is, I don’t think we have.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Mary sighed and said nothing, as though ready to admit, after all, that - perhaps it was natural that they should take their disappointment somewhat - to heart, but the tears that had sprung suddenly into her eyes were from - real longing for Miss Julia and not from the disappointment. - </p> - <p> - This quiet talk in which the little Bennetts <span class="pagenum">017</span><a - name="link017" id="link017"></a>were indulging, was being carried on from - the backs of two horses—the two girls mounted upon one and the two - boys astride the other—but they happened to be the quietest horses - in the world; horses that never budged in fact, tailless and headless, and - that belonged to the carpenter who lived on the first floor. The Bennetts - lived on the top floor; but whenever there was anything to be talked over, - down they trooped to the yard and climbed and helped each other to the - backs of these high seats, and when all were able to declare themselves - perfectly comfortable the conclave would commence. The little Bennetts - were great talkers. They simply loved to discuss things, and this shows, - when you stop to consider it, that they must be, on the whole, an amiable - little family, for some little people that we hear of are quite too - impatient and self-assertive to be willing to discuss things at all. But - whatever may have been the faults of the little Bennetts they did have - respect for each other’s opinions, and were generally ready to admit that - two heads were better than one, and “Four heads,” to quote little - Gertrude, “four times as better.” This habit of discussion, for it really - amounted to that, was partly no doubt the outcome of a little strategy on - the part of their mother. Mary and Teddy and Allan and Gertrude were <span - class="pagenum">018</span><a name="link018" id="link018"></a>just a “pair - of steps,” as the saying goes, and sometimes the little living-room on the - fourth floor seemed all too small for the noisy company, and then Mrs. - Bennett would exclaim, and as though the most novel sort of an idea had - occurred to her: - </p> - <p> - “Children, why don’t you run down to the yard and have a <i>good talk?</i>” - </p> - <p> - There was no resisting this appeal, such untold delights were implied in - Mrs. Bennett’s tone and manner, and the children seldom failed to act upon - the advice, and what was more, seldom failed to light upon some - interesting thing to talk about; and then, always as a last resort, some - one could tell a story. The some one was generally Teddy, for he had the - wildest imagination, and could upon any and every occasion invent most - thrilling romances, which were quite as much of a surprise to himself as - to his hearers. And so the children had come to love their perch in the - corner of the city yard, with the uncertain shade of an old alanthus - flickering over them in summer, and the bright sun streaming full upon - them in its leafless winter days. And this was how it chanced that the - Bennett children found themselves in their old haunt that breezy May - morning, and were easing their heavy little hearts by frankly admitting to - one <span class="pagenum">019</span><a name="link019" id="link019"></a>another - how very great indeed was their disappointment. - </p> - <p> - Better so, I think. Wrinkles come earlier and plow deeper, and thoughts - are apt to grow bitter and morbid, when one broods and broods, and will - not take hearts near and dear into one’s confidence. The day never dawns - when truly brave hearts cry out for pity, but sympathy is a sweet and - blessed thing the world over, and God meant not only that we should have - it, but that, if need be, we should reach our hands and grasp it. - </p> - <p> - There was one little Bennett, however, who did not share in the general - depression. Too short a time in the world to know aught of its joys or - sorrows, Baby Bennett lay comfortably in his mother’s lap, having just - dropped off to sleep after a good half hour of rocking, Mrs. Bennett, who - had herself grown drowsy with her low crooning over the baby, glanced - first at the bustling little clock on the mantel shelf, and then, leaning - her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes; but instead of - falling asleep she fell to thinking, and then her face grew very sad and - tears made their way from beneath her closed eyelids. So, you see, the - mother-heart was heavy as well as the-child-hearts in the Bennett family, - and for the same reason. It was not because they were <span class="pagenum">020</span><a - name="link020" id="link020"></a>not learning to face and accept the - thought that Miss Julia, whom they so dearly loved, could not return to - them; they were trying to be as brave as Miss Julia herself would have had - them. But this was the day, the very day that they were all to have - started, and they could not seem to forget it for a moment; neither could - somebody else, and soon there came a gentle knock at Mrs. Bennett’s door. - </p> - <p> - “Come in,” she answered, forgetting the tears in her eyes; and, laying the - baby in its little clothes-basket of a bed, she turned to greet the - newcomer. Courage had mounted the four flights of stairs very bravely, but - the sight of the tears in Mrs. Bennett’s eyes disarmed her, and, sinking - into the nearest chair, she found she would best not try to speak for a - moment. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Courage, that you should have seen me,” said Mrs. - Bennett, with a world of regret in her voice; “it is so much harder for - you than for anybody, but this was the day, you know, almost the very - hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know,” Courage faltered; “that was why I came.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s like you, Miss Courage; you’ve Miss Julia’s own thoughtfulness, but - I’m thinking it will be easier for us all when this day’s over. I got rid - of the trunk last week; it seemed to <span class="pagenum">021</span><a - name="link021" id="link021"></a>make us all so disheartened to have it - standing round.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t sell it, did you?” - </p> - <p> - “No, indeed I did not, for it may be the children will have a chance yet - some day, for a bit of an outing.” - </p> - <p> - “I have decided they are all to have it yet, Mrs. Bennett, this very - summer, and just as Miss Julia planned, too. That’s what I came to tell - you, if you will trust them to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Trust you! Oh, my dear! but it would be too much care for those young - shoulders; too much by far.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Bennett,” said Courage, so earnestly as to carry conviction, “I - thought so at first, too, but the plan has grown to be just as dear to me - as it was to Miss Julia, and now, if you do not let me carry it out, I do - not see how I can ever live through this first summer.” - </p> - <p> - “Then indeed I will let you,” and then she added slowly, and with an - accent on every word, “and you are just Miss Julia’s own child!” and - Courage thought them the very sweetest words she had ever heard, or ever - could hear again. - </p> - <p> - “May I tell the children?” she asked, eagerly. “Where are they?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Bennett did not answer. I believe she could not, but she opened the - window and <span class="pagenum">022</span><a name="link022" id="link022"></a>Courage - knew that meant the children were below in their favourite corner. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, let me call them, please,” resting one hand on Mrs. Bennett’s arm and - leaning far out over the sill. - </p> - <p> - “Children! come up stairs for a moment, I have something to tell you. Come - up quickly.” Courage hardly knew her own voice, it rang out so cheerily. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Miss Courage!” chorused four little voices, only this time the sound - was in her ears as well as in her heart, and as she watched the children - tumble helter-skelter from the horses in the yard way down below her, a - smile that was almost merry drove the shadows from her face. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0042.jpg" alt="0042 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0042.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">023</span><a name="link023" id="link023"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III.—A DELIGHTFUL DISCOVERY. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hy, whatever’s - going on here?” exclaimed Brevet. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” said Joe, turning slowly round, for he knew what had attracted - Brevet’s attention. “I done notice it on de way up ter Ellismere fo’ you - dis mornin’, an’ den I was so took up with dat fascinatin’ song of yo’s as - we drove back, dat I didn’t want to interrupt you long ’nuff to - call yo’ attention to it. Looks as dough dere mus’ be some one come ter - live in de pretty little house, doesn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, it does,” said Brevet, very much interested; “and you don’t - know who it is, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I hasn’t knowed nuffin’ ’bout it, till I seed de whole place - lookin’ so pert like dis mornin’,” and Joe brought old Jennie to a - standstill that they might more fully take in the situation. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you think I ought to find out, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, Honey, seems ter me it would <span class="pagenum">024</span><a - name="link024" id="link024"></a>be sort of frien’ly,” and suiting the - action to the word he took Brevet by the arms and dropped him down over - the cart-wheel. - </p> - <p> - The change that had come over this point in the road was indeed - remarkable. A little house that had remained untenanted for years, in the - midst of an overgrown enclosure, stood this bright June morning with every - door and window open to the air and sunshine. The vines which had half - hidden it from view had already been cut away, and on every hand were - signs that the place was being brought into liveable shape with all - possible expedition. No one was in sight, so Brevet noiselessly pushed - open the gate, and, making his way to the little front porch, reached - upward and lifted the brass knocker of the open door. The unexpected sound - instantly brought a neatly-dressed, elderly-looking woman from some room - in the rear. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0045.jpg" alt="0045 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0045.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “How’dy,” said Brevet, instantly put at his ease by the kindness of the - woman’s face. - </p> - <p> - “What did you say, dear?” she asked, with a puzzled frown. - </p> - <p> - “I said how’dy,” explained Brevet, wondering that the woman’s face still - wore the puzzled look. “We just stopped to ask who was coming. We go by - here very often, Joe and I,” pointing to the cart, “and we were <span - class="pagenum">025</span><a name="link025" id="link025"></a>wondering - what was up seeing this place open that’s been closed so long.” - </p> - <p> - “It can’t be that Miss Julia’s self is a comin’ can it?” called Joe, for - the little house was not set so far back from the road but that he could - hear every word spoken between the woman and Brevet. - </p> - <p> - “Why, did you know Miss Julia?” she asked, stepping at once to the gate, - with Brevet following close behind her. - </p> - <p> - “No, Miss; dat is not personally, but I knowed dat Miss Julia owned dis - little plantation, an’ I often wonder dat she never done come to live on - it. I can ‘member when her Uncle Dave was livin’, an’ it was den des de <i>homiest</i> - little homestead in de country.” - </p> - <p> - “You have not heard then of Miss Julia’s death?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” exclaimed Joe, with as much feeling in his voice as though Miss - Julia had indeed been an old friend; “you don’ tell me! I’se often heard - what a reg’lar lady she was, and often wished I done have a chance to lay - eyes on her.” - </p> - <p> - “She was a very good friend to me,” said the woman, sorrowfully, “and she - had expected to come down here this summer and open the house, and bring a - little family of city children with her who had never spent a day in the - real country in their lives.” <span class="pagenum">026</span><a - name="link026" id="link026"></a>"You don’t say so!” said Joe, shaking his - head sadly. “It’s strange what times de Lord chooses to call de good folks - out of dis worl’.” And then he added, after a moment of respectful - silence, “But de place here, am it sold to some new party?” - </p> - <p> - “No; Miss Julia left it in her will to a young lady who was just the same - as a daughter to her, and she has decided to come down in Miss Julia’s - place this summer.” - </p> - <p> - “And bring the little children?” asked Brevet, eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “And bring the little children,” answered the woman, her face brightening. - “I have come down to make everything ready for them, and they are coming - on Friday.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, do you think I could know them?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course you can know them. You must come and see them so soon as ever - they come. But you must tell me your name so that I can tell them about - you.” - </p> - <p> - “My name is Howard Ellis, but that name isn’t any use now. Everybody calls - me Brevet since I and the Captain here have grown to be such friends. It - means kind of an officer in the army, and when I grow up I’m going to West - Point and learn how to be a real officer, and not just kind of a one at - all. But till then everybody’s going to call me Brevet. And <span - class="pagenum">027</span><a name="link027" id="link027"></a>now what is - your name please, and the children’s, because I want to tell my grand<i>na</i>na - all about you?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, my name is Mary Duff, dear, and the children are named Bennett—Mary - and Teddy and Allan and Gertrude Bennett.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, are two of them boys?” and Brevet’s face was radiant. “I haven’t had - a boy to play with ever hardly, but I s’pose they’re older boys than me,” - he added, a little crestfallen; “almost all boys are.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Teddy is not very much older, just a little, and Allan is just - about your age I should say. Never you fear, Brevet, you’ll have beautiful - times with them all, I know.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “When shall I come then?” wishing to have matters very definitely - arranged. “Do you think they would like to have me here to help them feel - at home right off at the very first?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I should not wonder but they would like that very much indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I will come on Friday.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean you will ask your gran<i>na</i>na, Brevet,” said Joe, - significantly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes; I mean I will ask if I may come.” This last very quickly and - eagerly, remembering his little lecture of the morning. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s des a comfort to see de ole place in shape once more, an’ I - trus’ you an’ de <span class="pagenum">028</span><a name="link028" - id="link028"></a>young lady an’ de chilluns will have des a beautiful - summer. P’r’aps some day,” and Joe’s eyes twinkled with the thought, - “dey’ll all come up and spen’ de day with me at Arlington. Brevet here - alway des loves to come. You know Arlington’s where all de soldiers am - buried. I used to be a slave on de place ‘fo’ de wah, an’ dere ain’t much - happened dere fur de las’ fifty years dat I hasn’t some knowledge of, and - dey done tell me” (indulging in a little complacent chuckle) “dat it’s - mighty interestin’ ter spen’ de day with Joe at Arlington.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, indeed I should think it would be,” said Mary, very much - interested, “and I wish you would stop and see Miss Courage about it the - first time you drive by.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you very much, Miss; and now. Brevet, your gran<i>na</i>na will be - watchin’ fur us an’ we had bes’ be joggin’ on I’m thinkin’.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, Captain,” clambering into the cart, and then Joe and Brevet - courteously touched their caps, in true military fashion, and old Jenny - jogged on. - </p> - <p> - “Miss <i>Courage</i> did she say?” asked Brevet, the moment they were out - of hearing, just as Joe knew he would. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; it soun’ like dat, Honey, but some day we must make inquiries. Dere - mus’ be some ‘splanation of a name like dat.” - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">029</span><a name="link029" id="link029"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV.—EVERYBODY HAPPY. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is strange and - beautiful,” thought Courage as she moved busily about her room, putting - one thing and another into a trunk that stood open before the fireplace; - “strange and beautiful how difficulties take to themselves wings, when you - once make up your mind what is right to do and then go straight ahead and - do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Courage,” said a young coloured girl, who was leaning over the bed - trying to fold a black dress in a fashion that should leave no creases to - show for its packing, “I felt all along there was nothing else for you to - do.