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 3 1924 022 208 270 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
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 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022208270 
 
TIMOTHy 
 
 And Hi>s Friends 
 
 BY 
 
 MA.'Ry E. IttELAfFD 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 % 
 
 BY ( t& 
 
 Charles Hope *Pro*)ost 
 
 Akron, Ohio 
 
 &he Saalfield Publishing Co. 
 
 NEW YORK 1902 CHICAGO 
 
 
 
Copyright, 1902, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE SAAI,FIEI,D PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 MADB BY 
 
 THE WERNER COMPANY 
 
 AKRON. OHIO 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 By Charles Hope Provost 
 
 " The writing of the notice was a difficult task for 
 
 Timothy" Frontispiece 
 
 "She took a chair at the side of Grandfather Carleton 
 
 on the porch " n6 
 
 " This was the last evening which was to pass in the 
 
 home where she and David had been so happy". . 153 
 
 " He had offered himself to Caroline and been accepted" 263 
 
TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RESCUE. 
 
 He was little, thin, freckled; had yellowish red 
 hair; was a Baltimore newsboy, and was named 
 Timothy. 
 
 At six o'clock in the morning, winter and sum- 
 mer, could be heard his cheery, piping voice, "Here's 
 yer Mornin' Telegram! Chronicle, Visitor and 
 Comet ! Mornin' Telegram ! Only two cents." Pop- 
 ping into business places, shouting around corners, 
 jumping out of street cars, crossing crowded thor- 
 oughfares, dodging wheels of vehicles, weaving 
 among pedestrians, he kept blithely on his way. 
 
 About four o'clock his cry varied, and "Evening 
 Telegram!" was shouted with as much vigor and 
 energy, although the voice might be a trifle less 
 clear than in the early part of the day. 
 
 One blustery morning in November, Granny Ed- 
 monds, with whom Timothy had his home, awoke 
 him from the sleep which abundant exercise ren- 
 
TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 dered sound and refreshing, and reminded him 
 that it was time to rise. 
 
 This duty done, Granny crept back to bed, 
 leaving Timothy in possession of the kitchen where 
 he slept, whereupon he proceeded immediately to 
 make his toilet, and to heat the small pot of coffee 
 which she had prepared for him over night. 
 
 It was but the work of a moment to put some of 
 the light wood which Granny had collected into the 
 spindle-legged stove, which was soon in full blast; 
 resembling an ambitious little locomotive, through 
 the open mouth of which glowed sufficient light to 
 enable Timothy to dress. 
 
 His simple breakfast was soon finished, and don- 
 ning a garment which had once been a gentleman's 
 dress coat, but served as an overcoat for the pres- 
 ent proprietor, he set cheerily out. 
 
 Descending the rickety steps of the old tenement, 
 of which he and Granny occupied the sky-parlor, or 
 in other words, if the house had turned upside down, 
 they would have been on the first floor, he ran 
 briskly to the offices, received his supply of papers, 
 and just as " Big Sam " on the City Hall clanged 
 the hour of six, he gave his first shout, "Here's yer 
 
THE BESOtTE. 
 
 Mornin' Telegram! Chronicle, Visitor and Comet! 
 Has full election returns! Robbery of Petroleum 
 Bank! Great fire at Canton! Weddin' in high life! 
 Mornin' Telegram ! Only two cents !" 
 
 It proved to be a very successful morning, indeed, 
 for Timothy; two gentlemen who had each given a 
 nickel for a paper, refused change; he made a new 
 customer, who expressed his intention of getting a 
 "Telegram" every morning from him, and all ex- 
 cepting one of his papers were disposed of, which 
 was rather unusual for so early in the day. 
 
 He had turned out of a business street, and en- 
 tered one with handsome residences, when he heard 
 the barking, yelping, snarling, and shouting, pro- 
 claiming a dog fight. 
 
 Timothy was on the spot in a twinkling. Two 
 dogs, one of them black, and the other a reddish yel- 
 low, with a brass collar in which was tied a knot of 
 blue ribbon, were fighting; thus furnishing amuse- 
 ment for a group of boys who were encouraging 
 them to prolong the entertainment. 
 
 Timothy edged his way among them, and his in- 
 dignation knew no bounds when he saw that the 
 black dog was much the larger, and although the 
 
8 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 yellow one was equally pugnacious, was evidently 
 losing ground. 
 
 "Shame on you fellows!" he cried, impulsively, 
 "ain't none of you goin' in for the littlest dog?" 
 
 "What's the matter, sonny, you seem excited?" 
 inquired a big boy, tauntingly. 
 
 Timothy made no response, but snatching his cap 
 from his head, he ran to a neighboring pump, filled 
 it with water, which he dashed upon the combatants, 
 and the fight was ended. The dogs ran, shivering, 
 separate ways, the yellow one limping, and bearing 
 other evidences of the skirmish. 
 
 "Now the fun is all over because of the meddling 
 of this lantern-jawed gutter-snipe," remarked one of 
 the boys, angrily. 
 
 "You had better make your will, Bub, you'll die 
 early ; this world is too wicked for a good little boy 
 like you," sneered a big boy. 
 
 "Remember me by leaving me that overcoat, 
 guinea-egg !" shouted another. 
 
 "He took the yellow dog's part because it is the 
 color of his hair. Save its hide, honey, you will 
 need a wig some day," cried a third. 
 
 " I didn't save it because of its color," cried Tim- 
 
THE RESCUE. 
 
 othy, bursting into tears, for brave though he was 
 when circumstances demanded, he would cry like 
 a baby when his feelings were wounded, which 
 weeping always excited the derision of the boys. 
 
 "Well, then, why did you come sneaking in and 
 spoil our fun?" asked the big boy, beginning to 
 show fight at what he considered evidence of cow- 
 ardice. 
 
 "Because I hate to see anything abused that is too 
 little to take care of itself," replied Timothy, stoutly, 
 and looking with proud defiance into the face of his 
 antagonist. 
 
 "Brother Smith, please pass around the hat," 
 whined the big boy, retreating hastily. 
 
 Timothy waited for no more, but taking his paper 
 from his bosom, where he had thrust it in the emer- 
 gency, he disappeared around the corner and soon 
 his "Mornin' Telegram!" was called in a tone thar 
 proclaimed regained equanimity. 
 
 He had just run down the steps of a handsome 
 residence whose mistress had purchased his remain- 
 ing paper, when what should he see limping toward 
 him but the little yellow dog. 
 
 Timothy's heart was in the right place and was 
 
10 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 warm enough to give comfort to the shivering 
 creature; he unbuttoned his overcoat, thanking his 
 lucky stars that it had never been altered to fit him, 
 as Granny was always intending, he placed the dog 
 within, and turning the first corner, he, after many 
 windings and turnings, reached the tenement in 
 Hammer's Alley and bounded lightly up the rickety 
 steps. 
 
 Although it was nearly noon, Granny was still 
 out upon her daily pilgrimage collecting fuel, at 
 which Timothy was in nowise dismayed, for he 
 knew by experience that she never stayed beyond 
 her time without coming home full-handed; so he 
 searched for and found a crust of bread, soaked it in 
 warm water and offered it to his protege, who de- 
 voured it eagerly. 
 
 "Nineteen pennies of my money today is clear 
 gain," thought he, taking it from his pocket. "I 
 would like to surprise Granny with something good 
 for dinner. Let's see; what will nineteen cents 
 buy ? Oh, I know ! It will get sassage and rolls ; 
 all pups like sassage." 
 
 The latter clause related to the yellow dog, of 
 course, and having decided how to make it inwardly 
 
THE BESOTO. H 
 
 comfortable, he proceeded to make it outwardly so, 
 so placed it on an old chair cushion beside the stove, 
 where it curled up with an air of perfect content. 
 
 Then Timothy hurried away upon his errand, 
 and met Granny toiling up the steps. 
 
 "Oh, Tim," she said, in glee, "such luck as never 
 was ! I found a house as they was pullin' down, and 
 the gentleman told me to fall to and help myself. 
 I broke lots of kindlin' and sold it to a haberdasher 
 and a green-grocer, and brought all this home and 
 am going back this afternoon. And, Tim," she 
 continued, lowering her voice, "what do you think 
 I have got tied up in this old handkerchief? Why, 
 half a pound of sugar and a pat of butter; sich ex- 
 travagance!" casting a side glance at a half-opened 
 door upon the landing, whereat they both laughed. 
 
 "Well, Granny, seeing that you are home, I will 
 leave my dog in your care," said the boy, with a 
 proud air of proprietorship, as he relieved Granny 
 of her burden and preceded her up the steps. 
 
 "Your dog, Timothy!" echoed Granny as she 
 gained her eyrie, and dropped panting into the 
 nearest chair. "Why the purty creature ! How did 
 you come by it, Tim?" 
 
12 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 The newsboy briefly recounted his experiences 
 of the morning, and closed with flashing eyes and 
 clinched fists. 
 
 "I wish I had that boy here that called me a 
 guinea-egg!" he said. 
 
 " Overcome evil with good, Timothy," said 
 Granny, soothingly. "I heard that once when 
 I was a girl, and it has helped me over many a 
 rough place since." 
 
 Granny set to kindling a fire, and Timothy de- 
 parted on his delayed errand. He soon returned 
 with his rolls and sausage to which were added ap- 
 ples by way of dessert, and the dinner, with the 
 help of Granny's butter and sugar, was a success. 
 
 Granny in the meantime appeared to have some- 
 thing upon her mind. Twice she had opened her 
 mouth and shut it without saying anything, had 
 commenced remarks which switched off upon side- 
 tracks, leaving the main road open to questioning 
 occupancy of Timothy. But that hitherto alert 
 youth was so absorbed in the luxurious dinner, ac- 
 companied by a good cup of coffee with plenty of 
 sugar in it, that he failed to notice, so Granny was 
 constrained to withhold her observation until a 
 more propitious time. 
 
THE BESCtTE. 13 
 
 "It strikes me. Timothy," said she that evening 
 as they and the yellow dog gathered about the stove 
 and she commenced filling her pipe preparatory to 
 a comfortable smoke, "it strikes me that the pretty 
 little dog has been some little girl's pet." 
 
 "As like as not," commented the boy, noncha- 
 lantly, "and whoever has owned her has taken good 
 care of her ; look at her collar, how bright it is, and 
 her hair is as glossy as silk." 
 
 Evidently Timothy had not taken the hint; 
 Granny must try again. 
 
 "If it had always been yourn, you wouldn't have 
 wanted to lose it, would you, Timothy?" 
 
 "I would rather lose my overcoat and go cold 
 all winter," responded the boy, promptly. 
 
 "I allow the little girl is grievin' for it; we ought 
 to let her know where it is, oughtn't we ?" 
 
 "Oh, Granny, the dog f ollered me ; I didn't coax 
 it away! If it had not been for me it would not 
 now be alive, so it is more mine than hers or any- 
 body's." 
 
 But though Granny was somewhat weakened by 
 this logical reasoning, she was not quite convinced ; 
 she smoked and pondered. 
 
14 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIBNDS. 
 
 "It was your duty to try to save it, Timothy," she 
 resumed. "Suppose a big boy was beatin' a little 
 one, and you happened along and took the little 
 one's part, and you know'd by his clothes that he 
 was a rich man's son, would you think you ought 
 to keep him and not try to find his people who was a 
 grievin' for him ?" 
 
 "What makes you think it is a girl's dog, 
 Granny ?" inquired Timothy after a pause. 
 
 "On account of the bit of ribbon; it come offen 
 the little girl's hair." 
 
 "But the dog was lost, Granny ; it is the same as 
 if I found her dead and brought her to life." 
 
 "Findin' her dead or alive don't make her yourn. 
 I once know'd a man as found a gold watch, and 
 all the rest of his life he was afraid that he would 
 find the owner. Sometimes that watch was hid up 
 the chimbly wrapped in an old woolen stockin', 
 sometimes it was in a cracked teapot on the top 
 shelf of a closet, and it wasn't until after he died 
 and the watch was put in the papers that the owner 
 got it. I don't say that the man would have picked 
 a gentleman's pocket if he had a chance, but that 
 watch business was twin-brother to stealing, Timo- 
 thy, it was indeed." 
 
THE BES0UX. IS 
 
 "What do you want me to do about it, Granny?" 
 asked the boy, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Try to find the owner ; and if you don't find her, 
 the dog is yourn." 
 
 "But I have no time to go around hunting an 
 owner; besides somebody might claim her that had 
 no right." 
 
 "I've been thinkin' it all over this afternoon while 
 pickin' Irindlin' and this is my plan, Timothy. 
 We're got no money to put the little dog in the 
 Telegram, so you just write sommat on paper and 
 stick in on the walls in your route, and let the peo- 
 ple know that the dog is here. I won't go out to- 
 morrow, but will be ready to give up the dog if the 
 right one comes along." 
 
 "But anybody might come and ask for her, and 
 you wouldn't know but it was the right one and 
 would let them have her." 
 
 "I've got a piece of chalk, Timothy. They will 
 have to chalk them Aggers what's on the collar onto 
 the kitchen door afore they see the dog, and if the 
 figgers don't match, the dog's yourn." 
 
 Timothy was convinced that Granny's view of 
 the case was correct and just. He agreed to the 
 
1(J TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 plan, although his heart yearned over the little yel- 
 low dog sleeping confidingly and serenely upon the 
 old cushion, and could not suppress the hope that 
 the "figgers" would go wide of the mark, though 
 he kept the thought to himself. 
 
 The writing of a notice was a difficult task for 
 Timothy; but improvising a writing desk from the 
 broadest piece of Granny's wood, the notices, after 
 many perplexities, were completed, and laid aside 
 for placing upon any long-suffering walls he would 
 pass the next morning. 
 
 "LOST 
 
 "A yeller dog with white paz has on a bras coler 
 number six hamers aly no reward." 
 
 It did not occur to Granny or the boy that this 
 notice was in any way obscure, and its readers 
 might imagine that Hammer's Alley was mourning 
 the loss of a yellow dog, though not considering it 
 worthy of any outlay for recovery. 
 
 For several days after Timothy had conscien- 
 tiously placed his notices where he considered that 
 they would attract attention, he dreaded finding the 
 dog missing when he reached home; but a week 
 passed, and it was yet in his possession; so he and 
 
THE BESCTJE. 17 
 
 Granny felt settled enough to discuss the subect of 
 a name for his pet ; but nothing suggested by either 
 satisfied the fastidious taste of Timothy, and it de- 
 volved upon a chance meeting with a stranger to 
 decide upon the question. 
 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 ON THE BLUE SEA. 
 
 It is seldom that a vessel of any kind crosses the 
 ocean without having on board one or more persons 
 who are objects of curiosity, if not mystery, to the 
 other passengers. 
 
 The vessel which several years before had 
 brought Timothy and Granny Edmonds from Liv- 
 erpool to Baltimore was no exception to this rule, 
 and from the evening of their coming aboard, they 
 were subjects of speculation, among the lady pas- 
 sengers especially. 
 
 Had Granny been alone upon the voyage, the 
 steerage would have been considered the proper 
 place for her by all on board ; but as the nurse and 
 only caretaker of the then handsome, rosy, and at- 
 tractive little boy Timothy, her place was with him, 
 and his place was among the best, being provided 
 with one of the most luxurious of the staterooms 
 and the run of the vessel. 
 
 18 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 19 
 
 "If the woman would only talk, we might stand 
 the chance of .finding out who and what they are," 
 remarked one of the lady travelers to a friend as 
 they sat upon deck one evening. "My maid is 
 brimming over with curiosity, but says that all she 
 can find out from either of them is that the woman's 
 name is Edmonds, the boy's name is Timothy, was 
 born in Liverpool, is three years of age, and they 
 are going to live in Baltimore." 
 
 "She would answer a direct question upon the 
 subject, would she not?" 
 
 "No, indeed; my maid says she gets suddenly 
 deaf when any one begins to question her in regard 
 to the child." 
 
 "But the little boy is merry and chatty, and when 
 he gets well acquainted with some one of us, will 
 certainly tell his last name. Remember, we have 
 been but two days out, and all is strange to him." 
 
 "That boy will never get a chance to say anything, 
 even if he were old enough to tell a connected story. 
 The woman follows him like a shadow; is always 
 on hand when any one talks to him. There is a 
 mystery about them in some way, you may depend 
 upon it." 
 
20 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "He has every appearance of being of good par- 
 entage," said the other; "his clothing is of the best 
 material and made in the latest style. His parents 
 are evidently wealthy and cultured, and I cannot 
 imagine how they could place him in the care of a 
 homely and illiterate woman, when they could have 
 plenty that was more suitable to be the attendant of 
 such a distinguished looking child." 
 
 "But she is good and faithful, and devoted to her 
 charge; one can see that the little boy loves her,"' 
 suggested her friend. 
 
 "But it is so singular that they are alone. Hus- 
 band and I were upon deck the evening we sailed, 
 and they came on board just at twilight. They had 
 been driven to the pier in an elegant carriage, a 
 splendid pair of high-stepping horses, and with 
 coachman and footman in livery. No one was in 
 the carriage but themselves; their trunks were car- 
 ried on board, they followed, the carriage was driv- 
 en away, and here they are, and we no wiser than 
 when they first came aboard." 
 
 "He is such a happy looking little fellow," re- 
 marked the other lady, as Timothy came in view, 
 tossing a ball, which was caught for him by Nurse 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 21 
 
 Edmonds. "I never saw such lovely golden curls 
 as his, and his beautiful dark eyes are in such con- 
 trast to his fair complexion. I do wish we could 
 find out who he is ; I don't think I ever saw a child 
 who so deeply interested me." 
 
 "'We shall never know more than we know now 
 if his nurse can prevent it, I feel quite sure," replied 
 her friend. 
 
 Before there was time for further comments, the 
 ladies found another object of interest and more 
 wondering comments, in the person of a little girl, 
 apparently about the age of Timothy. As there 
 was no one \o interfere and prevent it, she soon be- 
 came the pet of everyone on the steamer, owing to 
 her beauty, her sweet disposition and winning man- 
 ner, her unprotected condition and the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances under which she sailed. 
 
 On the day the Miriam left Liverpool, she, with 
 several playmates somewhat older than herself, were 
 attracted by a band of music which passed their 
 playground; they followed it, and in a short time 
 reached the pier; where, mingling with the crowd, 
 they were carried on board the Miriam. There, be- 
 wildered by the novel arid exciting incidents attend- 
 
22 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 ing a departure, the little girl became separated 
 from her companions, and being very weary, she 
 crept behind a stateroom door which was ajar, and 
 in a few moments was in a peaceful slumber, 
 "rocked in the cradle of the deep." Her compan- 
 ions, seeing others leaving the steamer, followed, 
 and were on shore to see the Miriam leave her pier, 
 too young to be the least concerned by the absence 
 of their companion. 
 
 In the meantime the door of the stateroom had 
 opened, and two stately persons, clad in deep mourn- 
 ing and with thick black veils concealing their fea- 
 tures, entered, and upon turning to close the door 
 noticed the child. 
 
 Not wishing to disturb her sweet repose, the 
 younger and fairer of the two raised her gently 
 from the carpet and tenderly pressing a kiss upon 
 her flushed cheek, laid her in one of the berths. 
 Then seating herself by the window, while her com- 
 panion removed her wrappings and lay down to 
 rest, she watched the receding shore with eyes fast 
 dimming with homesick tears, which she carefully 
 concealed from the occupant of the berth. 
 
 Very sweet and pleasing was the picture she made 
 
(CT THE BLUE SEA. 23 
 
 as she sat there, her head, from which had been re- 
 moved bonnet and veil, reclining against the case- 
 ment, the soft breeze fanning her fair, patrician 
 forehead. 
 
 Not nearly so tall as her companion, she was slen- 
 derer and more finely formed; both possessing that 
 air of serenity and dignified self-possession inherent 
 to those who, like them, are born to wealth and 
 position. 
 
 Her eyes were large, and blue as summer twilight 
 skies, and possessed depth of character seldom seen 
 in those of azure tint; varying with the emotion of 
 the moment, deepening to almost black when unusu- 
 ally stirred. Golden, wavy hair, seemingly impa- 
 tient of the control of the jeweled comb which con- 
 fined its soft luxuriance, and escaping in little ten- 
 drils, which caressed the rounded cheek glowing be- 
 neath them with the rosy tint of health. The sweet, 
 expressive mouth, tremulous now with emotion, the 
 delicately moulded chin, and slender throat, were all 
 models of refined feminine beauty; the whole ap- 
 pearance denoting one unused to rough contact with 
 the world, one that had been protected from every- 
 thing distasteful and uncongenial. 
 
24 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 The sleeve of the simple black dress which fitted 
 her with the pliant grace that distinguished every- 
 thing she wore, falling back from her slender wrist, 
 disclosed the beautifully rounded arm, and soft, 
 dimpled hand, scarcely larger than that of a child. 
 
 "Madam Angela," and "Mother Ursula," were 
 the names of these" passengers upon the steamer's 
 register, and that was all that captain, crew, or fel- 
 low-voyagers knew of them from the time they came 
 on board until the Miriam touched its pier at Bal- 
 timore. 
 
 At length the little waif in the berth awakened, 
 opened her merry hazel eyes, rubbed her piquant 
 nose with her plump fist, and a happy smile dim- 
 pled the rosebud mouth, as without raising her 
 curly head from the pillow, she chirped, "Grandma, 
 I are awake; indeed I are." 
 
 The sound attracted Madam Angela, and leaving 
 her place by the window, with a smile that be- 
 tokened an affectionate, motherly nature, she bent 
 over the couch and said in broken English, but per- 
 fectly intelligible to the bright, little listener : 
 
 "Whose little girl are you, dear ?" 
 
 "Grandma's !" was the prompt response. 
 
OW THE BLUE SEA. 25 
 
 "What does grandma call her little girl?" 
 
 "Chrissie." 
 
 "And what is Chrissie's other name?" 
 
 "Dot no more," replied the little one, solemnly 
 shaking her roguish head, and reaching for a stray 
 curl which hung within reach of her hand." 
 
 "I love little girls like you; will you come and 
 look out of the window ?" questioned her new friend. 
 
 The child arose immediately, and was soon en- 
 tertaining Madam Angela with bits of history in 
 regard to her home, her playmates, her white rabbit 
 and her kitten. 
 
 Evening was drawing on, and as the inquiry for 
 the child which the lady had been momentarily ex- 
 pecting was yet delayed, she arose and passing to 
 the side of the berth, said something in soft, liquid 
 Italian to her companion. 
 
 "Yes, leave her with me," was the reply in the 
 same tongue. 
 
 Madame Angela gave the little one some trinkets 
 to amuse her, and resuming mantle and veil she left 
 the stateroom. 
 
 "I have seen no one who knows anything of her," 
 said she upon returning. "The captain says that no 
 
26 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 child of that age was registered except a little boy 
 named Timothy, who is accompanied by his maid, 
 and the passengers know nothing of her; he went 
 among them and inquired." 
 
 "Ask the little one in her own language what 
 she wishes," said the one called Mother Ursula. 
 
 "Take me to grandma," replied the child in re- 
 sponse to the question. 
 
 "I would gladly, my darling, if I knew where she 
 was ; where is she ?" 
 
 "Oh, grandma ! Where are you ?" cried the child, 
 imploringly. "Take me to grandma." 
 
 Something in the child's manner touched a chord 
 in the lady's breast which vibrated painfully, and 
 taking the sorrowing little creature in her arms, she 
 wept without restraint. 
 
 "She reminds so much of Helena," she sobbed; 
 "my cherub babe who is safe in heaven, while some 
 poor mother is grieving over the loss of this sweet 
 child ; perhaps she was sent to comfort us." 
 
 "But we have no home to offer her," said her 
 companion, anxiously, "we are homeless ourselves; 
 will be strangers in a strange land." 
 
 "I know it/' replied Madame Angela, tearfully, 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 27 
 
 "I know that it is worse than folly to think of such 
 a thing, but what will become of her ?" 
 
 "I don't know, and can only hope that her being 
 in our stateroom will not serve as an excuse for in- 
 trusion." 
 
 "No, I have thought of that, and will provide 
 against it. At the same time, as Providence has 
 placed the little one in our care, I cannot find it in my 
 heart or conscience to thrust her upon the charity of 
 others. I will do the best I can by her while we are 
 on the voyage, and will hope that some one of the 
 passengers may become interested enough in her to 
 provide a home for her when we land If the little 
 one will only be contented; but I fear when night 
 comes she will grieve for her home." 
 
 Happily the mind of a young child is easily di- 
 verted from sorrow, and being of a happy, joyous 
 disposition, she was comforted and amused ; and al- 
 though she shed many tears before she went to rest, 
 she slept peacefully through the night in the arms of 
 Madame Angela. 
 
 .When morning came and she strove to rise she 
 was totally unable; sea-sickness had taken posses- 
 sion of her, and held her in its relentless grasp. Her 
 
28 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 new friends proved to be faithful nurses, and in that 
 trying time received more insight of her sweet, 
 placid, loving disposition, than perhaps weeks of 
 health could have given them. 
 
 On the evening of the second day, she was able to 
 go upon deck ; and though the rough experience had 
 robbed the cheek of bloom, and the eyes of roguish 
 light, and stopped the merry chatter, she was an 
 object of loving interest to all. 
 
 Mother Ursula never left her stateroom from the 
 beginning to the ending of the voyage, but Madame 
 Angela was Chrissie's loved friend and attendant; 
 and Timothy was one of the very first to welcome 
 her each day as she emerged, sweet and smiling, 
 from her stateroom. 
 
