Chapter XIV Odds and Ends
The time flew very fast and happily by the sea. Johnny and Felix went to the Harbor every morning directly after breakfast, with Pierre, the reading-hour being postponed until their return. Johnny had great luck with his papers from the very start; and his little pocket-book grew so small for his money, in a few days, that he had to transfer a portion of it to another receptacle in his trunk. Felix accompanied him to the Harbor and town “for the fun of it,” as he said, but he soon began to want to sell something himself; and so Johnny proposed that he should buy candy in town at the wholesale, and retail it at the Harbor; since candy could be bought there only at the shore-dinner room, where there was a very poor assortment. Felix was considering the subject, when something happened, about a week after they began their morning-trips to the Harbor, which threw him into disgrace, and prevented the immediate execution of the scheme.
About a week from the day on which Ruth had visited at the cottage, Oliver went up on the hay-mow to pitch down some of the straw which had been placed there, and which was the same that was on the floor the night the boys slept out. As the barn was used only in summer, and there was plenty of pasture about, very little hay was stored in the barn. The straw had been brought for the stables. So it happened that Oliver was seldom on this second floor of the barn. While he was throwing down the straw that afternoon, and Mr. Le Bras was standing in the barn-door giving him some directions, Oliver heard a very strange sound off in one corner. “There’s a queer noise up here,” said he: “I should think there was some live thing about somewheres.”
“What does it sound like?” inquired Mr. Le Bras.
“That’s more’n I can tell,” replied Oliver. “It ’pears to be over here in the corner.”
Oliver at once began to explore in the direction from which the sound proceeded. “Golly!” he exclaimed, in a tone that excited Mr. Le Bras’ curiosity so much that he ascended to the mow. Oliver was just removing a stone from the top of a large box in the corner. Having taken off the stone, he removed the cover of the box, which had been placed on in such a way as to leave an opening at the end about an inch and a half wide. He then drew the box forward, and disclosed therein, to Mr. Le Bras’ astonished view, an emaciated kitten, lying apparently helpless, uttering weak, pitiful sounds, hardly distinguishable as the voice of a cat.
Mr. Le Bras sprang to the door, and called, “Felix! Johnny!” while Oliver took the kitten out, and laid it upon some hay on the barn-floor, where it lay quite motionless, still making the weak, mournful cry.
Johnny, Felix, and Sue were picking huckleberries in the pasture: so the boys heard Mr. Le Bras at once, and came running to the barn. “Look here,” said Mr. Le Bras, pointing to the sad sight. “Can either of you explain this?”
Both Johnny and Felix were horrified, but of course Felix alone looked guilty; and, although Mr. Le Bras had called Johnny as well as Felix, he had no suspicion that Johnny knew any thing about the imprisonment of the kitten.
“Why—I—I”—replied Felix, looking very much confused, and very much ashamed, and very sorry—“I knew about her being shut up, and I meant to—to have let her out that very night; but every thing happened about then, and—and we’ve been to the Harbor every day, and I haven’t come across Jack since, and so I—I forgot all about it. I’m awful sorry, uncle Frank: I never once thought of having her stay there; I got sort of put out with Julia, and I thought I’d like to tease her a little; and so, when Jack spoke of doing something with the kitten, I just helped him for fun, and I proposed shutting her up, instead of drowning her, as he wanted to.”
“We shall have to hold another court, to-day, Felix,” said Mr. Le Bras gravely: “didn’t you say you knew nothing of what had become of the kitten?—Johnny, run to the house at once, and get a saucer of milk.”
“I said,” replied Felix, looking still more ashamed, “that I knew nothing about Julia’s kitten; and when she asked me if I knew where her kitten was, I said ‘No;’ because this was not her kitten at all, but Jack’s.”
“This is very much like the other case, in some aspects,” replied Mr. Le Bras gravely,—“another plain instance of prevarication. I had hoped, Felix, that after our previous talk in regard to the real nature of truth and falsehood, you would avoid prevarication as much as you would avoid a direct falsehood.”
Felix hung his head, and made no reply.
Sue, who had remained picking berries, on seeing Johnny come out of the house with a saucer of milk in his hand, called out, “Have you found a cat, Johnny?”
