A Little Girl in Old Salem, Amanda Minnie Douglas [the snowy day read aloud .TXT] 📗

you're not old. You're not as old as Cousin Giles, and ever so much handsomer. The girls at school think," she flushed and paused, "that you were so good to get me the pony and the pretty wagon." She was going to say something much more flattering, but delicacy stopped her.

"My dear," he said gravely, "I was glad to make you the gift, but I want you to know that there is a considerable sum of money of your own, and your father wished you to enjoy it. Whatever you want and is proper for you to have, I shall be glad to get, and to do. For I have no little girl but you."

"Would it be wicked and selfish if I said I was glad?"

The arms tightened a little. How soft they were! And her hair brushed his cheek. It always seemed to have a delicate subtle perfume.

"No, dear. You and I are curiously alone in the world. I haven't a first cousin, neither have you."

"And a whole houseful of folks is so nice," she said wistfully.

He had been very well content with his books and his college friends. But women were different, at least--those who shut out everybody narrowed their lives fearfully.

"We will try and have some."

"And you must like it. If you do not, the greatest pleasure will be taken out of it for me."

"I shall like it;" encouragingly.

"How good you are to me. Father said I must love you and obey you, for you would know what would be best for me."

Then they sat in silence, the contentment of affection.

He spoke to Miss Winn the next day. Afterward they went into the parlor and opened the shutters. It was stately, grand, and gloomy.

Before Anthony Leverett had thought of sending his little girl to his care he had forwarded to Chilian a gift "for old remembrance' sake," he said, of a very handsome Oriental rug. Floors of the "best rooms" had been polished until you could see your shadow in them. Chilian did not like the noise or the continual trouble. So he laid down the rug and bought one for the other room. But the heavy curtains, with their silken linings, staid up year after year. He noticed those at Giles' house were much lighter and in soft colors. And his furniture was not so massive.

"I wish we could change things a little. That old sofa might go up in the new room. It was grand enough in my father's time, with its borders of brass-headed tacks, and its flat, hard seat. Two of these chairs might come up in my room."

"I wish we could find a place for the lovely sort of cabinet that Cynthia's father sent over. I keep it covered from dust and scratches. She will be glad to have it when she has a house of her own."

"One of the rooms ought to be hers--well, both," he added reflectively.

"The rugs are elegant. Yes, lighter curtains would change it a good deal. How very handsome the mantels are with all their carving."

They would have adorned a modern house. They went nearly up to the ceiling with small shelves and nooks, on which were vases and ornaments such as bring fortunes now.

"And--about the party?"

"Oh, that will be only a girls' tea--her schoolmates where she has been. Next year will be time enough for the party;" with a little laugh.

So the two spacious rooms were quite remodelled and modernized, and the gloomy appearance was a thing of the past. Why shouldn't he spend his money on her? There was no one else.

He had not lost sight of Anthony Drayton. The father had been exigent. Anthony, being the eldest, must take the farm when he was done with it. The lad had worked his time out. Cousin Chilian had offered him enough to take him to a preparatory school where he would be fitted for college. He had come in to Boston and Chilian had been attracted to the manly young fellow.

Cynthia was more than delighted with the privilege of the tea party.

"Some of the girls have brothers, but I don't know them very well. I like Bentley, but he is away at school. And I'd rather have just girls."

Her admiration of the parlor knew no bounds, and it gratified him.

She had been taking lessons on the spinet, but the painting was a great rival. And this was old, thin, and creaky.

"I have found a much better one in Boston, and the dealer wants this because it was made in London in 1680. How strenuous some people are over old things. It has no special interest that I know of, and is comparatively useless."

The new ones were really the beginning of pianofortes and this one was very sweet in tone.

Chilian had been very greatly interested in the changes. He began to cultivate his neighbors a little more. Indeed improvements were taking place in the town. New streets were laid out, old ones straightened, fine new houses built. There seemed a sudden outburst of commercial grandeur. Furnishings of the richest sort were eagerly caught up by the shoppers, who did not think it necessary to go to Boston and buy goods that had come in port here. Many of the old wooden houses were replaced with brick, and the beautiful doorways, windows, roofs, and porches still attract craftsmen and architects from different sections of the country, while illustrators find rich material in old Colonial doorways.

Miss Winn consulted Mrs. Upham as to what was proper for a girls' tea.