 When Madame Angela was engaged, then 
 Granny Edmonds took charge of both children, and 
 she did nojt restrain Timothy when in their merry 
 romps he made allusions to his home, the deer in 
 the park, his pony, the coachman Wiggins, and his 
 St. Bernard dog. Neither did she forget to listen 
 when Chrissie chattered of her "grandma, who 
 walked with a cane, and used snuff from a box that 
 had a gold rim around it, and a sweet smelling bean 
 
OW THE BLUE SEA. 29 
 
 inside." Of father or mother she never spoke, nor 
 of any relative except her grandmother. She lived 
 next to a house with a "great bell on it," and Granny- 
 surmised that it was a church, though of what de- 
 nomination or in what locality she could not gather 
 from the little Christine. 
 
 For nearly all the hours of each day the children 
 enjoyed the varied tints of sky and ocean, watched 
 the sun descend into the sea, and the moon and stars 
 come forth. They skimmed over the steamer like 
 seabirds over the water, now dancing along, each 
 holding the hand of the captain as he took a walk 
 upon deck, now in the cook's room, surveying with 
 the eyes of connoisseurs the culinary preparations 
 going on there, everywhere welcome, and every- 
 where guarded by Granny Edmonds. Truly no 
 children with scores of doting relatives could have 
 a happier trip across the wide expanse, than these 
 little ones who had no tie of blood with a human 
 being there. 
 
 One evening Madame Angela was seated upon 
 deck with Christine ; Granny Edmonds with Timo- 
 thy, having gone below. 
 
 "What are you going to do with her, ma'am, 
 
30 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 when we land?" questioned Captain Willoughby, 
 who happened by at the time, and paused to ask a 
 question in which he had deep interest ; "do you in- 
 tend keeping her with you?" 
 
 "I only wish I could, but it is impossible," replied 
 Madame Angela, her eyes darkening and filling with 
 tears. 
 
 "Well, that makes it all right," replied the Cap- 
 tain, brightening, "for I know of a grand home for 
 her. My brother's widow lives in a large house in 
 Baltimore, with no one but her housekeeper and 
 servants. She is wealthy and childless, and has 
 long wished for a little girl to adopt as a daughter. 
 She would be charmed with just such a mischievous 
 nuisance as this," giving the little one a quizzical 
 look which was returned with interest. 
 
 "I never hear her mention her parents," replied 
 the lady, "and doubt if they are living ; neither do I 
 think the old lady she so frequently mentions is her 
 real grandmother ; yet she may have other near and 
 dear relatives." 
 
 "Yes, I have thought of this, and will tell my sis- 
 ter-in-law exactly how the case stands so far as we 
 know. In the meantime it will be an excellent home 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 31 
 
 to leave her in until I can return to Liverpool and 
 try to ascertain something about her, and if there 
 is anyone to claim her, she can go back with me the 
 next trip." 
 
 "Her grandmother, if living, will think the time 
 long until she sees her, but I cannot see anything 
 better can be done ; and I have no doubt Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby will love her and will dislike to part with 
 her." 
 
 "Yes, that is the only squall I see ahead; it will 
 come like an iceberg upon Louisa to part from her, 
 if she has to give her up." 
 
 "I know that by my own feelings," replied 
 Madame Angela, tearfully; "no one could be with 
 her and not love her; and I am glad you have the 
 kindness to interest yourself in providing her with a 
 home. God will reward you for it." 
 
 "You have set me the example, lady. If you had 
 been her own sister you could not have given her 
 more care. My mother used to say to me when I 
 was a little shaver, 'Daniel, good deeds never die;' 
 and I believe that, like everything else she said, it 
 was true as gospel ; and if there is not a blessing laid 
 up for you somewhere, there is none for anyone." 
 
32 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "I have put carefully aside the little blue dress and 
 ruffled white apron that she wandered away in, 
 thinking they might lead to her identification," said 
 the lady. "I will give them into your care, Captain, 
 before I leave the steamer. I have made the little 
 dress she has on, and am sorry I had nothing but 
 black material, but it was the best I could do." 
 
 "Well, she looks sweet as a pink in it, anyhow; 
 and now that we have settled the future disposition 
 of her as well as we can, little Ladybird and I will 
 go below and get that turnover pie cook promised 
 us." 
 
 The next day the Miriam came safely into the 
 harbor at Baltimore, and the moment it touched the 
 pier the passengers vanished in every direction. 
 
 Among the first to disembark was Granny Ed- 
 monds, holding the hand of Timothy in a tight 
 clasp; and from the window of their stateroom 
 Madame Angela watched them weaving their way 
 through the crowd upon the pier until they were 
 lost to view, and then, amid blinding tears, she pre- 
 pared her little charge to go again among strangers. 
 
 In a few moments the Captain came for her, and 
 Madame Angela, taking a ring of rare beauty and 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 33 
 
 singular workmanship from her finger, clasped it in 
 the soft hand of the child. 
 
 "Keep it always, darling, for my sake. Never 
 part with it, and some time, God willing, I may see 
 you again." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" said the Captain, cheerfully, "I will 
 tell Mrs. Willoughby to take care of it for her. Give 
 me your hand, Ladybird;" and clasping the hand 
 containing the ring in his, they set out, and Madame 
 Angela from the window saw the dear little form 
 borne up the street in the strong arms of the Cap- 
 tain, one chubby arm thrown confidingly around 
 his neck, and her little bundle of clothing under his 
 arm. 
 
 She could restrain herself no longer; she must 
 at least see the outside of the home to which the 
 little one was consigned; and throwing on wrap- 
 pings and veil, she rapidly followed. She did not 
 wish to be observed by the Captain, the child, nor the 
 person with whom he left her. All she desired was 
 to judge for herself by the surroundings what kind 
 of a home the poor little waif had found; to note 
 the house, so that if she remained for a time in Bal- 
 timore, she could pass it occasionally, and perhaps 
 
84 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBDENDS. 
 
 be cheered by a glimpse of the sweet child face. 
 The Captain's ring at the massive door of a hand- 
 some brownstone dwelling brought a young colored 
 waiter, who stared at the visitor and his burden in 
 undisguished wonder, mingled with the broad grin 
 that welcomed the well-known, jolly Captain. 
 
 "Anything to be surprised at, Cuffee? Go and 
 tell your mistress that Captain Willoughby and 
 Ladybird are waiting to be received," and while the 
 waiter ran to carry the message, the Captain stepped 
 into the handsome parlor and seating himself, re- 
 moved the little girl's wraps, that the lady might be 
 impressed with a first appearance. 
 
 The tearful watcher on the street saw a sweet- 
 faced, motherly woman come in, shake cordially the 
 outstretched hand of the Captain, and before any 
 words passed between them reach out her arms for 
 the little girl, who without the least hesitation al- 
 lowed herself to be taken and tenderly kissed. 
 
 "That's right, Louisa, I knew she would have a 
 good home with you ; I wanted to bring you a pres- 
 ent, and thought a daughter would be the most ac- 
 ceptable gift." 
 
 "To stay !" cried the lady, her face flushing with 
 
OH THE BLUE SEA, 35 
 
 joy. "Now, Captain, if this is only one of your 
 jokes I shall be bitteriy disappointed; tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 Captain Willoughby rapidly recounted the cir- 
 cumstances of the child having been thrown upon 
 his care, and concluded by telling her of his inten- 
 tion of making inquiry concerning her relatives on 
 his next voyage to Liverpool. He then gave into 
 her hand the little package of clothing, the ring, and 
 all the information he could of the donor, and while 
 thus engaged, Madame Angela, satisfied that the 
 child had found a good home, retraced her steps to 
 the vessel, and, with her companion, was ready to 
 leave when the Captain returned. 
 
 Without suspecting that she had witnessed the 
 whole affair, he gave a circumstantial account, ac- 
 curate in every particular, and at the request of 
 Madame Angela gave them the address of one of 
 the best hotels, which was but a short drive from 
 the pier, and they were soon installed in a handsome, 
 comfortable room until such time as they could be 
 suited in a permanent home. 
 
 That very evening, while Madame Angela was 
 taking her tea alone — for Mother Ursula, as on the 
 
36 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 steamer, never left her room, her meals being taken 
 to her by Madame Angela — she overheard a dia- 
 logue which decided their destiny for life. The 
 door between the tea-room and the one adoining 
 was ajar, and before the glowing grate sat two gen- 
 tlemen engaged in conversation. 
 
 It was a damp, chilly evening, and the cheerful 
 comfort of the room was a pleasing picture even to 
 the anxious Madame Angela, who felt strange and 
 homesick in a foreign country, and with no settled 
 home. 
 
 One of them, evidently a Northerner, had recently 
 returned from a gunning expedition in the country 
 and was entertaining his friend with an account of 
 his sport. 
 
 He appeared to be charmed with all concerning 
 it, had found game abundant, had been generously 
 entertained, and his admiration of Maryland hos- 
 pitality was unbounded. 
 
 "I don't know what time they have to think of 
 dying," he was saying; "it appears to me that it is 
 all used in planning for good times upon earth." 
 
 "Yes, they do enjoy life on those farm places in 
 the neighborhood of Dorton, especially during the 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 37 
 
 autumn and winter," replied his companion. "Sev- 
 eral city families have bought property there, and 
 I am told the society is excellent. How is Colonel 
 Ogilvie getting along ? I heard that he did his share 
 toward entertaining you?" 
 
 "Oh, firstrate; the very best place in the world 
 to put in a rainy day ; big open fires, plenty of crabs 
 and oysters, no women and children bothering 
 around, and the best servants in the world. That 
 would be the life for me, if I had the means to man- 
 age it as he does. I declare if old Judy can't beat 
 the beater in cooking wild game, and if you want 
 fried chicken and pounded biscuits that would make 
 a man rejoice that he was alive, just try old Judy's. 
 If it wan't for leaving my business, I would like to 
 come down every fall." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose Ogilvie is satisfied with his man- 
 ner of living, and it is well that he is ; but that life 
 would not suit me. I would suppose that his main 
 pleasure would be in looking forward to the sum- 
 mer when his daughter, Mrs. Willoughby, and his 
 son Richard's family go out from Baltimore to re- 
 main for several weeks at 'Ogilvie's Pride.' " 
 
 "Yes, he spoke of them, and also of his eldest 
 
39 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 son, Mark Ogilvie," replied 'the Northerner. "He 
 has not heard of him for years, and believes him to 
 be no longer among the living. I think the uncer- 
 tainty is a great trial to the Colonel." 
 
 "I know it. Mark was his favorite son, a splen- 
 did looking fellow, and highly educated, but re- 
 served and haughty as a prince of the blood. He 
 had a terrible disappointment in love, which ren- 
 dered him more reserved and haughty than ever, 
 and he finally left the neighborhood and has never 
 been heard of since." 
 
 "Did the lady jilt him?" 
 
 "No; the strange part of it is that, though loving 
 her as only such earnest, silent men can love, he 
 left her. She was a lovely and highly accomplished 
 young lady, and it almost broke her heart." 
 
 "Why upon earth did he leave her? Was there 
 another Richmond in the field ?" 
 
 "Not at all; but his pride of birth would not al- 
 low him to marry one of whose antecedents nothing 
 was known. You see, she was only an adopted 
 daughter of a lawyer named Bowlsby, formerly of 
 this city, who bought a fine property in the neigh- 
 borhood of Dorton^ and the family spent their sum- 
 
OW THE BIXE SEA. 39 
 
 mers there, unless traveling. Having no children 
 of their own, Bowlsby and his wife adopted the 
 girl from an orphan asylum when she was an infant, 
 and she never knew until their death that they were 
 not her parents. Mark Ogilvie considered her the 
 one woman in the world for him, and the time was 
 appointed for their marriage, when Bowlsby and 
 his wife died within a week of each other, and Miss 
 Bowlsby was left alone in their elegant country-seat, 
 where they happened to be at the time. Bowlsby 
 had made a will leaving all his property to her, and 
 in it stated that she was only adopted and her par- 
 entage was unknown, even at the asylum where he 
 and his wife had found her. 
 
 "This blow to her was followed by a greater one, 
 for Mark Ogilvie withdrew from the engagement, 
 although perhaps none realized what it cost him to 
 give her up. He left the country, and a few weeks 
 after, a nephew of Bowlsby, a wild, reckless fellow 
 who went to Australia years before and was re- 
 ported to be dead, suddenly returned, laid claim to 
 the property, entered suit against Miss Bowlsby for 
 the recovery of it, and won his case, leaving the 
 poor girl penniless." 
 
40 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Does the nephew still own it?" 
 
 "No ; he cared nothing for it, so converted it into 
 cash, which he pocketed, and returned to Australia." 
 
 "Who bought the property?" 
 
 "A family named Carleton from Baltimore. The 
 husband died a year or so ago, and his widow, her 
 aged father, and her two young sons intend mak- 
 ing it a permanent home." 
 
 "No wonder Colonel Ogilvie spoke sadly in re- 
 gard to his son Mark," said the Northerner, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes, it is no doubt a great trouble to him, al- 
 though, like the whole Ogilvie family, he keeps his 
 troubles to himself. He is not one to go out of his 
 way for society, and I have heard that at this time 
 he has no one but his colored servants on his place." 
 
 "No, he mentioned incidentally that he formerly 
 kept an overseer, who, with his family, lived in a 
 cottage across lots from the mansion-house, but 
 since the beginning of the year he has been man- 
 aging the place himself. He considered that he was 
 not taking enough exercise for good health." 
 
 "Who has the cottage that was occupied by the 
 overseer?" questioned his friend, more for the sake 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 41 
 
 of carrying on the conversation than for interest 
 he took in the answer. 
 
 "No one ; and a pretty, romantic little place it is ; 
 shaded by tall trees and covered with vines. It is a 
 pity to let such a place go down. It's a wonder 
 he doesn't try to rent it." 
 
 "Not much like an Ogilvie to think of renting a 
 small affair like that," smiled his companion. "In 
 his opinion it has about the value of an old peach 
 basket, and no doubt would give it rent free to any- 
 one whom he would be willing to have upon his 
 place." 
 
 Madame Angela had listened to this conversa- 
 tion with interest only for the reason that it gave 
 knowledge of people new to her, but the last few 
 sentences claimed her eager attention. The conver- 
 sation was evidently not intended to be private, 
 therefore she did not consider it dishonorable to 
 listen; instead believed that Providence was pointing 
 out the way wherein she and Mother Ursula should 
 walk Why not apply for the cottage, and if pos- 
 sible obtain it? 
 
 She lingered a moment to hear if anything more 
 would be said upon the subject; but the conversa- 
 
42 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 tion was drifting into other channels, and had no 
 further interest for her ; so she quietly left the room 
 and sought her companion. 
 
 An hour later a letter was on its way to "Ogilvie's 
 Pride," and they waited with what patience they 
 could command for a reply, which speedily came, 
 giving them grant of the cottage, and possession at 
 any time, and the next evening found Mother Ur- 
 sula and Madame Angela in a peaceful, secluded, 
 beautiful little home, suiting them in every respect. 
 
 In their first communication to Colonel Ogilvie 
 they had asked him to specify the sum he wished for 
 it, but as he failed to answer the question in his 
 reply, Madame Angela dropped him a line upon tak- 
 ing possession, asking him to specify the yearly 
 rent. 
 
 He replied promptly, and, as the conversation 
 overheard by Madame Angela the night of the ar- 
 rival in Baltimore had led her to expect, he put no 
 value whatever upon it ; it was of no-account to him 
 in any way; they were welcome to it for nothing if 
 they so desired. 
 
 To that they would not agree. Another note was 
 returned to Colonel Ogilvie, saying that he must 
 
ON THE BLUE SEA. 43 
 
 put a value upon it, and after that they would trou- 
 ble him no more. 
 
 To satisfy them he set a price almost nominal, 
 and the first day of each year as long as Colonel 
 Ogilvie lived, a sealed note containing the money 
 for rent was sent by a trusty messenger, who re- 
 turned in a short time with a receipt, and that was 
 the extent of the communication upon the subject 
 between Colonel Ogilvie and his tenants. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 
 
 Although a stranger in a strange city, and by no 
 means a traveler, Granny Edmonds walked con- 
 fidently up the street from the steamer with Timo- 
 thy's hand in hers, the long, golden curls of the 
 boy attracting attention, many persons turning to 
 look after them. 
 
 Making inquiry of policemen and others, when 
 she considered it necessary, they, after a time 
 reached the home of Granny's brother and only near 
 relative, who lived in a small but neat dwelling 
 in a retired street. 
 
 Not being able to read or write, Granny's cor- 
 respondence with her brother had been rather lim- 
 ited ; but through his letters she had ascertained that 
 he had been successful since coming to America, had 
 married a woman whose money had bought him a 
 home, in which they were living very comfortably. 
 Had Granny been granted sufficient time, she would 
 
 44 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A. HOME. 45 
 
 have informed her brother and his wife of the pur- 
 posed journey; but it was only the morning of the 
 day that the Miriam sailed that she was notified of 
 it, so was doing the best she could under the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 This only brother was much younger than herself, 
 and their parents dying when he was an infant, she 
 had nursed the ailing, fretful boy, and been to him 
 a second mother. She was filled with joy at the 
 prospect of seeing him, and anticipated a warm wel- 
 come, in which she was not disappointed, for al- 
 though for a moment bewildered by her sudden ap- 
 pearance, he was sincerely glad to see her, and 
 Granny's heart was cheered by his expressions of 
 satisfaction in having her under his roof. 
 
 But simple-minded as was Granny, the evident 
 dismay of her brother's wife could not escape her 
 notice, and her spirits sank accordingly. She had 
 not come to be dependent upon them, at least it was 
 far from her thoughts to imagine that she would 
 ever be, for she was provided with an ample allow- 
 ance for the support of Timothy and herself for the 
 present, and with the assurance of a quarterly allow- 
 ance to be sent by check from Liverpool. 
 
46 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 So, while wounded and disappointed at the evi- 
 dent reluctance of her sister-in-law to receive Timo- 
 thy and herself as members of the family, she was 
 not appalled, as would have been the case had she 
 been without the prospect of means to subsist. 
 
 In the mind of the brother's wife, Granny Ed- 
 monds had an existence, but so vague and indistinct 
 that the possibility of a nearer acquaintance never 
 crossed her mind. She knew that her husband's 
 sister was the widow of a coal miner, who, with 
 their son, had been killed by an explosion in the 
 mines; that she, after their death, had been a nurse 
 for invalids, that some one of them had given her 
 the name of Granny, and she had kept it ever since. 
 This was all the sister-in-law knew of her or cared 
 to know ; and that Granny was now in her home and 
 likely to remain filled her with discontent. 
 
 She was proud of the house which her money had 
 procured, and kept it in painfully neat order. Chil- 
 dren would disarrange everything, and as much as 
 she disliked having Granny, Timothy would, she 
 knew, prove the greater annoyance. 
 
 She was tall, thin, sharp of temper and of tongue ; 
 and poor meek Granny felt out of place and misera- 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 47 
 
 ble, but knew not how to go about making a change. 
 She offered her sister-in-law a liberal sum from 
 what she had in hand, and the expected quarterly 
 allowance from England, for the board of Timothy 
 and herself, which offer was ungraciously accepted. 
 
 In her own mind Granny decided to find another 
 home as soon as possible, but upon trial found it a 
 difficult thing to do. Experience taught her after a 
 few weeks that she could have gone into any home 
 without people troubling themselves about her any 
 more than was to their own interest; but a distin- 
 guished looking child like Timothy always raised 
 questions which denoted suspicion. These ques- 
 tions Granny was too straightforward to parry, and 
 too truthful to answer by prevarication, so relapsed 
 into total silence, which generally awoke animosity 
 in the questioner, if not expressed anger. 
 
 "I wish you would dress that boy so that every- 
 body would not be asking me who he is," her sister- 
 \in-law said petulantly one evening after Timothy 
 had been put to bed; "he don't look a bit like the 
 other children on the street, with his long curls and 
 his elegant clothes, and no wonder they want to 
 know what rich person's child has strayed off here." 
 
48 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 This thought had never entered the mind of 
 Granny, but none the less did' it have its effect. 
 Without a word of reply she made up her mind, and 
 the next morning she hurried out, and soon re- 
 turned with some cotton material for dresses, and 
 gingham for aprons, and set busily to work. 
 
 Timothy was not on the street that day ; and when 
 he next made his appearance there, he scarcely knew 
 himself in the homespun suit, while his curls lay in 
 a shining row in a box in Granny's trunk, and his 
 stylish little suits were keeping them company. 
 
 Granny wondered over and over again in her mind 
 why she had not thought of this change of costume 
 when she saw that, shorn of his locks and dressed as 
 children with whom he played, he attracted no more 
 attention than they, and looked quite as plain except 
 for his fair complexion and large and beautiful dark 
 eyes. 
 
 It was a great relief to her that questions had in a 
 manner ceased, and she set about searching for an- 
 other home, much lighter of heart as to the result. 
 
 Nearly three months had elapsed since leaving 
 England, and although Granny had made many in- 
 quiries in a quiet way, there was as yet no home 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 49 
 
 in view in which she could feel satisfied to accept 
 for Timothy and herself, so was still living upon 
 sufferance in the house of her sister-in-law. She 
 was heartily sick of idleness, for she was not allowed 
 to take any part or share in the work of the house, 
 and time hung heavily upon her hands. Although 
 she was prompt to the day in paying the board 
 agreed upon for Timothy and herself, this did not 
 lessen the eagerness of her brother's wife to get 
 them away that she might have the house to herself. 
 
 Liberal as was the allowance given to Granny 
 upon leaving England, it was decreasing rapidly, 
 and she resolved to wait until the next remittance 
 was in hand before making the change of abode; 
 hoping that when she did secure another boarding 
 place, it would be where there would be some em- 
 ployment for her, whereby a portion of her allow- 
 ance could be put by for a rainy day. 
 
 At the appointed time she watched, morning and 
 afternoon, for the postman's welcome ring, which 
 might betoken a letter for her ; but day after day he 
 passed by, and as there was no missive, she reasoned 
 with herself that by some chance the address of her 
 brother's house might have been forgotten, and the 
 letter be waiting for her at the postoffice. 
 4 
 
50 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Encouraged by this thought she and Timothy 
 were soon wending their way there, and entering 
 the long corridor stood for a while bewildered by the 
 rush of many feet over the marble floor. Ap- 
 proaching one of the windows, she asked for a let- 
 ter from Liverpool. 
 
 "Farther down the corridor, madam; this is the 
 stamp window," was the reply. 
 
 Granny turned away and proceeded to find the 
 designated spot. 
 
 "Any letter from Liverpool for Mrs. Edmonds," 
 said she in a trembling voice. 
 
 "Farther down the corridor, madam; this is the 
 receiving window." 
 
 Poor Granny felt strange and out of place, but 
 by the help of a bystander reached the right win- 
 dow, the inscription which designated it being Greek 
 to her. 
 
 But there was no letter ; and the next day, and the 
 next, and many succeeding ones, she and Timothy 
 walked to the postoffice and made inquiry with like 
 result. 
 
 She saw her money dwindling away in payment 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 61 
 
 for the board of Timothy and herself, and before 
 she could realize it, she was penniless. 
 
 Then, indeed, she became convinced that the 
 dwelling which her sister-in-law's money had 
 bought was no home for her, and sick at heart she 
 went again to the postoffice, hoping for the long- 
 expected check. She grew ashamed to ask for the 
 letter that never came, and it was not necessary; 
 the official knew why she was there, and shook his 
 head in negative response. She turned away with 
 such a despairing look in her eyes that he was con- 
 strained to offer a word of comfort. 
 
 "Leave your name and address," said he, kindly, 
 "and if a letter comes to you I will notify you." 
 
 Granny's heart grew lighter at even this forlorn 
 hope, and giving the address of her brother's home, 
 she thanked him heartily and left the corridor. 
 
 She shed bitter tears that night as she turned rest- 
 lessly on her pillow, while Timothy slumbered 
 peacefully beside her. 
 
 In the still watches of the night the belief was 
 forced upon her that no remittance would ever come, 
 and so far as she could judge she was incapable of 
 
52 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 earning her own support, even if the charge of Tim- 
 othy was not resting upon her. 
 
 She had been a miner's daughter and a miner's 
 wife; had always lived in a humble way, except in 
 the past three years while having charge of Timothy. 
 She had no trade, had no experience in sewing or 
 cooking except of the plainest kind, and though 
 naturally industrious, was not' what could have been 
 called capable. Moreover, her clothing was becom- 
 ing shabby, and she saw no chance oi replenishing it 
 in order to make a good appearance when applying 
 for a place. 
 
 "My old mother used to say that it was always 
 darkest just before dawn ; and God won't let Timo- 
 thy and me go hungry," thought she as "Big Sam" 
 tolled out the hour of four, and the city was begin- 
 ning to awaken from the silence of the night. Then 
 Granny dropped into a peaceful slumber, from 
 which she arose much refreshed. 
 
 She sat down by the tiny window in the back 
 room assigned to Timothy and herself since the 
 winds of adversity had swept over them, and waited 
 until he should awake. Her gaze fell almost un- 
 consciously upon the neat serving maids who occa- 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 53 
 
 sionally passed through the alley below, and noticed 
 that their place of destination was a dairy upon 
 the corner, where they obtained their supply of milk 
 for the morning meal. 
 
 After several had been served there came a pause ; 
 and the dairy-woman' came to the door to look 
 about her and to take a breath of the pure morning 
 air. 
 
 Something in the good, sensible and cheery face 
 attracted Granny, and instantly the thought came to 
 her to call upon her, and ask if she knew of anyone 
 who needed a woman to take care of children or of 
 an invalid. 
 