“Yes,” called back Johnny: “we’ve found Julia’s kitten!”
Sue at once put down her pail, and, without coming to the barn first, ran directly across the pathway through the strip of woods, to the back part of the next cottage, and rushed into the first door she came to, calling out, “Where’s Julia? They’ve found her kitten!”
So, while Sue waited at the door, the girl went to tell Julia the good news; and a moment afterwards, Julia appeared, in a high state of excitement, exclaiming, “Where is it?”
“In the barn, I guess,” said Sue: “that’s where Johnny was carrying the milk.”
Julia at once ran towards the barn, as fast as she could go; and Sue followed her. When they entered the barn, Johnny was stroking the kitten, and trying to get her to drink some of the milk in the saucer, which was placed close by her mouth; while the kitten made no effort to drink, but only continued the faint, pitiful cries. Mr. Le Bras, Oliver, and Felix were standing near,—Felix with his hands behind him, and a very sober, perplexed look upon his face.
As soon as Julia and Sue saw the poor, emaciated object, Julia screamed, and Sue turned away and began to cry. Then Julia began to cry bitterly, and exclaimed,—
“Oh, dear! my beautiful little kitten! She’s dying! She’s been dreadfully treated! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do!”
Mrs. Le Bras, who was sitting in the veranda, heard the wailing, and ran out to the barn in a great fright. She was followed by Mary and Kate. When the full group were collected about the kitten, its cries were quite drowned in the chorus of lamentation.
“I shall have to take the part of a physician for this patient,” said Mr. Le Bras finally: “I prescribe perfect quiet, to begin with. We must leave the kitten wholly alone, for at least an hour: it will be much more likely to notice the milk, and recover appetite for it, if its attention is not distracted elsewhere. Come, let us all go; and you, Oliver, shut the barn-door after us, and fasten it. Felix can go to his room, and stay until supper-time. After supper is over, he can go to the parlor with me, and we will hold court.”
Julia then ran home, without saying another word; she ran into the room where her mother was sitting, threw herself on the floor by her side, buried her face in her lap, and began to cry quite hysterically; so that Mrs. Peterson would have been at a sad loss to know the cause, if Sue had not followed close behind Julia.
“Why, the kitten’s found, ’most dead and starved,” said Sue, who was still wiping her eyes. “It’s just as little as nothing, except its head, and that looks awfully big,—I guess because it’s about all that’s left; and it’s crying and crying, and can’t drink the milk; and Felix must be to blame about it, ’cause father’s going to hold court with him after supper; and I never saw Felix look half so sober before, so I expect he’s awfully to blame, somehow.”
“I knew he and Jack did it,” sobbed Julia; “and he went and lied about it! If that kitten dies, I’ll never speak to him again as long as I live! I don’t believe I’ll speak to him anyhow! He is one of the hatefulest boys that ever lived! I thought he was going to be better than he was last year; but this is just as mean,—and meaner, too, than the things he used to do last year. I hate boys, anyway!—all except Johnny.”
Felix came down to supper with a very long face. The meal proceeded with unusual gravity and silence all around. As yet, the kitten had not touched the milk, and her death was expected at any time. Sue had reported Julia to have gone to bed early with a headache. After supper, Felix followed his uncle into the parlor. When the testimony in the case was all in, and Felix had made his defence, Mr. Le Bras proceeded with his argument for the opposite side, and for truth and right-doing in general, and then, as judge, pronounced the extent of Felix’s guilt, and proceeded to the sentence.
“Now, Felix,” said he, “if it were Johnny who were deserving punishment, and we were at home, I should, very likely, forbid his reading or studying for a certain number of days, which would be a great punishment for him; but, in your case, it seems to me that study is a punishment, and yet it is something for your good. I always endeavor, in punishing my children, to deny them something, or have them do something, which will be of some use to them besides the punishment. When I tell Johnny he must not read for a week, I do it partly because I know a pause in his reading, and more exercise and open air in consequence, will be for his good. So, in my previous sentence regarding you, I proposed that you should read an hour a day for the summer, because it would be a punishment in the first place, and yet would improve you very much, and give you a habit which would soon be a great pleasure as well as profit to you.”
