He saw this, and endeavoured to be worthy of it—curbing his free speech, toning down his rough manners, and watching the effect of all he said and did, anxious to make a good impression. The social atmosphere warmed his lonely heart, the culture excited him to do his best, and the changes which had taken place during his absence, both in himself and others, made the old home seem like a new world. After the life in California, it was sweet and restful to be here, with these familiar faces round him, helping him to forget much that he regretted, and to resolve to deserve more entirely the confidence of these good fellows, the respect of these innocent girls.
So there was riding, rowing, and picnicking by day, music, dancing, and plays by night; and everyone said there had not been so gay a vacation for years. Bess kept her promise, and let the dust gather on her beloved clay while she went pleasuring with her mates or studied music with her father, who rejoiced over the fresh roses in her cheeks and the laughter which chased away the dreamy look she used to wear. Josie quarrelled less with Ted; for Dan had a way of looking at her which quelled her instantly, and had almost as good an effect upon her rebellious cousin. But Octoo did even more for the lively youth, who found that her charms entirely eclipsed those of the bicycle which had been his heart’s delight before. Early and late he rode this untiring beast, and began to gain flesh—to the great joy of his mother, who feared that her beanstalk was growing too fast for health.
Demi, finding business dull, solaced his leisure by photographing everybody he could induce to sit or stand to him, producing some excellent pictures among many failures; for he had a pretty taste in grouping, and endless patience. He might be said to view the world through the lens of his camera, and seemed to enjoy himself very much squinting at his fellow beings from under a bit of black cambric. Dan was a treasure to him; for he took well, and willingly posed in his Mexican costume, with horse and hound, and all wanted copies of these effective photographs.
Bess, also, was a favourite sitter; and Demi received a prize at the Amateur Photographic Exhibition for one of his cousin with all her hair about her face, which rose from the cloud of white lace draping the shoulders. These were freely handed round by the proud artist; and one copy had a tender little history yet to be told.
Nat was snatching every minute he could get with Daisy before the long parting; and Mrs Meg relented somewhat, feeling sure that absence would quite cure this unfortunate fancy. Daisy said little; but her gentle face was sad when she was alone, and a few quiet tears dropped on the handkerchiefs she marked so daintily with her own hair. She was sure Nat would not forget her; and life looked rather forlorn without the dear fellow who had been her friend since the days of patty-pans and confidences in the willow-tree. She was an old-fashioned daughter, dutiful and docile, with such love and reverence for her mother that her will was law; and if love was forbidden, friendship must suffice. So she kept her little sorrow to herself, smiled cheerfully at Nat, and made his last days of home-life very happy with every comfort and pleasure she could give, from sensible advice and sweet words to a well-filled work-bag for his bachelor establishment and a box of goodies for the voyage.
Tom and Nan took all the time they could spare from their studies to enjoy high jinks at Plumfield with their old friends; for Emil’s next voyage was to be a long one, Nat’s absence was uncertain, and no one ever knew when Dan would turn up again. They all seemed to feel that life was beginning to grow serious; and even while they enjoyed those lovely summer days together they were conscious that they were children no longer, and often in the pauses of their fun talked soberly of their plans and hopes, as if anxious to know and help one another before they drifted farther apart on their different ways.
A few weeks were all they had; then the Brenda was ready, Nat was to sail from New York, and Dan went along to see him off; for his own plans fermented in his head, and he was eager to be up and doing. A farewell dance was given on Parnassus in honour of the travellers, and all turned out in their best array and gayest spirits. George and Dolly came with the latest Harvard airs and graces, radiant to behold, in dress-suits and “crushed hats”, as Josie called the especial pride and joy of their boyish souls. Jack and Ned sent regrets and best wishes, and no one mourned their absence; for they were among what Mrs Jo called her failures. Poor Tom got into trouble, as usual, by deluging his head with some highly scented preparation in the vain hope of making his tight curls lie flat and smooth, as was the style. Unhappily, his rebellious crop only kinked the closer, and the odour of many barbers’ shops clung to him in spite of his frantic efforts to banish it. Nan wouldn’t allow him near her, and flapped her fan vigorously whenever he was in sight; which cut him to the heart, and made him feel like the Peri shut out from Paradise. Of course his mates jeered at him, and nothing but the unquenchable jollity of his nature kept him from despair.