 The sister-in-law was somewhat surprised to see 
 Granny descend in cheerful mood, and not know- 
 ing the frail but vital hope which had revived the 
 depressed spirits of her forlorn relative, imagined it 
 possible that Granny, after all, had received the re- 
 mittance, so was preparing herself for a proper hear- 
 ing of the news. 
 
 The moment Timothy had finished breakfast 
 Granny took him out with her, and sought the 
 dairy, not a square away. She was glad to find no 
 customers in, and the dairy-woman in the humor of 
 
54 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 talking, so made her errand known, told who she 
 was, and with whom she was staying. 
 
 "Well now, if that don't exceed all," said the 
 dairy-woman cordially. "Margaret Hogan, who 
 lives with Miss Bowlsby in the next square, is going 
 to be married and leave her place, and was in here 
 this morning after the milk for breakfast. She 
 asked me if I knew of any middle-aged woman that 
 Miss Bowlsby could get, and it really seems that 
 Providence has sent you, for I believe you will suit 
 her, and if you get the place you will have a good 
 home for as long time as you choose to stay." 
 
 "How can I see the lady?" inquired Granny, 
 trembling with anxiety that she might be too late 
 in making application. 
 
 "Go right up to the house now and tell them I 
 sent you, and Margaret Hogan won't know how to 
 thank me enough if Miss Bowlsby consents to take 
 you, for Margaret won't leave until she is suited." 
 
 "Is the old lady hard to please?" asked Granny, 
 timidly. 
 
 "Bless you, no ! she is a saint upon earth, if there 
 ever was one, and doesn't expect a person to be 
 faultless on a dollar a week, and she isn't an old lady 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 56 
 
 at all, but has had a heap of trouble, and last winter 
 fell on the ice and has been lame ever since, and 
 looks ten years older. She was adopted by a law- 
 yer named Bowlsby, who left her all his property, 
 but his nephew came from foreign parts and claimed 
 it, and she was left without a roof over her head. 
 She is comfortable now, but she don't forget her 
 poor daya" 
 
 With these introductory hints in mind Granny 
 went to the little home of Miss Bowlsby, and told 
 who sent her, which was sufficient guarantee for 
 Margaret, who conducted her to the room of her 
 employer without delay. 
 
 Granny's solicitude for the success of her appli- 
 cation had a tendency to place her at disadvantage 
 in the good graces of any employer who laid much 
 stress upon first appearances ; but Miss Bowlsby, be- 
 sides being a kind-hearted, sensible woman, had 
 been for some years acquainted with the brother's 
 wife, and was an adept at drawing conclusions; 
 therefore her present ones were in favor of Granny. 
 
 Her inquiries were such as a helpful, Christian 
 woman would address to one who was in trouble 
 and Granny gradually grew tranquil. 
 
56 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBEENDS. 
 
 In regard to Timothy, Miss Bowlsby wa9 satisfied 
 to know that his mother had died when he was an 
 infant, that Granny had been his nurse and care- 
 taker ever since his birth, and could not be parted 
 from him. 
 
 Miss Bowlsby's heart went out to the boy ; the ex- 
 pression of his brown eyes reminded her of someone 
 she had known and loved. She felt that he would 
 bring life into the somber household, her only care 
 being for his sake, who, she feared, would have a 
 dreary life with no young companions ; and in pity 
 for him she took him in her arms and kissed his 
 forehead, while tears trembled upon her lashes. 
 
 Granny's truthful answers convinced her that in 
 efficiency she was not Margaret Hogan; but she 
 liked the woman and believed her to be trustworthy ; 
 so, for the sake of Timothy, she engaged her then 
 and there, to come that very evening that she might 
 be under the tuition of Margaret and learn her ways. 
 
 Before announcing this conclusion, however, Miss 
 Bowlsby had also an explanation to make which 
 one of less integrity might not have deemed neces- 
 sary. 
 
 "I must tell you," she said, "that although this 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 67 
 
 house is mine, so long as I shall need one, I have 
 only a life estate in it. At my death it goes to the 
 relatives of the kind friend who provided me with 
 it. She had, with the dwelling, an annuity which 
 was bequeathed to me in the same manner, and by 
 strict economy it is sufficient for the needs of the 
 household ; and your wages, though the same that I 
 give Margaret, will be small. But Margaret is an 
 expert seamstress, and I gave her all the time she 
 could take from the work of the house to sew for 
 others, and she doubled the wages given by me. 
 This you cannot do, and I fear what I am able to 
 give will not be sufficient to clothe yourself and the 
 boy." 
 
 "All we want is a good, quiet home," said Granny, 
 eagerly: "it ain't as though we had board to pay, 
 and Timothy and me can make mighty little do 
 when we have to." 
 
 "I will help you to keep yourselves comfortable in 
 every way I can," said Miss Bowlsby; and so it was 
 settled, and Granny hastened to her brother's dwell- 
 ing, stopping to thank the kind dairy-woman on her 
 way. 
 
 Miss Bowlsby had always known that Margaret 
 
58 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had a lover in the old country, had even been enter- 
 tained with scraps of the correspondence between 
 them, and amid an avalanche of loving expressions 
 had sifted out that he had a mother, aged and nearly 
 blind, and nothing but his duty and affection for 
 her kept him from his "darlint Marget," but she 
 had so many of her own troubles to recall that she 
 scarcely realized the possibility of another near at 
 hand, so looked upon Margaret's marriage in the 
 light that she did the millennium, or any other cer- 
 tain but far-distant event. 
 
 Therefore when one fine morning she heard Mar- 
 garet, proverbially demure in manner, and measured 
 in her gait, fly upstairs like a girl of fifteen, and with 
 her mature face rosy with joy, cry out, "Miss Bowls- 
 by, darlint, Dennis has come!" she was so unpre- 
 pared for the emergency as actually to rejoice with 
 her. 
 
 Miss Bowlsby had never in her palmiest days pos- 
 sessed that inestimable blessing, a cheerful disposi- 
 tion. She could not let the dead past bury its dead. 
 Instead of encouraging the waters of oblivion to 
 roll over the troubles of the past, seeing that keep- 
 ing them in memory could not benefit herself or 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 59 
 
 others, she fostered them by retrospection; there- 
 fore, to the last day of her life she never forgot the 
 bitter sorrow of that dreary autumn afternoon when 
 she bade farewell to the home which was never more 
 to be hers. That very morning she had been as 
 usual thinking of the past. 
 
 She recalled to mind for the hundredth time the 
 sale of the personal property. This had occurred 
 the day before she left, and the trampled flower-beds 
 and the prints of careless footsteps on the neatly 
 kept lawn had been dreary reminders of one exciting 
 and sad day already in the past. Alone and for the 
 last time, she had opened the door of every echoing 
 room, stood gazing vacantly out of some particular 
 window, where old recollections and associations 
 were most poignant; stood in the closet which had 
 been her playhouse in childhood and the receptacle 
 of her little treasures in later years. Then she had 
 slowly descended the stairs, empty to other vision, 
 but to her thronged with vignettes of a happy home 
 life; and she had longed inexpressibly for the "touch 
 of vanished hands, and the sound of voices that 
 were stilled." 
 
 She reflected upon the trying times which had fol- 
 
60 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 lowed, after the property was wrested from her, 
 when she had striven to think of ways and means 
 to obtain a livelihood and prolong an existence 
 which, in her then depressed condition of mind, she 
 scarcely deemed worth the trouble of trying to pro- 
 long; and sick at heart, not knowing which way to 
 turn, had merely drifted with the tide. 
 
 Persons of a statistical turn of mind may possibly 
 remember how many accomplishments a celebrated 
 French author was said to possess, any one of which 
 could have provided her with a competency, had ne- 
 cessity demanded. Miss Bowlsby, in the bitterness 
 of her soul, had reason to believe that, had it really 
 come to a test, the French lady would, like her, have 
 found herself terribly mistaken. 
 
 She, too, had thought herself, and was considered 
 by others, accomplished; yet knew that not one of 
 her acquirements could avail her in competition with 
 those who had been trained to a specialty with the 
 view of making it a business. 
 
 Instead of counting upon her fingers the many 
 positions waiting for her acceptance, and being per- 
 plexed to decide, when all were so congenial to her 
 tastes, and for which she was so competent, she had 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 61 
 
 wondered, in the utter abandonment of despair, 
 what upon earth she was good for, or why was she 
 ever born, since in the whole world there seemed no 
 place for her. 
 
 Shutting the outer door, which closed with a 
 spring, she had drawn her black shawl around her 
 shivering form, and sat down upon the porch step, 
 too wretched for tears. The autumn winds sighed 
 through the nearly leafless trees, scattering the 
 gleanings of their harvest on the gravel walk at her 
 feet, then on through the garden, rustling the blight- 
 ed stalks of the dahlias and hollyhocks, which a few 
 weeks before had been the pride of her foster-moth- 
 er's heart, on through the rich meadow lands and 
 grain fields, every foot of which had been dear to 
 the loved foster-father, now at rest in the grave; 
 then sighing in the woodland beyond, a requiem 
 over her buried hopes. 
 
 In the distance she saw the stately poplars which 
 sheltered " Ogilvie's Pride," and her thoughts had 
 turned to Mark Ogilvie, now far away, striving 
 amid new scenes to forget her, while she was left, 
 miserable and alone, to battle with the world. 
 
 The gathering twilight had warned her that it 
 
62 TIMOTHY AND HIS PBIENDS. 
 
 was time to depart, and rising wearily, she passed 
 through the box-bordered path to the gate, and 
 without looking back took her way to Dorton. 
 
 Among the few friendships which her reserved, or 
 as most persons considered haughty, disposition had 
 allowed her to cultivate, was an old schoolmate, who 
 had married, and having other cares and interests 
 had allowed her intimacy with Miss Bowlsby to die 
 out; but in the hour of adversity she cordially of- 
 fered the stricken girl a home until she could make 
 some arrangement for the future, and it was to this 
 friend she went that evening. 
 
 On her way past the village postoffice something 
 prompted her to call ; a vague hope in her heart that 
 someone might possibly have written to her, though 
 to designate the person might not have been within 
 her power. 
 
 There was a letter for her, addressed in a cramped 
 old-time style of writing, and full of surprise she 
 opened it. It was from an invalid lady who resided 
 in the very dwelling now occupied by Miss Bowlsby, 
 a distant relative of her foster-father. 
 
 She had heard of the desolate condition of the 
 adopted daughter, and in deep sympathy for her 
 
TIMOTHY FINDS A HOME. 63 
 
 trials, wrote a kind, affectionate missive, telling her 
 to come to Baltimore and she would give her a 
 home; which offer was immmediately accepted. 
 
 In this dwelling Miss Bowlsby had lived a quiet 
 and serene life, and not altogether unhappy. She 
 had been the faithful companion of the old lady who 
 had befriended her, and after her death she lived on 
 in the secluded way she had done for years ; and now 
 in turn was offering a home to Granny Edmonds, 
 whose desolate condition she deeply pitied. 
 
 Thus it was that after many anxieties Granny ob- 
 tained a good home for herself and Timothy, where 
 they remained for several happy years; then Miss 
 Bowlsby died, and they were again thrown upon the 
 world, and had lived in the old tenement house about 
 two years, when Timothy became the possessor of 
 the little yellow dog. 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 A SURPRISE PARTY. 
 
 Directly opposite the elegant brownstone dwelling 
 of Mrs. Willoughby, where little Christine had 
 found a home, was a plain brick house occupied by 
 a rising young lawyer, David Levering, his wife, 
 and their little son Archie. 
 
 Mr. Levering had been a country boy; was the 
 only son of Archibald Levering and Mercy Lever- 
 ing, his wife, who owned a farm and mill property 
 near the village of Dorton, adjoining the lands of 
 Mrs. Carleton and "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 David Levering it was who had been the new cus- 
 tomer obtained by Timothy the morning of the day 
 upon which he had rescued the yellow dog, and they 
 had become fast friends. 
 
 As in case of Miss Bowlsby, the pensive eyes of 
 Timothy had attracted Mr. Levering, and he felt 
 drawn toward the boy more than to any he had ever 
 known who was a stranger to him. 
 
 64 
 
A SURPRISE FABTT. 65 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby and the Leverings were warm 
 friends, owing originally to the fact that Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby, being the daughter of Colonel Ogilvie, had 
 known David all his life. 
 
 When, at the suggestion of herself and her late 
 husband, David had studied for the bar with a col- 
 lege chum of Mr. Willoughby, Lawyer Dubreil — 
 and afterward married the only daughter of Mrs. 
 Garrigue, who had been a schoolmate of Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby, the tie of friendship was strengthened, and 
 it was first to them that the joyful intelligence was 
 imparted of the arrival of little Christine, and Mrs? 
 Garrigue and Mrs. Levering rejoiced with her 
 and praised the beauty of the waif. 
 
 It was Mrs. Garrigue and the Leverings who re- 
 joiced with her when it was ascertained by Cap- 
 tain Willoughby on the next voyage of the Miriam 
 that the old lady of whom Christine had spoken was 
 only step-grandmother, and was perfectly willing to 
 let the child remain in the good home that Captain 
 Willoughby had found for her, giving written testi- 
 mony that Christine was an orphan, and no one had 
 any claim upon her. 
 
 Thereupon Mrs. Willoughby adopted her as a 
 5 
 
66 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 loved daughter, the name was changed from Chris- 
 tine to that of Mary Ogilvie, and all remembrance 
 of her former name and home faded from her mem- 
 ory, never having been alluded to in her presence. 
 
 "But why not give her the name of Willoughby ?" 
 suggested Mrs. Levering when the subject of a name 
 was under discussion. 
 
 "For the reason that I think my time on earth 
 will be short, and when I am called away I wish 
 ,Mary to go to "Ogilvie's Pride," at Dorton, to be 
 under the care of my father. I shall bequeath all 
 I have to her, and while spared will train her to use 
 her possessions as a faithful steward should." 
 
 "I am sure you will train her rightly," said Mrs. 
 Levering sincerely, "and I hope you will be spared 
 many years." 
 
 "I hope so, at least until Mary is old enough to 
 be contented at 'Ogilvie's Pride.' It would be 
 lonely for a child, except during the summer when 
 Richard's family is there. His daughter Isabel is 
 very near the age of Mary, and they will be con- 
 genial companions here in the city as well as at 
 'Ogilvie's Pride.' " 
 
 "It is a lovely place," commented Mrs;. Levering. 
 
A SURPRISE PABTT. 67 
 
 "When David took me out to Dorton for the first 
 time, I though 'Ogilvie's Pride' the handsomest 
 country-seat I had ever seen; with its pillared por- 
 ticoes and cupola, and beautiful grounds it reminds 
 one of some grand ancestral hall one reads of." 
 
 "Yet, it is a beautiful home, and Isabel, as only- 
 child of Brother Richard, will inherit it, and I am 
 satisfied that she should. Mark, being the elder son, 
 would have become its owner at father's death, but 
 we all have every reason to believe that he is not 
 among the living. He was father's favorite son, 
 and his absence, and the uncertainty attending it, is 
 a terrible trial to father." 
 
 Mrs. David Levering was a very beautiful and at- 
 tractive woman, kind-hearted and amiable, and al- 
 ways cheerful so long as. the sun shone; but rainy 
 weather affected her spirits, and from the time it 
 commenced until it ended, poor Mrs. Levering was 
 under a cloud, strive as she would to conquer her 
 despondency. 
 
 Her family might have been rendered miserable 
 by these seasons of gloom and silence, had they been 
 of natures capable of being rendered miserable; as 
 it was, each accepted the visitation in his or her in- 
 
68 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 dividual way. Mr. Levering staid out of the house 
 all he could, Bridget contented herself with her 
 beads and prayer-book in the comfortable kitchen, 
 while Archie, who was too young to go to school 
 except when the weather was fair, amused himself 
 in his attic play-room or in Bridget's domain, where 
 he was always welcome. 
 
 One evening after a long siege of rainy weather 
 was culminating in a regular tempest, Mrs. Lever- 
 ing, who had been braiding a little suit for Archie 
 without any interest in the pretty design growing 
 under her skillful fingers, laid it aside, as it was 
 growing too dark to sew upon it, and wandered aim- 
 lessly into the kitchen. 
 
 "Mr. Levering will not be home until late this 
 evening, Bridget," said she to the sunny-natured 
 girl who was folding the newly-ironed clothes from 
 the rack by the glowing range, and crooning an Irish 
 melody. "Business will detain him downtown, and 
 you may set up anything you have on hand for 
 Archie and myself; I do not feel as if I could eat 
 anything, everything tastes alike to me, and nothing 
 tastes right." 
 
 What the reply would have been will never be 
 
A SUEPRISE PARTY. C9 
 
 known, for at that moment there came a resounding 
 knock at the area gate, and throwing an old shawl 
 upon her head, Bridget hastily responded to the 
 call, returning immediately, almost breathless with 
 surprise. 
 
 "It is two boys, ma'am," said she, "and they have 
 come to a party here." 
 
 "A party!" echoed Mrs. Levering, "who in the 
 world told them there was a party here ?" 
 
 "I don't know, ma'am ; I will go and ask them," 
 replied Bridget, glad of the novelty and scenting 
 jollity." 
 
 "Bring them in out of the rain, Bridget, until we 
 find out what they mean," called Mrs. Levering 
 from the door. "Of course," said she to herself, 
 "it is a mistake, but what possessed them to come 
 to the area gate?" 
 
 Bridget came in followed by the boys, who had 
 been, in the meantime, joined by a third ; and who, 
 notwithstanding the soaking rain, were not so wet 
 as might have been expected, owing to their having 
 pieces of oil-cloth around them, which, upon inspec- 
 tion, proved to be entirely waterproof, while the last 
 arrival wore an old dress coat, which made a useful, 
 
70 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 if not ornamental, overcoat for the party-seeking 
 lad. That lad was Timothy. 
 
 They did not appear to think it expected of them 
 to remove their dripping hats, but stood eyeing the 
 good fire and Mrs. Levering with complacent smiles. 
 
 "You say you have come to a party," said the 
 lady. "Have you not made a mistake?" 
 
 "Oh no, ma'am; this is the place your boy told 
 us," said Timothy. "We went to the front of the 
 house and took the number as soon as we sold our 
 papers, and here it is," taking a scrap of the margin 
 of a newspaper from his pocket, and showing the 
 number, sure enough, in figures of magnificent pro- 
 portions. 
 
 Mrs. Levering was bewildered. "What do you 
 mean by selling out your papers ?" questioned she. 
 
 "Why, you see we are newsboys, ma'am, every 
 one of us," explained Timothy. "The Bulletin, 
 Chronicle, Mirror, and several others will be along 
 as soon as they can hire somebody to cry for them, 
 as this one did," pointing to one of the oil-cloth- 
 covered lads. 
 
 "I hope they will be successful," smiled Mrs. Lev- 
 ering, not knowing what else to say. 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY. 71 
 
 'Oh, they will," replied Timothy, confidently; 
 "and we will pay them with something from the 
 party, if you please, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Levering laughed outright, and Bridget's de- 
 lighted giggle was an inspiration to the unexpected 
 guests. 
 
 "Do each of you sell the paper whose name you 
 have taken?" inquired Mrs. Levering. 
 
 "No, ma'am," replied Timothy; "we sell all; but 
 you see all the boys who are coming tonight belong 
 to a club, and we fixed it to call each other by the 
 name of our papers, and we always call our own 
 names first of mornings. I am the 'Morning Tel- 
 egram.' " 
 
 "Go to the attic, Bridget, and tell Archie to come 
 down. Take off your wraps, boys, and dry your 
 feet, and we will see what can be done." 
 
 Bridget soon returned with the delinquent, who 
 was accompanied by a neighbor's son about his own 
 age, who was helping him to while away the rainy 
 day. 
 
 "Archie, how did you happen to invite company 
 without telling me, that I might be prepared for 
 them ?" said Mrs. Levering, gently. 
 
72 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Why, I did tell you, mamma, don't you remem- 
 ber ? I said that our teacher told the class last Sun- 
 day that we were not doing as much good in the 
 world if we invited boys to a feast who had plenty 
 to eat and to wear, and who could invite us in re- 
 turn, but he said we ought to invite the poor boys 
 to whom such things were a great luxury. He said 
 Jesus loved the lame and the halt and the blind, and 
 if we would be like Him we must do as He did. So 
 Johnny, here, and me told all the newsboys we met 
 to come to a party tonight, and to bring all the lame 
 and blind boys they could find. Don't you remem- 
 ber now, mamma?" 
 
 Mrs. Levering remembered with a pang of self- 
 reproach that she had been so wrapped up in her 
 selfish, gloomy thoughts the past week, that she had 
 paid but little attention to her boy in any way. 
 
 "Shall I let the good seed sown by a stranger in 
 the heart of my boy perish for want of care from 
 his mother?" thought she. "Shall I shame him be- 
 fore his guests, and rob them of an anticipated 
 pleasure, by refusing to make them welcome? No, 
 I will rouse myself and make the best of it." 
 
 Bridget had in the meantime been summoned 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY. 73 
 
 again to the area gate, and had rescued two more 
 guests ; one a pale little cripple on crutches, carefully 
 sheltered by The Evening News, who had not only 
 succeeded in obtaining a substitute, but had bor- 
 rowed an umbrella, which umbrella had seen its best 
 days to be sure, being minus two stays, and patched 
 with a different color; but demoralized as it was, it 
 did not prevent the guests it sheltered from being 
 warmly welcomed by Mrs. Levering and Archie, 
 as well as their compatriots already upon the field. 
 
 The crippled boy, in particular, was warmly re- 
 ceived by Mrs. Levering, whose heart was stirred 
 into sympathy for suffering in any form. She had 
 been upon the point of proposing that the boys 
 should ascend to the play-room in the attic, which 
 like the rest of the house was warm and comfort- 
 able, but out of consideration for the lame boy, she 
 changed her plans, and sent two of the guests to 
 help Archie bring down to the sitting room such 
 things as they wished for the evening's entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 The boys were scarcely settled when a ring of the 
 bell took them all scampering to the front door, 
 
74 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 where stood three boys, one of whom was spokes- 
 man. 
 
 "I hope you will excuse me, ma'am, for not com- 
 ing to the area gate this wet evening," said 
 he, bowing over the heads of the boys to 
 Mrs. Levering, who was coming to see what this 
 method of announcement might portend, "but 
 Buddy here." pointing to one of his followers, "is 
 blind, and I thought you would not mind us coming 
 in the front door, and I could not find a lame boy;" 
 continued he apologetically to Archie, "so I brought 
 the charcoal man's boy, who is deaf and dumb." 
 
 All these apologies being duly accepted, Mrs. 
 Levering conducted the new arrivals to the kitchen 
 to remove their wet wrappings and to dry their 
 shoes, and when they rejoined the other guests in 
 the parlor she went back to the kitchen to hold coun- 
 cil with Bridget in regard to that all important 
 event — supper. 
 
 "What in the world will we have, Bridget?" 
 she questioned hurriedly, "there are nine in there 
 now beside Archie, which makes ten, and there may 
 be as many more for all we know, and it is too rainy 
 to go out for anything." 
 
A subpki.se party. 75 
 
 "The asiest thing in the world, ma'am; I have 
 been considering the same while you were in the 
 parlor. There's the chickens in the yard that we 
 were fattening for Thanksgiving; nothing in the 
 world would be suitabler than them." 
 
 "But that would be only one kind of meat, 
 Bridget, and perhaps some of them do not eat 
 chicken; and now that they are here I would like 
 them all to be satisfied." 
 
 "Trust me for that, ma'am ; I never saw a boy yet 
 that could not eat his weight in chicken, only give 
 him the time. I will go this minute and tell the 
 fowls they are invited to a party, and the kettle is 
 singing as though it expected a broth of a time." 
 
 "I will make a lot of tea biscuits," said Mrs. Lev- 
 ering, "and while you are cooking the chickens will 
 set the table." 
 
 "And if you plaze, ma'am, while the flour and 
 other things are around, I will make some ginger- 
 cakes; for next to a chicken stew with oceans of 
 gravy, there's nothing a boy likes better than warm 
 ginger cakes." 
 
 "Oh, Bridget, you are so thoughtful !" said Mrs. 
 Levering, her heart beginning to grow lighter at 
 
76 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 the thought of giving pleasure to others; and with 
 a cripple, a blind boy, and a mute in the next room, 
 she began to realize that she had much in her life for 
 which to be grateful. 
 
 Several additions were made to the company in 
 the sitting room, and by the time the chicken pot-pie 
 was smoking on the table the mirth was growing 
 "fast and furious." 
 
 The boys were almost dazzled by the brilliancy of 
 the dining room, the glitter of glass and china and 
 silver under the bright gas-light. 
 
 Mrs. Levering had exerted herself to make it a 
 feast indeed to the guests of Archie, and her table 
 showed no lack of preserved fruits, jellies, and all 
 the little extras which she could muster upon short 
 notice. She judged that boys leading the active 
 out-door life of the majority of them, were not 
 troubled with nerves, so coffee the richest and tea 
 the most fragrant graced the board, while the per- 
 fume of the baking ginger bread floated through the 
 open kitchen door, where Bridget in the kindness of 
 her heart was importing a choice stock of horses, 
 cows and other animals for each and all, cut from 
 the richly spiced ginger bread. 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY. 77 
 
 Mrs. Levering, while paying attention to the 
 wants of the happy company, observed that while 
 Timothy was evidently enjoying the rich pastry, 
 potatoes and gravy which composed the pot-pie, his 
 pieces of chicken were laid aside. 
 