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, Sylvia, why did you not say so?” Courage asked, a little sharply. - “You knew how hard it was for me to come to any decision. It was not - because you were afraid to say so, was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Afraid?” and a merry look shone for a moment in Sylvia’s eyes. “No, I - don’t believe I ever could grow afraid of the little curly-headed girl I - used to work for when we <span class="pagenum">030</span><a name="link030" - id="link030"></a>were both children together. No, indeed; it was only - because I thought you ought to see it so yourself. It seemed as though it - was just as plain a duty as the hand before your face, and I felt sure you - would come to it, as you have, if we only gave you time enough.” It was a - comfort to Courage to feel that Sylvia so thoroughly understood her. - Indeed, they were far more to each other than mistress and maid; they were - true friends these two, whose only home for a while had been Larry Starr’s - brave lighter, and for both of whom he had cared in the same kind, - fatherly way. Of course you do not understand about Larry or Larry’s - lighter, unless you have read “Courage,” but then on the other hand there - is no reason why you need to understand. Nor was Sylvia the only one who - approved of what Courage had done. The Elversons, Miss Julia’s brother and - his wife, and with whom Courage and Miss Julia had lived, were as glad as - glad could be to have Courage carry out Miss Julia’s plan; and so in fact - was everybody who saw how sad and lonely Courage was, and what a blessing - anything that would occupy her thoughts must be to her. And so, in the - light of all this, you can see how sad it would have been if Courage had - yielded to her fears, and persistently turned away <span class="pagenum">031</span><a - name="link031" id="link031"></a>from a duty, in very truth as plain as the - hand before your face, as Sylvia had put it. But Courage had not turned - away, nor for one instant wavered from the moment her resolve was taken. - </p> - <p> - And now at last the day for the start had dawned. The little Bennetts had - been awake at sunrise. Fancy having three months of Christmas ahead of you—for - it seemed just as fine as that to them. It was a wonder they had slept at - all. They had read about brooks and hills and valleys, and woods where all - manner of beautiful wild things were growing; of herds of cow’s grazing in - grassy pastures; of loads of hay with children riding atop of them, and of - the untold delights of a hay-loft. And now they were going to know and - enjoy every one of these delights for themselves. Why, they could not even - feel sad about leaving their mother, and indeed she was as radiant as they - at the thought of their going. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” she explained to them, “I shall have the baby for company, and - such a beautiful time to rest; and your father and I will take a sail now - and then down the bay, or go to the park for the day in the very warm - weather; and then it is going to be such a comfort to have your father - home for two whole months, and that couldn’t have happened <span - class="pagenum">032</span><a name="link032" id="link032"></a>either, you - know, if you had not been going away for the summer.” The children’s - father, Captain Bennett, was one of the pilots who earn their living by - bringing the great ocean steamers into the harbour, and often he would be - aboard the pilot-boat, at sea for weeks at a time, waiting his turn to - take the helm of one of the incoming steamers, and then, as like as not, - he would have to put straight to sea again, for there were many to keep, - and there was need for every hard-earned dollar. But the Captain’s chance - for a vacation had come with the children’s. He could afford to take it, - since four of his little family were to be provided for, for the entire - summer, and so every one was happy and every one believed that somehow - Miss Julia must know and be so glad for them all. - </p> - <p> - But this was the day for the start, as I told you, and the children had - started. They were in the waiting-room at the foot of Cortlandt Street, - where Courage was to meet them. - </p> - <p> - “And here she is,” exclaimed Mary, with a great sigh of relief, being the - first to espy Courage coming through the gate of the ferry-house, “and - doesn’t she look lovely!” Mary was right; Courage did look lovely as, with - Sylvia close behind her, she walked the length of the waiting-room to - where the little group <span class="pagenum">033</span><a name="link033" - id="link033"></a>were standing. Other people thought so too, as she - passed, and watched her with keenest interest. Her stylish black dress and - black sailor hat were wonderfully becoming, and the face that had been so - pale and sad was flushed with pleasure now, and with the rather - uncomfortable consciousness that she and her little party could scarcely - fail to be the observed of all observers. Mrs. Bennett was there, of - course, to see them off, and the baby and the Captain, and it must be - confessed that the eyes of both father and mother grew a little misty as - they said “Good-bye” to their little flock. The girl contingent was a - trifle misty, too, but the baby was the only one who really cried - outright. However, I half believe that was because he wanted a banana that - hung in a fruit stand near by, and not at all because the children were - going to leave him; some babies seem to have so very little feeling. But - now it was time to go aboard the boat, and the Captain and Mrs. Bennett - saw the last of the little party as they disappeared within the ferry-boat - cabin, and then in fifteen minutes more the same little party was ranged - along one side of a parlor car on the “Washington Limited”; then the - wheels slowly and noiselessly commenced to turn and they were really off; - all of the little party’s hearts thrilling <span class="pagenum">034</span><a - name="link034" id="link034"></a>with the thought, and all sitting up as - prim as you please, in their drawing-room chairs, quite overawed with the - magnificence of their surroundings and the unparalleled importance of the - occasion. - </p> - <p> - Courage, very much amused, watched them for a few moments and then - suggested that they should settle themselves for the journey. Bags were - stowed away in the racks overhead, coats and hats banished to coat hooks, - and one thing and another properly adjusted, until at last four little - pair of hands having placed four little footstools at exactly the desired - angle, four pair of brand-new russet shoes found a resting-place rather - conspicuously atop of them, and the four children leaned comfortably back - in the large, upholstered chairs as though now at last permanently - established for the entire length of the journey. But of course no amount - of adjusting and arranging really meant anything of that sort, or that - they could be able to sit still for more than five minutes at a time, and - Courage and Sylvia soon had to put their wits to work to think up ways of - keeping the restless little company in some sort of order. But fortunately - none of the fellow-passengers appeared disturbed thereby. On the contrary, - they seemed very much interested, and finally a handsome <span - class="pagenum">035</span><a name="link035" id="link035"></a>old gentleman - came down the aisle, and leaning over the chair in which Courage was - sitting, said courteously: - </p> - <p> - “My dear young lady, if you will pardon an old man’s curiosity, and do not - for any reason mind telling me, I should very much like to know what you - are doing, and where you are going with this little family?” - </p> - <p> - “And I am very glad to tell you,” answered Courage cordially, for since - that summer spent with Larry there had always been such a very warm corner - in her heart for all old people; and Teddy, who was sitting next to - Courage, had the grace to offer the old gentleman a chair. Then for some - time he listened intently, his kind old face glowing with pleasure as - Courage told him all about the children, and finally of the cosy little - cottage awaiting their coming down in Virginia. - </p> - <p> - “But in doing all this,” Courage concluded, “I am simply carrying out the - plans of my dearest friend, Miss Julia Everett.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you don’t mean it!” the old gentleman exclaimed, his voice trembling. - “I knew Miss Everett well. She always stopped with me when she came to - Washington.” - </p> - <p> - “Can it be that you are old Colonel Anderson?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am Colonel Anderson, and I suppose <span class="pagenum">036</span><a - name="link036" id="link036"></a>I am old,” he added, smiling; “and can it - be you are young Miss Courage, of whom I have heard so often?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am Courage, but you will excuse me, won’t you, for speaking as I - did? I only had happened to hear Miss Julia——” - </p> - <p> - Courage hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, dear child, I understand perfectly. You used to hear Miss Julia - speak of me as old Colonel Anderson, and so I am, and I am not ashamed of - it either, although I could not resist the temptation to tease you a - little, which was very rude of me. But now, can it be that it is to Miss - Julia’s estate near Arlington that you are going—to the home that - her Uncle Everett left her when she was just a little slip of a girl, - years before the war?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that is exactly where, but I have never seen it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you will love it when you do. It is the dearest little spot in the - world. I will drive out some day and take luncheon with you and the - children, if I should happen to have an invitation. I could tell you some - interesting things about the old place.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, will you come?” exclaimed Mary and Gertrude in one breath, for with a - curiosity as pardonable, I think, as that of old Mr. Anderson, all of the - children had grouped themselves <span class="pagenum">037</span><a - name="link037" id="link037"></a>about Courage, and had listened with - keenest interest to every word spoken. And so one more happy anticipation - was added to the many with which their happy hearts were overflowing. - </p> - <p> - At last the train steamed into Washington, although at times it had seemed - to the children as though it never would, and then a carriage was soon - secured, and, three on a seat, the little party crowded into it, and they - were off for their eight mile drive to Arlington. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">038</span><a name="link038" id="link038"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V.—HOWDY - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd meantime what - excitement in the little cottage down in Virginia! Everything was in - readiness and everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. Everybody meant - Mary Duff, (it was she, you know, who had cared for little Courage through - all her babyhood, and who had been sent down to get everything in order), - and besides Mary Duff, Mary Ann the cook, old Joe and Brevet. - </p> - <p> - It must be confessed, Brevet had had a little difficulty in winning his - grandmother’s consent to this visit, but he had been able to meet every - objection with such convincing arguments, that he had come off victor in - the encounter. - </p> - <p> - “You see, Grand<i>na</i>na,” he had confidentially explained, with his - pretty little half-southern, half-darkey accent, “I is a perfec’ stranger - to them now I know, but then everything is strange to them down here, so - don’t you s’pose it would be nice for me to be right there waiting at the - gate, where I can call out <span class="pagenum">039</span><a - name="link039" id="link039"></a>‘How’dy’ just so soon as ever they come in - sight, and so for me not to be a stranger to them more’n the first minute, - and have them find there are folks here who are very glad to know them - right from the start? Besides, the lady—Mary Duff was her name—told - me she just knew those little Bennetts would love to see me, and that she - would surely expect me down to-day for certain.” - </p> - <p> - And so “Grand<i>na</i>na” succumbed, not having the heart to nip such - noble hospitality in the bud, and at two o’clock precisely, the best - carriage wheeled up to the door and Mammy and Brevet were quickly stowed - away within it, to say nothing of a basketful of good things covered with - a huge napkin of fine old damask. But who is Mammy? you ask, and indeed - you should have been told pages ago, for no one for many years had been - half so important as Mammy in the Ellis household. She is an old negro - woman, almost as old as Joe himself, and when on the first of January, - 1863, President Lincoln issued the proclamation that made all the slaves - free, she was among the first to turn her back upon the plantation where - she was raised, and make her way to Washington. It was there that Mrs. - Ellis had found her, when in search of a nurse for her two little boys, - and from that day to this she has been the faithful worshipper of the - whole Ellis family. Now in her old age her one and only duty has been to - care for Brevet, a care constantly lessening as that little fellow daily - proves his ability to look out more and more for himself. - </p> - <p> - Brevet was not to be allowed, however, on the occasion of this first visit - to their new neighbours, to make the trip alone. “Grand<i>na</i>na” had - been very firm about that, somewhat to his chagrin, and so, if the truth - be told, Mammy’s presence in the comfortable, old-fashioned carriage was - at first simply tolerated. But that state of affairs did not last long. - Try as he would, Brevet was too happy at heart to cherish any grievance, - imaginary or otherwise, for many minutes together; and soon he and Mammy - were chatting away in the merriest fashion, and the old nurse was looking - forward to the unusual excitement of the day, with quite as much - expectation as her little charge of seven. Had she not devoted the leisure - of two long mornings of preparation to the shelling of almonds and the - stoning of raisins, and then when the day came, with eager trembling - hands, packed all the good things away in the great, roomy hamper that - seemed now to look at her so <span class="pagenum">041</span><a - name="link041" id="link041"></a>complacently from the opposite seat of the - phaeton? Yes, indeed, it was every whit as glad a day for Mammy as Brevet, - and she peered out from the carriage just as anxiously as they drove up to - the gate and Mary Duff came out to greet them. But Mammy had something to - say before making any motion to leave the carriage. - </p> - <p> - “Are you quite sure, Miss, dat dis yere little pickaninny of ours ain’t - gwine to be in any one’s way or nuffin?” she asked, bowing a how-do-you-do - to Mary, and keeping a restraining hand upon Brevet. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, perfectly sure.” - </p> - <p> - “He done told us you wanted him very much,” but in a half-questioning - tone, as though what Brevet “done told them” was sometimes “suspicioned” - of being slightly coloured by what he himself would like to do, - notwithstanding his general high standard of truthfulness. - </p> - <p> - “Brevet is perfectly right—we do want him very much,” Mary answered, - heartily. - </p> - <p> - “Even if you have to take his old Mammy ‘long wid him, kase Miss Lindy - wasn’t quite willin to ‘low him ter come by hisself?” - </p> - <p> - “And we’re very glad to see you, Mammy,” Mary answered cordially, and so - the last of Mammy’s scruples, which were not as real as <span - class="pagenum">042</span><a name="link042" id="link042"></a>Mammy herself - tried to think them, were put to rest, and Brevet was permitted to - scramble out of the carriage, while Mary Duff lent a hand to Mammy’s more - difficult alighting. - </p> - <p> - “Is dere ere a man ‘bout could lift dis yere basket ter de house for us?” - she asked, looking helplessly up to the hamper, “kase Daniel dere has - instructions from de Missus neber to leave de hosses less’n dere ain’t no - way to help it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I guess dere is,” chuckled a familiar voice behind her back, and - Mammy turned to discover Joe close beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I klar, you heah!” she exclaimed. “Why, it seems like de whole - county turn out to welcome dese yere little Bennetts. Seems, too, like - some of us goin’ to be in de way sure ‘nuff.” - </p> - <p> - “Howsomever, some on us don’ take up so much room as oders,” grunted Joe, - surmising, and quite correctly, too, that Mammy considered his presence on - the scene something wholly unnecessary and undesirable. “I’se heah to help - wid de trunks, Mammy,” he then added; “what you heah to help wid?” - </p> - <p> - Mammy, scorning the insinuation, turned to Mary Duff as they walked up the - path. - </p> - <p> - “You know, Honey, de Lord ain’t lef’ no choice ter most on us as ter what - size we’ll be, <span class="pagenum">043</span><a name="link043" - id="link043"></a>but pears like you’d better be a fat ole Mammy like me, - than such a ole bag o’ bones as Joe yonder.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0067.jpg" alt="0067 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0067.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - But Joe by that time was depositing his basket in the hall-way of the - cottage, and was fortunately quite beyond the fire of this personal - attack. Mary Duff was naturally much amused at the real but harmless - jealousy of these old coloured folk, and realised for perhaps the five - hundredth time what children we all are, be race and nationality what they - may. - </p> - <p> - Meantime Brevet had taken his position on the top rail of the gate, with - one arm around a slim little cedar that stood guard beside it. - </p> - <p> - “May I stand right out here, Miss Duff,” he called back to Mary, “so as to - see them a long way off?” - </p> - <p> - “Bless your heart, yes!” Mary answered, quite certain in her mind that - since Courage herself was a little girl she never had seen such a dear - child. Brevet’s watch was a brief one. - </p> - <p> - “They are coming! Hear the wheels! They are coming,” he cried exultingly, - with almost the next breath. In just two minutes more they really <i>had - come</i>, and Brevet was calling out “How’dy, how’dy, how’dy” at the top - of his strong little lungs, to the wide-eyed <span class="pagenum">044</span><a - name="link044" id="link044"></a>amazement of the Bennetts, who had never - heard this Southern abbreviation of the Northern “How-do-you-do.” Then - jumping down from his perch, he ran up to the carriage, repeating over - again his cordial welcoming “How’dy.” - </p> - <p> - “How’dy, dear little stranger!” replied Courage, waving a greeting to - Mary; “and who are you I would like to know?