Emil was resplendent in his new uniform, and danced with an abandon which only sailors know. His pumps seemed to be everywhere, and his partners soon lost breath trying to keep up with him; but the girls all declared he steered like an angel, and in spite of his pace no collisions took place; so he was happy, and found no lack of damsels to ship with him.
Having no dress-suit, Dan had been coaxed to wear his Mexican costume, and feeling at ease in the many-buttoned trousers, loose jacket, and gay sash, flung his serape over his shoulder with a flourish and looked his best, doing great execution with his long spurs, as he taught Josie strange steps or rolled his black eyes admiringly after certain blonde damsels whom he dared not address.
The mammas sat in the alcove, supplying pins, smiles, and kindly words to all, especially the awkward youths new to such scenes, and the bashful girls conscious of faded muslins and cleaned gloves. It was pleasant to see stately Mrs Amy promenade on the arm of a tall country boy, with thick boots and a big forehead, or Mrs Jo dance like a girl with a shy fellow whose arms went like pump-handles, and whose face was scarlet with confusion and pride at the honour of treading on the toes of the president’s wife. Mrs Meg always had room on her sofa for two or three girls, and Mr Laurie devoted himself to these plain, poorly dressed damsels with a kindly grace that won their hearts and made them happy. The good Professor circulated like refreshments, and his cheerful face shone on all alike, while Mr March discussed Greek comedy in the study with such serious gentlemen as never unbent their mighty minds to frivolous joys.
The long music-room, parlour, hall, and piazza were full of white-gowned maidens with attendant shadows; the air was full of lively voices, and hearts and feet went lightly together as the home band played vigorously, and the friendly moon did her best to add enchantment to the scene.
“Pin me up, Meg; that dear Dunbar boy has nearly rent me ‘in sunder’, as Mr Peggotty would say. But didn’t he enjoy himself, bumping against his fellow men and swinging me round like a mop. On these occasions I find that I’m not as young as I was, nor as light of foot. In ten years more we shall be meal-bags, sister; so be resigned.” And Mrs Jo subsided into a corner, much dishevelled by her benevolent exertions.
“I know I shall be stout; but you won’t keep still long enough to get much flesh on your bones, dear; and Amy will always keep her lovely figure. She looks about eighteen tonight, in her white gown and roses,” answered Meg, busily pinning up one sister’s torn frills, while her eyes fondly followed the other’s graceful movements; for Meg still adored Amy in the old fashion.
It was one of the family jokes that Jo was getting fat, and she kept it up, though as yet she had only acquired a matronly outline, which was very becoming. They were laughing over the impending double chins, when Mr Laurie came off duty for a moment.
“Repairing damages as usual, Jo? You never could take a little gentle exercise without returning in rags. Come and have a quiet stroll with me and cool off before supper. I’ve a series of pretty tableaux to show you while Meg listens to the raptures of lisping Miss Carr, whom I made happy by giving her Demi for a partner.”
As he
spoke, Laurie led Jo to the music-room, nearly empty now after a dance which sent the young people into the garden and hall. Pausing before the first of the four long windows that opened on a very wide piazza, he pointed to a group outside, saying: “The name of this is ‘Jack Ashore’.”
A pair of long, blue legs, ending in very neat pumps, hung from the veranda roof among the vines; and roses, gathered by unseen hands, evidently appertaining to aforesaid legs, were being dropped into the laps of several girls perched like a flock of white birds on the railing below; while a manly voice “fell like a falling star”, as it sung this pensive ditty to a most appreciative audience:
MARY’S DREAM
“The moon had climbed the eastern hill
Which rises o’er the sands of Dee,
And from its highest summit shed
A silver light on tower and tree,
When Mary laid her down to sleep
(Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea);
When soft and low a voice was heard,
Saying, ‘Mary, weep no more for me.’