“Yes,” replied Felix. “I rather anticipate my hour’s reading with Pierre now, and I shouldn’t like to give it up: but then, I get tired by the end of the hour, and I shouldn’t like to have any more put on, if I can help it; because there are such a lot of other things that I want to do.”
“Yes: I think an hour’s reading is sufficient, especially in vacation. And I am hesitating about giving you any more fixed confinement. Still, as you do not go to school steadily, or study very hard the rest of the year, there is less objection than there would otherwise be. On the whole, I think I will offer you your choice between two kinds of punishment, this time. You can spend a half-hour a day in the practice of letter-writing, in which you say you are so deficient that you cannot write a letter to your father and mother,—although Johnny and Sue have already sent two,—or you can remain away from the Harbor three weeks. You can take your half-hour a day for writing, at any time upon which you and Pierre can agree. But you will probably prefer merely the deprivation of the morning-trips to the Harbor.”
“How long shall I have to spend a half-hour a day studying letter-writing?”
“I think four weeks will answer. That will be twelve hours in all, which will be quite a punishment, and also be long enough to learn how to write a letter neatly and correctly.”
“Then, I shall prefer the half-hour a day. I wouldn’t give up going to the Harbor for a good deal, because I am to try and see if I can begin to earn some money to-morrow: I shouldn’t like to give that up. If Pierre is willing, I’ll take my half-hour before breakfast, and have it over with; for I always have a little while, between the time I get up, and breakfast-time, that I don’t exactly know what to do with.”
“Very well. But there is one thing more: you must go over to see Julia to-morrow, explain the matter fully, tell her how sorry you are, and ask her forgiveness.”
“That will be the hardest of all,” replied Felix, making a wry face; “because I don’t believe she will forgive me, and I know she won’t if the kitten isn’t better. I am awful sorry, uncle Frank: I wouldn’t have really hurt the kitten for the world; and I’ve cried some myself at thinking how miserable it looks, and what a hard time it’s had, and how it may die.”
“I don’t think you are cruel or hard-hearted, Felix: your trouble is thoughtlessness; but, you see, thoughtlessness may amount to the same thing sometimes, in its effects, as real cruelty. I have known thoughtless persons who have even been the cause of the death of their dearest friends; so we will be thankful that, in this case, it is only a kitten who has had to suffer severely. Yet we should be very thoughtful, even of dumb animals; for they cannot think for themselves, and are peculiarly dependent upon us.”
“I am awful sorry, truly,” replied Felix, looking down gravely: “I will try to be more thoughtful, uncle Frank. But then, if you knew how much I’ve improved this summer, I think you would be some encouraged.”
“I am a good deal encouraged, my dear boy, I assure you,” replied Mr. Le Bras, putting his arm around Felix. “I expect great things of you, my boy. There’s the making of a noble man in you; and, in many ways, I am proud of you already.”
“I’m awful glad I’ve been with you and auntie and Johnny and Sue this summer,” replied Felix, brushing a tear from his eye. “I suppose I’d have gone right on being horrible, if it hadn’t been for that. But, somehow, I didn’t know how to be any better,—or, anyway, I couldn’t be.”
At that moment, there was a soft rap at the door.
“Who is it?” asked Mr. Le Bras.
“It’s me,” said Sue. “Mother just sent me to say Oliver has come in, and says the kitten has drank up the milk, and so he guesses she’ll begin to be all right by to-morrow; and I’m going right over to tell Julia, so she won’t feel so bad.”
“I guess I’m glad!” exclaimed Felix. And then his uncle opened the door, and told him the court was adjourned sine die, and he could go and arrange with Pierre about the half-hour.
So, the next day, Felix went to the Harbor as usual, and began his trade in candy, with very good success. The kitten had drank its milk all right for breakfast, and was able to stand up. Felix brought home a box of caramels for Julia, and took them over with him when he went, after dinner, to make his confession, and ask forgiveness. Julia could not withstand his humble manner and the box of caramels. She forgave him very prettily; although she added, that she did not know whether she could have forgiven him or not, if the kitten had died. Felix told her Jack said he didn’t want the kitten himself; in fact, his mother did not like cats, and had said she was glad it had gone, and that she would not have it brought back; but yet he thought Julia deserved some punishment for carrying it off, and so had proposed, at first, to tie a stone to the kitten’s neck, and drown it, when they went fishing. But Felix had objected to this plan, decidedly, and had compromised by proposing to shut the kitten up, fully intending to let it out that night or the next morning, and, if he kept it imprisoned over night, to carry it something to eat.