"Miss Cynthia is old enough now to begin with friends in a simple manner. The family have lived so quietly that I have not gained much experience in such matters, and Miss Eunice doesn't feel equal to managing it. Of course, Miss Cynthia is quite an heiress and will go in with the best people."

"As the Leveretts always have. There's been many a cap set for Chilian Leverett and it's been a wonder to every one that he hasn't married. But there's time enough yet."

She came over and admired the parlors without stint.

"You see," she said confidentially, "Miss Elizabeth was no hand for company. Some of the older people did the same, shut up the best rooms lest they should get faded, or something scratched, or worn. And I suppose he kept giving in; then there was his going in to college, and that's a sort of man's life. I'm glad he has had something to stir him up. He has been to several town-meetings. They are talking up improvements. It's a fine thing to have so many vessels flying Salem flags in different ports; nigh on to two hundred registered, husband said. But I told him there ought to be some home interest as well. We must not let Boston get so far ahead of us, nor forget the young people are to be the next generation."

"And young people want some pleasure. I do not see how they stood so much of the gloomy side twenty years ago. I was that surprised when I first came here."

"Well, there had been a good many things, and all that witchcraft business. Puritan ways grew sterner and sterner. I can't say that people were really the better for it, in my way of thinking, and the Saviour talked a good deal about loving and helping people. He didn't stop to make them subscribe to all sorts of hard things before he worked a miracle. But we were going to talk about the tea."

"Yes; about what time now? I want Cynthia to have it just right and proper;" laughing.

"They come--we'll say about four. They will want to run around and see things, and I'd have supper about five and they'll sit over it, and talk, and laugh. Suppose I send my 'Mimy over to pass things and wait. You would not want Miss Eunice to do it, and you will have other things on your hands."

"Oh, thank you. You are very kind about it."

"Well, I've had a girl to grow up and be married, and Polly's to leave school this summer, and next winter she will be setting up for a young lady. Little cookies and spicenuts are nice and two kinds of cake. You never give them real tea, you know, though it's called a tea party. And some cold chicken, or sliced ham. I'd spread the plates of bread, it's so much less trouble. They'll be sure to enjoy everything. A lot of girls always do have a good time."


CHAPTER XIII

A TASTE OF PLEASURE

Cynthia was full of joy, running down to the gate to meet and greet guests. They came in groups of twos and threes, having called for each other. There were fifteen in all--the girls she knew best, who were nearest her own age, and at most of the houses she had been made a welcome guest. Indeed, more than one mother was glad to have her daughter good friends with Miss Cynthia Leverett, who was to be a rich young woman, and whose trustee in Boston lived in fine style.

Yet it was not exactly that money was so much thought of either, though it was always esteemed an excellent thing. Somehow it was rather relegated to the men. A father had an idea that his daughters would marry well, so business opportunities, and often the homestead, went to the sons. Here was an undivided fortune. And now it was hardly likely Chilian Leverett would marry, so she might come in for that.

The house had always been considered rather gloomy, as even on state occasions not much light was allowed in the parlors. Some of the girls had been gently advised to notice if there had been changes made.

Cynthia led them upstairs to take off their things. They were rather particular about complexions in those days. Some of the summer hats were really ornate sunbonnets, others were the great poke shape with a big bow on top and wide strings that were allowed to float on a hot day, so as not to get crushed by the warmth under the chin. They had long muslin sleeves to pull over their arms, indeed some of them were finished with mittens, so that the hands might not get tanned.

The girls wore rather scant straight skirts, tucked up to the waist, or with needlework at the bottom, or two or three tiny ruffles. The stockings were not always white, oftener they matched the color of the slippers that were laced across the instep. The necks were cut square, often finished with a lace berthe. Some old families have handed these down and kept them laid away in rose leaves and lavender, and they are so sweet that when they are shaken out they perfume the room.

Cynthia wore a white gauzy frock made over blue silk that was soft as a pansy leaf. It had blue satin stripes and she was very glad she had the pretty blue slippers to match. Then almost every girl had a coral necklace, or was allowed to wear grandmother's gold beads. Some had their hair tied up high on their heads with a great bow, and maybe the family silver or gold comb put in artistically. Chilian liked the little girl's to hang loose, and now it was down to her waist.

It was said the Holland wives of centuries ago took their visitors through their wardrobes and displayed