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m Howard Stanhope Ellis, but that’s not what you’re to call me, I have - another name. It’s the name they give—” but he did not finish his - sentence, for charming little fellow though he was, he could not be - allowed to monopolise things in this fashion, and Mary gently pushed him - aside to get him out of her way. - </p> - <p> - “And so here you are at last,” she said joyously; “welcome home, Miss - Courage. How are you, Sylvia?” while she bent down with a cordial kiss for - each friendly little Bennett. Meantime Courage was making friends with - Brevet, and a moment later the children were crowding close about him. - </p> - <p> - “My, but I’m glad to see you all,” he exclaimed, with an emphasising shake - of his head, “and I think I know who’s who too. I believe this is - Gertrude,” laying one little brown hand on Gertrude’s sleeve, “and you are - Mary, because Mary’s the oldest, and you <span class="pagenum">045</span><a - name="link045" id="link045"></a>Teddy, because Teddy comes next, and you—you - are Allan.” Brevet had learned his lesson from Mary Duff quite literally - by heart, and altogether vanquished by his’ joyous, friendly greeting, the - children vied with each other in giving him the loudest kiss and the very - hardest hug, but from that first moment of meeting it was an accepted fact - that Allan held first place. There was no gainsaying the special - joyousness of his “And you—you are Allan.” The boy play-fellow for - whom he had hitherto longed in vain had come, and to little Brevet it - seemed as though the millennium had come with him. - </p> - <p> - All this while Joe and Mammy, barely tolerating each other’s presence, - waited respectfully in the background, so that Mary had a chance to - explain who they were, as Courage stood in the path, delightedly looking - up at the dear little house that was to be her home. But Sylvia had - already made their acquaintance. After paying the driver and making sure - that nothing had been left in the carriage, she went straight toward them. - “I thought I should find some of my own people down here in Virginia,” she - said, cordially extending a hand to each as she spoke, “but I did not - expect they would be right on the spot, the very first moment, to welcome - me,” <span class="pagenum">046</span><a name="link046" id="link046"></a>"Miss - Duff done tol’ us ‘bout Miss Sylvy bein’ of de party,” said Joe with great - elegance of manner, while Mammy looked daggers at him, for replying to a - remark which she considered addressed chiefly to herself. It was queer - enough, the attitude of these two oldtime slaves toward each other, and - yet to be accounted for, I think, in their eagerness to be of use to those - whom they claimed the privilege of serving; and each was conscious, by a - subtle intuition, of a determination to outwit the other if possible in - this regard—which was all very well, if they only could have - competed in the right sort of spirit. - </p> - <p> - But there is no more time in this chapter for Mammy or Joe, nor anything - else for that matter. Indeed, it would take quite a chapter of itself if I - should try to tell you of the unpacking of Grandma Ellis’s basket, and - then of the children’s merry supper; but it seems to me there are more - important things for me to write about, and for you to read about, than - things to eat and of how the children ate them. By nine o’clock quiet - reigned in the little cottage, and “the children were nestled as snug in - their beds” as the little folk in “The Night before Christmas.” Joe and - Mammy and Brevet had long ago gone home, and Courage and Mary Duff were - sitting together in the <span class="pagenum">047</span><a name="link047" - id="link047"></a>little living-room, while Sylvia, in the hall just - outside, was busy arranging the books they had brought with them, on some - hanging shelves. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0073.jpg" alt="0073 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0073.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “I think this has been the happiest day in all my life,” said Courage. “I - have simply forgotten everything in the pleasure of those children.” And - then, sitting down at the little cottage piano and running her hands for a - few moments over the keys, she sang softly,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “For all the Saints, who from their labour rest, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The sweet, familiar hymn brought Sylvia to the door. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Courage,” she said, standing with her arms folded behind her back, - as she had always a way of standing when deeply interested, “you have - forgotten yourself and your sorrow to-day, but not for one moment have you - really forgotten Miss Julia,” and Courage knew that this was true, and - closed the little piano with tears in her eyes and a wondrous joy and - peace in her heart. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">048</span><a name="link048" id="link048"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI.—ARLINGTON BEFORE THE WAR. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>o sooner were our - little New Yorkers settled in their pretty summer home than they naturally - desired that it should have a name, and after much discussion, according - to the Bennett custom, they all agreed that “Little Homespun,” one of the - names that Courage had suggested, seemed to fit the cosy, unpretentious - little home better than anything else that had been thought of. No sooner - were they settled either before they became friends firm and fast of the - household up at Ellismere. It needed but very little time to bring that - about, because everything was—to use a big word because no smaller - one will do—propitious. You can imagine what it meant to Courage—taking - up her home in a new land, and with cares wholly new to her—to have - a dear old lady like Grandma Ellis call upon her, as she did the very - first morning after her arrival. Of course Courage had to explain how it - was she had come way down there to Virginia with the little Bennett - children in <span class="pagenum">049</span><a name="link049" id="link049"></a>charge. - Indeed, almost before she knew it, and in answer to Grandma Ellis’s gentle - inquiries, she had told her all there was to tell—about Miss Julia, - about herself and Mary Duff and Sylvia, and finally, as always with any - new friend, the why and wherefore of her own unusual name. The tears stood - in Grandma Ellis’s eyes many times during the narration, and her face was - aglow with love and sympathy and admiration as Courage brought her story - to a close. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0079.jpg" alt="0079 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0079.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “And now, my dear,” she had said, “I want you should know what little - there is to tell about <i>us</i>. We live just three miles from here, and - in the same old Virginia homestead where my husband was born. We, means my - son Harry, and Brevet and myself. Brevet, as you already know, perhaps, - has neither father nor mother. His mother died when he was six months old, - and his father, my oldest son, was drowned when the <i>Utopia</i> went - down, off the coast of Spain five years ago. We are doing our best, Harry - and I, to make up to Brevet for his great loss; but it is sad that the - little fellow should only know the love of an old grandmama like me, and - never of his own young mother. But I do not want to burden you with my - sorrows, dear child; I only want you to know we must all be the best of - friends <span class="pagenum">050</span><a name="link050" id="link050"></a>the - whole summer through. It seems to me we just need each other, and in order - to commence right, you must all come and spend the day with us to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - And on the morrow they all did go up to Ellismere, Mary Duff and Sylvia - with the others; the children went again the day after that, and then all - hands from Ellismere came down to Homespun for the day, and so what with - constant coming and going from one house to the other, in just two weeks’ - time it was as though they had known each other always. And then it was - that Joe arranged with Courage for the day to be spent at Arlington. - </p> - <p> - “The Ellis’s will all come,” Joe explained, “Mammy wid de res’ of ‘em, I - suppose,” (but very much as though he preferred she should not) “and I - done wish de Colonel could be persuaded to drive out from Washington, case - ‘tween us we knows mos’ dere is of interest happened at Arlington. He use’ - to visit at de big house when General Lee lived in it ’fo’ de wah, - an’ I was a slave on de place.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean Colonel Anderson, do you, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “De berry same, Miss.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, of course he’ll come. He is an old, old friend of Miss - Julia’s. I met him on <span class="pagenum">051</span><a name="link051" - id="link051"></a>the train when we came down and he asked me to invite him - out some time,” and so Courage wrote a note of invitation that very day - which Joe, with his own hands, carried into Washington. It was written on - pretty blue paper, which had “Homespun” engraved at the top of the sheet - and Tiffany’s mark on the envelope as well. It must be confessed that - Courage had a little extravagant streak in her; that is, she loved to have - everything just about as nearly right as she could. Sister Julia had - encouraged the little streak, knowing the peculiar pleasure that the - reasonable indulgence of a refined taste brings into life, “but, dear,” - she had often said to Courage, “there is one thing to look out for, and - that is that the more you gratify your own taste the more you must give to - the people who have no taste at all, or very little of anything that makes - life enjoyable,” all of which good advice Courage had taken to heart and - remembered. But extravagant streak or no, the stylish little blue note - accomplished its purpose, for at precisely nine o’clock the next morning - Colonel Anderson wheeled up at Joe’s cabin, in his high, old-fashioned - carriage, and at almost the same moment arrived the Homespun buckboard - with its load of eight (for Sylvia and Mary Duff were to be in <span - class="pagenum">052</span><a name="link052" id="link052"></a>as many good - times as possible) and a moment later Grandma Ellis, Harry, Brevet and old - Mammy drove upon the scene. - </p> - <p> - “Now, how would we best manage things, Joe?” asked Colonel Anderson, after - everybody had had a. little chat with everybody else, and luncheon baskets - and wraps had been safely stowed away in Joe’s cabin. - </p> - <p> - “Well, seems ter me we’d better take a look over de house first, den take - a stroll through de groun’s an’ come back to de shade of dat ol’ ches’nut - yonder for de story. You can’t make a story bery interestin’ when you hab - a walkin’ aujence, an’ de aujence what’s walkin’ can’t catch on ter de - story bery well either.” - </p> - <p> - It was easy to see that this suggestion was a wise one, so with the - exception of Grandma Ellis and Mammy, for whom comfortable rocking-chairs - were at once placed under the chestnut tree, the little party made its way - into the old colonial house. - </p> - <p> - “Arlington House is rather a cheerless looking place now, I admit,” sighed - Colonel Anderson, as they walked through the large empty rooms, “but wait - till we have the story and we’ll fill it full enough.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but don’t let us wait any longer than we have to,” answered Courage, - and as this was the sentiment of the entire party, they <span - class="pagenum">053</span><a name="link053" id="link053"></a>hurried from - the house for the walk that was to follow. The four little Bennetts kept - close to each other all the way, Mary, the eldest, leading little Gertrude - by the hand. They were very quiet, too, wondering and overawed by the - unbroken lines of graves on every side. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if Teddy and I will have to go to a war when we grow up,” said - Allan at last, half under his breath, with a perceptible little shiver and - as though barely mustering courage to speak. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll go if there is a war, I can tell you that,” Teddy replied, rather - scornfully. - </p> - <p> - “Then we’ll be buried here, I suppose,” and Allan shook his head - hopelessly, as though standing that moment at the foot of their two - soldier-graves. - </p> - <p> - “And so will I,” affirmed Brevet, who had kept his place close beside his - favourite Allan from the start. “I’ll speak to be buried right by both of - you, too, just as though I was one of your family,” and Brevet stood as he - spoke with his arms folded and his brows knit, in solemn and soldier-like - fashion. - </p> - <p> - Now and then the little party would group itself around Colonel Anderson - as he read the inscription from some monument or headstone, telling of the - valour of the man whose grave it marked and often of the brave deed <span - class="pagenum">054</span><a name="link054" id="link054"></a>dared that - cost the hero his life. And so some idea was gained of the beauty and - significance of the great soldier cemetery, and then all hurried back to - Grandma Ellis, and Colonel Anderson began his story. - </p> - <p> - An odd assortment of rush-bottomed chairs had been brought from Joe’s - cabin for the grown-ups, and the children were scattered about on shawls - and carriage rugs on the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Now, it isn’t easy,” said Colonel Anderson thoughtfully, “to know just - where to commence.” - </p> - <p> - “Den I’ll tell you,” said Joe, who was seated at the Colonel’s elbow. - “Dere ain’t no such proper place ter begin as at de beginnin’. Tell ‘em as - how der was a time when Arlington was a great unbroken forest, an’ how way - back early in de eighteen hundreds, George Washington Parke Custis came by - de lan’ through his father and built Arlington House.” - </p> - <p> - “If you are going as far back as that, Joe, you ought to go farther, and - tell how there was an old house here even before this one, which was built - way back early in the seventeen hundreds. It was a little house, with only - four rooms, and it stood down yonder near the bank of the river, and was - bought <span class="pagenum">055</span><a name="link055" id="link055"></a>with - the land by John Custis from the Alexanders. John Custis, you know, - children, was Martha Washington’s son, for she was a widow with two - children when she married General Washington; and George Washington Parke - Custis, who lived for awhile in the little house before he built this - beautiful big one, was her grandson. He was a fortunate young fellow, as - the world counts being fortunate, for he had more money than he knew what - to do with. As soon as this fine house was completed, George Custis was - married and brought his bride to his new home, where for the next fifty - years they lived the most happy and contented life imaginable. They had - one daughter, a very beautiful young lady, as I myself clearly remember, - for my birthday and her wedding-day fell together, and that was why I was - allowed to attend the wedding. My mother and Miss Mollie’s mother were the - warmest friends, but I was only a boy of ten, and would have been left at - home, I think, but for the coincidence of the birthday. I remember my - mother told me Miss Custis said she would like me always to think of her - wedding-day, when my birthday came round, and I can tell you, children, I - always do, even though I am an old man and have started in the seventies.” - <span class="pagenum">056</span><a name="link056" id="link056"></a>"An’ so - do I,” chimed in Joe; “I neber done think of one without de oder, so - closely are dey ’sociated in my min’.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, were you there too, Joe?” asked Brevet, with a merry little twinkle - in his eyes, for if there was one story more often told than any other for - Brevet’s edification, it was the story of Miss Mary Custis’s wedding. - </p> - <p> - “Sho’ as yo’ born, Honey,” quite overlooking Brevet’s insinuation in his - absorbing interest in the subject. “It was a bery busy day for me, de day - Miss Mollie was married.” - </p> - <p> - “How ole was you, Joe, ‘bout dat time?” asked Mammy, her old eyes - a-twinkle with mischief as well as Brevet’s, for Joe’s age, as every one - knew, was a mere matter of guesswork, so careful was he that no one should - ever come to a knowledge of the same. - </p> - <p> - “Seems ter me dat question ain’t no wise relavent,” replied Joe, bristling - up a little, “but de Colonel and I warn’t so bery far apart when we was - chilluns.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, were you friends then?” asked Allan Bennett. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that day made us friends,” answered Colonel Anderson, “and this was - the way it happened. Everything was ready for the wedding. As many of the - guests as it would hold were assembled in the drawing-room, the <span - class="pagenum">057</span><a name="link057" id="link057"></a>room on the - left of the front door there as you go in, but the clergyman had not - arrived. Then it was that Mr. Custis, beginning to grow nervous, called to - Joe there, who stood on the porch, as fine as silk in his best clothes and - white cotton gloves, ready to open the carriage doors for the guests as - they arrived. - </p> - <p> - “‘Joe,’ called Mr. Custis, ‘run down the road, and see if you see a sign - of a carriage anywhere in sight,’ and, children, what do you suppose Joe - did? Well, he just stood stock still, looking down at his bright polished - boots, and he never budged an inch.