The next day the kitten could walk around, although very feebly. She was still kept in the barn, because that was a convenient place for her progress to be watched by all interested. The children made frequent visits to inquire after her health, and were assured each time, by her more cheerful and stronger “Mew!” that she was better.
That afternoon, as the children were in the veranda, Felix and Johnny sitting together in the hammock reading the “St. Nicholas” and “Wide Awake,” which had just arrived, and Julia and Sue playing with their dolls, Mr. Frothingham’s carriage came in sight, up the shell road, immediately drawing their attention from their books and dolls.
“There is a little girl with them,” said Julia, “but it isn’t Ruth. What a pretty girl she is, and how beautifully she is dressed! She doesn’t look much like Ruth, does she?”
“I guess it’s some of their relations, come to visit with Ruth,” replied Sue.
“Poh!” said Felix: “no city girl would be sent for to visit with Ruth, it isn’t likely! I guess it’s some one from the Harbor, that they are carrying home. I’ve seen a girl at the Harbor, who lives in one of those big cottages, that looks just like her.”
“I think it is Ruth herself,” said Johnny; “only her hair is loose, and waved, and banged, and she’s got different clothes on.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Julia, in disdain.
“Johnny thinks he can see better with his spectacles than folks can who don’t have to wear any,” remarked Felix, laughing.
“I really believe it is Ruth,” said Sue breathlessly.
“Yes,” added Johnny: “she’s smiling, and waving her hand to us; and don’t you see she’s got Ruth’s way of sitting up straight, and holding back her head?”
Felix whistled, which was his ordinary way of expressing great astonishment. “If that don’t beat all!” he exclaimed.
Then they all ran down the steps, and stood, an expectant and curious group, awaiting the nearer approach of the carriage; while Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras, who had been sitting in the balcony, came down-stairs, and stood out on the veranda, with smiling faces, ready to welcome the occupants of the carriage.
There was no longer any doubt that the fine young lady in the carriage was Ruth, though she did look so radiantly stylish and handsome.
“Of course, dress makes a great difference in persons’ looks; but I never saw a more striking example,” remarked Mrs. Le Bras.
“Ruth was a very sweet-looking girl in her plain clothes, though,” replied Mr. Le Bras: “I rather expected something of this kind, when she should be dressed more like other children.”
“Why! did you know they were going to dress her up?” asked Felix.
“I thought it probable,” replied Mr. Le Bras.
“But she’ll feel all the worse when she has to put on her calico dress, and go home,” said Julia.
The carriage was now too near for further remarks. The driver drove up to the door, and stopped; while Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras came out, and shook hands, and asked Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth to come in.
“We came down to get the children,” said Mr. Frothingham. “We want them to come and take tea with Ruth, and then drive over with us to see the fireworks at the Harbor. We will bring them back in good season this evening.
“They will be very happy to go,” replied Mrs. Le Bras.
Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras urged their callers to come in, and stay until the children were ready. As Julia was included in the invitation, she ran home to ask her mother if she could go, while Felix, Sue, and Johnny went to get ready; Mrs. Le Bras having called Kate to help Sue to dress.
Ruth was dressed in white, and wore a broad hat of fine straw, trimmed with a long cream-colored plume and satin ribbon. She was just as modest, unassuming, and at her ease, as she had been in her blue calico, and, as Julia told her mother, “didn’t seem to mind being dressed up.” The fact was, the poor child was thinking so much of how nice it was not to be at the lighthouse with her aunt, that she had little thought for the other advantages of her situation, to begin with.
When the company were seated in the parlor, Mr. Le Bras said,—
“I judge you had good success in your interview with Mr. Shepard.”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Frothingham: “all things considered, bad as he felt to part with his little niece, he decided that it was for the best all around, under the circumstances. He will be able to see her often, and watch her growth and progress. We are to go through the legal forms as soon as possible, so that her future will be assured in case of my death.”