 "Here is an exception to Bridget's rule," thought 
 she, and watching for an opportunity she asked him 
 in regard to it. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I love it," said he, "but there is 
 plenty here without it, and I thought you would not 
 care if I took my pieces to Granny ; we share all we 
 get with eaqh other." 
 
 "Eat yours, and I will give you some to take to 
 her, and after supper you will perhaps tell me about 
 Granny;" said Mrs. Levering. 
 
 After supper was over, the table cleared away, 
 and the boys enjoying the evening to their utmost, 
 Mr. Levering came home, scarcely understanding 
 for the moment what had befallen his hitherto quiet 
 house. But none the less was he charmed to see so 
 much jollity, and he gave the boys a cordial greet- 
 ing; especially to Timothy, in whom he recognized 
 an old friend. 
 
 When Mrs. Levering informed him how it all 
 
78 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIBNDS. 
 
 came about, he resolved to do his part toward giv- 
 ing them a good time, so sent an abundant order for 
 applies, and peanuts, and told them to help them- 
 selves, which they did to a man ; and while thus hap- 
 pily engaged Mrs. Levering and Bridget made up 
 packages for them to take home. The substitutes 
 were not forgotten, nor Granny; for during a fav- 
 orable moment Mrs. Levering and Timothy had a 
 chat, and she gathered from his earnest speech that 
 the poor in purse could be rich in spirit, and that af- 
 fection could make happy even a home of poverty. 
 
 With her husband's approval she gave the boys 
 the promise of another party, and took each name 
 and address, and then all went their separate ways, 
 after expressing hearty satisfaction with their enter- 
 tainment 
 
 Mrs. Levering had much food for thought sug- 
 gested by her surprise party, and the first 
 result was that she exerted her influence to obtain 
 admission for the blind boy into an asylum for such 
 unfortunates, and after each newsboys' party at her 
 house she visited him, taking him his share of the 
 good things. She was always accompanied by 
 Archie, and sometimes by the Chronicle, Comet, or 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY. 79 
 
 one of the Weeklies, but never the Telegram, for 
 destiny had willed that other homes should be pro- 
 vided for Granny, Timothy and the little yellow 
 dog, and the old tenement-house suddenly vacated 
 by its many occupants. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 GRACE DARLING. 
 
 Timothy had never before been privileged to ex- 
 perience the company a dumb creature can be for a 
 person, although in one sense of the word, the yel- 
 low dog was far from being dumb. Her voice was 
 very frequently heard during the day, particularly 
 at such times as Timothy was on hand to encourage 
 it. 
 
 The moment the boy's step was heard upon the 
 creaky steps she flew to the door to meet him tremb- 
 ling with delight, and before he was a moment 
 seated, she was all over him, running her sharp little 
 nose into his pockets in search of peanuts, which he 
 had taught her to eat — like a newsboy. 
 
 Timothy, always cheerful, was never so happy in 
 his life as since becoming possessor of the dog; and 
 a loving father with a large family of small chil- 
 dren could scarcely have felt more solicitude for 
 their maintenance than did he for his canine darling. 
 
 80 
 
GRACE DARLING. 81 
 
 As he passed the market on his homeward way, 
 a penny bought choice scraps from a kind-hearted 
 butcher, who had a fellow-feeling for Timothy, hav- 
 ing dogs of his own. Sometimes the supply was so 
 liberal that Granny made soup for the whole party, 
 so that one might say the yellow dog contributed 
 her share to the support of the household. 
 
 The boy was not satisfied to have his pet away 
 from him at night, so trained it to sleep upon the 
 foot of his bed. 
 
 Granny made no objection to this, and the mo- 
 ment she was ensconced under her old coverlet in 
 the adjoining room, and Timothy commenced mak- 
 ing preparations for retiring, the intelligent little 
 animal with a skip and a jump, alighted in the exact 
 spot it had occupied previous nights. 
 
 One night Timothy had fearful dreams. He 
 thought a strong hand had clutched his throat. He 
 heard sounds like huge animals would make in 
 crashing through underbrush, and was awakened by 
 a stinging pain on his armi. The dog had bitten 
 him. 
 
 He arose in bed bewildered. She tugged at the 
 
 bed-clothes, and then ran yelping to the door. The 
 6 
 
82 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 suffocating smoke, the glare of light, and crackling 
 tumult, warned Timothy that the old tenement was 
 on fire. He sprang to his feet, grasped his over- 
 coat, and rushed to awaken Granny. Dipping one 
 of her stockings in water, he tied it over her nose 
 and mouth and wrapping the coverlet about her, 
 bade her run for life. Using the same precaution 
 for himself, he with the yellow dog in his arms, flew 
 over the building to arouse the sleeping inmates. 
 He pounded and shouted, and the dog barked, and 
 between them every person was saved. Some one 
 on the street turned in an alarm ; the engines arrived 
 in time to prevent a serious conflagration, but not 
 to save the worthless shell, which burned like a pile 
 of shavings. 
 
 In the hurry and excitement, Timothy lost sight 
 of Granny. When all had gathered shivering and 
 homeless upon the pavement, she was not among 
 them, although several had seen her leave the build- 
 ing. 
 
 Timothy and his dog were rushing off in search 
 of her when a fireman hallooed. He had found a 
 woman, half a square off, prostrate upon the ground 
 and moaning with pain. It was Granny. In her 
 
GRACE DARLING. 83 
 
 fright and bewilderment she had fallen and broken 
 a limb. 
 
 Tears rained from the eyes of Timothy as he 
 knelt beside her and clasped her hand in his. 
 
 "The hospital is the place for her, my boy," said 
 the kind-hearted fireman, "I will notify them to send 
 an ambulance for her." 
 
 When Timothy set out the next morning on his 
 rounds, he considered himself grown old in exper- 
 ience. He had bravely remained with Granny dur- 
 ing the ordeal of having her limb set and bandaged 
 and had suffered in seeing her suffer, although she 
 bore it wonderfully well; only the ghastly paleness 
 of her face, and the corrugation of her brow, show- 
 ing what she endured. 
 
 The hospital authorities kindly allowed him to re- 
 main with her until he could find another home, so 
 he had the assurance that he had a place to return to 
 when his duties were completed ; and leaving her as 
 comfortable as possible under the circumstances, and 
 with the dog beside his bed, his cry of Morning Tel- 
 egram was not so wanting in buoyancy as might 
 have been expected, and his thoughts after his escape 
 of the night, ran upon a name for his deliverer. 
 
g4 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 He had reached the corner where he usually sold a 
 paper to Mr. David Levering, when he saw that gen- 
 tleman coming toward him. 
 
 "Do you happen to know any lady who is great 
 on saving folks' lives?" inquired Timothy as he 
 handed him a Morning Telegram, and received the 
 money for it. 
 
 Mr. Levering considered. "There was a little boy 
 saved last evening from being run over by an ice- 
 wagon, and it was a young lady who saved him," re- 
 plied he. 
 
 "Oh," said Timothy, with a shade of scorn in his 
 face, "I don't mean them people who pick and 
 choose, but somebody who has not been stingy about 
 it, but went in tooth and nail, and saved a lot." 
 
 "There was an English lady named Grace Darl- 
 ing who saved many lives; perhaps you allude to 
 her." 
 
 "I was not alludin' to anybody in particular, sir, 
 but that is the very name for her. Grace Darling ! 
 Thank you, sir ; it suits exactly." 
 
 "I am glad you are pleased," smiled Mr. Levering, 
 "and would like to know who is to be honored with 
 the name of Grace Darling." 
 
GRACE DARLING. 85 
 
 "It is my little yellow dog, sir, and she honors any 
 name she gets," and Timothy briefly recounted the 
 experiences of the night to which Mr. Levering 
 listened attentively. 
 
 "She is indeed a noble and intelligent little ani- 
 mal," commented he, and promising to acquaint 
 Mrs. Levering of Granny's change of abode, they 
 parted, and a few moments after, Morning Tele- 
 gram, Chronicle, Visitor and Comet, sounded from 
 Timothy, as he rounded the next corner. 
 
 The following day Granny received a call from 
 Mrs. David Levering, and Timothy received one 
 from the fireman who had found Granny, and who 
 had not forgotten Timothy's tears. 
 
 Mrs. Levering was one of the managers of the 
 Aged Woman's Home, and had come to comfort 
 Granny with the hope of admittance into that insti- 
 tution when able to leave the hospital, providing she 
 was willing to enter. 
 
 Granny feeling her present and future helplessness 
 would have hailed the prospect with delight, were it 
 not for the thought of parting with Timothy, but 
 at this juncture the young fireman appeared and of- 
 fered him a place with Mrs. Carleton, the owner 
 
86 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of the homestead and farm once owned by Lawyer 
 Bowlsby's, near the village of Dorton. With this 
 offer came the assurance that Timothy need have no 
 anxiety for his success in life, if fortunate enough 
 to become a member of that prosperous and happy 
 family. 
 
 "You see," said he, "I know all about them, for 
 my uncle Grayson farms their place and lives in the 
 tenant house, just across a field from their house. 
 Every time I go out to Dorton, I go up to see them, 
 for I went to school with the Carleton boys, and we 
 have always been great friends." 
 
 "What are their names?" questioned Timothy, 
 much interested. 
 
 "Rufus and Frank, and they are first-rate fellows, 
 and smart as whips ; they go to the Academy, now." 
 
 "Who else is in the family?" questioned Granny. 
 
 "No one except Mrs. Carleton and her father-in- 
 law, who is quite elderly. He is the finest old gen- 
 tleman I ever knew; is a minister, but gave up his 
 charge several years ago, owing to feeble health. 
 The boys almost worship him, and no wonder, for 
 he is a saint on earth, if there is one. He helps 
 the boys with their lessons, and is the greatest com- 
 
GRACE DARLING. 87 
 
 pany for them, especially since Mr. Carleton died, 
 which was about two years ago." 
 
 "I have heard my husband speak of them," said 
 Mrs. Levering, "his father's mill property is very 
 near the Carleton farm. They are charming people, 
 cultured and generous ; Timothy may well be envied 
 if he secures such a home." 
 
 "But can he get it?" said Granny anxiously, 
 "did they say they wanted Timothy?" 
 
 "No, not Timothy particularly, because they don't 
 know there is such a person, I suppose; but when I 
 was out to see uncle Grayson a few weeks ago, Mrs. 
 Carleton asked me to send her a good boy ; and said 
 they would make no effort themselves until they 
 heard from me. They want him to go to Dorton on 
 errands, and to do the little odd jobs about the 
 house and farm that the Carleton boys did before 
 they were old enough to go to the Academy." 
 
 "Timothy would suit 'em exactly," said Granny, 
 with tears in her eyes, "when they say a 'good boy,' 
 that means Timothy." 
 
 Seeing that Granny had a prospect of being pro- 
 vided for through the kindness of Mrs. David Lev- 
 ering, Timothy was willing to go to Dorton, and the 
 
88 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIBNDS. 
 
 young fireman agreed to write to the Carletons 
 that evening to tell them they might expect him the 
 next day. He also promised to procure a seat for 
 him in a market wagon which came three times a 
 week from Dorton, leaving the city about the middle 
 of the afternoon. 
 
 Then the fireman took his leave and shortly after, 
 Mrs. Levering bade them good bye, promising Tim- 
 othy to do all she could in aid of Granny, and then 
 the two were left alone to talk of many things, the 
 last evening they would be together for many years, 
 although they did not know it. 
 
 "I am a poor ignorant old woman," concluded 
 Granny, tearfully, "and don't know much about re- 
 ligion, but this much I do know, that if you do right 
 and trust in God He will never forsake or forget 
 you ; trust in Him, Timothy, always." 
 
 The next day was a busy one for Timothy, for he 
 wished to confer his route upon a boy who had once 
 befriended him, and who in consequence occupied a 
 warm place in the heart of the grateful newsboy. 
 
 After delivering his supply of morning papers as 
 usual, he had to go in search of the one whom he 
 designed should be his successor, and then go around 
 
GBACE DABLUTO. 
 
 with him to point out the vantage grounds, give him 
 a list of his best patrons, his transients, and any other 
 little hints that might be of advantage. 
 
 By noon, all was satisfactorilyarranged, and Tim- 
 othy returned to the hospital to bid good bye to 
 Granny before seeking the market-house where the 
 good-natured countryman awaited him. 
 
 The parting was tearful, and Timothy was almost 
 tempted to remain and provide for Granny and him- 
 self to the best of his ability ; but his old nurse and 
 caretaker was too unselfish to listen to this for a 
 moment. 
 
 "All I ask of you, Timothy, is not to loose track 
 of me," said she, tremulously, "there is a reason, a 
 great reason why I don't want to loose sight of you, 
 nor you of me. So don't let anything make you for- 
 get me." 
 
 "I will never forget you, Granny," said the boy 
 earnestly, "and the first letter I write shall be to 
 you." 
 
 Timothy had a refreshing trip to Dorton that 
 beautiful afternoon, in a covered wagon drawn by 
 sleek horses, and in company with a well-to-do 
 farmer, who enjoyed answering the manifold ques- 
 
90 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 tions in regard to the country through which they 
 were passing. 
 
 When they reached the lane which led to the dwell- 
 ing of Mrs. Carleton, they felt themselves better ac- 
 quainted than months of casual meeting would have 
 afforded them, and parted the best of friends. 
 
 As Timothy walked up the cherry-bordered lane, 
 his artistic eye was charmed with the beauty of his 
 new home, situated as it was upon gently rising 
 ground in the midst of a finely cultivated region of 
 country ; one of the many beautiful dwellings of the 
 neighborhood, several of them built upon just such 
 knolls, homes of Mrs. Carleton's neighbors, who 
 soon became Timothy's acquaintances and in time, 
 his friends. 
 
 A fragrant, flowery meadow lay between the man- 
 sion and the farmhouse occupied by Farmer Gray- 
 son ; in the valley lay the mill property of Archibald 
 Levering; the village of Dorton was within easy 
 walking distance, and beyond it surrounded by tall 
 trees was the beautiful residence of Mrs. Willough- 
 by's father — Colonel Ogilvie, and known in the 
 neighborhood as "Ogilvies Pride." 
 
 The beautiful home of the Bowlsby's had not de- 
 
GRACE DARLING. 91 
 
 teriorated in the hands of the Carletons, and after 
 her husband's death, Mrs. Carleton kept every part 
 of the well-cultivated farm under her own supervi- 
 sion, Farmer Grayson merely carrying out her plans, 
 managing the details and boarding the laborers. 
 
 The Carleton family were favorably impressed 
 with the appearance of Timothy, and made him and 
 Grace Darling warmly welcome. The yellow dog 
 soon becoming the pet of the household, while on 
 his part, Timothy considered his new home so bright, 
 cheery and comfortable, that had Granny been there 
 to share it, he would have had nothing more to 
 desire. 
 
 As the fireman had told him, his duties were 
 light, and there was abundant time in which to culti- 
 vate his mind, which Mrs. Carleton in her goodness 
 of heart resolved should be done. 
 
 She had a cousin who for a few hours each day 
 taught a class of little ones, too young to go to the 
 school at Dorton, and Mrs. Carleton bespoke a place 
 in this class for Timothy, somewhat against the 
 boy's inclination at first, for he was sensitive in re- 
 gard to his want of scholarship. 
 
 But after the first day he became reconciled, his 
 
92 TIMOTHY AND HIS PBIENDS. 
 
 deficiencies not being so prominent as they would 
 have been among more advanced pupils. Cousin 
 Melie was patient and kind, and he, in time, became 
 used to the restraint so different from his newsboy 
 life, and learned rapidly. 
 
 Cousin Melie was a maiden lady, and lived alone 
 in a long, one-storied house of three compartments, 
 with green shutters, porches overrun with honey- 
 suckles and ivy, and a garden fragrant with old-fash- 
 ioned flowers. This place had been her father's and 
 her grandfather's, and Cousin Melie loved it not 
 only for its comfort, but for the associations con- 
 nected with it, and hoped to spend the remainder of 
 her life within its comfortable walls. 
 
 Timothy had attended her school, which was in 
 the largest room of the cottage but a few weeks, 
 when it was burned to the ground. 
 
 To the wealthy the loss of the poor little dwelling 
 might scarcely have cost a thought, but to Cousin 
 Melie it was a real catastrophe which required all 
 the philosophy she possessed to enable her to look 
 upon it in the light of "All for the best," which had 
 heretofore been her balm in every affliction. 
 
 How could it be expected that she should not for a 
 
GRACE DARLING. 93 
 
 time at least, be dejected over the small bonfire 
 which had run its course in half an hour, robbing 
 her of home and occupation and furniture and cloth- 
 ing, if we may except the garments in which she had 
 lain down to peaceful slumber, and in which she had 
 only escaped with her life. Then every hour in the 
 day she thought of something of which the devour- 
 ing element had robbed her, articles which money 
 could not replace, the portraits of her parents, the 
 piano of her girlhood's days, treasured keepsakes 
 and souvenir gifts of absent friends, of little value to 
 any but herself, but the loss of which she deeply re- 
 gretted. 
 
 But there was one good turn the fire did her, which 
 in a manner compensated for the evil; it tried her 
 friends and proved them to be good gold. 
 
 This home and that was offered the terrified, sad- 
 hearted woman ; sympathy cheered her, loving words 
 comforted her, and her friends and neighbors set 
 about ways and means to help her recover from her 
 loss. The little frame school house in Dorton, de- 
 serted after the building of a larger one, was owned 
 by a corporation who set but little value upon it, 
 and by the advice of her friends, Cousin Melie be- 
 
94 TIMOTHT AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 came the purchaser, and had it moved to the spot 
 where her cottage had stood. 
 
 Rooms were partitioned off, a neat portico went 
 up, a picket fence with fancy gate enclosed the green 
 lawn, and all who had taken part in it were proud of 
 Cousin Melie's home. 
 
 Then came the day of days when she took posses- 
 sion, and the pupils and their mothers took as much 
 interest in the proceedings as Cousin Melie herself ; 
 but first must be considered the many mistakes peo- 
 ple made about that time in buying household goods. 
 
 Mrs. Carleton had bought a carpet at auction, 
 bright and new-looking, but it did not seem inclined 
 to fit a room in her house, but by a singular happen- 
 ing it just fitted Cousin Melie's parlor, so there it 
 was, smiling bright approval upon its new possessor. 
 
 Mrs. Mercy Levering had a cook stove, excellent, 
 but not needed. Archibald having bought it at a 
 sale, just because he did not get the farming imple- 
 ment he went for, and would not leave without buy- 
 ing something. So, shining in brilliant blackness, 
 it was doing duty by sending clouds of steam from 
 its bright little tea-kettle, while inwardly it was 
 stuffed to repletion with good things. 
 
GBACE DARLING. 95 
 
 And so with chairs and tables, curtains, dishes, 
 and knick-knacks of all kinds ; they seemed to be in 
 the way everywhere else, so came to the moving and 
 forgot to leave. 
 
 Everybody had a charming day; they stayed to 
 dinner and supper, were in the best possible spirits, 
 and had splendid appetites. 
 
 But no; there was one exception and that excep- 
 tion was Timothy. His spirits were at low ebb, and 
 his appetite in consequence very poor. Moreover his 
 eyes had a trick of filling with tears, and when all 
 were bidding Cousin Melie good night at the end of 
 this happy and ever-to-be-remembered day, he 
 slipped out unnoticed, only to return to ask her to 
 forgive him in a voice scarcely audible, and with hot 
 tears chasing each other down his flushed cheeks. 
 
 All this so surprised Cousin Melie that she could 
 not recover herself to ask for what she was to for- 
 give him, until he was half way to Mrs. Carleton's, 
 flying across the fields like a deer. 
 
 Cousin Melie was very busy the day after her re- 
 ception, putting her dwelling in order by adjusting 
 rier possessions to the best possible advantage. She 
 had agreed with her patrons to take two weeks' vaca- 
 
96 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDB. 
 
 tion for the purpose; and throughout that day and 
 for several days the thought of Timothy and his sin- 
 gular request would, like Monsieur Tonson, return 
 again ; and she resolved the next opportunity to ask 
 him the question which she had been too surprised 
 to think of in time, the evening of the moving. 
 
 But it was some time before she had the opportu- 
 nity; for although he frequently went across fields 
 to the store and postoffice at Dorton, passing Cousin 
 Melie's home on his way, it was late in the evening, 
 and she had shut herself in for the night ; and if she 
 called at Mrs. Carleton's, Timothy was out about the 
 place at work, and she did not wish to occasion in- 
 quiry by requesting to see him, so the occurrence was 
 beginning to slip from her memory, when one snowy 
 morning Mrs. Carleton's comfortable, roomy sleigh 
 came to the door, her glossy, spirited horses driven by 
 Farmer Grayson. Timothy was ill, and desired to 
 see her, and as it was Saturday and no school, Mrs. 
 Carleton had sent her word to come prepared to 
 remain all day, and she would send her back in the 
 sleigh in the evening. 
 
 Cousin Melie was quickly ready, pleased with the 
 prospect of a pleasant visit. 
 
GBACE DARLING. 97 
 
 "That boy has been droopin' and pinin' about 
 something, and I can't for the life of me see what it 
 is," remarked Farmer Grayson, as they skimmed 
 lightly over the smooth surface. "He has seemed 
 contented till the last few weeks, and chirk and merry 
 as you please, when he come down to play a spell 
 with our Harry; but lately he has got kind of ner- 
 vous and don't seem to pay attention to what a body 
 is sayin', and hasn't been down to see Harry for a 
 week or more." 
 
 "It cannot be that he is discontented with his life 
 here and longs again to cry newspapers," said Cousin 
 Melie, reflectively, "he seems to be too intelligent not 
 to appreciate the advantages he has in the family of 
 Cousin Carleton. The example and influence of 
 Grandfather Carleton alone, is an education for him, 
 and they all seem to think so much of Timothy, that 
 it would be a real disappointment if he is so ungrate- 
 ful as not to be satisfied." 
 
 "Well, he is uneasy in his mind, that is certain, 
 and thinks you can help him," said Farmer Grayson, 
 as he stopped before the little gate which led to the 
 front door of the Carleton dwelling, and Cousin 
 Melie descended from the sleigh. "Mrs. Carleton 
 
98 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 said you were to stay all day, and she is to blow the 
 horn when I am to come to take you home." 
 
 Cousin Melie thanked him and tripped lightly up 
 the shovelled path with its bank of snow on either 
 side, and soon found herself in the comfortable and 
 bright library where the family usually passed their 
 leisure time, and from thence she went to the bed- 
 side of Timothy. 
 
 She found him turning restlessly upon his pillow, 
 his beautiful eyes anxiously scanning her face as she 
 advanced. 
 
 All she knew of Timothy was no more than did 
 others in the neighborhood, and that was that he 
 had been a newsboy in the city, had, like herself, nar- 
 rowly escaped death by fire, and had come from the 
 hospital to the generous home of her cousin, Eleanor 
 Carleton. 
 
 She took the hot, tremulous hand of the boy in 
 her's with a firm, tender grasp, and said kindly, 
 "Now, Timothy, tell me freely what it is that 
 troubles you." 
 
 "You will not put me in jail nor let anyone else 
 arrest me if I tell you, will you?" replied the boy, 
 
GRACE DABIJKG. 99 
 
 glancing around to be certain there were none to 
 hear. 
 
 "I am sure you have done nothing to merit ar- 
 rest; you have too much goodness in your face for 
 that. Tell me what you are letting trouble you, just 
 as if you were speaking to your mother, for you may 
 trust me." 
 
 "Well, then," said Timothy, bursting into tears, 
 "I set your house on fire, and you might have been 
 burned up in it." 
 
 Cousin Melie could not forbear giving a startled 
 look at the boy, in which was mingled a grain of 
 suspicion. 
 
 "You did not do it intentionally, surely," said she. 
 
 "I don't know whether I did or not. Sometimes I 
 think I did, and then again I am sure I did not. I 
 was coming from Dorton with some boxes of 
 matches, and as I passed your house I thought I 
 would take off the lid of one of them ; my finger nail 
 scraped them, and the whole box was afire. I threw 
 them from me, and I guess I aimed for your wood- 
 house window, but I am not sure, anyhow it went in 
 there. I have been sorry ever since the moment I 
 threw the burning matches away, that I did not stay 
 
100 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 and waken you; and have wanted to tell you, but 
 thought you or somebody would put me in jail, and 
 Granny would get to know it, and it would break her 
 heart, for she loves me, and has taken good care of 
 me when I was not able to take care of myself. But 
 I am sick now, and guess I am going to die." 
 
 Cousin Melie could scarcely restrain a smile at the 
 tragical ending of the poor boy's confession, and lost 
 no time in assuring him that he had suffered all the 
 punishment he should suffer for his thoughtlessness. 
 She assured him that it was only his troubled mind 
 that made him imagine that he was about to die, and 
 that not a creature should know the cause of the 
 fire unless he himself told it. 
 
 "If I live to be a man and make money you shall 
 have the piano and everything you lost, so far as I 
 can get them for you," said he gratefully. 
 
 "I am sure you would, my dear boy, but we will 
 not worry if I never have them again," replied 
 Cousin Melie, cheerfully. "I should have left my 
 treasures some day as one must sooner or later leave 
 all earthly possessions, but they took the lead and 
 left me." 
 
 Timothy's slumbers that night were profound and 
 
GRACE CABLING. 101 
 
 refreshing, the best that he had enjoyed since his 
 piece of amateur incendiarism; while Cousin Melie 
 took to her quiet home the pleasant conscious- 
 ness that another faithful heart was added to her al- 
 ready long list of friends. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ANGELS UNAWARES. 
 