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s de truf,” said Joe, shaking his head regretfully, for the children - were looking to him for confirmation of the story. - </p> - <p> - “You see the boots were very shiny,” continued the Colonel, in a tone of - apology for Joe, “and the roads were very very muddy, so that he just - couldn’t bring himself to do it. Fortunately for Joe, I imagine, Mr. - Custis had not waited to see him start, taking for granted, of course, - that he would obey at once, and then what did I do but spring down the - steps and run on Joe’s errand for him, only too thankful if I could do - anything to prove my gratitude for being allowed to be present at that, to - me, greatest of occasions. I had to wait less than five minutes before I - discovered the open <span class="pagenum">058</span><a name="link058" - id="link058"></a>chaise, which had been sent into Washington to bring the - dominie, tearing up the road. - </p> - <p> - “‘They’re coming, they’ll be here in a minute,’ I called, hurrying back to - Joe, and then he rushed away in his new shiny boots and delivered my - message to Mr. Custis, pretending, as the rogue confessed to me afterward, - to be quite out of breath from the haste with which he had come. And then - in the next moment Mr. Meade, for that was the clergyman’s name, was - really there, but he came in at the back door and slipped upstairs as - quickly as he could, followed by Joe and myself. You see he had driven - right into the heart of a heavy thunder shower, just outside of - Washington, and was drenched to the skin. There was nothing for it but - that he must make a change of clothing as quickly as he could, so Joe, who - knew where Mr. Custis kept his clothes, ran hither and thither, bringing - one article after another, and I helped the minister into them—but - my, how he did look! Mr. Custis was short and stout, and Mr. Meade was - tall and thin, and I didn’t see how any one could keep their faces - straight with such a guy of a minister. They couldn’t have done it either, - if they had seen how he looked, could they, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Colonel, not for a minute,” chuckled Joe. <span class="pagenum">059</span><a - name="link059" id="link059"></a>"But why didn’t they see?” questioned - eager little Allan. - </p> - <p> - “Why, because, of course, he had brought his gown with him, and it covered - him all up,” for Brevet, able to anticipate much of the familiar story, - was glad to have a hand in its telling. - </p> - <p> - “I wish you could know how the house looked in those days,” said the - Colonel with a sigh of regret, echoed by a much louder and deeper sigh on - the part of Joe. “It was full of the most beautiful things. There was a - magnificent array of old family portraits; among them two or three of - George and Martha Washington. Then there was a marvelous old sideboard - that held many beautiful things that had belonged to Washington. I - remember in particular some great silver candlesticks with snuffers and - extinguishers, and silver wine-coolers, and some exquisite painted china, - part of a set that had been given to Washington by the Society of the - Cincinnati.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not think you have told the children,” interrupted Grandma Ellis, - “who it was that Miss Custis married.” - </p> - <p> - “Can that be possible?” provoked that he should have left out anything so - important. “Why, it was General Robert E. Lee!” <span class="pagenum">060</span><a - name="link060" id="link060"></a>"I’m afraid we don’t know who General Lee - was,” said Mary Bennett, blushing a little, and then she added quickly, - “you see we live so far away from where the war was fought,” for Brevet’s - undisguised look of astonishment was really quite paralysing. - </p> - <p> - “We only know what we have learnt at school,” Teddy further explained, - “and we don’t remember so very much of that.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, General Lee,” said Brevet earnestly, feeling that he must come - personally to the rescue of such dense ignorance, “was the greatest - general they had down South. He would have whipped us Yankees if any one - could.” - </p> - <p> - “He was a fine man though, a fine man,” said Joe, solemnly. “He and Miss - Mary lived right on here at Arlington after dey was married and dere - wasn’t a slave of us on de place who wouldn’t hab let Lieutenant Lee walk - right ober us if he’d wanted to. So den when Mr. Custis died in 1857, and - Lieutenant Lee done come to be de haid of de house, it was changin’ one - good master for anoder.” - </p> - <p> - “Was Joe a slave?” asked Allan, drawing himself up to Mammy’s knees, near - whom he happened to be sitting, and speaking in an awe-struck whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, Honey, Joe was born in a cabin <span class="pagenum">061</span><a - name="link061" id="link061"></a>nex’ where he lives to-day, an’ we was all - slaves down here ‘fo’ de wah, but de coloured folks here at Arlington was - always treated ver’ han’some. I wasn’t so fortunate, Honey—I - belonged down to a plantation in Georgia, where de Missus was kind, but - where our Master treated us des like cattle, an’ I had my only chile sold - away from me, when she wasn’t no mo’ den fo’teen or fifteen, an’ I don’ - know ter this day whether she be livin’ or daid.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mammy!” was all Allan could say in reply, but his little face looked - worlds of sympathy. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile Joe and Colonel Anderson between them went on with the story of - Arlington, now one and now the other taking up its thread. Joe told of the - many cosy cabins at that time dotted about the place in which the slaves - lived, and of their happy life on a plantation where they all felt as - though they were part of the household, and took as great pride and - pleasure as the Master himself in everything belonging to it. He - described, too, to the great delight of the children, the wild excitement - of the Autumn hunting parties, when Mr. Custis and a whole houseful of - guests would start off at sunrise, coming home at night with their - game-bags full to a banquet in the house and an evening of unbounded fun - and merri<span class="pagenum">062</span><a name="link062" id="link062"></a>ment. - The Colonel told about the house itself, for from the time he became a - young man until the day when, about to take command of a Washington - regiment, he came to say goodbye to Lieutenant Lee, he had been a constant - visitor there. He told of the luxury and comfort of the delightful home, - now so bare and desolate; of the pretty sewing-rooms in the right wing, - set apart for Mrs. Custis and Miss Mary; of the cosy library in the left - wing, and then of the pictures painted on the walls by Mr. Custis. The - pictures represented five of the battles of the Revolution, and Washington - was the central figure in them all. There is just a trace of some of his - work left now on the rear entrance of the wide hall, but Colonel Anderson - admitted they could never have been considered very fine, rather - detracting than adding to the other beautiful finishings of the house. - </p> - <p> - “But what became of all the beautiful things and how did the place ever - happen to become a national cemetery?” asked Courage in one of the pauses, - when both Joe and the Colonel seemed to be casting about in their minds - for what would best be told next. She had listened as intently as any of - the children to the whole narrative, and was every whit as much - interested. <span class="pagenum">063</span><a name="link063" id="link063"></a>"Well, - it seems to me that is almost a story in itself,” Colonel Anderson - answered, “and that we would better have out the luncheon baskets and take - a bit of rest.” - </p> - <p> - Even the children agreed but half-heartedly at first to this interruption, - but the avidity with which they afterward settled down to sandwiches and - sponge cake showed that they really had minds not above the physical - demands of life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0093.jpg" alt="0093 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0093.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">064</span><a name="link064" id="link064"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII.—ARLINGTON AFTERWARD. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>iss Sylvy,” asked - Joe, rather solemnly, “would you be so kin’ as ter tell me whar you hail - from?” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean where I was born?” Joe nodded. “Well, I’m very sorry, but I - can’t tell you,” and the colour surged perceptibly under her dark skin. - </p> - <p> - “H’m,” said Joe, pressing his lower lip over the upper one, as he had a - habit of doing when he considered any matter required careful thought. - Then after a pause, “Well, your las’ name, Miss Sylvy, will you tell me - dat? I don’ rightly remember eber to have heard it.” - </p> - <p> - “Sylvester, Joe, but it’s a name I chose for myself. I do not know what - name I was born to.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, however, Miss Sylvy, did dat happen?” and Joe showed such deep and - tender interest that Sylvia, who cared to talk on the subject with very - few, gladly entered into a full explanation. She told him, as she had - <span class="pagenum">065</span><a name="link065" id="link065"></a>told - Courage that summer night so many years before on Larry’s lighter, how she - had found herself landed in the orphan asylum, with no name as far as any - one knew, excepting just Sylvia, and how she had named herself Sylvester - after one of the ladies who came to the asylum to teach. And then she - continued, giving a brief outline of her life since that time, all of - which proved most absorbing to Joe, because with the telling of Sylvia’s - story he learnt so much of interest about Miss Courage as well. - </p> - <p> - “But, Honey,” he asked at the end of the story, with a sigh as of one who - has listened with an intentness bordering upon fatigue, “who put you in - dat ’sylum?” - </p> - <p> - “Some one just left me at the asylum at night, with a card pinned on to my - dress with ‘Sylvia’ written on it, and saying that I had neither father - nor mother, and then ran away in the darkness, but I don’t believe any one - related to me would have treated me like that. I would rather you would - not say anything about all this, Joe. It is only because you are one of my - own people and seem so kind and interested that I have told you.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you bery much for de confidence, Miss Sylvy, for my ole heart went - right out to you from de day you done come walkin’ up de <span - class="pagenum">066</span><a name="link066" id="link066"></a>path at - Little Homespun, but I’ll keep it safe, Miss Sylvy, never you fear.” - </p> - <p> - Joe and Sylvia had been busy washing dishes and clearing up after the - luncheon, and it was when their work was finished and they were waiting - under the chestnut tree for the others to come back, that they had had - their little talk. It reached its natural conclusion just as Colonel - Anderson came strolling up from the river, blowing a shrill whistle - between two fingers, the signal previously agreed upon to call the - children together. - </p> - <p> - “Now, do you know,” he said, when the little company had bestowed itself - in much the same fashion as in the morning, “I have an idea that you will - have to let Joe and me do all the talking now. We have only a short - afternoon before us, and there is a great deal to tell.” - </p> - <p> - No one looked as though that would be the least hardship, and Joe - explained that he himself would rather listen than talk, “less’n de. - Colonel disremembered somethin’ very important.” - </p> - <p> - “Likely as not I shall, Joe, but it seems the point at which to commence - this afternoon is with General Lee. At the time that he married Miss - Mollie Custis he was a lieutenant in the United States Army, but he had - gradu<span class="pagenum">067</span><a name="link067" id="link067"></a>ated - at the head of his class at West Point only two years before. After he was - married, as you know, he made his home at Arlington, but he had to be away - from it much of the time because of his duties in the army. He was a fine - fellow, I can tell you, and held one responsible position after another. - He was right in the thick of our war with Mexico, and won rapid promotion - for his courage and daring. After a brilliant charge at Chapultepec, when - he was severely wounded, he was made a brevet-colonel by General Scott. It - seemed after that as though he was everywhere where a brave, fearless man - was needed. He was in command in Texas when the Indians were attacking the - settlers there; and was in many a bloody engagement. Later on, he was the - commanding officer when the house was charged at Harper’s Ferry, where - John Brown had taken refuge. I wish there was time, children, to stop and - tell you about John Brown. You know the old song about ‘John Brown’s body - lies a mouldering in the grave, but his soul goes marching on.’ Get Joe - here to sing it for you some day, if you don’t. Well, you see by all this - that General Lee had done a great deal for his country; but there came a - day when he felt it his duty to turn against it, that is, to take up arms - against the <span class="pagenum">068</span><a name="link068" id="link068"></a>United - States. You all know how the great civil war finally came about; how the - Northern States thought the Southern States should not hold slaves, and - how the Southern States thought they had the right to decide whether they - should or not without any interference from the North, and so banded - themselves together and said they would secede from the United States and - form a confederacy of their own. This Virginia, whose air we are breathing - this minute, was one of those states, and was General Lee’s native state - as well; and when the time came to choose between his state and his - country, he decided to side with the Confederacy. Then, of course, there - was nothing for him to do but to resign from the United States Army. He - sent his letter of resignation to General Scott on the twenty-second of - April, 1861, and then at once left Arlington with his wife and children, - for it was quite too near to Washington for him to stay now that he had - taken a stand against the Government, and the very next day he was made - commander-in-chief of the army in Virginia. A few days before this, that - is, on the fifteenth of April, President Lincoln had called for - seventy-five thousand volunteers, and three days after the Lees had left, - the great army of the North came pouring into Washington and all the <span - class="pagenum">069</span><a name="link069" id="link069"></a>country round - about. Camp-fires crackled among the oaks at Arlington, and the house - itself was taken possession of by the officers, When the troops first - arrived at Arlington they tramped through the deserted rooms, remaining - just as the Lees had left them, and concluding that ‘all’s fair in love - and war,’ they simply helped themselves to the forsaken treasures. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but dose were drefful days!” said Joe, as though he must give vent to - the thoughts Colonel Anderson’s words had stirred: “I neber can forgive - dose Union soldiers, neber. Seems as dough dey might done have respect for - a gentleman’s place, but not a bit of it. Seemed as dough dey could not be - spiteful ‘nuff ’gainst de General. Des fancy seein’ things dat had - belonged to Washington himself carried out of de house, and sol’ in de - streets up dere in de city of Washington, and some of de negroes—shame - on ’em!—ran away with things an’ sol’ ’em for more - money dan dey themselves would have sol’ for ’fo’ de wah. Oh, it - was pitiful to see the flower beds and lawns tramped over, as dough dey - had been so much rubbish, and it wa’n’t long befo’ de smooth green - terraces were just ragged mud-banks. You’d have thought I’d have gone - away, wouldn’t you? But I couldn’t bring my<span class="pagenum">070</span><a - name="link070" id="link070"></a>self to leave de ole place, until I ’listed - an’ went down to Alabama wid a coloured regiment. Dere, Colonel, I done - interrupt you, didn’t I? But really, I was des thinkin’ aloud more dan - talkin’, for I des can’t keep my thoughts to myself, when I grows ’stracted - over de troublousness of dose times.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t blame you, Joe, I don’t blame you,” said Colonel Anderson; “but, - as for me, I was feeling pretty hot against General Lee those days. I - didn’t see how he could make up his mind to regularly take up arms against - his country, and I have an idea that I felt for awhile that he was treated - no worse than he deserved; but that’s all bygones now, as well as the dear - old Arlington home, that will never be a home again. You see, almost at - the commencement of the war, children, Washington, with all the country - immediately about, became the hospital centre, and soon a surgeon’s staff - was quartered in the house yonder, in addition to the officers already - there; and at the same time long canvas shelters were constructed in those - woods, to which the poor sick and wounded soldiers were brought from camp - and battlefield—and sadly enough many of them died here. At first - all who died were taken to the Soldiers’ Home Cemetery on the other side - of Washington to be <span class="pagenum">071</span><a name="link071" - id="link071"></a>buried, but the day came, as you know, when this very - place was turned into a cemetery, and this was how it came about. One - afternoon as President Lincoln was starting for his usual drive, which - seemed to be the only way by which he could gain any relief from the - burdens of that anxious time, he met General Meigs (who was Quarter-master - General then of the United States Army) walking in the White House - grounds. Noticing how tired and worn out the General looked, the President - invited him to drive with him, and General Meigs accepted. It was the - President’s purpose to drive out to Arlington, and when they reached - there, the President started off for a quiet stroll; but General Meigs, - whose thoughts were very busy just then as to what should be done with the - poor soldiers, dying in such numbers in and about Washington, was soon - deep in conference with the surgeons in charge. You see there would soon - have been no more room in other cemeteries, and it was for the - Quarter-master General to decide what was to be done in the matter. Now - they say that General Meigs indulged in very bitter feelings toward his - old friend General Lee, and that when he rejoined the President he said, - ‘Lee shall never return to Arlington, no matter what the issue of the war - may be,’ <span class="pagenum">072</span><a name="link072" id="link072"></a>feeling - evidently that he should be fully punished in any case for the stand he - had taken. Just at that moment a sad little procession came that way. The - bodies of several poor fellows, who had died in the hospital tents, were - being carried on canvas stretchers to a spot from whence they could be - taken to the Soldiers’ Home Cemetery. - </p> - <p> - “‘How many men are awaiting burial?’ asked General Meigs of the Sergeant - in charge of the squad. - </p> - <p> - “‘Altogether a dozen, sir,’ the Sergeant answered. - </p> - <p> - “‘Bury them there,’ ordered the General, pointing to a low terrace - bordering the garden.” - </p> - <p> - “But did General Meigs have any right to turn General Lee’s place into a - cemetery?” asked Courage, a little warmly, feeling that an interruption - was excusable under the circumstances. To be fair always, if possible, to - everybody, was a working principle with Courage, and this proceeding of - General Meigs’s did not seem to her quite fair. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think he had a perfect right, Miss Courage. In time of war the - Government certainly has a right to take possession, if necessary, of - property belonging to any one in open rebellion against it; and besides, - five <span class="pagenum">073</span><a name="link073" id="link073"></a>months - before Arlington was converted into a cemetery, the place had been put up - at public sale and bought by the Government. It was not, I believe, until - 1873, however, that the Lees received any money for the estate, and that I - admit does not seem fair at all. And there is another right of which I am - certain, and that is that the brave fellows whose bodies rest in these - graves had a right to the most beautiful spot anywhere in these United - States of ours for their last resting-place. No, I think it was fitting - that Arlington should become one of our national cemeteries, and I believe - even Joe yonder, thinks so too.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes I do, Colonel Anderson,” Joe answered, solemnly. “Much as I love - General Lee, I can’t forget what de war cos’ de country in de loss of - human life, and General Lee done took a great ’sponsibility ’pon - him, when he help de war on by takin’ command of de Southern troops. Yes, - I’m glad dat de fine ole place has been pressed into de service of de - country, in des de way it has been.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Anderson’s question put to Joe and Joe’s reply seemed to loosen - the tongues of the little company. Almost every one from Brevet up had - some question or other to ask of the Colonel, and he was quite willing - that they should, for they had all listened so atten<span class="pagenum">074</span><a - name="link074" id="link074"></a>tively that the story had been told more - quickly than either Joe or the Colonel had thought possible. - </p> - <p> - “And now, children,” said Brevet, with the air of a little grandfather, - “do you wonder that I love to come and spend the day with Joe? Why, there - isn’t a minute when I’m here, that he isn’t telling me something ‘bout - before the war, or since the war, and when we go back to the cabin and Joe - makes the hoe-cake and broils a chicken for luncheon, and I get the china - down from the cupboard and set the table, with both of us talking most - interesting all the time, and the smell of the cooking just filling all - the cabin,—well, there isn’t ever such a happy time, is there, Joe?” - Brevet had made his way to Joe’s side as he spoke, and reaching up, put - one chubby little arm around his neck. - </p> - <p> - “No, bless yo’ little white heart, dere never is quite such a happy time!” - and Joe drew the little fellow into his lap and held him close, as though - he would love to keep him there forever. - </p> - <p> - “Is being in the cabin and having Joe cook the hoe-cake and the chicken - nicer than having luncheon out here in the grass like this?” asked Allan - Bennett, a whole world of envy in his tone. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">075</span><a name="link075" id="link075"></a>"A heap - nicer,” was Brevet’s not uncertain reply. - </p> - <p> - “Do you really t’ink so, Honey?” asked Joe, smiling from ear to ear. - “Well, den, all you little Bennetts is invited on de spot, to take Fo’th - of July dinner wid me in my cabin, an’ if Miss Courage will honour me wid - her presence, an’ de Colonel will come out from Washington, an’ Miss Sylvy - will lend me a hand wid de preparations, strikes me we might hab a good - time sure nuff.” - </p> - <p> - Everybody accepted Joe’s invitation with alacrity, and there could not - have been a happier ending to a perfect day than to have just such another - perfect day planned for at its close. It simply took all the bitterness - out of the parting that followed soon after. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Lindy,” whispered Joe importantly, as he helped Grandma Ellis into - the carriage, “I ’spects you and Mars Harry for de Fo’th of July - dinner, but as dere won’t be no room for Mammy I didn’t make no public - mention of your two names. Seemed as dough it might make her feel a bit - uncomfortable if she was de only one not mentioned; but you understan’, - Miss Lindy, de cabin am small an’ Mammy large, an’” (putting his hand to - his mouth and speaking in a still lower whisper) “seems like Mammy gettin’ - <span class="pagenum">076</span><a name="link076" id="link076"></a>too old - to be of much use to anybody. You un’erstan’, Miss Lindy?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I understand perfectly,” Grandma Ellis answered, very much - amused, “and I’ll make it all right with Mammy.” But from Grandma Ellis’s - point of view Mammy did not seem to be growing old one whit more rapidly - than old Joe himself. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">077</span><a name="link077" id="link077"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII.—TO SAVE BREVET. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etween one happy - time and another the summer passed on at Little Homespun. Not that there - was not occasionally an unhappy time—if everything had moved - perfectly smoothly for three whole months together, in a house where there - were four irrepressible children, with many of the faults common to the - average child the world over, it simply would have been a miracle - outright. No, indeed; there were times now and then when Courage quite - lost her patience and would have liked to box and ship those four little - Bennetts straight back to their mother, and there were days when even - good-natured Mary Duff lost her patience completely, and declared she - would chastise the first one of them that dared to cross the threshold of - the kitchen; but then, to be quite fair, I have more than a glimmering - notion that Courage and Mary Duff had their naughty moods too, as well as - the children. You can’t feel perfectly right, you know, and always behave - just as <span class="pagenum">078</span><a name="link078" id="link078"></a>you - should every minute simply because you happen to be grown up. It would be - very fine if you could, and there is no doubt that with both grown-ups and - children, trying hard to get the best of the naughty moods will in time - accomplish wonders. - </p> - <p> - But taken as a whole the unhappy times at Homespun were nothing more than - motes in the Homespun sunshine. Most of the time merry, happy voices rang - through and about the house from dawn till sunset. Peals of happy - laughter, that made any one laugh who heard them, echoed everywhere. Bits - of childish song floated down stairs and up stairs or came in at the open - windows—“I’se a little Alabama Coon” always the burden of the - refrain when Brevet was down for the day. Then, toward twilight, or more - often a little later, when it had really grown quite dark, the same dear - childish voices blended in a sweet evening hymn would float out at the - open windows, and the little people whose whole minds had been given to - play the long summer day through, would quiet down and then go contentedly - off to bed, their childish hearts full of a sweet peace that they hardly - understood, and which was not strange at all, for it was simply the peace - that “passeth all understanding.” <span class="pagenum">079</span><a - name="link079" id="link079"></a>But not all the days by any manner of - means were spent in or about Little Homespun. Joe’s Fourth of July dinner - had been a great success, and there had followed several all-day - excursions carefully planned in all their details by Uncle Harry, and - every one of them voted a great success. The fall that had broken Uncle - Harry’s arm had proved a veritable “windfall” for the children, if a - windfall means something very pleasant that comes in your way quite by - accident, like apples strewn by the wind unexpectedly at your feet. It had - not been altogether an unpleasant experience for Uncle Harry either, - notwithstanding, though it was now late in August, the arm was still in a - sling. Twice it had had to be reset, and that had of course been very - trying; and yet but for that arm he would have been delving away the whole - summer through in a hot office up at Washington, and the children, without - knowing of course what they were missing, would in fact have foregone half - the delight of the summer. In Uncle Harry’s profession, no right arm to - use meant nothing to do whatever, and so he was thankful enough that - Courage and the Bennetts had found their way down to old Virginia, and - that he had been able to plan and carry out so many delightful excursions - <span class="pagenum">080</span><a name="link080" id="link080"></a>for - their enjoyment. But the summer’s crown of pleasure, as far as the - Bennetts were concerned, had been the days spent at Ellismere with Brevet - on his island. - </p> - <p> - I half believe I have not mentioned this island before, for which omission - I am perfectly confident Brevet would never forgive me. The idea of trying - to write anything whatever about him and not tell about that island the - very first thing! It was altogether a wonderful place, I assure you. It - lay about a hundred feet out from the shore, just in front of the - Ellismere homestead; and as there was not another island within sight of - it, Brevet always gratefully cherished the belief that it had been placed - there just for him. It was about seventy feet long, and almost as wide, - and it boasted a steep little ledge of rock on the side near the shore and - two very respectable little pine trees. But it was what the hand of man - had achieved upon this little island that made it the wonderful place it - was, and that hand none other than old black Joe’s. It was he who had said - one sunshiny May morning: “Brevet, I’ll build a camp for you over on that - island,” and true to his word Joe had driven up to Ellismere every day - that summer that he could spare from his not very arduous duties at - Arlington, and he had worked <span class="pagenum">081</span><a - name="link081" id="link081"></a>away as zealously as though he had assumed - the work under contract. - </p> - <p> - As a result it had been finished the October previous, and Brevet had had - several weeks to enjoy it before the cold weather obliged him to break - camp for the winter. Grandma Ellis’s contribution to the scheme had been a - cedar row-boat and a pair of spoon oars, by which to have communication - with the island, but for everything else Joe was to be thanked. He had cut - and sewed the tent, to say nothing of a canvas cot. He had manufactured - tables and chairs, and best of all a soldier’s chest, with - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h5> - HOWARD STANHOPE ELLIS - </h5> - <h5> - BREVET-CAPTAIN - </h5> - <p> - burned in clear-cut letters upon the lid. There was even a little desk of - rude contrivance upon which Brevet, after the successful conclusion of - most exciting battles, would write cheering letters home to his - grandmother. Outside of the tent hung a good-sized kettle over a bed of - ashes, that bore witness to many a good meal cooked within it, while on - the rocky ledge above, a toy brass cannon commanded the harbour, making - the island quite invulnerable from any assault that might be attempted - from the side near the shore. <span class="pagenum">082</span><a - name="link082" id="link082"></a>Was it strange then that to the Bennetts, - and especially to the boys Teddy and Allan, this unique little spot, with - its perfect equipment, offered more possibilities of good times than - anything they themselves could in any way concoct or invent?—and - they had lived up to their possibilities, though that had involved living - at Ellismere most of the time. However, Grandma Ellis assured Courage they - were not a bit of trouble, and Courage took her at her word, for the sake - of what it meant to the children. - </p> - <p> - But, of all the wildly-exciting and happy days, none had seemed quite so - exciting and happy as the day to which we have now come in this story. - Perhaps the fact that there could not by any chance be many more of these - times, lent its own specially brightening charm to the blessings that must - soon take their flight; for it was the 27th of August by the calendar, and - by the middle of September Little Homespun would be closed, and Courage - and the Bennetts have taken their departure. Joe had been with the - children all day, and he was the one to be thanked for most of its wildly - exciting features. Single-handed, but supposed to represent a whole - regiment, he had tried in a score of ways to effect a landing on the - island; but by dint of unceasing vigi<span class="pagenum">083</span><a - name="link083" id="link083"></a>lance the children had succeeded in - keeping him at bay, until at last, despairing and exhausted, he had beaten - a retreat to the main land. Indeed, so hard and unremitting had been the - labours of the children, that about the middle of the afternoon Courage, - who had been having an all-day chat with Grandma Ellis and was afraid the - children would quite wear themselves out, succeeded in coaxing them to the - shore, under promise of a story, and it was not to be any ordinary, - made-up story either. Naturally in her daily contact with the children, - Courage had alluded now and then to her own childhood, and with the result - that they had extracted from her the pledge that she would tell them all - about it some day. But as yet Courage’s “some day” never had dawned, - although they had repeatedly begged for the story—now they concluded - the time had come to take a stand. - </p> - <p> - “Will you tell us the story about yourself if we come over?” Teddy called - from the island. “We are all agreed we cannot think of laying down our - arms unless you will.” - </p> - <p> - “Agreed,” Courage called back, glad to commit them to an hour of quiet at - any cost; and so the children embarked and rowed over, and Grandma - entreated so hard that she might be allowed to listen too, that Courage - <span class="pagenum">084</span><a name="link084" id="link084"></a>yielded, - and the little group gathered itself about her big rocking-chair on the - gallery. Joe was also permitted to form one of the party; but there was - another listener, who would not have been tolerated for a moment if his - whereabouts had been known. He was stretched full length on the hair-cloth - sofa just between the windows in the living-room, and, knowing it would be - quite impossible for him to gain permission to be a hearer, he was just - sufficiently unprincipled to listen without so much as saying “by your - leave.” - </p> - <p> - You know the story that Courage told—if not you may read it if you - have a mind, in the little book to which this is a sequel. At the outset, - of course, she told how she had come by her unusual name, which was the - greatest relief to Joe and Brevet. They had wanted so much to have that - explained the whole summer through and yet had not quite liked to ask. The - remainder of the story was new to all save Grandma Ellis, and Courage, now - that she had really started, tried to be faithful to every detail that - could possibly have any interest, from the day of her christening to the - night when the draw was open and she took her wild leap in the darkness. - When she had finished every one sat perfectly still for a minute. Courage - told her own story much better <span class="pagenum">085</span><a - name="link085" id="link085"></a>than any one else has told or could tell - it, and her great absorbing love for Miss Julia shone out like a golden - thread all through the telling. Grandma Ellis was the first to draw a long - breath and break the silence. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but I wish I might have known your Miss Julia,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “You know somebody who is just exactly like her,” said Mary Bennett, - putting her arm about Courage; “<i>just exactly!</i>” and this she said - very slowly and firmly, as though she thought Courage might be inclined to - differ with her, but Courage only said, “Dear child,” in a low whisper, so - grateful was she for the most blessed praise that could possibly come to - her. - </p> - <p> - “Let us see Miss Julia’s picture now, please,” urged the children, and - Courage drew from her dress an exquisite miniature, set in pearls, and - attached to a violet ribbon worn about her neck. They had all seen it many - a time before, but it seemed to take on a new beauty in the light of all - they had been hearing. It was when the picture had been passed slowly from - hand to hand, and the natural thing seemed to be for the little party to - break up, that Allan was the first to discover that one of the party had - disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Why, where is Brevet?” he exclaimed, as <span class="pagenum">086</span><a - name="link086" id="link086"></a>though part of his personal belongings had - given him the slip. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sure ‘nuff, where is dat chile?” queried Joe, getting up from his - chair a little stiffly and peering up to the gallery roof and to the - branches of the trees, as though the most unlikely spot imaginable was - precisely the spot in which to expect to find his little Captain. “Seems - to me it looks a little ugly over there toward Fort Meyer,” he added, - stepping to the end of the porch and shading his eyes with his hand. - </p> - <p> - At these words Harry, who had been thinking over all he had heard, rose - noiselessly from the lounge and slipped away to the rear of the house. - There he saw at a glance that it did indeed look more than “a little ugly” - over toward Fort Meyer. A large, funnel-shaped cloud of a dark brown color - loomed high on the horizon and Harry’s heart sank within him. He had seen - and known during a summer’s surveying in the West, the wreck and ruin that - may follow in the train of such a cloud, and he knew that everything - should be gotten into shape as quickly as possible. Hurrying quickly to - the front porch he said, with as much composure as he could muster: - </p> - <p> - “You would better go directly into the house, Grandma, we may be going to - have <span class="pagenum">087</span><a name="link087" id="link087"></a>quite - a storm. Send the children through all the rooms and have every shutter - drawn to, and every window closed and fastened.” - </p> - <p> - “But Brevet,” said Grandma, trying her best to keep her voice steady, “no - one knows where Brevet is. No one saw him go, or has any idea where he - went.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he can’t be far away,” Harry answered, cheerily. “Joe and I will find - him in a jiffy. Now you do as I say, Grandma,” gently pushing her toward - the door, “and, children, whisk these chairs into the house, and then make - for the doors and windows and close them tightly. Don’t stop to look, or - lose a single minute.” - </p> - <p> - Harry succeeded in speaking calmly, but his manner showed how urgent he - deemed the need of haste, and try as she would Grandma found herself - unequal to the occasion. Her limbs refused to support her, and once inside - the house she sank into the nearest chair, and, burying her face in her - hands, broke into an agony of sobs and tears. To have little Brevet - missing at such an anxious moment was more than her over-strained nerves - could bear. Courage saw instantly it was for her to take command of the - situation, and sending the children hither and thither through the house - as Harry had directed, she herself hurried <span class="pagenum">088</span><a - name="link088" id="link088"></a>away for the stimulant of which Grandma - Ellis so sorely stood in need. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile poor old Joe, who in his alarm for Brevet’s safety had lost his - head completely, had been wasting precious moments in looking in the most - impossible places. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mars Harry, whar can dat blessed child be?” he said, coming up to - Harry with the tears streaming down his face. - </p> - <p> - “Have you looked over on the island, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I never thought of dat, Mars Harry,” but the misery that was in Joe’s - voice showed that he took in instantly all the dreadful possibilities, if - the storm should break with Brevet alone on the island. They hurried as - fast as they could to the shore, and there, sure enough! was Brevet, hard - at work, getting his little camp into shape for the coming storm he had - evidently been the first to discover. At that precise moment he was busy - hauling down the little camp flag, but that he was not in the least - disconcerted was perfectly evident. In the awful ominous hush preceding - the storm, they could even catch the familiar strain of “I’se a little - Alabama Coon.” - </p> - <p> - “We must not frighten him, Joe,” Harry said, his breath coming short and - fast, “we must just call to him to come right back. <span class="pagenum">089</span><a - name="link089" id="link089"></a>But where is the boat, Joe? <i>Where</i> - is the boat?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mars Harry! Mars Harry! look dere,” and now the fear in Joe’s voice - had turned to veriest anguish; and Harry looking, saw the precious boat in - mid-river, the oars still resting in the oar-locks, but as hopelessly - beyond reach as though in mid-ocean. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Joe!” cried Harry, looking down at the helpless arm bound firmly in - the splints. Then, crying, “I will get a man from the stables; stay right - where you are, Joe,” he was gone in a flash. A man from the stables! Joe - knew how long that must take. No, there was just one thing to be done, and - stripping off boots and jacket, in the next second he was breast deep in - the water, and in the next striking out bravely for the island. It was a - hard tug for the old man, for the current was strong; but Brevet, still - unmindful of his danger, sang away with a will, and the words came - distinctly over the water,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “I’se a little Alabama Coon, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I hasn’t been born very long.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Bless your heart, no you hasn’t,” muttered Joe, keeping his head well - above water. “You hasn’t been born long ‘nuff ter go out dis worl’ yet - awhile, I’m thinkin’,” and nerved by <span class="pagenum">090</span><a - name="link090" id="link090"></a>the little fellow’s unconscious calmness, - Joe put all his strength in four or five more good strokes, and reached - the camp, but he had no breath left with which to speak when he reached - it. It was dreadful to waste the precious moments, but his breath was - still too laboured from the strenuous effort he had been making for him to - voice a single Word. Just at that moment Brevet turned to hurry down from - the camp, and then stood riveted to the spot, his face white with terror. - He did not see Joe in the dismay of his discovery. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my boat is gone!” he cried, lifting his two little clenched hands in - helpless consternation. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0121.jpg" alt="0121 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0121.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “But here’s your Cap’ll,” rang out a dear familiar voice, and Joe thanked - God that he was able to instantly dispel the little fellow’s fears. One - bound, and Brevet was at Joe’s side. - </p> - <p> - “Did you swim over for me, Captain?” his two arms locked about Joe’s neck - in his joy. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I done swim ober for you Honey, an’ now we done goin’ ter swim back - again. Des get on my ole back, dis a-way, Honey, only have a care not ter - choke me an’ don’ be a-feared for a moment.” - </p> - <p> - It was hardly necessary for Joe to have added that, for on Joe’s back - Brevet felt as <span class="pagenum">091</span><a name="link091" - id="link091"></a>safe as any of the rest of us on the deck of an ocean - steamer. Besides, it was such fun to be carried ashore in that fashion. - Only once it seemed to cross his little mind that it might perhaps be - rather hard work for Joe. - </p> - <p> - “If I’m too heavy, I think I could swim all right. Shall I leave go?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” gasped Joe, fearing the dauntless little fellow might put his - suggestion immediately into practice, “for Heben’s sake, no, Brevet!” and - then Brevet tightened his hold as though realising there might be some - danger. How great the danger only Joe himself knew, and he feared more - than once that he would have to give up—that he could not save - Brevet after all. - </p> - <p> - Harry’s search for help had been futile, and, rushing back to the shore, - what was his joy to discover that Joe had dared to disobey orders and had - safely crossed to the island! But what a terrible risk the old man was - running, and, oh, the chagrin, young man that he was, of not being able - himself to attempt the rescue! With bated breath he watched Joe’s start - for the mainland, and then saw instantly how even the first return strokes - taxed his strength to the full. At the point for which he was making the - far-spreading limbs of two old live-oaks extended out over the river, and - Harry, plung<span class="pagenum">092</span><a name="link092" id="link092"></a>ing - into the water and clinging by his good arm to the heavier of two parallel - branches, was able to make his way to its extreme end, quite a distance - from the shore. - </p> - <p> - “Steer right for me, Joe,” he called, in a voice of earnest entreaty. “See - where I am, Joe, I can help you from here.” But a sudden blackness had - come before Joe’s eyes, and he could see nothing. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0129.jpg" alt="0129 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0129.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Meantime Courage had hurried from the house the first moment she could be - spared; had reached the river’s edge and instantly took in the situation. - It would be little enough Harry could do even if poor Joe succeeded in - reaching him—it was for her to gain some point as near him as - possible, and be ready to lend a hand as well. Throwing aside a cloak she - had caught up for protection, she strode into the water, and by aid of the - same strong limb to which Harry was clinging, was able to take her place - close behind him. Meantime not for one instant did Harry intermit his - calls of encouragement, until at last the overhanging branch was almost - reached. - </p> - <p> - “Joe,” he then called, in a voice of commanding entreaty, “one stroke - more! Now lay hold of me and you’re safe.” Joe had hardly consciousness - enough left to obey, but he made one stroke more, and then his arms <span - class="pagenum">093</span><a name="link093" id="link093"></a>grasped - something, he hardly knew what, with an iron grip, and barely keeping his - head above water, his body dragged helplessly down the river with the - current. - </p> - <p> - “And what shall I do?” gasped Brevet quickly, for he had at last fully - realised the struggle of the crossing and knew that Joe’s strength was all - but gone. - </p> - <p> - “You lay hold of my arm, Brevet,” cried Courage; “now let go of Joe; now - cling to me and pull yourself up here on this limb. Quick, quick, Brevet, - don’t lose a moment—there—now lie flat down and keep perfectly - still with your arms firm around the branch under you. Now what?” in a - voice of bewildered appeal to Harry. - </p> - <p> - “Can you shift yourself to that other limb and bend it within Joe’s reach? - I am helpless.” Harry spoke through teeth clenched with the effort of - supporting Joe and his own dead weight by that one arm’s hold on the - branch beside him. - </p> - <p> - It was not an easy thing that Harry asked, but retreating toward the shore - a little way, to a point where the branches came more closely together, - she safely swung to the other limb, but in making her way out into the - water again, she felt the ground fall gradually away beneath her feet, - <span class="pagenum">094</span><a name="link094" id="link094"></a>"Careful, - careful,” called Harry; “don’t get beyond your depth.” - </p> - <p> - “I am all right,” Courage answered calmly, though she knew for a certainty - that she was already beyond her depth—but what did that matter in - the imperative need of the moment? All this while Joe, with closed eyes, - still realised that the one thing for him to do was to hold on. - Notwithstanding the deeper water Courage succeeded in working out along - the branch until near enough to Joe to bend it by her weight within his - reach. Then she cried peremptorily, with what little breath was left her: - </p> - <p> - “Joe, open your eyes.” Joe mechanically obeyed. “Now see this branch, Joe; - reach for it and get upon your feet. The water is not deep.” - </p> - <p> - Harry felt Joe’s grasp relaxing from his body, but at the same time it was - apparent that he was too weak and dazed to fully take in the situation, - and was not about to make the effort necessary to seize the overhanging - limb. - </p> - <p> - “Brevet,” cried Harry, under his breath, “speak to Joe. He is not going to - try to save himself——” - </p> - <p> - “Joe! Joe!” called Brevet, an agony of appeal in his voice. Joe’s eyes - opened again. <span class="pagenum">095</span><a name="link095" - id="link095"></a>"Reach for that branch, Joe, and try to get ashore. I - want you, Joe, I want you———” - </p> - <p> - Brevet’s dearly loved voice, with its deep sob of entreaty, seemed to - reach some inner consciousness of Joe’s. If Brevet needed him, he must - make one last effort; and, letting go his relaxed hold of Harry, he - reached for the branch; struggled to his feet, stumbling heavily against - Courage; took the necessary steps to reach the shore, and then fell - utterly unconscious. - </p> - <p> - Meantime the storm had broken in all its fury. A great yellow whirl of - dust and sand came sweeping down upon them, carrying broken twigs and - larger branches, in a twinkling, past them; then came the rain in - torrents, and vivid flashes of lightning. Brevet clung terrified to the - limb, but, manly little fellow that he was, made no outcry. Harry, with - but one arm at his service, hung where he was; the water serving to buoy - his body up, and to sustain his weight, but he was powerless to alter his - position. Courage, by the aid of the limb, made her way to the shore. Then - calling back to Harry, “I will bring help at once,” she dropped on to her - hands and knees, for it was impossible to stand against the wind and rain, - and began creeping up the embankment. But fortunately for them all, help - was <span class="pagenum">096</span><a name="link096" id="link096"></a>at - hand. Teddy Bennett, fairly blown along by the wind, appeared on the ledge - above her. Courage, leaning heavily upon one hand, pointed down the river, - and Teddy in another minute was in the water and close at Harry’s side. It - was the work of but a moment, strong young swimmer that he proved himself, - to help Harry ashore, and then throwing themselves flat upon the ground - and calling out every minute to Brevet to “Hold on and keep a brave - heart!” they waited for the terrible storm to pass over. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">097</span><a name="link097" id="link097"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX.—JOE HAS AN’ IDEA. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was two weeks - now since that dreadful afternoon up at Ellismere, and it has been a quiet - two weeks for all of our little party. No one has had the heart for very - much fun, for Grandma Ellis has been very ill up at Ellismere, and dear - old Joe is lying helpless in bed in his own little cabin. After the storm - had spent its force they had carried Joe up to the house, and there he had - lain unmindful of everything about him for three whole days together. - Then, when at last consciousness came back, power to move either right arm - or leg did not come with it, and then they learned that poor old Joe was - paralysed. As soon as possible after that they moved Joe up to Arlington, - for he longed for his own bed and his own familiar cabin. And who do you - suppose went up to care for Joe, but Mammy! “If you can spare me. Miss - Lindy,” Mammy had said to Grandma Ellis, “I would like to look out for Joe - de res’ of his days. I ain’t allers been ober kin’ to dat ole gem’an, an’ - I ain’t had no idea what splendid stuff he had in <span class="pagenum">098</span><a - name="link098" id="link098"></a>him,” and it seemed a very little thing to - Grandma Ellis to spare Mammy for the sake of the one who had saved - Brevet’s life. That Joe had saved it there was but little question, for - the storm had seemed to be at its very height when it reached the island, - levelling and demolishing everything upon it. The tent had been carried - off bodily, no one knew where, and the little pine trees uprooted lay - wedged in the rocks as though pounded in with an anvil, so that it seemed - impossible that Brevet could have escaped being hurled into the river, or - dashed against the rocks with the same terrible force as the pine trees. - </p> - <p> - Harry had been unable to bring any one from the stables, for both the men, - as it happened, were three miles away at the blacksmith’s, and but for - Joe’s instant action, any help would have come too late. - </p> - <p> - I doubt if Teddy will ever quite forgive Grandma Ellis, or his sister - Mary, for forbidding him to join the party in search of Brevet, or ever - cease to be thankful that at last, rushing out of the house in spite of - all their protests, he was able to render such timely aid. - </p> - <p> - As for Joe, he accepted his utter helplessness with a beautiful - resignation, but there was something on Joe’s mind, and one day he said to - Mammy: <span class="pagenum">099</span><a name="link099" id="link099"></a>"Would - you min’, Mammy, just sendin’ fo’ Miss Courage to come heah for awhile dis - ebenin’. I’se somethin’ important ter say ter lier, ‘Tain’t dat I couldn’t - trus’ you wid it, Mammy, only you knows dey am times when a ‘spectable - cullud pusson seem ter need der advice of a pusson what is born ter a - different colour and station.’ - </p> - <p> - “Miss Courage shall be sent for dis bery ebenin’, Joe,” for Mammy had made - up her mind that Joe was to be humoured in every particular. And so - Courage came, and with Brevet, who had happened to be spending the day at - Homespun, for her companion. They stopped to leave the buckboard at the - stable, where a young mulatto boy was now doing Joe’s work, and then - Brevet asked permission to run on ahead. He had something on his mind, as - well as Joe, and he was longing to ask him a question that had just - occurred to him the day before, and which had made his little heart very - heavy. - </p> - <p> - “Joe,” he said in an awed whisper, stepping into the cabin and looking - quickly about to see if Mammy happened to be out of hearing, “are you - asleep, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “No, bless your little heart,” and Joe’s old face lighted up with the joy - of Brevet’s coming, “I was des habin a bit o’ a day-dream.” <span - class="pagenum">100</span><a name="link100" id="link100"></a>"Joe,” - whispered Brevet, tip-toeing close to his side, “I want you to tell me - something. You’re paralysed, you know, Joe.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Honey, I knows.