Ruth was so horrified at Mr. Frothingham’s speaking of dying, that she came up to him, put her arm around his neck, and said, with tears in her eyes, “You aren’t sick, are you?”
“Why, no, indeed!” replied Mr. Frothingham, taking her on his knee, and laughing heartily. “Do I look like it? But I might get upset in my yacht, you know, or run over by the cars; and so, you see, I ought to be just as particular how I leave my affairs, little girl, as though I wasn’t one of the healthiest persons in the world.”
Mrs. Frothingham, who was sitting by the side of Mrs. Le Bras, said, “Did you ever see any thing like the way that dear child has come to us, as if she was sent from Heaven, when we were mourning the loss of our own little girl of just about her age? When my husband came home that night, and told how strongly your husband had advised him to adopt a child, I felt, as he did, that it was a pretty risky matter; for we have some friends who adopted a boy from an orphan asylum a number of years ago, and he is turning out a very wild young man, almost breaking their hearts. And then, only a few days afterwards, while we were thinking the matter over, we found that this child, belonging to a nice family, whom my husband’s folks thought so much of years ago, was to be sent out to work, because her aunt did not want her in the way; and, just to think! she is the daughter of the very girl of whom I have heard Henry speak admiringly so often, as his schoolmate and the nicest girl in the village. He says Ruth looks just like her. The child and he take to each other so, and she and I take to each other just the same! It almost seems like having my own little girl back. Do you see how perfectly Mary’s clothes fit her? There was not a single alteration needed. And do you see how happy Henry is? He is so fond of children, especially little girls! I thought it would break his heart when Mary died, and his being so lonely has worried me more than my own loneliness.”
After Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and the children had disappeared up the road, looking back, and waving their handkerchiefs, Mr. Le Bras said,—
“What a contrast Mrs. Frothingham is to Mrs. Shepard! Mrs. Shepard is so afraid her husband will like any one except herself, that she has acted in a manner which must always cause her husband to distrust her, if not positively dislike her; while Mrs. Frothingham, by being so glad to have her husband have some child to love, and so ready to love the same child herself, and be the happier for her presence, is increasing her husband’s affection and admiration for herself.”
“Jealousy is such a mean trait!” replied Mrs. Le Bras; “but it carries its own punishment with it, like most other selfish traits. If Mrs. Shepard had only been wise and kind-hearted enough to have kept Ruth, and treated her as she would an own daughter, how happy she and Mr. Shepard and Ruth might have been!”
“Perhaps it is just as well, for all except Mrs. Shepard,” replied Mr. Le Bras; “for it has secured a much happier life for Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham, who were suffering so keenly for the loss of their children; and Mr. Shepard cannot but be proud of the bright prospects before his little niece.”
“I don’t think any thing can make up for domestic discomfort,” replied Mrs. Le Bras; “and I am afraid they never can be really happy at the lighthouse, with the memory of the way Mrs. Shepard treated Ruth always before her and her husband.”
“And between them,” said Mr. Le Bras; “but the best thing has been done that could be done, under the circumstances. Let us be thankful that so much happiness has come to three persons at least.”
Before long Johnny and Felix carried on so much business at the hotel and cottages at the Harbor, that they were called “The Young Merchants.” Johnny had orders for almost every kind of a paper that could be had in town, and Felix for all sorts of fine candy. They found enough to do just to fill their orders, and so did not have to run any risks on their own account. Felix’s great perplexity was what to do with his money; since he had spending-money enough, that his father had given him before he left. This difficulty he laid before his uncle. Mr. Le Bras proposed that he should buy some books, as those seemed to be the only things he lacked; saying that, if the books were bought with money Felix had earned himself, he would be the more likely to read them carefully, again and again, and prize them highly. In the course of time, he could add to his collection from his regular spending-money, unless he preferred to earn them in some way, until he had as large a library of his own as Johnny had, or larger. As Felix was beginning to like reading very much, he was pleased with this proposal, and began to lay out his earnings in books, taking Pierre’s and Johnny’s advice as to what books to purchase, in order to be sure that they would be not only interesting, but instructive, and such as he would not be likely to outgrow soon.