 "Life hath its barren years ; 
 When blossoms fall untimely down, 
 When ripened fruitage fails to crown 
 The summer's toil ; when Nature's frown 
 
 Looks only on our tears." 
 
 One beautiful morning in June, Timothy was en- 
 gaged in cutting the grass upon the lawn, while 
 Grandfather Carleton, sitting in his arm chair on the 
 porch was reading, pausing occasionally to speak a 
 cheery word to the boy for whom he had a warm 
 affection. 
 
 Timothy returned this affection with the earnest- 
 ness of his loyal nature ; in some measure he felt that 
 the void in his heart from the separation from 
 Granny was filled by this genial, gentle, grandfather 
 of the two boys who treated him as a younger 
 brother. 
 
 Without being conscious of it Grandfather Carle- 
 102 
 
ANGELS UNAWARES. 103 
 
 ton formed a component part of a beautiful picture 
 that balmy morning, for the wide porch was sup- 
 ported by white pillows which were almost hidden by 
 running roses in perfect bloom, and each end shaded 
 by a weeping willow, was gay with potted plants in 
 luxuriant growth. 
 
 Many hours of each summer day he sat there, gaz- 
 ing dreamily upon the landscape with the serene look 
 of the aged, who, standing upon the table-land be- 
 tween two worlds, views the receding of one which 
 he has loved because his Father made it and pro- 
 nounced it good, but looking peacefully forward to 
 the more beautiful one to which he is but awaiting 
 his summons. 
 
 "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for there- 
 by some have entertained angels unawares," he 
 repeated, as if coming events had cast their shadows 
 before, and he was preparing the entertainers for the 
 reception of an angel. 
 
 "What did you say, grandfather?" asked Mrs. 
 Carleton from within. 
 
 "I was only thinking over something I was read- 
 ing this morning; thinking aloud as I have a 
 way of doing." 
 
104 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 "Oh," replied his daughter-in-law, in a tone of 
 relief, "I thought you said that strangers were com- 
 ing and I know that Timothy would be so disap- 
 pointed if we are prevented from driving into the 
 city to-day. I have promised to take him to the hos- 
 pital to see Granny Edmonds, and this being a holi- 
 day in the school it suits exactly to go. We will 
 set out directly after dinner that I may be back in 
 time to stop in Dorton to take tea with Mrs. Hoyt." 
 
 "Are you sure that Mrs. Edmonds is yet in the 
 hospital ?" 
 
 "No, I am not quite sure. In the last letter that 
 Timothy received from her, written by one of the 
 nurses, she was able to make herself useful in many 
 ways, and they were willing to keep her there until 
 a vacancy occurred in the Home, of which Mrs. 
 David Levering was to inform her. If she is not at 
 the hospital it will take but a little longer to drive 
 to the Home." 
 
 Dinner was served and the family gathered about 
 the board, Grandfather Carleton asking the blessing 
 and Timothy, with the others, bowed his head in rev- 
 erent attention, but it must be confessed that his 
 thoughts wandered to the pudding which was to form 
 
ANGELS UWAWABES. 105 
 
 the dessert, and for which he had picked the cherries 
 while the morning dew moistened their glossy sur- 
 faces. Fanny brought it in, in all its golden and 
 ruby perfection, the first cherry pudding of the 
 season, therefore the first that Timothy had ever 
 shared, and he was not behind Rufus and Frank in 
 his appreciation of its merits. . 
 
 "The stage is coming up our lane, mother," said 
 Frank, who had passed his plate for a second slice, 
 "somebody is coming to dinner." 
 
 "It is Miss Jane Houston, by all that is magnifi- 
 cent!" ejaculated Rufus, the elder son, as he glanced 
 from the window at the stage which had already 
 stopped at the gate. "There she is, pattern box and 
 all, I have seen that old box ever since I was a bald- 
 headed baby and would know it in Patagonia. You 
 are in for a visitation, mother, that is certain." 
 
 "You will have to wait on her as if she were a 
 queen, Fanny," supplemented Frank, "then if you 
 happened to meet her out, she would not speak to 
 you, because you work for a living, would she, 
 mother?" 
 
 "You might as well make the best of this trying 
 dispensation, mother," laughed Rufus, glancing at 
 
106 TIMOTHT AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 the discomfited face at the head of the table. "I for- 
 got to tell you that Mrs. Hoyt told me yeserday that 
 Miss Jane has left the Aged Woman's Home, and 
 we might look for her any day." 
 
 "Left there!" commented Mrs. Carleton, in dis- 
 may, "and we all thought she was fixed for life." 
 
 "Poor creature, she is to be pitied," murmured 
 good old Grandfather Carleton. "I think I heard 
 you say that you needed a new gown made, 
 Eleanor ?" 
 
 "Yes, father, but not from her old patterns, 
 seasons behind the times. I could not have the con- 
 science to palm off such antiques upon her, and then 
 jest about it as I have known some persons do. Go 
 to the door, Fanny, and invite her into the parlor." 
 
 The boys in the meantime had scampered out to 
 have a chat with the stage-driver, and Grandfather 
 Carleton had a word with his daughter-in-law as 
 she prepared to meet her unwelcome guest. 
 
 "Welcome her kindly, daughter," he said, "you 
 will feel the better because of it. You are by nature 
 generous and kind-hearted, hide not your light under 
 a bushel, but let it give light to all who are in the 
 house." 
 
AHGELS UNAWAEES. 107 
 
 "But I cannot leave her the moment of her arrival 
 to take Timothy into the city, particularly as I must 
 excuse myself to her to take tea with Mrs. Hoyt ; he 
 will be disappointed." 
 
 "Leave that to me, daughter ; I will explain to him 
 that the visit is only postponed ; he is sensible, tract- 
 able and obedient. It may be that Miss Jane can tell 
 you if Mrs. Edmonds is in the Home." 
 
 "Yes, I did not think of that ; no doubt but she can 
 give me the exact information I wish." 
 
 It was not this hope of assistance herself, how- 
 ever, that changed her feeling in regard to the ill- 
 timed visit, but the advice of the aged man was not 
 without effect, and in the short journey between the 
 dining-room and parlor the word in season had 
 sprung up, blossomed and bore fruit. 
 
 Miss Jane was seated upon the very edge of a 
 chair, her eyes fixed upon the door through which 
 she expected her hostess to enter, and wearing the 
 wistful expression often seen upon the countenances 
 of dumb creatures, her patterns already in hand, as 
 if hoping by this poor little recompense to earn the 
 privilege of tarrying for a little while in her pilgrim- 
 age through the world. 
 
108 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 She was somewhat below the medium height, but 
 symmetrical in form with perfectly modeled hands 
 and feet, dark blue eyes and fair complexion with 
 a tinge of rose in cheeks and lips, a sprightly man- 
 ner which her years of dependence had been unable 
 to subdue, yet with these attributes went a haughty, 
 reserved manner, far from agreeable to those whom 
 she considered her inferiors, and not approved by 
 those whom she looked upon as her equals and who 
 entertained her upon sufferance. 
 
 Her abundant hair was covered by a black lace 
 cap, always rusty, but never seeming to grow more 
 so, and her costume was made up of the hetero- 
 geneous articles bestowed upon her by the different 
 persons with whom she sojourned, but notwith- 
 standing the disadvantages pertaining thereto, her 
 appearance was distinguished. Her manner and ac- 
 cent were French, inherited from the Canadian an- 
 cestry on the mother's side, but she was born upon 
 English soil, had spent her childhood there and in 
 Canada, but the most years of her troubled life under 
 the Stars and Stripes. 
 
 She arose upon Mrs. Carleton's entrance and came 
 toward her with an airy, graceful motion, charac- 
 
AITCELS UNAWARES. 109 
 
 teristic of her, and in a thin, vibrating voice, which 
 Mrs. Hoyt had always averred was the most dis- 
 agreeable sound in the world, said hurriedly : 
 
 "I did not know but you were out this lovely day ; 
 at least I feared so. I asked the stage driver to halt 
 at Mrs. General Porter's and at Mrs. Colonel Hoyt's, 
 but unfortunately both ladies were out, so I came 
 here to make you a visit and help you with your 
 summer outfit." 
 
 "Will you come to the dining-room and take din- 
 ner, Miss Jane?" asked Mrs. Carleton kindly, "we 
 have finished, but Fanny will make some fresh tea 
 for you, and see that you are well served." 
 
 "Thank you, I shall be pleased to accept your kind 
 invitation. I expected to dine with Mrs. General 
 Porter or Mrs. Colonel Hoyt, but as neither of those 
 ladies were at home, I shall be glad to pay you a 
 visit and am so glad to find you in, for I long to chat 
 with you this afternoon. I can visit them some 
 other time." 
 
 Now Mrs. Carleton knew that Mrs. Porter would 
 not have been out to anybody but Miss Jane Hous- 
 ton, and as Mrs. Hoyt had invited company to tea, it 
 
HO TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 was not at all likely that she was from home, but if 
 Miss Jane did not suspect, why enlighten her? 
 
 Under the unexpected cordial welcome which Mrs. 
 Carleton had vouchsafed her, Miss Jane's spirits 
 revived like wilted weeds under a summer shower, 
 and she followed to the dining-room at a brisk gait. 
 Mrs. Carlton had received her kindly, and Miss Jane 
 knew by years of eleemosynary experience that even 
 the mere apology of a welcome was everything ; let 
 her but once gain a foothold and all that followed 
 was plain sailing. 
 
 "These peas are so delicious," she commented 
 later, as seated at the hospitable board, she helped 
 herself bountifully for the second time. She had 
 been compelled for so many years to push her way 
 that what most of her entertainers denounced as her 
 presumption she looked upon as only necessary care 
 for her wants. 
 
 "I am invited out to tea this afternoon, Miss 
 Jane," said Mrs. Carleton as they took their seats 
 in the porch where Grandfather Carleton had pre- 
 ceeded them,' "I received the invitation before you 
 came and accepted it, so hope you will excuse my 
 going." 
 
ANGELS UNAWARES. Ill 
 
 "Oh, certainly; do not make a stranger of me, I 
 beg; I am such a very old friend. I will sleep 
 awhile this afternoon, and will be the brighter to 
 enjoy your society this evening." 
 
 Very pleasantly the ladies chatted until it was 
 time for Airs. Carleton to dress for her visit, and 
 all themes discussed seemed agreeable to the guest 
 except that of her sojourn at the Home. 
 
 "Did you happen to meet with a woman by the 
 name of Mrs. Edmonds while in the Home, Miss 
 Jane?" asked Mrs. Carleton. 
 
 "I made no acquaintances whatever, and have not 
 heard the name for years," replied Miss Jane, rather 
 stiffly, and her gaze rested on the lawn with the un- 
 seeing look of one whose thoughts were far away. 
 
 When Mrs. Carleton left the porch, Miss Jane 
 returned to the parlor, and opening the piano she 
 played and sang the airs that had been favorites in 
 her youth, and which were associated in the minds 
 of the younger members of the families she visited, 
 with the sprightly gait, the lace cap and the box of 
 ancient patterns. 
 
 "You have a visitor," commented Mrs. Hoyt, 
 soon after her guests were seated in her pleasant 
 
112 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 parlor. " I watched the stage after it left the vil- 
 lage, and saw it go up your lane." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Jane Houston came very unexpect- 
 edly," smiled Mrs. Carleton in reply; "I was in- 
 formed that you were not at home, so I came in 
 second best." 
 
 "She called at our house, too," said Mrs. Porter, 
 "but I did not wish to receive her. I have not a 
 particle of sympathy for her since she left the Home. 
 Just think of her ingratitude, when a good home was 
 provided for her by our united efforts, the entrance 
 fee collected, and we rejoicing that her trials were 
 over for this world and ours also, so far as she was 
 concerned, she must leave there in three weeks 
 because her room was next to a woman who had 
 worked for her living." 
 
 "Yes, she spoke of her short stay," rejoined Mrs. 
 Carleton, "but did not give that particular instance 
 as a cause. She said she never drew a contented 
 breath while there, and could not endure the society 
 of the other inmates, she felt so superior to them." 
 
 "Indeed! and pray what is she but a pauper?" 
 cried Mrs. Porter warmly. "It seems to me that I 
 would endure anything where I felt I had a right to 
 
ANGELS UNAWABE8. 113 
 
 be, rather than submit to the slights she receives 
 from those she intrudes upon, that is if she feels 
 them." 
 
 "I have about concluded that she has neither feel- 
 ing nor honest pride in her composition, or she 
 would not subject herself to slights by going where 
 she is not wanted," supplemented Mrs. Hoyt. 
 
 "Yet, I consider her an honorable, conscientious 
 woman," said Mrs. Carleton ; "I never knew her to 
 say or do anything to injure any one." 
 
 "Yes, I grant that she is harmless, but so worth- 
 less; I really do not know what her mission is on 
 earth except to bother others. She has a good edu- 
 cation and is well read ; why has she never made any 
 use of her knowledge ?" 
 
 "Because she considers it beneath her dignity to do 
 anything for her self-support, I think," replied Mrs. 
 Carleton. "I suppose we should make some allow- 
 ance for her early training." 
 
 "But who knows how she was trained?" replied 
 
 Mrs. Porter, "we have only her word for it, and we 
 
 know that her mind runs upon money which should 
 
 have been hers. We all know the story by heart 
 
 of her wealthy grandfather in England, and the fine 
 8 
 
114 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ancestral home there, where she played when a child ; 
 of her grandfather dying and leaving two sons, of 
 which her father was the younger, therefore had no 
 share in the property which was entailed, her uncle 
 inheriting it; of her father and mother com- 
 ing to Canada, where her mother had inherited a 
 large property from a relative; of her parents 
 dying and an uncle of her mother's being appointed 
 guardian to Miss Jane, who was their only child ; of 
 his getting the property in his own name and leaving 
 Canada for St. Louis." 
 
 "Yes, we have all heard the story many times,'' 
 assented Mrs. Carleton. "People doubt it, but Miss 
 Jane is truthful, and really believes what she tells. 
 Moreover, Dr. Harkness, Mrs. Archibald Levering's 
 brother, lives in St. Louis, and says that it is believed 
 by many persons there that Miss Jane's uncle appro- 
 priated her money to his own use." 
 
 "Well, I can not judge," commented Mrs. Porter, 
 thoughtfully, "I only know that the president and 
 his cabinet, and the governor and all the rest of the 
 dignitaries of the land have had a surfeit of petitions 
 from her ; I guess they only laugh at her and let the 
 matter end where it began." 
 
ANGELS UNAWARES. 115 
 
 "But how does she manage to travel in cars and 
 steamboats and stages free of charge?" questioned 
 Mrs. Hoyt. "I never heard of any other person 
 being so favored." 
 
 "How does she creep into our homes and stay as 
 long as she pleases?" was the response of Mrs. Por- 
 ter; "I never heard of anybody inviting her, nor of 
 any one turning her out when they grew tired of her. 
 And she must go to the best places, too ; no shoddy 
 for her, nor poverty, but goes where there is some 
 one to wait on her." 
 
 "Yes, and the maids seem to think it a compli- 
 ment, although well knowing she never notices them 
 except when she wishes some service," rejoined Mrs. 
 Hoyt. The subject of Miss Jane's ingratitude in 
 leaving the Home having been thoroughly discussed, 
 Mrs. Porter and Mrs. Hoyt agreeing that they would 
 never be at home to her, the conversation drifted to 
 other themes, and the afternoon passed pleasantly 
 away. 
 
 When Mrs. Carleton reached home she found 
 Miss Jane walking slowly down the lawn path, halt- 
 ing now and then to cull a flower, a rosebud in her 
 belli. 
 
116 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "I have had a delightful afternoon," she averred 
 as Mrs. Carleton bade her a pleasant good evening. 
 "I slept until near tea time, then dressed and since 
 then have taken tea and enjoyed this labyrinth of 
 sweets. I hope you have had a pleasant visit, Mrs. 
 Carleton." 
 
 "Very pleasant indeed." 
 
 "And did Mrs. General Porter and Mrs. Colonel 
 Hoyt inquire for me? I am sure they did, for we 
 are such old friends." 
 
 "I believe they did," faltered Mrs. Carleton, "but 
 the evening air grows cool, had we not better go into 
 the house, Miss Jane?" 
 
 "Perhaps we had," replied her visitor in a de- 
 pressed tone, and while Mrs. Carleton went to lay 
 aside her bonnet and gloves, she took a chair at the 
 side of Grandfather Carleton on the porch, and 
 commenced from the very beginning to tell him of 
 her early wealth, of the guardianship of her uncle, 
 of his appropriating the funds, and refusal to allow 
 her even a pittance for her support, of his living in 
 luxury in St. Louis upon her money, and his positive 
 determination to receive no communications or visits 
 from her. Of the efforts she had made to get others 
 
ANGELS UNAWABES. 117 
 
 to interest themselves in her cause, of her failures 
 and disappointments for want of money to carry on 
 a suit against her uncle). 
 
 "But my prospects are better now than they have 
 been for a long time," said she in conclusion. "I 
 have just returned from Washington where I went 
 to obtain legal advice in regard to my property, and 
 two members of congress have given me their best 
 wishes for its recovery and have said they hoped to 
 aid me to obtain my rights. They say it is really 
 too bad that I have been kept out of it so long ; so I 
 am living in hourly expectation of a message from 
 my uncle in St. Louis saying that he has given the 
 property back to me." 
 
 "I hope you will be so fortunate ; I hope so indeed, 
 Miss Jane; you have my best wishes also," replied 
 Grandfather Carleton. 
 
 "Thank you! You are very kind. I have so 
 many good friends. Good night." 
 
 An hour after every member of the family except- 
 ing herself had retired to rest, Mrs. Carleton in 
 passing the door of Miss Jane's room was arrested 
 by the sound of bitter but suppressed weeping. 
 Spellbound, she stood, revolving in her mind what 
 
118 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 was best to be done. Should she enter, ask the 
 cause and try to comfort ? Would it not be looked 
 upon as an intrusion ? She feared so, yet could not 
 bear to think of sorrow under her roof and no effort 
 made to alleviate it. Knocking gently, and calling 
 Miss Jane's name softly, she waited admission. 
 
 A few moments of delay and the door opened, and 
 Mrs. Carleton was courteously bidden to enter. 
 
 Miss Jane was too well bred to show any sign of 
 surprise at the ill-timed visit ; all her thoughts were 
 apparently bent upon entertaining her visitor. Her 
 opportunities for showing hospitality were so limited 
 that she appeared gratified with the chance of evinc- 
 ing it. The most comfortable chair in the room 
 was drawn up for her guest, while she took another 
 with her back to the light. 
 
 Her open Bible was lying upon the table, beside 
 which she had evidently been sitting, and her black 
 lace cap had been removed and carefully placed upon 
 a chair back; and Mrs. Carleton seeing her for the 
 first time in her life without it, could not help notic- 
 ing how haggard and careworn she looked. 
 
 Not the least allusion to her sorrow did Miss Jane 
 make, and Mrs. Carleton could not introduce the 
 
ANGELS TIN AW ABES. 119 
 
 i 
 
 subject, so her call ended in merely ascertaining that 
 Miss Jane was fixed comfortably for the night, that 
 she should not disturb herself to rise early in the 
 morning, and then good night ! 
 
 Mrs. Carleton went to her own room, lay awake 
 the best part of the night and pondered. Was this 
 dark hour an unusual occurrence in the life of the 
 poor wanderer, or was it one of many? Was the 
 self-sufficient, everyday manner natural to her, or 
 was it but a veil to hide the sadness of an overtried 
 and desolate heart? Mrs. Carleton resolved to 
 watch her guest narrowly the ensuing morning to see 
 if the conflict of the night-time had left any token by 
 which she could judge. 
 
 On her part she would make Miss Jane more wel- 
 come than she had ever yet done. It was possible 
 that the bread of dependence might be bitter to even 
 Miss Jane Houston; she would do all in her power 
 to render it less so. 
 
 Toward morning she dropped into a troubled 
 slumber and when they met at breakfast no one 
 would have suspected by Miss Jane's manner that 
 she had wept the greater part of the night. 
 
120 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The next morning Timothy, who had been to the 
 village post office, came up the path. Grace Darling 
 frolicking about him in her usual manner, and he 
 could not resist the temptation to echo his old time 
 cry as he held up a paper, "Here's your Morning 
 Telegram ! Only two cents !" 
 
 "There was an old lady in the Home who talked 
 of Timothy and the Morning Telegram," she said as 
 Timothy came on the porch where she was sitting. 
 
 "Please tell me of her," he said, his eyes bright 
 with surprise and joy. 
 
 "They called her Granny," she replied a little 
 stiffly. "She never talked to me, of course. I only 
 overheard her talking to others. Her room was 
 next to mine." 
 
 Miss Jane had not condescended to speak to the 
 boy except to utter a command, but something 
 prompted her to take interest in telling him all she 
 knew of Granny Edmonds, and in the gratitude of 
 his heart Timothy took her small white hand in his 
 and pressed his lips reverently upon it. 
 
 Mrs. Carleton from within was a witness of the 
 little scene and resolved that Timothy's visit to the 
 
ANGELS UNAWARES. 121 
 
 Home should be delayed no longer, and that very 
 afternoon they set out. 
 
 The meeting was one of unalloyed pleasure to 
 both, Granny shedding tears of joy at Timothy's 
 improved appearance. 
 
 "There was a lady here, Tim," she said during his 
 stay, "who looked so much like somebody I knowed 
 when you was a baby, that if she wasn't dead I would 
 a'thought it were her. An' she had the name of that 
 'uns father, Tim, and she told one of the women here 
 that she was a goin' to Dorton. If you ever sees her, 
 Tim, treat her fair, not only because she is a lady, but 
 because of her looks, and because of her name. I'll 
 tell you all about it some day, Timothy ; all I ask of 
 you now is to treat her fair because of her looks, and 
 her name." 
 
 "What is her name, Granny ?" 
 
 "It is Miss Jane Houston." 
 
 "Why, Granny, that is the very lady that told 
 me yesterday of you; she is living at Mrs. Carle- 
 ton's," cried Timothy. 
 
 "The ways of Providence is wonderful," mur- 
 mured Granny in an awed tone, "yes, wonderful. 
 Treat her fair, Timothy, for she is a real lady." 
 
122 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The beautiful summer changed into autumn and 
 still Miss Jane lingered in the home of the Carle- 
 tons. A change had come over her in those weeks ; 
 from being sprightly and cheerful, she had grown 
 languid and silent. She had ceased to speak of the 
 property which had been her theme; for weeks her 
 uncle's name had not passed her lips. Each morn- 
 ing her rising was delayed a little longer and one 
 bright morning in September, her last on earth, she 
 was too weak to rise. 
 
 "Thank God," she murmured lifting her eyes to 
 heaven, "my wanderings are nearly over. I am 
 going Home, and none but those who are homeless 
 can appreciate that dear name as it deserves. You 
 have all been so kind to me, and I pray God to 
 reward you," she continued, her gaze resting upon 
 the sorrowing ones about her, among whom was 
 Timothy weeping silently. "If you ever see my 
 uncle, tell him that I forgive him for betraying the 
 trust reposed in him, forgive him for my blighted 
 life. I tried to forget that I had property, but I 
 could not; I was always waiting, waiting." 
 
 A pause of exhaustion followed and Mrs. Carle- 
 ton bathed her damp forehead with bay-water and 
 
ANOELS UNAWARES. 123 
 
 gave her a spoonful of cordial, which revived her 
 failing strength. 
 
 "I have nothing to bequeath," whispered Miss 
 Jane, sadly, "nothing to recompense you for all your 
 goodness to me. Only one little token of gratitude 
 can I leave you," she continued pressing the hand 
 of Mrs. Carleton, "my prayer book ; take it with the 
 blessing of the desolate one you have befriended. 
 My Bible is for Timothy; read it, dear boy, faith- 
 fully and prayerfully; it has been my solace in this 
 troubled life. Bid my friends farewell for me. I 
 tried to be patient and not envy those who had homes 
 and dear ones, and at whose firesides I was not 
 needed or wanted, but it is all done with at last, and 
 in God's own good time." 
 
 Peacefully Miss Jane Houston closed her weary 
 eyes upon the world, and as Mrs. Carleton looked 
 upon the placid face upon which lingered a smile, she 
 felt that she had indeed entertained an angel and not 
 altogether unawares. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ARCHIBALD LEVERING'S VISIT. 
 
 In the meantime there had been changes in the 
 homes of Timothy's city friends. Mrs. Willoughby 
 had been called to come up higher, and the brown- 
 stone dwelling, which had been her home, was sold, 
 Mr. David Levering — Timothy's newspaper patron 
 — becoming the purchaser, and little Mary Ogilvie — 
 the Christine of Timothy's sea voyage — was at 
 "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 Thus without either of them being aware of it, the 
 two former subjects of the Queen were' in beautiful 
 homes in sight of each other, and of the cottage occu- 
 pied by Aunt Ursula and Madame Angela, who were 
 equally ignorant of the fact that the two bright, 
 beautiful children who were such a mystery to the 
 other passengers, could be seen by them any hour of 
 the day, had they so willed it. 
 
 Mrs. David Levering was not a foolishly ambi- 
 tious woman, but it was a great pleasure to her to 
 
 124 
 
ABCHLBALD LEVEBING'S VISIT. 125 
 
 become possessor of the brown-stone dwelling. Her 
 mother, — Mrs. Garrigue — was happily interested in 
 it also ; she had been a widow several years, and this 
 only daughter was her happiness in life. Time had 
 dealt gently with Mrs. Garrigue, and she might have 
 readily passed among strangers as an elder sister of 
 Mrs. David Levering. 
 
