CHAPTER II.
IT was a tired and homesick little girl that Mr. Merrithew helped out ofthe coach and led up the steps of his house, about a fortnight after ourstory opens. The journey from Montreal had been long and lonely, theparting from her parents hard, and the thought of meeting the unknownrelatives had weighed upon her mind and helped to make her unusuallysubdued. But when the door of the Big Brick House (which had been namedby the neighbours when it was the only brick house on the street, andthe largest one in town) opened, and her aunt's motherly arms closedaround her, while Marjorie's rosy, laughing face and Jackie's fair,cherubic one beamed on her in greeting, her spirits began to revive.The greeting was so warm and kind, and the joy at her coming so genuine,that her fatigue seemed turned, as by magic, to a pleasant restfulness,and her homesickness was lost in this bright home atmosphere.
Mrs. Merrithew took the little newcomer to her room, had her trunkssettled conveniently, and then left her to prepare for the late teawhich was waiting for them all. When Dora was ready, she sat down in thelittle armchair that stood near a table piled with books, and lookedabout her contentedly.
There was an air of solid comfort and cosiness about this house thatrested her. This room--which her aunt had told her was just oppositeMarjorie's--was all furnished in the softest shades of brown and blue,her favourite colours. The carpet was brown, with a very small spray ofblue here and there; the wallpaper was lighter, almost creamy, brown,with a dainty harebell pattern, and the curtains had a rich brownbackground with various Persian stripes, in which blue and cream andgold predominated. The bed, to her great delight, had a top-piece, and acanopy of blue-flowered chintz, and the little dressing-table was drapedto match it. Just over the side of the bed was a book-shelf, quiteempty, waiting for her favourite books. While she sat and looked aboutin admiration, the door was pushed gently open, and a plump maltesekitten came in, gazed at her doubtfully a moment, and then climbed onher lap. Then Marjorie's bright face appeared at the door, and, "May Icome in?" she asked.
"Oh, please do," Dora cried. "Kitty has made friends with me already,and I think that must be a good omen."
Marjorie laughed, as she patted the little bunch of blue-gray fur inDora's lap.
"_Jackie_ has made friends with you already," she said, "and I thinkthat is a better omen still. He told mother he thought you were 'thebeautifulest girl he ever saw.'"
Dora's eyes opened wide with astonishment. "It is the first time I everwas called beautiful," she said, "let alone 'beautifulest.' What a dearboy Jack must be."
Then they both laughed, and Marjorie, obeying one of her suddenimpulses, threw her arms around Dora's neck and gave her a cousinly hug."You and I will be friends, too," she said. "I knew it as soon as Ilooked at you."
Dora's dark brown eyes looked gravely into Marjorie's blue ones. Sheseemed to be taking the proposition very seriously.
"I have always wished for a real friend, or a twin sister," she said,thoughtfully. "The twin sister is an impossibility, and I have neverbefore seen a girl that I wanted for a great, _great_ friend. Butyou,--ah, yes! You are like my father, and besides, we are cousins, andthat makes us understand each other. Let us be friends."
She held out her hand with a little gesture which reminded Marjorie thatthis pale, dark-haired cousin was the descendant of many French _grandesdames_. She clasped the slender hand with her own plump fingers, andshook it heartily. So, in girlish romance and sudden resolution, thelittle maids sealed a compact which was never broken, and began afriendship which lasted and grew in beauty and strength all throughtheir lives.
At the breakfast-table the next morning there was a merry discussion asto what should be done first to amuse Dora. Jackie, who had invited herto sit beside him and beamed at her approvingly over his porridge andcream, suggested a walk to his favourite candy-store and the purchase ofsome sticks of "pure chocolate." Marjorie proposed a picnic at OldGovernment House. This was approved of, but postponed for a day or twoto allow for preparations and invitations. Mr. Merrithew said "Let us goshooting bears," but even Jackie did not second this astoundingproposition. As usual, it was "mother" who offered the most feasibleplan.
