Chapter XVI The Mail and Ethelwyn’s Visit
Good-bye, speed by
Days till we meet again.
Hearts’ ease, ne’er cease,
Keep free from fret or pain.
There had come an interesting mail that morning, for it began with another letter from Cousin Gladys, who was in London now for the winter, and there was also one from Aunty Stevens and from Grandmother Van Stark. While the two children ate their oatmeal and cream, they read their cousin’s letter. This was it:
“DEAR COUSINS:
“We have seen the Coronation, and my eyes ached, there was so much to see and do. It was worse than a circus with six rings.
“The King is not pretty, but I suppose that won’t hinder him from being good, and nurse is always saying, ‘Pretty is that pretty does, Miss Gladys.’ I think she thinks that the two hardly ever go together. The dear Queen is pretty, however, and so young-looking and sweet that even nurse has to give in about her.
“I will tell you all about it when we come home, but it tires me now even to think about it. One morning I begged to go back to the hotel and rest, and nurse was so disappointed that I told her she could go out and I would stay alone. I dug around in my trunk and got rather homesick, looking at the things I had at home. I found some jacks but no ball, so I thought I would go down to a near-by shop, and buy one. I slipped down and out, before I had time to think about mother making me promise not to go anywhere alone. I turned a corner or two, but didn’t find the right kind of a shop. It was cloudy, and sort of foggy, and crowds and crowds of people were pushing along. I knew all at once that I was lost, and I began to feel a lump in my throat, bigger than any ball you ever saw, and just then I saw a tall man coming towards me. I saw only his legs, but they looked so Americanish that I rushed up, and said, ‘Please take me to the L—— Hotel,’ He stopped at once and said, ‘Well, I certainly will; I am going there myself.’ He was a minister from New York. He laughed when I told him about the jacks, and then he talked to me in such a nice way about going out alone, that it made a great impression on me. I found mother and nurse in such a state when I got back. I was kissed and then put to bed to eat my supper, but the minister came to call in the evening, and when I had promised never to do such a thing again, they let me get up. He was so nice, and brought me a ball. I play jacks every day now, and think of America and nice ’things like that. I shall be glad to get there again.
“Yours truly,
“GLADYS.
“P.S.—I can probably beat you at jacks when I get back, I practice so much.”
“I’ll get mine out to-day,” said Ethelwyn, “and we’ll see whether she can or not. When will she come home, mother?”
But mother was reading Aunty Stevens’s letter, and did not hear.
“The Home is getting on beautifully,” she said presently. “There are ten pale little children out there now. Dick is quite well and strong again, and helps with the work in every way. They are very anxious that we shall come on this summer.”
“O let’s; for my birthday,” said Ethelwyn. “Can’t we, mother?”
“I will see. But Grandmother Van Stark would like one of you to come out and stay with her for a few days. Peter is coming in this afternoon and will take one of you out.”
“O me!” they cried at once.
“Let’s pull straws,” suggested Ethelwyn; so she ran to find the broom. It was she who drew the longest straw, and Beth drew a long breath, saying with cheerful philosophy, “Well, I am thankful not to leave mother. I’d prob’ly cry in the night, and worry dear grandmother.” So every one was satisfied, and Ethelwyn, dimpling delightfully under her broad white pique hat, bade them good-bye, and took her place beside Peter in the roomy old phaeton.
“Are you any relation of St. Peter’s?” she asked politely, after they were well on the way.
“Nobody ever thought so,” said Peter, looking down at her with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, I didn’t know,” she said. “I thought I’d like to ask you some questions about him if you were. We have had a good deal about him at Sunday-school lately. I’m studying my lessons nowadays for a prize; they are going to give a sacrilegious picture to the child that knows her verses the best by Easter, and I think maybe I’ll get it, for I’m only about next to the worst now.”
“How many are there of you?”
“O, a lot; but if I do get it, I shall ask for a goat and cart instead. We have plenty of pictures at home, but we are much in need of a goat and cart.”
Peter had a peculiar habit, Ethelwyn afterwards told her grandmother, of shaking after she had talked to him awhile, and gurgling down in his throat. She felt sorry for him. “He was prob’ly not feeling well; maybe what Aunt Mandy calls chilling,” she said.
She found grandmother making pumpkin pies, for the minister and his wife were coming to dinner the next day. Grandmother was famous for making pumpkin pies, and never allowed any one else to make them.
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” she said, and Ethelwyn nearly fell off her chair trying to imagine grandmother’s grandmother.
“I shouldn’t suppose they would have been discovered then,” she said, after a struggle. “Pumpkin pies don’t go out of style like clothes, do they, grandmother?”
“Mine never have,” said grandmother proudly. “I suppose Mandy never makes pumpkin pies.”
“Yes she does, but they don’t grow in yellow watermelons; they live in tin cans.”
“Pooh!” said grandmother, “they can’t hold a candle to these.”
“No, but why would they want to?”
“Hand me that japanned box with the spices, please, dear. Now you’ll see the advantage of doing this sort of thing yourself; here are mustard and pepper boxes in this other japanned box, but I know just where they always stand, so I could get up in the night and make no mistake.”
Just then grandmother was called away from the kitchen.
“Don’t meddle and get into mischief, will you, deary?” she said. And Ethelwyn promised.
She intended to keep her word, but while she was smelling the spices, it struck her that it would be a good joke to season the pies from the other box. “Like an April fool,” she thought; so she took a spoon and measured in a liberal supply of mustard and red pepper; then she went out into the yard.
It was fortunate that the minister and his new wife were not coming until the next day. Ethelwyn, however, spent a very unhappy afternoon. That night she woke up sobbing, and crawled into grandmother’s big bed.
“What’s the matter, child?” said grandmother, sitting up in bed with a start. “Are you sick?”
“Yes, grandmother, awful! You’ll never like me again, I know.” And then she told her about the pumpkin pies.
“Well, child, I am thankful you told me,” said grandmother with a sigh, “for when you are as old as I am, and have a reputation for doing things, it goes hard to make a failure of them, and I should have been much mortified. Fortunately there are plenty of pie shells, and there is more pumpkin steamed, so that I can season and put them together in the morning. But I am glad, dear child, that your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep comfortably until you had told; be careful, however, never again to break your word. Remember the Van Starks’ watchword, ‘Love, Truth, and Honor.’ Now cuddle down here and go to sleep.”
Ethelwyn, feeling much relieved, slept in the canopy bed with grandmother, until long past daylight. When she came down-stairs, the great golden pies were coming out of the oven, and the minister and his wife violated propriety and made Grandmother Van Stark proud and happy by eating two pieces each.