 In the busy time of furnishing the new house, in 
 which Mrs. Garrigue took active part, Mr. Levering 
 complained of illness, which grew more serious and 
 the physician was in daily attendance. His mother 
 — Mercy Levering — came the moment the word 
 reached Dorton that she was needed, and she and 
 the young wife, assisted by Mrs. Garrigue, watched 
 faithfully by the sick bed. But the fever speedily 
 ran its course, and the very day they were to have 
 left the home where they had lived happily since 
 David brought her there a bride, Mrs. Levering 
 became a widow. 
 
 The first fortnight after this great bereavement 
 seemed a blank to the stricken creature ; she had but 
 little thought beyond -her great loss; even the care of 
 her two children seemed scarcely to arouse her to 
 interest in the life about her. 
 
126 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 One rainy morning she was sitting by one of the 
 windows of the nursery, her babe upon her arm, gaz- 
 ing absently at the watery streets and her thoughts 
 busy with days that were gone never to return. 
 
 The dampness had tempted her pliant hair into 
 many curling tendrils which gave a childlike youth- 
 fulness to her sweet, expressive face. Her dress of 
 black was in contrast to the white robe of the infant, 
 and the crimson plush chair in which she sat, but she 
 was entirely unconscious of the pretty picture they 
 made. 
 
 She had seen her father-in-law's old fashioned car- 
 riage pass up the street a few minutes before, there- 
 fore was not surprised when the doorbell rang and 
 Bridget admitted a visitor, to hear the sound of a 
 cane ascending the steps and the firm tread in the hall 
 leading to the nursery betokening a visit from Archi- 
 bald Levering. 
 
 He knocked and waited until bidden to enter, then 
 stood a moment upon the threshold, the sight of his 
 daughter-in-law's somber robes bringing painfully 
 to memory the loss he had sustained in the death 
 of his only son. He had not been a frequent vis- 
 itor, this being but the second time he had crossed 
 
ABCWTBAT.D LEVEBING'S VISIT. 127 
 
 the sill of his daughter-in-law's home; the first time 
 being the day of the funeral. 
 
 He was of medium height, with regular features, 
 dark gray eyes and the fair complexion which char- 
 acterized his son. His brown hair, abundant 
 and well cared for, was worn so long that 
 it almost concealed the velvet collar of his 
 coat. His appearance was neat and trim, 
 although his costume was at least twenty years 
 behind the times, it being the suit of blue broadcloth 
 bought for his wedding and which had never known 
 change or renewing. The color might be a shade 
 faded, the waist of the coat a few inches too short for 
 the prevailing style, even in his own estimation, but 
 he was suited in them and cared nothing for the 
 opinion of others. 
 
 That garb was donned for funerals in the neigh- 
 borhood of Dorton, and when he came to the city on 
 business, and upon his return was brushed and 
 restored to its peg in the clothes-press by his patient 
 wife, Mercy. 
 
 The hat, which he had not yet removed, was a 
 tall silk one, also bought for his wedding and show- 
 ing more signs of antiquity than the suit of blue. 
 
128 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 This hat had passed all its days in the clothes-press 
 of the farm house wrapped in the bandana handker- 
 chief, which when the hat was in use reposed lightly 
 upon the crown of the wearer. It was worn to 
 David's funeral and had provoked mirthful, though 
 not ill-natured comments, which had they been re- 
 peated to him would not have cost him more than a 
 passing sneer at the frivolity and empty-headedness 
 of his critics. 
 
 In his youth he had been considered handsome, 
 and the elderly people of the neighborhood were cog- 
 nizant of the fact that he had been disappointed in 
 love; but by whom and for what cause, they could 
 not say. Of one thing they were certain, and that 
 was, that he was a changed man from a remembered 
 date, and no more resembled the buoyant, jovial 
 young man who had been the life of every company 
 than day resembled night. 
 
 He was indifferent to the world and its opinions 
 and was apparently oblivious of the fact that he was 
 considered eccentric by his neighbors. Solitary 
 from that date, he wished for no society, and it 
 gradually ceased to force itself upon him. The clat- 
 ter of his mill was all the company he desired 
 
AECHIBALD LEVEBING'S VISIT. 129 
 
 through the day, and a book treating of geology or 
 agriculture all that he appeared to need for his even- 
 ings, when with table and lamp to himself he read 
 far into the night. Imperious and arbitrary he cer- 
 tainly was, but those who had dealings with him 
 found him truthful, single-minded and honest to a 
 farthing. In his family, though for the most part 
 silent, he was generous, even-tempered and 
 indulgent; he wished leave to live his own life, and 
 accorded every member of his family the same priv- 
 ilege. 
 
 "The woman down stairs told me that you were 
 alone, Amanda," said he as his daughter-in-law 
 arose to welcome him, "and I was glad to hear it, 
 for I wish to talk business affairs with you and do 
 not care to have your fashionable friends dawdling 
 about." 
 
 Mrs. Levering was somewhat startled by the word 
 "business," but made no sign as she offered him an 
 arm chair, which he waved aside and took a straight 
 backed one beside it. 
 
 "Very well, father, let me take your hat and cane," 
 
 she said. 
 9 
 
130 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 , There was no acknowledgement that he heard her, 
 neither did he make a move to relinquish his cane, or 
 remove his hat, so Mrs. Levering resumed her seat 
 and awaited developments. 
 
 "Amanda, how much money had David in hand 
 at the time of his death ?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 "Do you mean in the house?" 
 
 "Certainly, I mean just that," was the grim reply. 
 
 "Very little ; I suppose he kept it in his office or in 
 a bank or somewhere," she said vaguely. 
 
 "Do you know anything about his business; did 
 he ever consult you in any of his undertakings?" 
 
 "No, I do not remember that he ever did, except 
 in the matter of buying the dwelling of the late Mrs. 
 Willoughby. He knew that I admired it, and was 
 anxious that he should buy it, and he became owner 
 of it to gratify me more than any other reason." 
 
 "And so you never took any interest in his busi- 
 ness," commented her father-in-law depreciatingly, 
 "but just went blindly on, living from hand to mouth 
 with no more care for the future than the birds of 
 the air." 
 
 "My husband was a competent lawyer, arid had a 
 good practice for one so young," said Mrs. Levering 
 
ABCHIBALD LEVERING'S VISIT. 131 
 
 tearfully. "I have heard Lawyer Dubreil say that 
 he was a promising man, and he was proud to say 
 that he had been his instructor in law." 
 
 "I wish that he had never left the country," said 
 Mr. Levering with a touch of remorse in his tone. 
 "I believe he would have been living now if he had 
 stayed on the farm, and not been harassed by busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "I don't think business worried him, father; he 
 was always cheerful. He never asked my advice, 
 and I did not know it could be of use to him. I sup- 
 posed him competent to manage his affairs, and am 
 sure that he was." 
 
 A silence followed. Her visitor rested his crossed 
 hands upon his cane and gazed gloomily into the 
 glowing grate. Mrs. Levering gazed steadily from 
 the window at the streaming rain. 
 
 "You play on the piano, Amanda," said Mr. Lev- 
 ering, at length arousing from his revery; "do you 
 think you could earn your living by it?" 
 
 "I do not imagine it will be necessary for me to do 
 anything of the kind, father ; I suppose we will go on 
 living as David and I had arranged." 
 
132 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mr. Levering looked at her as one would view a 
 perverse child. 
 
 "You have not answered me, Amanda ; I want you 
 to think and tell me exactly what you can do in that 
 way." 
 
 "I can play tolerably well, father, and had in- 
 tended teaching Archie when he is old enough, that 
 I might save David the expense of paying for les- 
 sons," she said with a sob, as the thought of her 
 lonely widowhood came over her. 
 
 "So you do not know enough to teach other peo- 
 ple's children ?" said he almost sadly, as she endeav- 
 ored to check her tears. 
 
 "I do if they would only think so, but every one 
 wants experienced teachers for their children, and 
 you know I am not that." 
 
 "Could you earn anything by making these gim- 
 cracks women nowadays waste their time in?" said 
 he, pointing with his cane to the tidies and other 
 fancy articles which ornamented the room. 
 
 "I do not suppose any person would care to pay 
 much for what I could make*," replied she, more 
 for the sake of giving an answer than for any inter- 
 est she took in the conversation ; "my work would be 
 
ABCHIBAXD LEVERINQ'S VISIT. 133 
 
 considered very plain in competition with those who 
 do such things for money." 
 
 "Could you teach school?" 
 
 Though Mrs. Levering was patient by nature and 
 trained from childhood to respect her elders, she 
 was growing restive under this avalanche of ques- 
 tion^ 
 
 "Really, father," said she somewhat petulantly, "I 
 don't know what I might do if there should arise 
 necessity for it, but school-teaching is the very last 
 thing I would do. I have sufficient education for it, 
 I suppose, but I could not weigh in the balance with 
 those who are trained to it, besides I heartily dislike 
 it." 
 
 "It is no use to ask in regard to housework," 
 remarked he, glancing at the small white hands from 
 which the rings had been removed and a solitary 
 mourning band taken their place, "what do you think 
 of doing?" 
 
 "As you know we were to have moved to our new 
 'dwelling a fortnight ago. We expect to go the latter 
 part of this week, and my mother, who since my fath- 
 er's death has no one with her but the servants, will 
 rent her place and come to live in our new home 
 
134 lIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 with me. She will bring only her maid, which with 
 our good Bridget, will be sufficient, we think, 
 although the house is much larger than this." 
 
 "Do you happen to know what David paid on the 
 house?" 
 
 "Not much, I think I heard him once say. One 
 day when mamma was here they were talking about 
 it, and she went on his paper, or his security or some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Yes, and will lose every dollar of it for her 
 pains," replied he bluntly. 
 
 Mrs. Levering was aroused at last. 
 
 "What did you say, father? Why will she lose 
 it; the house is still there?" 
 
 "Amanda, you did not ask my advice in your 
 affairs, nor crave my assistance in any way, and I 
 suppose you do not want it. But your husband was 
 my son, and I cannot help feeling an interest in his 
 children. I heard that his affairs were crippled, so 
 made it my business to enquire into them. I em- 
 ployed a lawyer to ferret it out, and find that after all 
 the debts are paid, you will not have a dollar. Your 
 mother, it appears, has been going on his paper ever 
 since his marriage, and let me tell you that he had no 
 
ARCHIBALD LEVERING'S VISIT. 135 
 
 more business to buy that Willoughby house than I 
 would have to buy Niagara Falls as a water power 
 for my mill ; the consequence is that she, like your- 
 self, is not worth a dollar." 
 
 The color had been receding from the face of 
 Mrs. Levering while her father-in-law had been 
 speaking, and when the last word dropped from his 
 lips, her eyes closed, and Mr. Levering had only time 
 to spring forward and take the infant from her unre- 
 sisting arms ere she fell back in a swoon. 
 
 "Well, women do beat all nature !" said he almost 
 angrily; "one minute chipper and independent as you 
 please and the next lying around like dead weeds; 
 now what is to be done ?" 
 
 The brilliant scarlet and green bell-cord hung 
 within reach of his hand ; but bell-cords and bells had 
 played but little part in Archibald Levering' s home- 
 spun existence. If he noticed it at all, it was coupled 
 in his mind with the tidies and other "gimcracks" 
 which met his view on every side, all of which he 
 denominated "trumpery" of neither beauty nor use. 
 
 He seized his cane and gave several resounding 
 knocks on the nursery floor to summon assistance, 
 but they only served to alarm the infant, who set up a 
 
136 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 terrified scream, without bringing Bridget, who had 
 utilized Mr. Levering's visit by going to a neighbor- 
 ing store for needed articles for the day. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Levering was doing what 
 little he knew in the way of reviving the unconscious 
 woman. His wife had never fainted in her life; 
 weak, nervous woman though she was, and Hesba, 
 his maiden sister, had nerves as strong as her will, 
 which was saying much for them, so his experience 
 was limited. In the emergency he was compelled 
 to do something, so he clapped her soft hands 
 together, raised the window and fanned her with an 
 almanac that happened to be within reach, then as a 
 new thought struck him, went to the wash stand and 
 returned with a glass of water with which he bathed 
 her pallid face. 
 
 He was at his wits' end, and was upon the point 
 of leaving her to summon assistance, when she 
 opened her eyes, and feebly reached out her arms for 
 her wailing babe. 
 
 Mr. Levering quickly raised it from the floor, 
 where in his perplexity he had placed it, and restor- 
 ing it to her arms, with a sigh of relief, resumed his 
 chair and took his cane. 
 
ABCHIBAXD LEVERING'S VISIT. 137 
 
 Archibald Levering had no love for his daughter- 
 in-law ; in his heart he looked upon her as a useless 
 affair, the last woman he would have selected as a 
 helpmeet for his son, had he been asked to make a 
 choice. 
 
 He had hoped until too late that David would 
 marry some young girl in the neighborhood of Dor- 
 ton, who having been born and raised in the country 
 would be satisfied to live upon the farm, which he 
 designed that David should inherit when he was 
 gathered to his fathers. 
 
 This farm had been in the Levering name for gen- 
 erations, gradually improved until it was one of the 
 best in the neighborhood. 
 
 The choice that David had made in a wife was 
 therefore a bitter disappointment to Archibald, 
 which was not lessened when she paid her first and 
 only visit to the homestead ; for he saw in her a slen- 
 der, fair young creature, cultured and accomplished 
 but totally unfit, as well as unwilling, to live upon a 
 farm and take part in its work. 
 
 He said nothing of his disappointment then or 
 after, but Mrs. Amanda knew as well as did David 
 
138 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 that only for his sake would she be made welcome by 
 her father-in-law, so she went no more. 
 
 This meeting was, therefore, only the third since 
 Mrs. Levering had been his son's wife; and now 
 David was gone, and her father was gone, and she 
 had no brother, and so far as he knew no relative or 
 friend who could look after her interests, or those 
 of David's children. 
 
 As he looked at her, so wan and subdued, so young, 
 helpless and desolate, for the moment he relented 
 toward her, and a ray of compassion stole into his 
 chilled heart, one beam of sympathy and pity for her 
 who had for a few years trod the path of life with his 
 loved son, with David who until she crossed his path 
 had never given him a pang of disappointment. 
 
 "I will consult with the lawyer again, Amanda, 
 and see what can be done," said he as he arose to go ; 
 "in the meantime it would be better that you and 
 your mother make no change in your abode until 
 you hear from me, which will be in a few days. 
 Farewell !" 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A LAWYER'S ADVICE. 
 
 If wise thou art, take council of the wise ; 
 
 Mayhap his views from thine divergent run, 
 But shouldst thou use his wisdom, time may prove 
 
 Two heads have been more use to thee than one. 
 
 One morning, a short time after Archibald Lever- 
 ing s visit to his son's widow, his old-time carriage 
 might have been seen again in town, this time on its 
 way to the office of Lawyer Lauren Dubreil. 
 
 Lawyers' offices are not as a rule the most attract- 
 ive places of resort. Very few persons, with the 
 exception of their occupants, who have a personal 
 interest in each of the few articles their sanctums 
 contain, look upon them with much more favor than 
 upon the waiting-room of a railway station. 
 
 Lauren Dubreil's office was, however, a happy 
 exception to the rule, for it was really as comfortable 
 and cheerful as most parlors. A bright carpet cov- 
 ered the floor, the sunny windows were gay with 
 
 139 
 
140 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 plants in bloom, a canary sang in its gilded cage, and 
 the stove was a marvel of brightness. 
 
 Mr. Dubreil was a born housekeeper, which did 
 not interfere with him being an able and popular 
 lawyer. He was a bachelor, a bachelor from choice 
 — as he jocosely affirmed, because he had never been 
 able to- find a being of the gentler sex who he thought 
 would make a good wife for him — if he were fortun- 
 ate enough to win her — that another one just as 
 attractive did not come upon the scene and distract 
 his attention. 
 
 The little lawyer was busily and fussily superin- 
 tending the tidying of his office, which operation was 
 of daily occurrence, and for the time being the posi- 
 tion of the colored office boy was not to> be envied. 
 The daily lighting of the fire, sweeping and dusting 
 were required to be completed before his employer 
 left the precincts of his boarding place, and woe 
 betide him if a speck of dust was visible when that 
 Argus-eyed gentleman appeared upon the scene. 
 
 On this particular morning there was a little extra 
 furbishing on hand; the windows from which the 
 plants had been removed for the purpose, were un- 
 dergoing a thorough polishing. The finishing 
 
A LAWYER'S ADVICE. 141 
 
 touches were being put on by Jim, chamois leather in 
 hand, when Mr, Dubreil caught sight of Archibald 
 Levering descending from his vehicle in front of the 
 office door. 
 
 His client, in the inevitable suit of blue, placed the 
 lashless whip in the socket, and after tying the hitch- 
 ing strap as securely as though the old horse would 
 run away if he got the chance, he nodded his head 
 with an air of concluding to risk it, and entered. 
 
 "Why how do you do, my dear sir; how do you 
 do?" exclaimed the little lawyer with the sprightly 
 effusion he always evinced upon meeting a client; 
 although in this case the client was also an old and 
 valued friend. "Being somewhat early, you have 
 caught me superintending my household affairs. 
 Well, well, the early bird catches the worm. Take 
 a seat my dear sir, take a seat ; I shall be at liberty in 
 a moment. Jim ! a little more polishing of the left- 
 hand corner of the first pane in the third row of the 
 sash. Thoroughness, my dear sir," turning to Mr. 
 Levering, "thoroughness in every particular has been 
 my maxim through life ; nothing like it in my opin- 
 ion to insure success." 
 
142 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 It will be observed that the little man's maxims 
 were not always original, but that small matter did 
 not trouble him a whit. 
 
 "Now, Jim, put the plants back in the windows, 
 give Pete his seeds and fresh water, then vamoose 
 with your brooms and buckets ; I must to business." 
 
 Jim took his departure, and Lawyer Dubreil 
 turned to the mirror, adjusted his faultless necktie, 
 dusted an imaginary speck from his spotless suit of 
 black, then turning to his visitor with an abrupt 
 change from his every-day business manner, said in a 
 sincere and friendly tone, "Well, Archibald, what 
 can I do for you this morning?" 
 
 Their conference was uninterrupted and Mr. Lev- 
 ering congratulating himself that he had come early 
 enough to insure this, talked freely and unreservedly 
 to the one lawyer who held his hearty esteem and 
 respect. 
 
 "I will attend to it, my dear sir ; attend to it imme- 
 diately," said Mr. Dubreil as his client rose to go at 
 the appearance of other visitors, "promptness and 
 dispatch have been my maxim through life ; nothing 
 like it, in my opinion, to insure success ;" and excus- 
 
A lawyer's advice. 143 
 
 ing himself to the new comers he followed Mr. Lev- 
 ering to the carriage. 
 
 "Do not feel anxious, Archibald," said he feel- 
 ingly, "before I have let the day pass I shall see Mrs. 
 Garrigue and make her acquainted with the propo- 
 sition." 
 
 "As coming from you, Lauren," interposed Mr. 
 Levering. "Let not my name be mentioned in the 
 matter, and in the affair of taking the boy, let the 
 offer appear as coming from my wife." 
 
 "All right, Archibald, all right, the best heart in the 
 world, but you always would hide your light under a 
 bushel. Well, well, you shall be gratified; secrecy 
 without creating a mystery has been my maxim 
 through life. Jim!" calling to the office boy who 
 was picking the grass from between the bricks of the 
 pavement at the command of his employer, during 
 leisure moments, "go down to the stables and tell 
 them to send up the very prettiest turnout they have 
 on hand this morning. Tell them to have every- 
 thing in spick and span order, and to have it at the 
 door in an hour." 
 
 Jim went. 
 
 "To pay respect to the feelings of the ladies, my 
 
144 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 dear sir," turning to Mr. Levering, "has been my 
 maxim through life; nothing flatters them so much 
 as handsome equipages standing before their door; 
 the neighbors see it, you see. It is an innocent little 
 foible which we should strive to humor," then re- 
 membering Mr. Levering's turnout he added prompt- • 
 ly, "and by we, my dear sir, I mean those whom they 
 employ to wait upon them : their lawyer, their phy- 
 sician, etc. ; their servants as it were, ha ! ha ! Good 
 morning, my dear sir, good morning." 
 
 Mr. Levering went directly back home to await 
 the result of his visit with his usual patience, and not 
 even to his wife or his sister Hesba did he communi- 
 cate his plans, waiting until he should hear from 
 Lawyer Dubreil. 
 
 Mrs. Garrigue did not keep the little lawyer wait- 
 ing that morning, yet it was long enough to give him 
 a chance to look for dust and find none. His office 
 was spotless, but not more so than Mrs. Garrigue's 
 parlor. 
 
 "Fine woman, fine woman;" commented he to 
 himself as he heard her descending the stairs, "al- 
 ways respectably dressed; not going slipshod about 
 
A lawyer's advice. 145 
 
 home and keep callers waiting half a day while she 
 makes a toilet suitable for a grand reception." 
 
 If Mrs. Garrigue had any suspicion that their re- 
 verse of fortune had anything to do with the call of 
 Mr. Dubreil she made no remark that would lead 
 him to surmise that she thought so, but welcomed 
 him as though his visit was nothing unusual. She 
 was wondering what brought him upon that particu- 
 lar morning, and Mr. Dubreil was thinking how 
 much easier business could be transacted if people 
 could only know other people's thoughts. How eas- 
 ily, for instance, could the proposition be made for 
 which he came, if he only knew in what form it 
 would be most acceptable, if indeed it could be so in 
 any way. 
 
 "I passed that fine brown-stone mansion in my 
 drive here this morning, my dear madam," said he 
 at length ; "I allude to the one purchased by your late 
 lamented son-in-law, Mr. Levering. The thought 
 arose in my mind what a splendid boarding house it 
 would make, so central yet so retired. I wonder no 
 one ever thought of it before." 
 
 Mrs. Garrigue acquiesced and Mr. Dubriel contin- 
 ued his remarks. "A first-class establishment of 
 10 
 
146 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 that kind is needed in that neighborhood, and would 
 be patronized by the best people. Now suppose, my 
 dear madam, just for example, that a lady of your 
 position and appearance would take that mansion 
 and open a boarding house, what would be the re- 
 sult? Why, my dear madam, it would raise that 
 branch of industry to a fine art, it would indeed. It 
 would make manifest the hidden possibilities which 
 have been lying dormant — waiting for a master hand 
 to call them forth. And, furthermore, I have often 
 thought it a pity that competency should be bestowed 
 upon those who have energy and talent, thus depriv- 
 ing them of the incentive for the exercise of their 
 gift to its fullest capacity, and, pardon me, but I can- 
 not help feeling a species of satisfaction when a re- 
 verse of fortune gives such gifted ones an opportu- 
 nity to exercise their talents, thus conferring a favor 
 upon mankind." 
 
 The best of it all, the little lawyer believed every 
 word he was saying, which not being characteristic 
 of the fraternity, was all the more commendable ; and 
 if he had not been successful in the venture, might 
 have attributed his failure to that cause; but it was 
 not a failure; instead of being offended, as he had 
 
a lawyer's advice. 147 
 
 feared, Mrs. Garrigue was deeply interested, al- 
 though not quite sure what he had in his little wise 
 head. 
 
 "Mr. Dubreil, you generally have a motive for 
 your actions, and a reason for your opinions ; and I 
 have been endeavoring to discover your object in say- 
 ing what you have just said. I think you have heard 
 of our reverses, and have come to offer advice ; am I 
 right?" 
 
 Mr. Dubriel was himself at once. 
 
 "It has always been my maxim through life, that 
 nothing is so bad but what it might be worse ; I hope 
 you look at the miscalculations, and consequently the 
 reverses, in life in that light, my dear friend." 
 
 "What do- you advise Amanda and myself to do, 
 Mr. Dubriel?" 
 
 "Put this house in my hands for sale, and I will do 
 the best I can to get a good purchaser for it. Your 
 late son-in-law bought the Willoughby mansion so 
 reasonably that I am quite sure that with the assist- 
 ance of a friend of mine, who has some money to 
 loan, that you and your daughter can hold it. Open 
 it as a boarding house — it is eminently adapted for 
 that — take your daughter and her youngest child 
 
148 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 with you and let the little Archie go to his grand- 
 mother in the country, who wants him." 
 
 "But will Mr. Levering agree to having my grand- 
 son there ?" inquired Mrs. Garrigue, a flush rising to 
 her cheek and a light in her eyes which Lawyer Du- 
 breil, with all his adroitness in reading the human 
 face, could not interpret. 
 
 "Oh, I will answer for Archibald ; ten chances to 
 one if the boy makes any impression on his sense of 
 vision after a day or so." 
 
 "I have heard of grandparents who were intol- 
 erant to the noise of their grandchildren," said Mrs. 
 Garrigue, quickly, as though solicitous to account for 
 the emotion which she felt had attracted the notice 
 of Mr. Dubreil. 
 
 "Mr. Levering passes most of his time in the mill, 
 and the women folks run the house," continued the 
 lawyer, assuringly. "Miss Hesba would be my bug- 
 bear if I were Archibald, Junior. Whew ! she would 
 save vinegar by turning cucumbers to pickles on the 
 vines by merely looking at them." 
 
 "You make me quite anxious to see her, Mr. Du- 
 breil," said Mrs. Garrigue, smiling at the grimace of 
 the little man. 
 