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it wasn’t because you went in the river for me, was it, Joe? It - just happened to come then, didn’t it, Joe?” in anxious inquiry, and as - though to find out that he was responsible for Joe’s illness would be more - than he could bear. - </p> - <p> - “Des happen? o’ course, chile, des happen. Why, des look at me, Honey! - I’se pow’ful ole; reckon nobody knows how ole I be,” (which was the truth, - for Joe, if he knew himself, had never told any one), “whereas mos’ - white-haired cullud pussons is par’Iysed long afore my time o’ life, - par’Iysed all over too, not des a sort o’ half par’Iysed like me. No, - neber you b’lieve it anythin’ but des happened, no matter what folks say, - case you ‘member Joe tol’ you so, an’ I ought ter know, I reckon, better’n - anybody.” - </p> - <p> - It was as though a great shadow had been lifted from Brevet. Courage, - wondering how to account for the little fellow’s apparent spiritlessness - all day, wondered now, as she entered, at the little illumined face. - </p> - <p> - “See here, Brevet,” said Joe, smiling a welcome to Courage, “will you look - ober de <span class="pagenum">101</span><a name="link101" id="link101"></a>place - while I’se talkin’ ter Miss Courage. Go up to de house and down ‘roun’ - General Sheridan’s grave, an’ my Oder special fav’rites, an’ see if - eberythin’ is bein’ kept up ter de handle, case no one knows as well as - you, Brevet, how Joe allers like ter hab ‘em kep’.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet joyously obeyed, proud to be sent on such an important errand; and - after Courage and Joe had exchanged a few words of greeting, Joe at once - settled to the particular business in hand. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Courage,” he said, very solemnly, “I don’ b’lieve dey’s such anoder - mean contemptible good for nothin’ darkey in all dis county as I is. Look - at dis cabin! des as orderly as can be, an’ den ‘member how I’se allers - treated Mammy. She ain’t nowhere roun’, is she?” raising himself on one - arm and looking cautiously about the room. - </p> - <p> - “No; Mammy is way up the hill yonder, knitting under the chestnut tree. I - met her as I came, and she told me that you had something important to say - to me, and that she wouldn’t come back until I called her.” - </p> - <p> - “Beats me,” answered Joe, “ter see Mammy so considerate an’ behavin’ - hersel’ in dis fashion. Why, dere ain’t nothin’ Mammy can think of to make - me mo’ comfortable dat she doesn’t up an’ do in a jiffy. Why, when yo’ - <span class="pagenum">102</span><a name="link102" id="link102"></a>Sylvy - comes down ebry day or so, ter see if she can len’ a hand as you are so - good as ter sen’ her, dey ain’t, as a rule, nuffin lef for her ter do, - ‘ceptin’ Mammy set her ter make some little relish for me to pay her fo’ - de trouble of cornin’. Now can you ‘magine, Miss Courage, how all dis mak’ - me feel, case I’se allers been down on Mammy? You ‘member I neber so much - as invite her ter my Fo’th July dinner. I allers ‘spect Grandma Ellis - staid away so as to let Mammy think she was nowise invited either.” - </p> - <p> - “But you mustn’t blame yourself too much, Joe,” Courage interrupted, “for - if I’m not mistaken, Mammy has been always rather down upon you. No wonder - that she wants to make amends. You’re a perfect hero in all our eyes now, - Joe. Just think of the terrible risk you ran and of all it has cost you, - Joe—” - </p> - <p> - “‘Tain’t cost me nuffin, Miss Courage,” Joe said, almost angrily. “Oh, I - des hope for Brevet’s sake dey won’t be sayin’ any such foolish t’ing as - dat. I happen ter know dat Brevet would neber get over it if he thought he - was ‘sponsible for me lyin’ here in bed. No, Miss Courage, dat paralysis - des happened ter come. I want it ter be so understood. I’d had the - queerest numb sort o’ feelin’s creepin’ over me a whole week ‘fo’ I took - dat plunge <span class="pagenum">103</span><a name="link103" id="link103"></a>in - de riber—but—-but, what I sent for you for am dis: I’se had a - heap o’ time, lyin’ heah, an’ I’se been usin’ my eyes, an’ sure huff I hab - an idea. You know your Sylvy? Well, she tol’ me dat day when ole Colonel - Anderson an’ all of you were at Arlington, an’ we was clearin’ up de - dinner dishes, dat she been ris up in an institution in Brooklyn, an’ so - far as she knew she didn’t hab a relashun in de worl’. Now, do you happen - ter know, Miss Courage, who took Sylvy to dat ‘sylum?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Joe; and I’m quite sure Sylvia once told me that nobody knew; but if - you wish, I can write and make some inquiry. But why do you want to know, - Joe?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, case I b’lieve it isn’t de mos’ impossible t’ing in de worl’ dat - Mammy and Sylvy is related,” and Joe lowered his voice to an almost - imperceptible whisper. - </p> - <p> - “But whatever do you found that upon?” Courage asked, eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Observation, Miss Courage, an’ what you might call human probability,” - (Joe was perfectly delighted to find two such fine long words at his - command) “an’ as I tol’ you, I’se been usin’ my eyes lyin’ heah, an’ dey - has little ways an’ gestures, Mammy and Sylvy, common to bof of ‘em. Den - you know Mammy had a daughter sol’ way from her des befo’ de <span - class="pagenum">104</span><a name="link104" id="link104"></a>wah, an’ as - Sylvy ain’t no idea what name she was born to, ‘tain’t impossible is it, - dat she should be Mammy’s gran’chile?” - </p> - <p> - “No, it isn’t impossible, Joe, but I must honestly say I do not think it - probable. Just think how very little you really have to build upon.” - </p> - <p> - “Mighty little, I grant you, Miss Courage, ‘cepting dose little ways an’ - gestures; but you’ll write, won’t you, case there ain’t the least harm in - writing is there?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed I will, Joe, this very night, but you mustn’t hang too many - hopes upon it, so as not to be too much disappointed.” - </p> - <p> - “Dey’s hung dere already. Miss Courage,” said incorrigible Joe, “an’ I’se - not goin’ter take ‘em down till I has ter.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” laughed Courage. “May I call Mammy back now? for I should - like to see her for awhile before I go home.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you call her, an’ des you notice, now your ‘tention’s called ter it, - if dere isn’t some ways dat ‘mind you of Sylvy.” - </p> - <p> - And Courage did notice, and was really so surprised at some points of - resemblance, that she wrote her letter that night with a deeper conviction - that they might be on the verge of a discovery than she had that morning - thought possible. - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">105</span><a name="link105" id="link105"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X.—BREVET SCORES A POINT. - </h2> - <p> - “Is anybody going to die in this chapter?” asked a little girl who is very - dear to me, as we were reading aloud last evening. The chapter had - certainly a rather ominous title, and if any one was going to die she - preferred to go to bed. Now if we had happened to have been reading this - story together, I am pretty sure I should have met the same question; for, - what with Joe ill in bed, and Grandma Ellis ill at Ellismere, and both of - them pretty old people, it does look, I admit, as though there might be - something sad to write about it. But, happily, for that happy summer there - was to be no sorrowful ending. Grandma Ellis was soon quite herself again, - and Joe improved so much that it seemed as though he would probably be - able to move about his cabin again some day. And so everything would have - been bright and hopeful enough save for this—the time had come for - Courage and the Bennetts and Mary Duff and Sylvia to go home, and all - hearts as a result were as heavy as lead. The Bennetts were eager to <span - class="pagenum">106</span><a name="link106" id="link106"></a>see their - father and mother and the baby, but they did not want to go back to the - great, crowded city. And Courage—well, she wondered what she - possibly could find to do at home that would so absorb her whole thought - and time as this Little Homespun household, and keep her half as happy and - contented. She feared that when she went back, the old loneliness would - surely come surging down upon her, and that life without Miss Julia would - seem again intolerable. She was thinking just such sad thoughts as these - as she sat alone in the little living-room, stitching away at a dress of - Mary Bennett’s that needed mending for the journey on the morrow. Every - one but herself and Mary Duff had gone up to Arlington for a good-bye call - upon Joe. Courage was not planning to go until late in the day, - calculating that the afternoon mail would surely bring her some word from - the asylum; and so, as she sat alone with her own sad thoughts, she was - suddenly surprised by a little figure in the doorway and a larger figure - looming above it. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s everybody?” asked Brevet. “May we come in?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed, come in!” Courage answered, cordially. “Indeed, I am glad to - see you, for I’m as blue as can be.” <span class="pagenum">107</span><a - name="link107" id="link107"></a>"So are we,” said Brevet, sitting - disconsolately down in a huge armchair that made him look more - disconsolate than ever “Uncle Harry’s hardly spoken to me all the way.” - Harry made no denial and dropped into the nearest chair. - </p> - <p> - “And you’ll be bluer still, Brevet, to find that no one’s at home,” - Courage added. “They have all gone up to Arlington.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that doesn’t matter,” Brevet replied, philosophically, “we shall - see them all tomorrow when we come down to see you off; but what we all - care the most about is your going, Miss Courage. Grand<i>na</i>na a cries - every time she thinks of it, and Uncle Harry says it will be just like a - funeral all the time for him until he is able to go back to the office, - and I’m just as miserable as I can be.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s very kind of you all,” sighed Courage. “It seems to me there - never were two such dear places as Homespun and Ellis-mere, and you cannot - imagine how I hate to leave them.” - </p> - <p> - “What will you all do anyway when you get back to New York?” Brevet asked, - a little sullenly, as though he felt in his heart that really they were to - blame for going. - </p> - <p> - “Well, we are not going because we want to, Brevet,” Courage answered - almost sharply, <span class="pagenum">108</span><a name="link108" - id="link108"></a>for she was herself just down-spirited enough to be a - trifle touchy and childish. “There is no reason why Mary Duff and Sylvia - and I should stay since the Bennetts will not be here to be cared for.” - </p> - <p> - “But what is the <i>reason</i> for your going home, Miss Courage?” asked - Brevet, determined to have the whole situation explained. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mary Duff is needed at the hospital, where she has charge, you - know, of a whole ward full of little babies; and, as for Sylvia and me, - our home is there you know—we belong there—and I shall try - very hard to find something to fill up all my time, for that is the only - way for me to manage now that I no longer have Miss Julia.” - </p> - <p> - “But do people always belong to just one place?” - </p> - <p> - “No, not always,” Courage was forced to admit. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you and Brevet seem to be having things all your own way,” said - Harry, really speaking for the first time since he had entered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; I was thinking it would be more polite if you should join in the - conversation,” Courage answered, colouring a little, for she had felt - annoyed at Harry’s apparently moody silence. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he added, slowly, “I do not know <span class="pagenum">109</span><a - name="link109" id="link109"></a>on the whole that there is anything for me - to say.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why did you come?” - </p> - <p> - “Simply to see you once more.” - </p> - <p> - “And what was the use of that?” Courage asked, she hardly knew why. - </p> - <p> - “No use, simply to enjoy the pathetic sort of pleasure of all last times; - but I do not myself understand why you could not have stayed on and made - us a visit? You would have made my grandmother very happy.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Harry, come off!” said Brevet, who had unavoidably acquired a boy’s - measure of slang, and who was old enough to appreciate when Harry was not - his frank, honest self. “That’s all stuff about Grand<i>na</i>na—you - want Miss Courage to stay for yourself just as much as Grand<i>na</i>na - wants her for herself and I want her for myself.” - </p> - <p> - “‘Children and fools speak the truth,’” said Harry, looking straight at - Courage. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that’s the blessed beauty of them,” looking straight back at him. - </p> - <p> - “Other people don’t dare,” said Harry. - </p> - <p> - “Other people lack courage.” - </p> - <p> - “I quite agree with you. I know a fellow who feels that with Courage he - could defy the whole world.” - </p> - <p> - “Brevet,” said Courage, folding away the <span class="pagenum">110</span><a - name="link110" id="link110"></a>mended dress, “there is a pile of pictures - yonder that I have been collecting from the magazines and papers for your - scrap-book. Bring them here and let us look them over.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet was not to be diverted. It was always one thing at a time with him. - The pictures could wait—he couldn’t. He had one or two questions yet - to ask, and he came and stood beside Courage as though to compel her - undivided attention. - </p> - <p> - “But why couldn’t you visit us? Didn’t you want to?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I should have been glad to come, Brevet; I cannot explain to you why - I couldn’t.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it was because there wasn’t anything particular for you to do; - you always want to be doing something. Now, Miss Courage, I have heard - Grand<i>na</i>na say that if Uncle Harry would bring a wife home to - Ellismere some day she would give her all the housekeeping. Now, don’t you - think you could come that way, because then you would have a great deal to - do?” - </p> - <p> - “Can you not stop this child?” said Courage, turning with a look of - indignant appeal to Harry. - </p> - <p> - “He is doing very well,” Harry answered, without looking up. <span - class="pagenum">111</span><a name="link111" id="link111"></a>Brevet, - intent upon his own line of thought, paid not the least attention to - either of the last remarks. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Miss Courage,” resting one arm on her chair and speaking - thoughtfully and slowly, “couldn’t you—don’t you think you could—perhaps—be - Uncle Harry’s wife and so belong up to our house and have lots of things - to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, couldn’t you—perhaps?” said Harry, very earnestly. - </p> - <p> - Courage gave one glance toward Harry, and then sat gazing straight at - Brevet with a look on her face as though endeavouring to frame some sort - of answer; while Brevet, with appeal in his eyes more eloquent than words, - waited in solemn silence for her answer. - </p> - <p> - “But, Brevet,” she said, at last, “are you sure, perfectly sure that your - Uncle Harry would not mind?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly sure!” but not so much as looking toward Harry, so completely - did he regard the matter as resting wholly between Courage and himself. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, Brevet, I believe I could.” - </p> - <p> - Then for the first time Brevet showed an inclination to include Harry in - the conversation, but for that matter he had to, for Harry was close - beside Courage now. “There,” he <span class="pagenum">112</span><a - name="link112" id="link112"></a>said, with a great sigh of relief, “what - did I tell you? Perhaps she doesn’t care enough to do it for you, but she - cares enough to do it for us all three together.” - </p> - <p> - “Run, Brevet!” said Courage. “See, there is Mary coming with the mail. - Run, and bring it quickly.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet scampered off in high feather, and Courage instantly straightened - herself up and looked accusingly at Harry. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say that you actually talked all this over with Brevet?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0147.jpg" alt="0147 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0147.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “No,” he answered, never looking so handsome or so happy in his life. “He - talked it all over with me. He seemed to think it the one way out of the - difficulty.” - </p> - <p> - “And you knew he was—he was going to say all this to me?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I never so much as dreamt it for a minute, I assure you, or that he - was going to take matters into his own hands. On the contrary, I wanted to - come alone this afternoon, but come he would. He had evidently thought out - his own course of action, and I shall bless him for it all my life.” - </p> - <h3> - <span class="pagenum">113</span><a name="link113" id="link113"></a> - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI.—A RED-LETTER AFTERNOON. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey were a happy - trio that set out for Arlington a half hour later. Harry and Courage - walked closely, side by side, for there was much to be said that could not - by any chance have any interest for Brevet; besides, you could not have - kept Brevet still enough for five seconds together to listen to anything. - He was quite as wild with joy as any little terrier, liberated from his - kennel for the first run over the hills in a fortnight. But the joy that - made him run hither and thither, and come bounding back to press a flower - into Courage’s hands, or simply to look up to her face, or brush - affectionately against her in true terrier fashion, was something more - than animal spirits. Courage was coming up to Ellismere to live! Courage - was coming! No little May-time songster was ever more joyous over the - coming of Spring, and Brevet would have trilled as glad a carol if he - could. But of the three Courage was, if possible, the very happiest, for - she had such a happy secret in her <span class="pagenum">114</span><a - name="link114" id="link114"></a>keeping—that is, in her pocket—for - the mail had brought the expected letter. The secret, however, must stay a - secret until she should reach Arlington and could have a little private - talk with Joe; and so she hurried Harry along much faster than was at all - to his liking, for Harry would have been glad to have that walk last for - “a year and a day,” and so perhaps would Courage, save for the letter. - </p> - <p> - It was not that it contained any wonderful revelation—it simply said - that unfortunately the asylum authorities knew nothing more of Sylvia’s - antecedents than she herself knew; that she had simply been thrust in at - the asylum door by some old woman who succeeded in beating a mysterious - retreat into the darkness before any one had seen her. A scrap of paper - pinned to her dress bore the name of Sylvia, and the statement that the - child had neither father nor mother. In addition to this the only possible - clew lay in two or three articles found at the time in Sylvia’s keeping. - They had been given to her when she left the institution, the matron - impressing upon her the need and importance of guarding them carefully, as - they would possibly prove of great value some day. They regretted very - keenly that they were unable to furnish any further information. But, - nevertheless, the letter stirred the first <span class="pagenum">115</span><a - name="link115" id="link115"></a>real hope for Courage that Joe was right - in his conjecture, for it reminded her of the little belongings Sylvia had - once shown her—a coral necklace, a gay little silver belt set with - imitation turquoise and rubies in great variety, and a much-used - devotional book. She remembered there was no writing in the book save the - name of what appeared to be some gentleman’s country-place and some date - way back in the fifties. She could not recall the name, but she thought - she would know it if she heard it, and felt quite sure, now that she came - to think of it, that she had heard a name on Mammy’s lips that sounded - like it. No wonder that something seemed far more important just then than - even her own great happiness, and that she was impatient to reach Joe’s - cabin. - </p> - <p> - “I will hurry on,” she said, when they came in sight of the cabin. “You - capture Brevet, Harry, and make him understand that he will be reduced to - the ranks if he says one word down here of what has happened up at - Homespun—your mother must be the first to know.” - </p> - <p> - “You have set me a rather difficult task,” laughed Harry; but he saw the - wisdom of it, and bearing down upon Brevet he detained him an unwilling - little prisoner until he had <span class="pagenum">116</span><a - name="link116" id="link116"></a>extracted—but slowly and painfully - it must be confessed—the required promise. Courage found the little - cabin full; that is, Mary Duff, Sylvia and the children all were there as - she expected, but a word to Mammy, to whom Courage’s slightest wish was - law, and the little cabin was cleared in a twinkling, all hands finding - themselves peremptorily shooed like a pack of geese to the pond below, - under some foolish pretext or other. - </p> - <p> - “Has the letter come?” Joe asked, breathlessly. “Any news in it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I have a letter,” and Courage drew a rocking-chair close to the bed; - “but there is nothing new in it, only it suggests something to me. It - speaks of some treasures of Sylvia’s that might throw a little light on - the subject. I remember now that Sylvia once showed them to me, and I do - not see why I have been so stupid as not to think of them before. They - were a string of coral beads, a gay belt of some sort, and a little - devotional book.” - </p> - <p> - “Anythin’ written in de book?” interrupted Joe, his clasped hands - trembling with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing much, Joe. We mustn’t grow too hopeful quite yet, but I am quite - sure it was some name such as would belong to a gentleman’s country-place, - and I think I should <span class="pagenum">117</span><a name="link117" - id="link117"></a>recall it if I heard it. Now, doesn’t Mammy sometimes - speak of the plantation where she used to live, by some name or other?” - </p> - <p> - “Sunnyside,” panted Joe, “Sunnyside; it’s on her lips eb’ry day or two. Do - you t’ink—do you t’ink dat’s it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I don’t dare to think, Joe, it would be so easy for me to be mistaken——” - </p> - <p> - “Call Mammy then, call Sylvy,” Joe cried, excitedly, “call dem quick!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I will call them right away, but, Joe, we must all try to be calm” - (for she feared the effect of so much excitement). “You must be calm for - your own sake, Joe, and for theirs, and if we should chance to be on the - verge of a happy discovery, we must not spring it too suddenly upon them. - Let me talk to them a little before you ask Sylvia about the name.” - </p> - <p> - But Courage in her own mind was quite joyously sure that Sunnyside was the - name in the little book. Mammy and Sylvia came in answer to the call from - Courage—Mary Duff and the Bennetts, wondering what was up, remained - perforce just as obediently behind. - </p> - <p> - “Sylvia,” said Courage, signalling Joe to be quiet for a moment, “do you - remember once showing me a little devotional book of yours? I was trying - just now to remember its name.” <span class="pagenum">118</span><a - name="link118" id="link118"></a>“‘Words of Jesus,’ Miss Courage.” - </p> - <p> - “‘Words of Jesus,’” said Mammy solemnly. “Oh, but I loved dat little book. - My Missus gave it to me years ago, an’ I gave it to my little girl when - she was sol’ away from me way down in Alabama.” - </p> - <p> - “And, Sylvia, there were some other little things, were there not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Miss Courage, a little string of coral beads, and a tinsel belt, you - remember.” - </p> - <p> - Joe and Courage were looking straight at Mammy, who, ashy white under her - dark skin, leaned against the foot of the bed; but Sylvia, all intent upon - Joe, did not notice. - </p> - <p> - “Come nearer, chile,” said Joe, for his turn had come now, although his - voice all but failed him as he took Sylvia’s hand in his. “Was somethin’ - written in de little book?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Sylvia, her own voice unsteady now, for she knew there must be - some object in all this questioning. - </p> - <p> - “Have a care now, Mammy,” cried Joe, exultingly. “Something may be going - to happen, Mammy. Was it Sunnyside, chile?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it was Sunnyside,” she answered, eagerly. “What do you know about - it, Joe?” - </p> - <p> - But before Joe could explain, Mammy’s arms were about her in one wild - ecstasy of delight, <span class="pagenum">119</span><a name="link119" - id="link119"></a>and then dropping into a chair she drew Sylvia to her - lap. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “O’ course it was Sunnyside, chile! what else could it be after yo’ sayin’ - you owned de corals an’ de tinsel belt? I gave dem all three to my little - daughter thirty years an’ more ago. Yo’ b’longs ter me!” - </p> - <p> - “But, Mammy dear, who do you suppose I am?” her arms close about Mammy’s - neck. - </p> - <p> - “Yo’ my little gran’chile, Honey, my little gran’chile come back ter me - after all dese years——-” - </p> - <p> - “But how can you be sure, Mammy? My having the things doesn’t surely make - me your grandchild,” and Sylvia looked as though not to be able to be - perfectly certain at last would quite break her heart. - </p> - <p> - “Sure by eb’ryt’ing ‘bout you, Honey; by yo’ face, by yo’ hands, by de way - you walk, by yo’ ebery motion, by de way you drink a cup o’ tea. Maria was - jus’ about yo’ age when she was sol’ away from me, an’ sometimes you’ve so - much ‘minded me of her I could scarce bear to look at you, neber dreamin’ - you could possibly b’long ter me. But, Sylvy,” and Mammy’s voice at once - grew troubled with the thought that occurred to her, “why hab you neber - done try to fin’ yo’ own people, chile?” <span class="pagenum">120</span><a - name="link120" id="link120"></a>"Why, Mammy! I knew nothing about myself - at all. I was just pushed into the door of a coloured orphan asylum in - Brooklyn, when I was a little bit of a girl, by a very old woman I - remember, and I never saw or heard of her again. There was a little piece - of paper pinned on to my dress which merely said, ‘This little girl hasn’t - got any father or mother,’ and that my name was Sylvia.” - </p> - <p> - “Then yo’ mamma’s daid, is she?” said Mammy in a low voice, as though - speaking to herself. “I wonder who she married an’ how she drifted ‘way up - North, an’ why she never wrote to her old Mammy—but we’ll never know - in dis work, will we, Honey?—but no matter, no matter, we’s got each - oder now, Sylvy,” and Mammy stroked Sylvia’s hair with one trembling hand, - as the happy realisation chased all the sadness from her face. “Maria - coaxed that little belt from me,” she continued, never one moment taking - her eyes from Sylvia’s face, “one day long ’fo’ she was sol’ from - me. My Missus had given it to me when I was jus’ a slip of a girl. She - gave me the dear book too, but I put that into Maria’s pocket an’ begged - her to read it now an’ again, cause Maria allers seemed too lighthearted - to give much ’tention to religion. Seems as d’ough <i>I</i> could - hardly wait, Sylvy, <span class="pagenum">121</span><a name="link121" - id="link121"></a>to lay my eyes on d’ose little keepsakes once more. An’, - Sylvy chile, do you ‘member what you said first words you spoke ter me an’ - Joe? You said, ‘I thought I should find some of my own people down here in - Virginia.’ ‘Lor, chile, you didn’t dream what gospel trufes you were - speakin’.” - </p> - <p> - Meantime Harry and Brevet had appeared upon the scene, and astonished - beyond measure at what they saw and heard, sat down on a bench beside the - door and listened in mute wonder. - </p> - <p> - “But who,” said Mammy at last, when she could bring her confused thoughts - into some sort of order, and with Sylvia still seated upon her lap, “who - was de one to find all dis out for me?” turning toward Courage for an - explanation. But Courage simply looked toward Joe for answer. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Mammy,” replied Joe, leaning comfortably back against his pillows, - the embodiment of dusky radiance, “I has dat honour, Mammy. Lyin’ here so - helpless when I was first brought back ter de cabin, an’ watchin’ you an’ - Sylvy move roun’ de room togeder, it came home ter me how you took after - each oder in a hundred little ways, an’ den ’memberin’ how Sylvy - had tol’ me one day how she knew nothin’ ’bout who b’longed ter - her, it <span class="pagenum">122</span><a name="link122" id="link122"></a>des - ’spicioned me dat she might b’long to you, an’ so Miss Courage - here, she wrote up to de ’sylum an’ de answer des come dis bery - afternoon. But o’ co’se, as you know from Sylvy, dey couldn’t tell us - nuffin, but ter ’mind Miss Courage of de little treasures Sylvy had - in her possession, an’ den Miss Courage ’minded how Sylvy had once - showed dem to her an’ how dere was somethin’ written in de little book, - but o’ co’se we could not des be sure it was de same name as de ole - plantation whar you lived till we sent for Sylvy an’ asked her. An’ oh! - but it’s a happy day for Joe; de happiest day in all my life, an’ it’s all - come of me being par’lysed an’ havin’ a chance ter notice,” and Joe spoke - as though the paralysis was unquestionably something for which he had need - to be devoutly thankful. - </p> - <p> - “Joe,” said Mammy, who had left her chair and was standing close at his - bedside, “I’se been hard on you an’ unfair to you mos’ o’ my life, Joe,” - and she stood looking down as shamefacedly as any little school culprit. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you say nuffin, Mammy. Hasn’t I allers been hard on you an’ unfair - to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t either of you say anything,” interrupted Courage. “If ever two - people in this world have made up for bygones, I think you two people - have,” and Joe and Mammy shook <span class="pagenum">123</span><a - name="link123" id="link123"></a>their old heads in assent, for happily for - them both they knew that Courage had spoken but the truth. - </p> - <p> - Meantime Brevet had slipped away and had enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of - telling Mary Duff and the Bennetts the wonderful news, whereupon they had - of course hurried pell-mell up to the cabin and joined in the general - jubilation. It was well-nigh sunset before the good-byes were said—those - last good-byes they had come for the purpose of saying—and before - they were all started on their walk home. - </p> - <p> - Then Courage turned to Harry. - </p> - <p> - “I think I will run back and <i>just tell</i> Joe and Mammy——” - </p> - <p> - “Tell all the world,” said Harry, proudly, “the sooner the better.” - </p> - <p> - A few minutes later Courage appeared in the cabin doorway. - </p> - <p> - “Come here,” she said, motioning to Mammy and hurrying to Joe’s side. - “There’s another secret in the wind this afternoon, and I want to tell it - to both of you myself. I think I shall come down here to live for good and - all before <i>very</i> long——” - </p> - <p> - “De Lord be praised!” ejaculated Joe and Mammy in one breath. - </p> - <p> - “And I’m coming because I am going to marry Harry Ellis——” - <span class="pagenum">124</span><a name="link124" id="link124"></a>“’Tis - de Lord’s own doin’s,” cried Joe, fervently, “for we all need you.” - </p> - <p> - “And never you fear but Sylvia will live here too,” said Courage, turning - radiantly to Mammy. Then in a flash she was gone to hurry after the little - party over the road. With Harry and Brevet, Courage went straight up to - Ellismere that night to see Grandma Ellis, and then another dear old heart - was gladdened beyond all words by the good news she had to tell. The next - day Courage went back to town with the Bennetts, leaving Sylvia to stay - with Mammy until she should return, and Courage was to return before very - long. A good deal had been talked over and arranged for in the evening - spent at Ellismere, and among other things that there should be a wedding - at Little Homespun late in October. By that time, probably, Joe would be - able to drive up from Arlington, and Colonel Anderson would come down from - Washington, and Courage knew that the Everetts and a few other dear - friends would come down just as gladly from New York, and another matter - that had been as fully agreed upon was, that although Courage’s home was - to be at Ellismere for the winter, she and Harry should move up to Little - Homespun the coming summer, and Mary Duff should bring <span - class="pagenum">125</span><a name="link125" id="link125"></a>down some - other party of little city-children to run wild and enjoy all the delights - of the unknown country just as the little Bennetts had done. - </p> - <p> - And so it came about that there was no real sadness in the good-byes which - were said on the morrow—even the Bennetts found they were glad to - go, now it came to the point, for when all is said, home is home the world - over. Harry and Brevet drove up to Washington to see the little party off - and then drove back to Ellismere, not saying much to each other by the - way, but both very contented and happy. Brevet was humming his own - favourite air, as in all serene and quiet moods, until at last as though - to give vent to the joy within him he broke into the old words,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “I’se a little Alabama Coon - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I hasn’t been born very long-” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Right you are,” laughed Harry, interrupting, “and a dear little coon into - the bargain, and who has been born quite long enough to make the time - tell.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” asked Brevet, with puzzled frown. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I mean you’ve been born long enough to accomplish quite a great deal, - on the whole, <span class="pagenum">126</span><a name="link126" - id="link126"></a>and the finest work you ever put in was up at Little - Homespun yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean about asking Miss Courage to come back?” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly. I think your name will always stick to you now—I’m sure I - shall never call you by any other——” - </p> - <p> - “You mean my name. Brevet?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “But why? I do not quite understand,” for Brevet’s ideas had really grown - a little hazy as to the full meaning of his name. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Joe gave you the name, you remember, because that is a title given - in the army simply as a reward of merit. You have the honour, that is, of - being a captain without the responsibility. Now it seems to me the title - belongs to you more than ever since yesterday afternoon. You sailed right - in and have won all the glory of persuading Miss Courage to come back to - Virginia, but I do not see that you have assumed a grain of - responsibility. It is a serious thing to have induced her to exchange her - home for ours. Now who’s going to see when she comes that she’s always - perfectly happy and contented, I’d like to know?” - </p> - <p> - “You are the one to see to that, Uncle Harry. Isn’t that what husbands - have to do? Besides, I don’t think it’s fair to blame me <span - class="pagenum">127</span><a name="link127" id="link127"></a>when you - yourself wanted her so much to come.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Blame!</i> bless your dear little heart! who thought of blame for a - minute? Irresponsible little rascal though you be, you have earned your - proud title and <i>Brevet</i> you shall be to the end of the chapter.” - </p> - <p> - Brevet did not quite understand this either, but that did not matter. He - knew that he had succeeded in making everybody very happy, Uncle Harry in - particular, and for the present that was quite enough to know and to - understand. - </p> - <h3> - THE END. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Homespun, by Ruth Ogden - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE HOMESPUN *** - -***** This file should be named 54763-h.htm or 54763-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/6/54763/ - -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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