“She from her pillow gently raised
Her head, to see who there might be,
And saw young Sandy, shivering stand
With visage pale and hollow e’e.
‘Oh Mary dear, cold is my clay;
It lies beneath the stormy sea;
Far, far from thee, I sleep in death.
Dear Mary, weep no more for me.
“‘Three stormy nights and stormy days
We tossed upon the raging main.
And long we strove our bark to save;
But all our striving was in vain.
E’en then, when terror chilled my blood,
My heart was filled with love of thee.
The storm is past, and I’m at rest;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.
“‘Oh maiden dear, yourself prepare;
We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love is free from doubt and care,
And you and I shall part no more.’
Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
No more her Sandy did she see;
But soft the passing spirit said,
‘Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.’”
“The constant jollity of that boy is worth a fortune to him. He’ll never sink with such a buoyant spirit to keep him afloat through life,” said Mrs Jo, as the roses were tossed back with much applause when the song ended.
“Not he; and it’s a blessing to be grateful for, isn’t it? We moody people know its worth. Glad you like my first tableau. Come and see number two. Hope it isn’t spoilt; it was very pretty just now. This is ‘Othello telling his adventures to Desdemona’.”
The second window framed a very picturesque group of three. Mr March in an arm-chair, with Bess on a cushion at his feet, was listening to Dan, who, leaning against a pillar, was talking with unusual animation. The old man was in shadow, but little Desdemona was looking up with the moonlight full upon her into young Othello’s face, quite absorbed in the story he was telling so well. The gay drapery over Dan’s shoulder, his dark colouring, and the gesture of his arm made the picture very striking, and both spectators enjoyed it with silent pleasure, till Mrs Jo said in a quick whisper:
“I’m glad he’s going away. He’s too picturesque to have here among so many romantic girls. Afraid his ‘grand, gloomy, and peculiar’ style will be too much for our simple maids.”
“No danger; Dan is in the rough as yet, and always will be, I fancy; though he is improving in many ways. How well Queenie looks in that soft light!”
“Dear little Goldilocks looks well everywhere.” And with a backward glance full of pride and fondness, Mrs Jo went on. But that scene returned to her long afterward and her own prophetic words also.
Number three was a tragical tableau at first sight; and Mr Laurie stifled a laugh as he whispered “The Wounded Knight”, pointing to Tom with his head enveloped in a large handkerchief, as he knelt before Nan, who was extracting a thorn or splinter from the palm of his hand with great skill, to judge from the patient’s blissful expression of countenance.
“Do I hurt you?” she asked, turning the hand to the moonlight for a better view.
“Not a bit; dig away; I like it,” answered Tom, regardless of his aching knees and the damage done to his best trousers.
“I won’t keep you long.”
“Hours, if you please. Never so happy as here.”
Quite unmoved by this tender remark, Nan put on a pair of large, round-eyed glasses, saying in a matter-of-fact tone: “Now I see it. Only a splinter, and there it is.”
“My hand is bleeding; won’t you bind it up?” asked Tom, wishing to prolong the situation.
“Nonsense; suck it. Only take care of it tomorrow if you dissect. Don’t want any more blood-poisoning.”
“That was the only time you were kind to me. Wish I’d lost my arm.”
“I wish you’d lost your head; it smells more like turpentine and kerosene than ever. Do take a run in the garden and air it.”
Fearing to betray themselves by laughter, the watchers went on, leaving the Knight to rush away in despair, and the Lady to bury her nose in the cup of a tall lily for refreshment.
“Poor Tom, his fate is a hard one, and he’s wasting his time! Do advise him to quit philandering and go to work, Jo.”
“I have, Teddy, often; but it will take some great shock to make that boy wise. I wait with interest to see what it will be. Bless me! what is all this?”
She might well ask; for on a rustic stool stood Ted trying to pose on one foot, with the other extended, and both hands waving in the air. Josie, with several young mates, was watching his contortions with deep interest as they talked about “little wings”, “gilded wire twisted”, and a “cunning skull-cap”.