"Suppose, this morning," she said, "you just help Dora unpack, and makeher thoroughly at home in the house and garden; then this afternoonperhaps your father will take you for a walk, and show Dora the housewhere Mrs. Ewing lived, and any other interesting places. That would dofor to-day, wouldn't it? Then, day after to-morrow we could have thepicnic; and for the next week I have a magnificent idea, but I want totalk it over with your father," and she nodded and smiled at thatgentleman in a way which made him almost as curious as the children.
"That's the way with mother," Marjorie said to Dora after breakfast."She never ends things up. There is always another lovely plan justahead, no matter how many you know about already."
And Mr. Merrithew, who overheard the remark, thought that perhaps thiswas part of the secret of his wife's unfailing youthfulness both inlooks and spirits.
The walk that afternoon was one which Dora always remembered. Mr.Merrithew had, as Jackie said, "the splendidest way of splainingthings," and found something of interest to relate about almost everystreet of the little city. They went through the beautiful cathedral,and he told them how it had been built through the earnest efforts ofthe well-known and venerated Bishop Medley, who was afterwardMetropolitan of Canada. Then they wandered down the street along theriver, and saw the double house where Mrs. Ewing (whose stories areloved as much in the United States and in Canada as they are inEngland) lived for a time, and where she wrote.
FREDERICTON]
She had called this house "Rika Dom," which means "River House," and hadwritten in many of her letters of the beautiful river on which itlooked, and the gnarled old willows on the bank just in front of herwindows. These willows she had often sketched, and Dora carried away aspray of the pale gray-green leaves, in memory of her favouritestory-writer. It was one of Dora's ambitions, kept secret hitherto, butnow confided to Marjorie, to write stories "something like Mrs.Ewing's."
They saw, too, the picturesque cottage in which a certain quaint oldlady had attained to the ripe age of a hundred and six years,--a recordof which Fredericton was justly proud. This venerable dame had beenaddicted to the unlimited eating of apples, and her motto--she was not agrammatical old lady!--had been (according to tradition), "Applesnever hurts nobody."
They spent some time in the Legislative Library, where was enshrined atreasure in the shape of a magnificent copy of Audubon's Books of Birds.Then in the Departmental Buildings, near by, there was a small butwell-arranged museum of stuffed birds and beasts, all Canadian, and mostof them from New Brunswick. There were other things, too, to see, andmany anecdotes to hear, so that it was a somewhat tired, though happyand hungry party which trudged home just in time for tea.
And such a tea, suited to hearty outdoor appetites born of the goodCanadian air! There were fresh eggs, made into a white and goldenomelette by Mrs. Merrithew's own hands; for even Debby, who had cookedfor the family all their lives, owned that an omelette like Mrs.Merrithew's she could not manage,--"No, _sir_, not if I was to cook dayand night." There was golden honey in the comb; there was johnny-cake,hot and yellow and melting in your mouth; strawberry jam that tastedalmost as good as the fresh fruit itself; ginger-cake, dark and rich andspicy; milk that was almost cream for the children, and steamingfragrant coffee for their elders.
"It is rather nice to get _good and hungry_," Jackie gravelyobserved,--"that is, if you have plenty in the house to eat. I thinklife would be very dull without meals."
These philosophical remarks rather astonished Dora, who was not yetaccustomed to the contrast between Jack's sage reflections and histender years. Just now they seemed especially funny, because he wasalmost falling asleep while he talked. When Mrs. Merrithew saw himnodding, she rang, and the nurse--who, like Debby, was a familyinstitution--came in and carried him off in her stalwart arms, to hislittle white bed. When his mot
her stole up a little later to give him afinal good-night kiss, she heard Susan singing and paused at the door tolisten. "Now the day is over" was ended, and then a drowsy voicemurmured:
"Now, Susan, my very favourite song!"
And then Susan sang, in her soft, crooning voice "The maple-leaf, themaple-leaf, the maple-leaf for ever!"