A lawyer's advice. 149 
 
 "I hope you will be able to counteract the acidity, 
 my dear madam, but I cannot say that I am anxious 
 to repeat the experiment," laughed the little lawyer, 
 who was in charming spirits over the favorable re- 
 ception of Mr. Archibald Levering's proposition. 
 
 "But," continued the lady, coming back with a 
 sigh to the question they had been discussing, "sup- 
 posing we do as you advise; would we not, think 
 you, have difficulty in getting the class of people that 
 we would be willing to have about us ? Remember 
 we have no experience whatever." 
 
 "Keep a first-rate house, my dear madam, and 
 charge a first-rate price. People expect good accom- 
 modations, no matter how little they pay ; and gen- 
 erally the grumblers are those who pay the least. 
 I have been boarding the best part of my life and can 
 give you a few little hints from time to time if 
 agreeable to receive them." 
 
 "Thank you; we would consider it a great kind- 
 ness. Perhaps you could go a step further, and if 
 you have no particular interest in your boarding 
 house would take an apartment in the brownstone. 
 It would be a good commencement for us." 
 
160 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The little lawyer rubbed his small white hands 
 gleefully. "Did I not say that you possessed the at- 
 tributes of a first-rate business woman, if circum- 
 stances were favorable to calling them forth ? I was 
 hoping that you would seize the opportunity of get- 
 ting a guest and thought if it did not occur to you 
 that I would mention it. But it did occur to you, 
 and it has always been a maxim of mine that straws 
 show which way the wind blows. Yes, Mrs. Gar- 
 rigue, you will succeed in making a good home for 
 yourself and Mrs. Levering ; of that I feel quite as- 
 sured." 
 
 Mrs. Garrigue smiled, well pleased with the pre- 
 diction. 
 
 "The house where I am now, or at least the people 
 in it," corrected Mr. Dubreil, "are about going far- 
 ther uptown, which would be too great distance 
 from my office; so I shall be glad, indeed, to take 
 an apartment in the brownstone house, which, by 
 the way, must have a name of its own. I know sev- 
 eral other business men there who will have to make 
 a change for the same reason ; also, two medical stu- 
 dents and a young practising physician are inquir- 
 
A lawyer's advice. 151 
 
 ing for a nice boarding place, and I shall certainly 
 mention yours." 
 
 "You are so kind," said Mrs. Garrigue, grate- 
 fully, "and about the name for our house, I must con- 
 sult Amanda in regard to the whole affair, but what 
 name for it would you suggest?" 
 
 "I should say 'The Garrigue' would be the very 
 best that could be selected." 
 
 "Thank you ! If it suits Amanda, 'The Garrigue' 
 it shall be." 
 
 "Thank you ! I shall feel quite proud to have given 
 your new home its name ; and now, my dear madam, 
 I must do what Satan has never done with any of 
 us yet — I must leave you. Good morning, my dear 
 madam, good morning !" 
 
 The little lawyer bowed himself out, and had 
 scarcely reached his office" when Mrs. Garrigue was 
 on the street wending her way to the dwelling of 
 Mrs. Levering. 
 
 The daughter had not by nature the buoyant, 
 cheerful disposition of the mother, and the proposi- 
 tion following upon her great bereavement was re- 
 ceived with even greater reluctance than Mrs. Gar- 
 rigue had feared. So desponding and tearful was 
 
152 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 she that Mrs. Garrigue began to be surprised at 
 herself that she should have looked upon the scheme 
 as anything else than a mortification to their pride, 
 and a consenting to give up their place in the circle 
 in which both she and Mrs. Levering had been ruling 
 spirits. 
 
 That Archie should go to his grandfather's was 
 another severe trial to the tender mother, although 
 she knew that he would be affectionately cared for 
 by his grandmother, and would have the benefit of 
 healthy, happy outdoor life as his father had enjoyed 
 before him. From beginning to ending the whole 
 proposition of Lawyer Dubreil was distasteful to 
 her, the more so as she suspected what Mrs. Gar- 
 rigue did not, that her father-in-law was the prime 
 mover in the whole affair. 
 
 One point was gained, however, inasmuch as she 
 did not absolutely refuse to consider it, and Mrs. 
 Garrigue went home quite satisfied that after Mrs. 
 Levering became accustomed to the thought it would 
 not seem so formidable, and they had several days 
 before the time appointed to take possession. 
 
 Two days after, Mr. Archibald Levering was 
 again in earnest consultation with Lawyer Dubreil, 
 
'This was the last evening which she was to pass in the 
 home where she anrl David had been so happy" 
 
A lawyer's advice. 153 
 
 and the matter having been decided upon, the ladies 
 having agreed with the proposals in every particular, 
 he went home without troubling himself or Mrs. 
 Amanda by calling there, leaving, as before, all fur- 
 ther arrangements in the hands of Lawyer Dubreil. 
 
 The brownstone house was in Mrs. Levering's 
 possession, and they were upon the eve of moving 
 in, yet Mrs. Levering, sitting alone by the parlor 
 grate long after the children and Bridget were, as she 
 supposed, wrapped in peaceful slumber, was shed- 
 ding the bitterest tears she had ever shed in her whole 
 life. 
 
 She had exerted herself that day beyond her 
 strength, and much of her depression might have 
 been attributed to that cause, yet her comfortable 
 couch was the last place she wished to seek. 
 She recoiled from the feverish wakefulness and rest- 
 lestness of the past two nights, and could not sum- 
 mon resolution to encounter a third. This was the 
 last evening which she was to pass in the home 
 where she and David had been so happy, and now, 
 though desolate and forsaken by him who had been 
 its light and mainstay, she clung to it with a passion- 
 
154 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ate longing of regret for the days that would come 
 no more. 
 
 The clock on the mantel had tolled eleven, and she 
 had sobbed herself into that brooding quietude which 
 gave token that her thoughts had wandered for a 
 season from her troubles, when the click of the door 
 latch aroused her, and alarmed her ■ also, for Mrs. 
 Levering was by no means a brave woman, and this 
 night above all others she was nervous and timid. 
 
 She turned a pair of frightened eyes toward the 
 door, which was slowly yet surely opening as she 
 scanned its full length, with fast-beating heart. The 
 relief was great, indeed, when, instead of the burly 
 form and masked face of the burglar she feared to 
 see, the white-robed figure of little Archie came 
 blinkingly toward her. 
 
 "Why, Archie, my dear boy, what is the matter ? 
 How did you know I was down here?" said she, 
 slipping her moist handkerchief into her pocket and 
 holding out her hand to him. 
 
 "Because I have not been asleep ; I could not go to 
 sleep for thinking ; let me stay down here with you, 
 mother, do." 
 
 Mrs, Levering could not resist this humble appeal ; 
 
A lawyer's advice. 155 
 
 moreover, she was so miserable herself that it was 
 comforting to have even this frail staff to lean upon, 
 so her remonstrance was feeble. 
 
 "But, Archie, we should both be in bed this min- 
 ute; tomorrow with its sorrows and cares will soon 
 be here; but we will be separated so soon, my pre- 
 cious boy, so come and sit by me a moment and tell 
 me what has kept you from sleep." 
 
 Archie came quickly forward and took the foot- 
 stool at his mother's feet; resting an arm upon her 
 lap he pressed one of the ringlets which had escaped 
 from her comb, to his lips. 
 
 "Mother, what kind of a man is my grandfather ?" 
 
 Mrs. Levering started. By what subtle agency 
 had her son been made cognizant of her musings, 
 and had come at that moment to know the result? 
 She could not for any consideration have given him 
 her real opinion of her father-in-law, yet he had been 
 the subject of her thoughts ever since she had given 
 consent for Archie to live with him. 
 
 "I can scarcely tell you, my son," replied she, 
 slowly. "You know I never lived with your grand- 
 father, and it is said that you must winter and sum- 
 
156 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 mer with persons before you can be said to know 
 them." 
 
 "But how did you like him when you used to go 
 out there? You said you were there when I was 
 a baby; and why have you never gone since I can 
 remember? Say, mother, I never thought of it be- 
 fore?" 
 
 "Your grandfather was never quite satisfied with 
 me, Archie ; I had always lived in the city, and knew 
 nothing of country work and country customs, and 
 what was worse in his eyes, I did not care to learn ; 
 he could not overlook that. He wanted your father 
 to stay on the farm ; and even after we were married, 
 wished him to give up his profession and come to 
 the farm to live; but I was not willing to leave my 
 home here and my parents; and your grandfather 
 never invited me there again." 
 
 "Did he ever say anything to father about it?" 
 
 "Your father never told me that he did; but he 
 could not fail to see that your grandfather was dis- 
 satisfied with me." 
 
 "I expect he will be dissatisfied with me, too, 
 mother; I have always lived in the city and know 
 nothing of country life and country ways." 
 
A lawyer's advice. 157 
 
 "You are but a little boy, Archie; your grand- 
 father will not expect much of you; not as much, 
 I hope, as he did of your father at your age." 
 
 "I think I would like to go if you were going, but, 
 oh, mother, it will be so lonely without you; why 
 does grandfather want you to stay here and keep a 
 stingy old boarding house ?" 
 
 With all her sorrow and anxiety Mrs. Levering 
 could not restrain a smile at the earnestness of her 
 boy ; but it was quickly followed by a sigh. 
 
 "Your grandfather knows that I must do some- 
 thing to support myself and your little sister, and he 
 thinks that keeping a boarding house is the best 
 thing I can do." 
 
 They both remained buried in thought for a time, 
 the silence being at length broken by Archie. 
 
 "But, mother, you must have liked him or you 
 would not have named me for him — Archibald! — 
 such an ugly name, too ; the boys all make fun of it." 
 
 "Your father named you, my dear; it is an old- 
 fashioned name to be sure, but when it is softened 
 to Archie it is really very pretty. He named you 
 that to gratify his father; he was always respectful 
 to him, and I hope you will follow his example." 
 
158 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "I am polite to polite people," replied the boy, 
 sturdily. "Grandfather is not very respectful to me, 
 when he did not even ask for me the day he was 
 here." 
 
 "He has not become interested in you, my son, be- 
 cause he has not been with you. Try and do your 
 duty by him in every way, just as you would have 
 done with your father had he lived. It is very kind 
 in him tq wish to give you a good home ; for you will 
 have one of the best homes there, and see nothing 
 but kindness from them." 
 
 "Grandmother has an interest in me and loves me, 
 too; oh, mother, I am so glad she is there; it is 
 the next best to having you." 
 
 "Your grandmother is one of the best women that 
 ever lived ; how she has ever endured — Archie !" she 
 said, suddenly recollecting that she was speaking of 
 her dead husband's father, "we must really go to bed 
 or morning will be here and your grandfather with 
 it, before we are aware of it." 
 
 Archie arose and proceeded as far as the door, 
 followed by Mrs. Levering, when another question 
 occurred to him. 
 
A lawyer's advice. 153 
 
 "Do you think, mother, that he will let me go 
 fishing in his creek, or gather nuts in his woods?" 
 
 "I have heard your father say that your grand- 
 father was very strict with him when he was a boy, 
 and kept him steadily at work upon the farm, with 
 very little time for amusement. But I have also 
 heard him say that his father told him in later years 
 that he regretted having made the farm so irksome to 
 him in his youth that he was not willing to remain 
 upon it when he grew to manhood. So I think you 
 will find it very different. And now, dear son," she 
 continued, "mother will kiss you good night for the 
 second time this evening. Good night, my precious 
 boy, sleep well." 
 
 She kissed him several times, murmured a loving 
 prayer over him, then sought her own couch and 
 wept until dawn. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MOTHER URSULA. 
 
 Let those who on these pages look, 
 
 This chapter read with care ; 
 For though a plain and simple book, 
 
 A mystery lies here. 
 
 Mother Ursula and Madame Angela had indeed 
 found a lovely and secluded home in the small hip- 
 roof cottage — so common in Maryland at that day — 
 belonging to the estate known as " Ogilvie's Pride." 
 They lived there as contentedly as was possible for 
 persons whose change of circumstances in life had 
 been so marked, sudden, and decisive. They had 
 learned to love the place which had seemed waiting 
 for them to come, and had given them shelter after 
 leaving the Miriam, and while Granny Edmonds, 
 Timothy and Christine had experienced changes, 
 their lives had been uneventful. 
 
 For several years after taking possession of the 
 cottage, owner and tenants never met, for with the 
 
 160 
 
MOTHER URSULA. 161 
 
 exception of his morning ride over the plantation, 
 and occasional drive to the Dorton postoffice in the 
 evening, Colonel Ogilvie seldom left his dwelling. 
 
 Winter and summer, mounted upon his spirited 
 black horse, Aladdin, and attended by a colored boy 
 to open gates, he took his daily constitutional, but 
 he always stayed clear of the cottage, and they as sed- 
 ulously avoided him, so all parties were suited. 
 
 Mother Ursula left her home upon no pretext 
 whatever. Those few persons who having seen her 
 had learned to love her, notwithstanding her cold- 
 ness of manner, must, if they wished to have her so- 
 ciety, seek her; she never sought them. There was 
 a searching glance of her brilliant black eyes upon 
 those whom she saw for the first time; for neigh- 
 bors came, attracted first by curiosity, then by genu- 
 ine appreciation, though having no encouragement 
 to come. 
 
 After the embarrassment of seeing a new face 
 passed away, Mother Ursula proved herself a charm- 
 ing companion. With children she was always nat- 
 ural and self-possessed; their society tranquilized 
 her, and although she never caressed them, they felt 
 
 her to be a friend. 
 11 
 
162 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 Although she was never obtrusive, her influence 
 was felt in the neighborhood ; such a stay and coun- 
 selor did those find in her who sought her for advice 
 and help. Her powerful intellect stimulated the 
 struggling ones to higher exertions; her words of 
 encouragement aroused flagging energies ; her praise, 
 not lavishly bestowed, warmed, strengthened and 
 cheered. Her advice was sought upon knotty points 
 of discussion, her peace-making qualities solicited 
 to allay disturbances. Standing aloof from active 
 communication with her neighbors, she was upon 
 neutral ground ; consequently, unbiased by party fac- 
 tion, her opinion was unprejudiced, her judgment 
 just and equitable. A dispute or misunderstanding 
 disappeared like frost under her eagle gaze, her sub- 
 tle mind grasped a hidden meaning and dragged it 
 forth to the light. Double-dealing could not escape 
 her penetration, nor deception fail of winning the 
 contempt it merited. Yet, while scorning the 
 offense, the offender was dealt with so kindly, so 
 much allowance was made for the faults of educa- 
 tion or the circumstances, that she made but few, if 
 any, enemies among those who came to her with 
 a grievance, and received reproof. 
 
MOTHER tTRSDLA. 163 
 
 With Madame Angela, life was somewhat differ- 
 ent. For miles around she was known for her kind- 
 ness to the sick and afflicted, who considered her 
 small hand endowed with power of healing possessed 
 by no other. No day too stormy, no night too dark 
 to keep her from the bedside of the suffering who so- 
 licited her gentle ministrations; no presence more 
 welcome, no prayer more comforting than those of- 
 fered for the dying, no sympathy more consoling to 
 those left to mourn. 
 
 Thus the years had passed tranquilly away, years 
 which were placing silver threads among the golden 
 tresses of Madame Angela, but years fraught with 
 the blessings which contentment brought to them. 
 The curiosity which their sudden appearance, their 
 rigid silence in regard to their former life, and the 
 singular appearance of Mother Ursula had excited 
 had long ago given place to loving esteem for their 
 endearing qualities. 
 
 When, after Mrs. Willoughby's death, little Mary 
 Ogilvie came to live at "Ogilvie's Pride," it excited 
 no comment in the little gray cottage. From their 
 home Mother Ursula and Madame Angela could see 
 the agile form of the girl ; but hearing that her name 
 
164 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 was Mary Ogilvie they took it for granted that she 
 was the daughter of one of Colonel Ogilvie's sons, 
 therefore never for a moment imagined that Mary 
 Ogilvie and Christine were one and the same; par- 
 ticularly as they had never known that Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby was the daughter of the owner of "Ogilvie's 
 Pride." 
 
 She had changed much in appearance since a little 
 golden-haired darling she had slept in Madame An- 
 gela's arms during the voyage across the sea, and 
 for the same reason they had failed to recognize in 
 Timothy who frequently passed their cottage the 
 distinguished looking and handsomely dressed boy 
 who had been the mystery of all on shipboard. 
 
 Mary had been at "Ogilvie's Pride" several 
 months when the anniversary of the birthday of 
 Madame Angela came around, and as was the custom 
 with the occupants of the cottage the little girls of 
 Dorton and the neighborhood were invited to help 
 celebrate it, Mary Ogilvie among the number. 
 
 All the afternoon they had gamboled over the 
 grassy paths, woven garlands in the summer-house, 
 shaded and fragrant with woodbine and honeysuckle, 
 
3I0THEK URSULA. 165 
 
 and had enjoyed the games of merry, happy child- 
 hood. 
 
 A savory odor of foreign cookery came from the 
 vine-covered door of the kitchen, joyously com- 
 mented upon by the little ones as a forerunner of 
 coming delicacies. 
 
 At the same moment one of the flower-crowned 
 sylphs ran from the cottage, crying gleefully, "Oh, 
 girls, Madame Angela says we may set the table for 
 tea in the summer-house, where she and Mother Ur- 
 sula have theirs every fine evening. And we are to 
 have out the beautiful tea things, the dear little silver 
 tea and coffee pots, and if Mother Ursula is willing, 
 we are to carry out her writing table, for the one 
 already there is too small for so many ; let us go and 
 ask her." 
 
 Catching the enthusiasm they all made a rush for 
 the summer-house to proffer their request. 
 
 At first sight one would almost wonder that they 
 could be so familiar with Mother Ursula to ask a 
 favor of any kind, so stately and commanding the 
 presence, so reserved and even haughty the de- 
 meanor, so foreign and outre the whole appearance. 
 
lG6 TIMOTHY AND TlIS FRIENDS. 
 
 She was seated in an armchair, her rather large 
 but white and beautifully molded hands lying idly 
 in her lap, her gaze fixed absently on the gables and 
 peaks of "Ogilvie's Pride," glistening in the beams 
 of the setting sun, seemingly oblivious of all the 
 beauty which surrounded her. 
 
 Her thoughts seemed to be far distant from the 
 drowsy hum of innumerable bees in the clover near- 
 by, the soft affectionate lowing of the milk-white 
 cow on the other side of the enclosure, and the ves- 
 per song of the birds in the snowball and lilac bushes 
 which laid their white and purple blooms against the 
 end of the cottage. 
 
 When the patter of youthful feet and sound of 
 glad voices reached her, the brow relaxed, the wan- 
 dering thoughts were recalled, and one of her rare 
 smiles illumined the noble countenance. 
 
 "Yes, my darlings, the cottage and all that be- 
 longs to it is at your service," was just the answer 
 they seemed to expect. They set to work with eager 
 hands to remove the books and writing materials 
 from the large table, preparatory to placing it in the 
 summer house. 
 
MOTHER ITKSULA. 167 
 
 "Dear Mother Ursula, you won't mind if we set 
 your chair out, will you ? Then you can read if you 
 wish, and we will not be in your way," said Mary 
 Ogilvie. 
 
 "I will not be in yours, you mean, you cunning 
 elves ; how much reading do you suppose I could fin- 
 ish while you are chattering like magpies? No, I 
 will place my chair and myself under this willow out- 
 side, and will give you some" music." 
 
 "Ah, that will be splendid ! And you will excuse 
 us if we talk sometimes while you are playing?" 
 questioned another piping voice. 
 
 "I will excuse everything today, my pets," replied 
 Mother Ursula as she drew the bow across the 
 strings of a mellow-toned violin with a practised 
 hand. One capable of judging would be impressed 
 by the fact that the instrument was of great age and 
 value, and Mother Ursula an accomplished musician. 
 To one unacquainted with her it would appear 
 strange that she should prefer the violin to any other 
 instrument ; but to the children it was perfectly con- 
 sistent; it was their greatest pleasure, their most 
 cherished reward, for it almost seemed to possess 
 articulation under the influence of her master hand. 
 
168 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 The music, like herself, was foreign to the core. 
 No airs that were familiar to her listeners save as 
 they had learned to love them as they flowed from 
 the instrument, but wild, martial music; now in 
 thrilling tones proclaiming heroic deeds on distant 
 battlefields, now in silvery cadences breathing the 
 memory of those deeds from a gondola beneath 
 some fair lady's lattice. 
 
 The large solitaire diamond upon her right hand 
 blazed in the flickering light that shimmered through 
 the foliage, the flowers seemed drinking in the mel- 
 ody as they nodded upon the slender stems, and 
 Madame Angela, coming for a moment to the door 
 of 'the cottage, rewarded the musician with, an ap- 
 preciative and meaning smile. 
 
 A casual observer might have been excused for 
 wishing the costume of Mother Ursula less quaint 
 and eccentric, more modern in design and finish; 
 yet if requested to suggest anything better adapted 
 to her style and appearance, would probably have ac- 
 knowledged. himself puzzled and at fault. Unique 
 as it certainly was, it seemed better suited to her 
 than any other feminine habiliments in vogue ; suited 
 the quiet dignity of her movements, the pure olive 
 
MOTHER TJBSTJLA. 169 
 
 tint of her complexion, the brilliant blackness of her 
 splendid eyes, the silver threads in her nightblack 
 hair. One might also have wished for a tint of rose 
 in the colorless cheek, a less grave expression about 
 the pensive mouth, a little unbending of the proud 
 carriage, but as she was, her face was one not easily 
 forgotten, a face wherein intellect so predominated 
 over mere physical beauty, that one instinctively felt 
 that any change would not be for the better. But it 
 was when she spoke that the subtle and intangible 
 power which her presence exercised over others was 
 most deeply felt. Her low full-toned voice haunted 
 one like the refrain of some half-forgotten melody, 
 sweet and mournful, yet vague and undefined. . 
 
 Her glossy and abundant hair was combed low 
 upon the temples and put plainly back of the ears, 
 where it was lost in the gloom of a black silk mob- 
 cap, of such proportions that, not content with hiding 
 the head, it encroached upon the face. 
 
 No one suspected the costume to be a disguise, but 
 took it for granted that it was an eccentricity of 
 its wearer that caused the tabs of this cap to wander 
 aimlessly, as it appeared, over cheek and chin, and 
 after descending low upon the throat become con- 
 
170 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 cealed in the folds of a white silk shawl of beauty 
 and richness, which was crossed upon the ,ample 
 breast. Over this cap was worn a white one of deli- 
 cate texture, known as leise, of which the black 
 served as a lining. 
 
 The gown of heavy black silk, guiltless of fold or 
 flounce, was ample in fullness and rich in quality, 
 and fashioned as simply as the robe of a nun, while 
 over it was worn a white linen apron, which left 
 nothing to be desired in length or breadth, with the 
 newly-ironed creases making a checkerboard of its 
 polished surface. 
 
 She seemed absorbed in her music until Madame 
 Angela appeared with smiling face to add the finish- 
 ing touches to* the neatly spread board, when she 
 carefully and tenderly replaced her violin in its case, 
 and as the flutter consequent upon selecting seats 
 subsided with the childish guests, she extended her 
 hands over the table, and in low and reverent tones 
 asked a blessing. 
 
 Although an epicure might have been dissatisfied 
 with the simplicity of the meal, to the congenial spir- 
 its gathered about the board it was in every sense 
 complete. The children were charmed with the for- 
 
MOTHEtl TJitSTftA. 171 
 
 eign dishes, so simple in their elements, so elaborate 
 in their construction upon which Madame Angela, 
 with inherent art of pleasing children, had exer- 
 cised her most cunning skill. Besides these foreign 
 dishes, the delicate rolls, fragrant coffee, butter with 
 the faint aroma of clover lingering in its creamy 
 richness, honey, and delicious strawberries, formed a 
 happy combination of the delicate and substantial; 
 while the running brook back of the summer house 
 kept up its tinkling symphony as an accompaniment 
 to the mirth and good cheer. 
 
 When the cheerful repast was finished and they 
 had one more romp in the fragrant garden, the even- 
 ing shadows warned them that it was time to depart. 
 They clustered about Mother Ursula, who bade them 
 a friendly adieu, but it was upon Madame Angela 
 who accompanied them to the gate, that they lav- 
 ished caresses they never thought of bestowing upon 
 Mother Ursula, dearly as they loved her. 
 
 After they departed, their pockets filled witn con- 
 fections made by Madame Angela, she cleared away 
 the remains of the feast, while Mother Ursula, with 
 her innate love for outdoor life, took her evening 
 
172 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 walk among her vines and roses, pruning-knife in 
 hand. 
 
 The culture of fruit and flowers was her recreation 
 and delight, and her garden and lawn were the 
 handsomest in the neighborhood. 
 
 No bride for miles around considered her toilet 
 complete without a bouquet of orange flowers from 
 Mother Ursula's bounty; no pale occupant for the 
 narrow house was borne thither without a floral trib- 
 ute from the same kind hand. 
 
 When all was completed they lingered in the sum- 
 mer-house, as was their wont, enjoying the calm 
 beauty of the beautiful summer night. Although 
 faint hues of rose and amber tinted the western sky, 
 mellow moonlight flooded the earth, marbling the 
 dim cottage into a fairy palace, silvering tree and 
 shrub and glorifying the faces of the occupants of 
 the summer-house. 
 