“This might be called ‘Mercury Trying to Fly’,” said Mr Laurie, as they peeped through the lace curtains.
“Bless the long legs of that boy! how does he expect to manage them? They are planning for the Owlsdark Marbles, and a nice muddle they will make of my gods and goddesses with no one to show them how,” answered Mrs Jo, enjoying this scene immensely.
“Now, he’s got it!” “That’s perfectly splendid!” “See how long you can keep so!” cried the girls, as Ted managed to maintain his equilibrium a moment by resting one toe on the trellis. Unfortunately this brought all his weight on the other foot; the straw seat of the stool gave way, and the flying Mercury came down with a crash, amid shrieks of laughter from the girls. Being accustomed to ground and lofty tumbling, he quickly recovered himself, and hopped gaily about, with one leg through the stool as he improvised a classic jig.
“Thanks for four nice little pictures. You have given me an idea, and I think some time we will get up regular tableaux of this sort and march our company round a set of dissolving views. New and striking; I’ll propose it to our manager and give you all the glory,” said Mrs Jo, as they strolled towards the room whence came the clash of glass and china, and glimpses of agitated black coats.
Let us follow the example of our old friends and stroll about among the young people, eavesdropping, so gathering up various little threads to help in the weaving of the story. George and Dolly were at supper, and having served the ladies in their care stood in a corner absorbing nourishment of all kinds with a vain attempt to conceal hearty appetites under an air of elegant indifference.
“Good spread, this; Laurence does things in style. First-rate coffee, but no wine, and that’s a mistake,” said Stuffy, who still deserved his name, and was a stout youth with a heavy eye and bilious complexion.
“Bad for boys, he says. Jove! wish he could see us at some of our wines. Don’t we just ‘splice the main-brace’ as Emil says,” answered Dolly, the dandy, carefully spreading a napkin over the glossy expanse of shirt-front whereon a diamond stud shone like a lone star. His stutter was nearly outgrown; but he, as well as George, spoke in the tone of condescension,
which, with the blasé airs they assumed, made a very funny contrast to their youthful faces and foolish remarks. Good-hearted little fellows both, but top-heavy with the pride of being Sophs and the freedom that college life gave them.
“Little Jo is getting to be a deuced pretty girl, isn’t she?” said George, with a long sigh of satisfaction as his first mouthful of ice went slowly down his throat.
“H’m—well, fairish. The Princess is rather more to my taste. I like ’em blonde and queenly and elegant, don’t you know.”
“Yes, Jo is too lively; might as well dance with a grasshopper. I’ve tried her, and she’s one too many for me. Miss Perry is a nice, easy-going girl. Got her for the german.”
“You’ll never be a dancing man. Too lazy. Now I’ll undertake to steer any girl and dance down any fellow you please. Dancing’s my forte.” And Dolly glanced from his trim feet to his flashing gem with the defiant air of a young turkey-cock on parade.
“Miss Grey is looking for you. Wants more grub. Just see if Miss Nelson’s plate is empty, there’s a good fellow. Can’t eat ice in a hurry.” And George remained in his safe corner, while Dolly struggled through the crowd to do his duty, coming back in a fume, with a splash of salad dressing on his coat-cuff.
“Confound these country chaps! they go blundering round like so many dor-bugs, and make a deuce of a mess. Better stick to books and not try to be society men. Can’t do it. Beastly stain. Give it a rub, and let me bolt a mouthful, I’m starved. Never saw girls eat such a lot. It proves that they ought not to study so much. Never liked co-ed,” growled Dolly, much ruffled in spirit.
“So they do. ’Tisn’t ladylike. Ought to be satisfied with an ice and a bit of cake, and eat it prettily. Don’t like to see a girl feed. We hard-working men need it, and, by Jove, I mean to get some more of that meringue if it’s not all gone. Here, waiter! bring along that dish over there, and be lively,” commanded Stuffy, poking a young man in a rather shabby dress-suit, who was passing with a tray of glasses.