They generally got back from the Harbor in time for the morning-bath at the beach. Sometimes they went up to Mr. Frothingham’s to bathe; because he was teaching Ruth to swim, and had promised to teach Julia and Sue at the same time; and the boys liked to dive from the wharf, for Johnny had learned to swim some, under Oliver’s instructions. Pierre, too, was learning to swim; but he usually went off with some young men, with whom he had become acquainted at the Harbor, where he was a great favorite.
The sail-boat was in frequent requisition, and the boys often took the girls out in the row-boat; although Mrs. Le Bras would not allow them to go out of sight of Oliver, who was always somewhere upon the beach to watch them. This precaution was taken principally on account of Felix’s thoughtlessness when he had one of his merry or mischievous fits, and because the row-boat was not flat-bottomed, and so would turn over more readily if it were swayed to one side.
Mr. Frothingham sometimes took them all out in his yacht, and at such times they often had what Felix called “big fishing;” that is, they caught bluefish, codfish, and mackerel, which could not be caught near the shore. On one of these occasions, Mr. Le Bras, greatly to his astonishment, drew up a large lobster, which was caught to his hook by one of its claws. He wondered greatly how it could have happened, and finally concluded that the lobster had been dropped from some boat. But when, shortly afterwards, he had the still more singular fortune to draw up a wicker flask, which he had seen on board the yacht in their own lunch-basket, he demanded an explanation of both these mysterious occurrences, upon which Felix exclaimed merrily,—
“Didn’t I tell you I’d pay you off about Clyde?”
Felix had attached the lobster and the flask to Mr. Le Bras’ hook, by drawing up his line when his attention was diverted in another direction. The lobster was one which had been brought for bait, and which Felix had begged of Mr. Frothingham, as Mr. Le Bras had not noticed it.
Mr. Le Bras was obliged to return to his office after a few weeks; but he came to the cottage every Saturday, remaining until Monday, and sometimes into the middle of the week. Pierre staid all the time, as he had agreed to give the young man at the Harbor lessons daily for the summer.
Sundays they generally went to the church in the village, but sometimes they drove into town. Once they attended service in the summer-chapel at the Harbor.
Ruth was very happy in her new home, and made such improvement, that, in a short time, no one would have suspected she had not always had the same advantages she was now enjoying. Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham were more and more fond of her; but they were too sensible to spoil her, and took great pains to encourage her in being sensible and self-reliant. Mrs. Frothingham was teaching her to cook, and do other kinds of housework, just as she had taught her own little girl; and Mr. Frothingham not only taught her to swim, but to ride on horseback, and promised to get her a tricycle when they returned to the city. As Mr. Frothingham’s city-house was in the same place where Mr. Frank Le Bras lived, Johnny and Sue had the pleasure of knowing that their acquaintance with Ruth would continue. Mr. Frothingham would not return to the city, however, until October; while Johnny and Sue and their mother were to go home in September.
And so the happy summer sped. September came, and with it Mr. Louis Le Bras and his wife, who arrived at the cottage on the tenth. Mrs. Le Bras had improved greatly in health, and was very grateful to her brother-in-law and his wife for having enabled her to leave, by taking charge of Felix. When she and her husband saw how much Felix had improved in his manners, and appearance in general, they were still more grateful for the pains that had been taken with him. His letters had, however, somewhat prepared them for the change, as they were such great contrasts to the letters he had been accustomed to write; although it was very seldom that he had been induced to write a letter, until his uncle and Pierre took the matter in hand. When Felix showed them the library he was buying, with money he earned himself, they could hardly believe their eyes and ears, especially when they saw the books were not simple story-books, like those Felix had been accustomed to look over so carelessly, and stumble over in the reading, but substantial works containing useful information, several of them being “Science Primers,” written by famous professors. But their astonishment was not at an end; for Felix further informed them that he had read all these books aloud to Pierre, and could understand and pronounce every word in them. After this, Mr. Le Bras told his brother and his wife how all this wonderful change had come about in so brief a time, and advised his brother to continue similar methods with Felix by hiring Pierre, who fully understood how to manage and interest such a boy, for his tutor for the next year. Mr. Louis Le Bras said he should be only too glad to engage Pierre, and would give him a good price for his valuable service.
Johnny and Sue and their father and mother remained at the cottage about a week after the arrival of the owner, and then Mr. Le Bras said he could not leave his office for another day; and Mrs. Le Bras said, if that was the case, she could not stay longer either, as she had remained more on her husband’s account than her own, because he had been so much in need of just such an outing as he had had this summer.
Felix looked very solemn when the day came for his uncle and aunt and Johnny and Sue to return home, and was only consoled by the fact that Pierre, of whom he had grown very fond, was to stay with him right along. It was agreed, too, that Johnny and Sue might come to New York and spend the winter holidays, as their first visit from home without their father and mother. Mr. Louis Le Bras and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth, accompanied them to the station. When the cars started, Felix quite broke down: he took out his handkerchief, and wiped his eyes very hard. Turning to Pierre, who was holding his hand, he said, “It seems to me as if the sun hasn’t half shone to-day, and now it’s almost as dark as night;” and then, as the train disappeared, he wept outright.
Yet the sun was shining brightly all the time.
Johnny and Sue, too, found a similar use for their handkerchiefs.
“I hope you are not so very sorry to return to your own home, children,” said their mother.
“No,” replied Johnny, trying hard not to snuff any more. “I am glad to go home, though the beach was so grand: but I was awful sorry to have to leave Felix; I wish we could always live together!”
“So do I,” said Sue: “I love him dearly!”
“For my part,” said Mr. Le Bras, “I feel wonderfully happy at the way it has all turned out. I always thought I would like to have you and Felix love each other as his father and I love one another, but I was afraid it never could come about. Just to think, Johnny, how you wanted to get away from him, and we couldn’t blame you either, and how the sky-room was contrived as a refuge!
“And Johnny let him right into it, first thing,” said Sue.
“But I am glad we discovered the room, father,” replied Johnny.
“Certainly! It is a great acquisition: it opens a new world. I haven’t told you how I have spent almost all my evenings, alone at home, up there. We can’t part with that glorious view when the cold weather comes. I intend to have some men come, right off, and put a partition where the curtains are, and then have it plastered and papered. We will set up one of our spare stoves by November; and you can fill a large box, outside the partition, with coal, as you get time,—which will be good exercise for you,—and keep it filled. Then, any Saturday you choose, or any other day, when any of us feel like going up there to enjoy the view, we can build a fire, even in mid-winter, and, lo! we are as good as out of doors, without the discomforts.”
“What a grand place to see a winter storm from!” exclaimed Johnny, in delight.
“And to see the snow or ice all over the trees!” added Sue.
“This is a good illustration,” remarked Mrs. Le Bras, “of how some of the things which we dread most turn out to be among the most fortunate incidents that come to us. To think how we all dreaded Felix’s visit! and now let us see how many nice things it has brought us.”
“A whole summer at the seaside, in a beautiful cottage, with lots of pleasant acquaintances and good times,” said Johnny.
“And your bicycle, and all the fun you have had with it, and the dog-cart for me,” said Sue.
“And the sky-room,” added Johnny.
“And getting acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth, for always,” said Sue.
“And Felix’s improvement,” said Mr. Le Bras.
“And Pierre’s having such a good place,” said Mrs. Le Bras.
“And Ruth’s being adopted,” said Johnny; “for you know, Mr. Frothingham said it would never have come into his head, if you had not advised it so strongly.”
“And your aunt Mary’s getting better,” said Mrs. Le Bras.
“And a check for a thousand dollars, my dear,” said Mr. Le Bras, taking a slip of paper from his pocket-book, and handing it to her. “Louis fairly insisted upon my taking this; and when I saw it would make him feel very badly if I refused, I consented; though it secretly annoyed me greatly, to take pay for doing a favor to my own brother, and benefiting my own nephew. Still, Louis has money enough, and he might as well throw it away in this way as any other, I suppose.”
Mrs. Le Bras looked at the check in blank astonishment.
“You see, poor Louis was almost beside himself with delight over Felix’s improvement: he said he should never have known how to bring it about himself; and, in fact, he didn’t so much as suppose the boy had it in him to try to be a scholar, or behave as well as some boys did, and he had always said he would give a thousand dollars to have Felix taught to behave himself decently. So I must take the money, or grieve him; and there it is.”