 "Years ago," remarked Mother Ursula, breaking 
 the silence born of the solemn beauty of the scene, "I 
 did not think, in my blind despair at the turn our 
 affairs had taken, that the time would ever come 
 when I could truly say that I was content with all 
 that life seemed to offer. But at last I cease to long 
 
MOTHER TJESULA. 173 
 
 for the stir and activity of the outer world, am every 
 day more grateful for the repose of this retreat, and 
 content if my Master so wills it, to never leave it 
 until called to come up higher." 
 
 "And why should we not be content?" replied 
 Madame Angela. "Life is short ; the end will soon 
 come. What matters it, after all, where it is spent, 
 if we are but fulfilling our Master's will. If it was 
 our destiny to be removed from the pleasures of the 
 world, we were also removed from its temptations 
 and dangers. Then, again, all is changed since we 
 left our sunny clime. The friends of former years 
 would not be there to welcome us should we return. 
 We would be strangers to all we used to love. Other 
 hopes and interests have filled the places we once 
 occupied, and the dear friends here who have taken 
 us upon trust, give evidence that happiness can be 
 found anywhere if we rightly seek it." 
 
 "Always my comforter; my patient Angela. 
 When in times that are past, I witnessed your sweet 
 submission, your cheerfulness under trials, your un- 
 wearied endeavors to perform menial duties of which 
 your whole previous life had no knowledge, when I 
 saw you, who formed so bright an ornament to the 
 
174 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIEXDS. 
 
 circles you were by birth and education so fitted to 
 adorn, apparently happy in this isolated place, which 
 to me was more dreary than a cloister — God forgive 
 me ! instead of being lost in wonder and admiration, 
 I inwardly found fault for the want of pride that 
 allowed you to submit so humbly." 
 
 "But you were patient also ; you were silent under 
 the anguish and suspense ; you never rebelled." 
 
 "Not in words, my Angela ; but when I look back 
 upon the years which have passed, I cannot but won- 
 der at the forbearance and long-suffering of my 
 Maker, His endurance of my fretful mournings, my 
 bitter and sinful repinings, my wicked, sullen rebel- 
 lion ; I wonder at His tenderness in bearing with my 
 pride, and His mercy in at last granting me peace 
 and submission." 
 
 "Submission, then peace," corrected Madame An- 
 gela, gently; "There can be no peace without sub- 
 mission." 
 
 "True, my Angela; as though He who had seen 
 fit to place me in the high position I occupied had not 
 the right to remove me in His own good time and 
 manner. I have, until the last few years since com- 
 ing here, refused to acknowledge the many mercies 
 
MOTHER URSULA. 175 
 
 which thronged my daily path, and crowned my 
 life. My pure conscience, my untarnished reputa- 
 tion, my escape from the certain death which had 
 awaited me, my security in this secluded spot, my 
 perfect health, your sweet companionship, all 
 weighed as nothing against the wealth and influence 
 which were mine, but were mine no longer. In my 
 bitter humiliation I never imagined that when the 
 necessities which enforced this seclusion had passed 
 into oblivion, they would take with them all desire 
 to mingle again with the world." 
 
 "Yes, His dealings with us have been those of a 
 
 loving Father. He has allowed us to want for no 
 
 needful thing; and best of all has left us each other." 
 
 They relapsed into silence again, broken at length 
 
 by Madame Angela. 
 
 "Does not Mary Ogilvie remind you of someone 
 you have seen ? The impression has been deepening 
 ever since I have known the child, and tonight when 
 she threw her arms about my neck and embraced me, 
 she reminded me forcibly of some dear one, and yet 
 I cannot think who it is." 
 
 "Is it not Christine?" questioned Mother Ursula, 
 softly. 
 
176 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Oh, yes; why did I not think of her? Now I 
 know why it is that I felt so drawn toward Mary; 
 her eyes are much in expression like those of little 
 Christine ; dear, dear little Christine ; I wonder where 
 she is tonight !" 
 
 There was no time for a reply, nor was the sub- 
 ject again thought of for many months; for at that 
 moment they heard the sound of horses hoofs upon 
 the hard, smooth ground, coming at a violent pace. 
 
 "That is Colonel Ogilvie's Aladdin," said Mother 
 Ursula, rising from her chair quickly; "he is run- 
 ning away." 
 
 They both hastened to the gate which led to the 
 main road, and in the bright moonlight saw the 
 frightened animal coming from the direction of Dor- 
 ton. The carriage was almost a wreck, but within 
 sat the Colonel, vainly striving to reach the lines, 
 which had been dragged from his grasp. 
 
 It was but the work of a moment for Mother Ur- 
 sula to step into the road and catch the rein, as the 
 excited animal, having kicked himself loose from the 
 carriage, attempted to pass. A few soft words and 
 pats quieted him, and he allowed himself to be tied 
 to a post ; then Mother Ursula and Madame Angela 
 
MOTHER tIBSULA. 177 
 
 hurried to the carriage, where lay the Colonel, in- 
 sensible, his limb broken by the horse's hoof. 
 
 After a few words in consultation, Madame An- 
 gela hastily returned to the cottage to light a lamp 
 and prepare a resting-place for the wounded man, 
 who was borne to it in the arms of Mother Ursula 
 as easily and tenderly as though he were an infant, 
 and the simple resources of the cottage called into 
 
 service to restore him to consciousness. 
 12 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DAUGHTER'S RETURN. 
 
 The day that Mrs. Garrigue and Mrs. Levering 
 took possession of the brownstone dwelling, prepara- 
 tions for some pleasant event were progressing in a 
 quiet way in the farmhouse of Archibald Levering. 
 
 A tea-table, with covers for five persons, in the 
 center of which was a vase of flowers and close by it 
 one of Aunt Hesba's delicious pound cakes, a pair 
 of fine chickens roasting in the oven, and a roaring 
 fire on the hearth in the seldom used parlor, gave 
 hint and token that company was expected to tea. 
 
 That company was Caroline, only daughter of the 
 
 house, returning from a four years' sojourn in the 
 
 family of her mother's brother, Dr. Harkness, of 
 
 St Louis, and Archie, son of her only brother David, 
 
 for whom her father had gone to the city, and whose 
 178 
 
A daughter's return. 179 
 
 arrival, as was Caroline's, might be looked for at 
 any moment. 
 
 "She's come!" said Aunt Hesba, as the sound of 
 wheels stopping at the gate, followed by the thud of 
 a trunk on the porch, reached her ear, and mother 
 and aunt hastened to greet the young girl. 
 
 Caroline had improved wonderfully in the four 
 years of her absence from home. Always pretty, 
 she had developed into a distinguished looking and 
 beautiful young lady. Tall for her age when she 
 left home, awkward in her movements, and brusque 
 in manner, she had returned graceful and ladylike 
 in appearance, and when she chose, with the manners 
 of the most refined of the society in which she had 
 moved ; that circle being the best in St. Louis. 
 
 She had been notified of her brother David's illness 
 and death ; the mother's heart yearned for her daugh- 
 ter, so Mercy had written for her to come home, and 
 home she came. 
 
 After the greetings were over, and a few details of 
 her home at her uncle's given, Caroline stationed her- 
 self by a window which commanded a view of the 
 lane, with its row of weeping willows on either side, 
 
180 TIMOTHY AND IIIS FRIENDS. 
 
 to watch for the carriage containing her father and 
 Archie. 
 
 Knowing this, one would suppose that a smile of 
 joyful recognition would illumine her lovely, regu- 
 lar features, and brighten her clear hazel eyes, when 
 those for whom she had been watching came in sight. 
 Anyone indulging this amiable supposition would 
 only have to glance at the fair rosebud face, to have 
 that amiable supposition cast to the winds. 
 
 "There comes father with those abominable old 
 blue clothes that he has worn ever since I can remem- 
 ber. Mother, why do you let him make such a scare- 
 crow of himself when he is able to have another 
 suit?" 
 
 Mrs. Levering looked up in surprise. 
 
 "Why, Caroline, I think they look very well ; there 
 is not a thin place in them. You would not want 
 to see your father dressed like a young man, would 
 you?" 
 
 "Certainly not ; but you never see anybody dressed 
 like father, even at his age. No one about here 
 dresses as he does, do they? And then that car- 
 riage! What would the St. Louis people think of 
 it? I wonder the street boys don't shout after it 
 
A daughter's betubn. 181 
 
 when it goes into town ; I would not be seen in it for 
 any money." 
 
 "It has been a faithful, good carriage, Caroline; 
 no such work is made in these days, I have heard 
 your father say." 
 
 "No, I should hope not; it would be a pity, in 
 deed." 
 
 "What ails it, Caroline?" 
 
 "Oh, mother, how can you ask?" replied her 
 daughter, half crying. "It appears to me that every- 
 thing looks forlorn; I would not have believed it 
 possible that things could have run down so in four 
 years." 
 
 "A look of pain came into Mrs. Levering's patient 
 face. 
 
 "Why, Caroline, I thought you would be glad to 
 get back after being away so long. I am sure I 
 thought you would want to hear of poor David and 
 of many things. What is it that has run down?" 
 
 "Oh, the house and furniture and everything. No 
 paper on the walls, no paint on the woodwork, noth- 
 ing but rag carpets on the floors. You ought to see 
 uncle's house in St. Louis ; elegant carpets and mir- 
 rors, and curtains and piano and pictures and books ; 
 
i82 TlMo*H* A*JD HIS FBiEtfDS. 
 
 and every place we visited was just like it. Oh 
 I should be terribly mortified if anybody should visit 
 me from there." 
 
 "Why, you don't suppose that aryone would come 
 away here just to see you, do you, Caroline?" ques- 
 tioned Mrs. Levering, without a suspicion that her 
 inquiry was not particularly complimentary. 
 
 Caroline was saved the embarrassment of framing 
 a reply to suit the exigency, for at that moment the 
 door opened and her father and Archie came in. 
 
 At heart Archibald Levering was glad to see his 
 daughter. As little as he would have chosen to be 
 in her society had she been at home, it is doubtful if 
 any member of the household circle had missed her 
 more than he, or felt the disappointment he felt in 
 knowing that she preferred her uncle's house to his; 
 but with his habit of concealing his feelings no one 
 was aware of it. Even now his cold, sad eyes never 
 lighted, nor did his stern lips relax into a smile as 
 he came forward to greet her in a constrained man- 
 ner as though wishing it were over and done with. 
 
 Caroline on her part put her dainty hand in that 
 of her father with scarcely more warmth than though 
 he were a stranger, then turned to greet Archie. 
 
A daughter's return. 183 
 
 "They did not kiss each other," thought Archie, 
 full of wonder, "and he is her father !" 
 
 The boy's surprise would have been great, indeed, 
 had he known that to kiss his children was something 
 that Archibald Levering had never done in his life ; 
 therefore Caroline grew up without expecting it, and 
 would have been more surprised at this mark of 
 paternal affection than Archie was at the omission. 
 
 Caroline's cheek flushed warmly at sight of her 
 nephew. One glance satisfied her cultivated eye that 
 her sister-in-law understood the art of dressing chil- 
 dren tastefully. Here at least was a little bit of the 
 world of society she had left so unwillingly, and for 
 which she was grieving before she had spent one 
 night under the homestead roof. She felt compan- 
 ionship with the boy, and truth to say he looked as 
 out of place in the low-joisted dining-room of the 
 farmhouse as did Caroline. 
 
 Archie was quite sure that he never tasted such 
 bread and butter in his life as that upon his grand- 
 father's table, and full justice he did to it after his 
 unaccustomed fast, and drive in the pure sweet air. 
 Neither did he slight the fragrant coffee, the honey, 
 the tender ham, the juicy poultry, nor anything else 
 
184 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 that graced the board, which never at any time 
 showed deficiency in quantity or quality. He longed 
 to ask if the flour of which the splendid bread was 
 made was ground in his grandfather's mill, but as 
 the supper was partaken of in almost absolute si- 
 lence, which he had not courage to break, the ques- 
 tion remained unasked. Mr. Levering had ques- 
 tioned Caroline in regard to the welfare of her un- 
 cle's family; she had replied, and there appeared 
 nothing more to be said. 
 
 As soon as the meal was finished, Mr. Levering 
 donned his coat, which he had removed before sit- 
 ting down to supper, and went to the mill. Hesba 
 took two glittering tin buckets from the picket fence 
 which enclosed the garden, and went to the barn to 
 milk, Archie having seen the sleek, gentle-looking 
 cows come slowly up the lane cropping the tender 
 grass on either side on the way to their resting- 
 place for the night. 
 
 Caroline took her place again by the window and 
 looked disconsolately out, while Archie took a seat 
 in the patchwork-cushioned rocking chair by the 
 open fire which blazed and crackled up the wide- 
 throated chimney, casting grotesque shadows on the 
 
A daughter's return. 185 
 
 bare whitewashed walls which but for it would have 
 been darkened by the early twilight of the short au- 
 tumn day. Twinges of homesickness began to visit 
 the boy. He missed the baby and the merry romps 
 with his little companion by the light of the nursery 
 fire; and oh, most of all, he missed his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Levering, who was quietly putting aside the 
 remains of the meal, noticed the sadness creeping 
 over him and the tears which filled his eyes. 
 
 "Would you like to go out, dear, and see Aunt 
 Hesba and the cows ?" questioned she, going to him 
 and patting him lovingly upon the shoulder; "just 
 go to the bars, and be careful not to frighten the 
 cows or Aunt Hesba will not like it." 
 
 Archie arose immediately and putting on his cap 
 left the room. The moment he was outside he heard 
 the deep rumbling of the mill, which added to the 
 dreariness of the moment. 
 
 When in after years the hum and whir of that ma- 
 chinery — his machinery — was the sweetest music to 
 his ear, he often contrasted his feelings with those 
 of his first evening in the country. 
 
 Tears blinded his eyes as he trudged along down 
 the lane that led to the barn. All about and around 
 
186 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 him seemed so quiet and sad. He missed the hurry 
 and bustle of city streets as viewed from the win-, 
 dows of his home ; the lamp-lighter upon his rounds, 
 the shouts of the newsboys, the merry tinkle of the 
 milkmen's bells, all the sounds peculiar to the city. 
 
 He felt that he could not remain ; he must go back 
 to be with his mother ; he would tell his grandfather 
 in the morning that he really must be taken home ; 
 he could not and would not stay. 
 
 He reached the barn during these meditations, and 
 walked almost around it, but found no cows; when 
 in turning a corner of it he came to an enclosure 
 under the south side ; there they were sleepily chew- 
 ing their cuds, Aunt Hesba on her milking stool in 
 their midst. 
 
 Nothing was further from Archie's intention than 
 to frighten anything. He purposed leaning upon 
 the only bar that was up, and watch Aunt Hesba as 
 she rapidly added to the foaming pail ; when crash ! 
 down came the bar and Archie on top of it, which 
 caused a stampede among the cattle, during which 
 Hesba, the milk and the milking stool were over- 
 thrown. 
 
k bAt6k*Eti'3 BiStUftft. 187 
 
 "Just as I expected!" she exclaimed, angrily, as 
 she picked herself up ; "what possessed you to come 
 sneaking down here and then make such a noise as 
 that?" 
 
 "I did not intend to make a noise, Aunt Hesba," 
 said Archie, too frightened to cry, "I just leaned on 
 the stick and it came down, and I hurt myself, too." 
 
 "Stick! what stick?" said Hesba, sharply, and 
 looking about her ; "that is what people of sense call 
 a bar," and picking up her empty buckets she turned 
 her back upon the poor boy, and went to the house. 
 
 Archie soon followed, his tears flowing without 
 restraint, and heard the history of his misdeeds re- 
 counted in no flattering terms. His grandmother 
 made no remark, but soothed and petted him, bathed 
 his bruised elbows and knees with camphor, and 
 soon his troubles were forgotten in the sweet, deep 
 sleep of childhood, his flushed cheek resting upon his 
 grandmother's breast. 
 
 Few persons, judging by the glimpse they have 
 had of Caroline Levering's nature, would suppose 
 that she had been for the past two years a Sabbath- 
 school teacher, and a member of a church choir; 
 yet such was the case, and to all appearances both 
 
188 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 duties had been performed satisfactorily to every 
 body concerned. 
 
 Her uncle, Dr. Harkness, and his family, were 
 active church members, but they were also gay and 
 fashionable people; therefore brilliant parties and 
 church fairs, fancy balls and donation parties, 
 prayer meetings and evenings at the theater, fol- 
 lowed one another with delightful celerity, each in 
 turn receiving full share of attention with exemplary 
 impartiality. 
 
 Dr. Harkness was Mercy Levering's only brother, 
 as was Mercy his only sister, and as he had spent the 
 small legacy left him by an uncle in obtaining his 
 medical education, he concluded that the wisest 
 thing he could do was to marry money, so laid his 
 plans accordingly. He met at a watering-place a 
 young lady of St. Louis, who, besides being sensible 
 and amiable, was an heiress. He married her, and es- 
 tablished himself in her native city. Having but 
 one daughter, they were more than pleased to have 
 a bright, pretty girl like Caroline to be company for 
 her in her studies, and afterward enter society with 
 her. With this in view Dr. Harkness had paid a 
 visit to his sister and had, without difficulty, ob- 
 
A daughter's return. 189 
 
 tained her consent to allow Caroline to accompany 
 him upon his return to St. Louis. 
 
 The time had flown like a happy dream, and now 
 she was at home. She felt the change intensely, 
 was lonely and miserable, having nothing to fill the 
 hours, which seemed without end. 
 
 Had there been any sincere desire in her heart to 
 do good she could have found a field of usefulness 
 not to be despised in her home and the neighborhood. 
 She could have been an educator for Archie, a com- 
 fort to the lonely mother, grieving for the death 
 of her only son, and pining for her daughter's soci- 
 ety; a cheerful companion for the sour-visaged and 
 at times irritable but good and faithful Aunt Hesba, 
 and for the reticent but kind-hearted father. 
 
 With the knowledge gained of Sunday-schools in 
 St. Louis, she could have organized one in the little 
 church at Dorton, a mile across lots from her fa- 
 ther's house, and persuaded the youth of the neigh- 
 borhood to attend, who for lack of something of 
 the kind, spent their Sundays in fishing in the creek 
 and boating upon the dam in summer, gathering 
 nuts in autumn, and skating in winter. Aunt Hesba 
 would have been her faithful coadjutor in all good 
 
190 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 works, for to the best of her ability she strove to 
 make the world the better for her living in it. No 
 weather was too hot or cold to keep her from the 
 services of the church of her denomination in Dor- 
 ton, when they were fortunate enough to secure a 
 preacher, and her humble purse was always open 
 when contributions for any object were solicited. 
 She could not have been a leader in any undertaking 
 for the good of the neighborhood, but would have 
 been an untiring and energetic helper, had her niece 
 but led the way. 
 
 But Caroline was young and undisciplined, and 
 there was no friend at hand to whose advice she 
 would have listened for a moment, who could point 
 out the uncongenial path of duty, which natural af- 
 fection and a sincere desire to do right might in 
 time have made pleasant; so she fretted and beat 
 against the bars of what she looked upon as her 
 prison house, like any other caged bird. 
 
 To her the long evenings were almost torture. 
 She was sick at heart from seeing her father with 
 coat off and lamp to himself, reading. The click 
 of her mother's and aunt's knitting needles rasped 
 her sensitive nerves, and Archie, who had become 
 
A daughter's return. 191 
 
 reconciled to his new abode, had lost all interest to 
 her. She was weary from reading light novels 
 through the day, and took no interest in the employ- 
 ments of the farmhouse, which apparently satisfied 
 her mother and aunt. She longed for some excite- 
 ment; something to break the terrible monotony of 
 the after-supper hours; she grieved for her uncle's 
 home, with its light, its music, its gay young soci- 
 ety, and wished every hour of the day that she had 
 paid no attention to her mother's request to come 
 home. 
 
 Her parents appeared oblivious to all this disquiet- 
 ude, but Aunt Hesba found herself losing patience. 
 
 "If you would do more, Caroline, you would be 
 better contented," said she, sharply, one morning; 
 "the girls of Dorton and the neighborhood are al- 
 ways cheerful because they have plenty to do, and 
 are willing to do it. Why don't you return their 
 calls; they have been as friendly as possible, and 
 would be more so if you would let them. 
 
 "What society are they for me," returned her 
 niece, pettishly ; "all they can talk of is the quantity 
 of butter they make and the achievements of their 
 hens. Oh, how I hate it all !" 
 
192 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "But you are here, and should make the best of it. 
 I feel sorry for your mother. She thought you 
 would be company for us all. Ah, well, I suppose 
 we must take you as we find you," and Hesba left the 
 room to attend to some household duty, and Caro- 
 line continued to look from the window, listless and 
 miserable. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A TRIAL FOR TIMOTHY. 
 
 Colonel Ogilvie's injuries proved to be more 
 than a broken limb; his nervous system had 
 sustained a severe shock, which resulted in a fever 
 in which he was sometimes delirious and at others 
 in a deep slumber. 
 
 His physician forbade his removal from the cot- 
 tage in his precarious condition, and Mother Ursula 
 and Madame Angela felt it no hardship to have him 
 remain. Both were intelligent and capable care- 
 takers of the sick and attended upon his wants as 
 faithfully as though he were a son or brother, and 
 he was grateful, indeed, for their goodness. 
 
 It was several weeks before the physician gave 
 consent for his removal to "Ogilvie's Pride," but at 
 length the day came, and the large family carriage, 
 well supplied with cushions and pillows, took the in- 
 valid to his home, the change being made without 
 proving of material detriment to him. 
 
 13 193 
 
194 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 In the meantime life at the cottage had returned to 
 its normal condition, and the two occupants had a 
 new interest in their lives in conversing of Colonel 
 Ogilvie whom they had learned to esteem for his 
 genuine goodness, his simple manly dignity of char- 
 acter, and his conscientious wish to benefit his fellow- 
 men. 
 
 One lovely autumn evening they were sitting in 
 the summer-house, watching the full moon which, in 
 solemn splendor, was mounting the azure vault 
 above them, and glorifying every blade of grass and 
 fragrant flower, when a carriage came rapidly up 
 the broad and level road and stopped at the gate. 
 
 The night was so bright they had no difficulty in 
 recognizing the equipage. The handsome, high- 
 mettled horses, the glittering, silver-mounted har- 
 ness, the colored coachman and footman were owned 
 by Colonel Ogilvie, but what could be the errand at 
 that time ? They were not left long in doubt. 
 
 The old coachman, who had remained at the cot- 
 tage during Colonel Ogilvie's illness, was the bearer 
 of a message from "Ogilvie's Pride." The Colonel 
 had been attacked with sudden illness, his life was 
 
A TRIA1 FOR TIMOTHY. 195 
 
 in danger, and he wished to see Madame Angela on 
 some business matters. Would she go? 
 
 Surely she would. When did Madame Angela 
 turn a deaf ear to the call of sorrow or pain ? Feel- 
 ing as in a dream she allowed herself to be helped 
 into the carriage and was driven rapidly away. 
 
 It was well the drive was short, for she was fast 
 becoming incapable of sustaining her strength, for 
 she dreaded what she was quite sure Colonel Ogilvie 
 wished to say to her. 
 
 For the past few years prior to the accident to 
 Colonel Ogilvie, he and the occupants of the cot- 
 tage had become friends, although they met but sel- 
 dom. But Colonel Ogilvie heard much from his 
 poorer neighbors and tenants of the goodness of 
 Madame Angela, confirmed by his long illness at the 
 cottage, and a few weeks after returning to "Ogil- 
 vie's Pride," he had asked her to become his wife. 
 
 It was dreary for little Mary in the great house 
 with no one but the housekeeper and the colored 
 servants, and he used that as his most persuasive ar- 
 gument to induce Madame Angela to be a mother to 
 the motherless girl. 
 
196 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRTENDS. 
 
 Many times had she and Mother Ursula discussed 
 the subject — generally in a jesting way— but that 
 evening, when Mother Ursula helped her into the 
 carriage, she said a few words in Italian, understood 
 by Madame Angela alone. 
 
 "Tell him all, my Angela; it is due to him from 
 us, and I give free and full consent." 
 
 Madame Angela was white and haggard and 
 trembling when she alighted at the door, where she 
 was received by the housekeeper, who being herself 
 much disturbed by the sudden peril of the Colonel, 
 failed to notice the nervous condition of the visitor 
 as she conducted her through the brilliantly lighted 
 hall and up the soft-carpeted stairway to the door 
 of the sick room. 
 
 Although at death's door Colonel Ogilvie's mind 
 was clear, and he suffered but little pain. He no- 
 ticed in Madame Angela what the housekeeper had 
 failed to sea Her ghastly, sorrow-stricken looks 
 could only be caused by grief for his approaching 
 dissolution. She could not be so deeply moved un- 
 less she loved him, and hope sprang up in his breast, 
 not for himself, for earthly love could avail him 
 
A TRIAL FOB TIMOTHY. 197 
 
 nothing now, Dut for little Mary whom he loved al- 
 most as a daughter. 
 
 "I knew you would come," he said extending his 
 hand as she sank, weak and trembling, into a chair 
 by his bedside. "Something tells me that you 
 would not deny to the dying what you have refused 
 me while in health. I have much to say, and my 
 physician tells me that my time is short. My will 
 is made; in it I have appointed Mother Ursula and 
 yourself as guardians of Mary, who will be wealthy 
 when she comes of agej wealth inherited from her 
 adopted mother. Will you accept the trust, and be 
 as a watcher, caretaker and mother for Mary ?" 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "And Mother Ursula?" inquired the Colonel, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Will accept also." 
 
 "Merciful Father, I thank Thee," said the sick 
 man. "Now I am happy; now I can die in peace. 
 All that remains for me is to give some instructions 
 in regard to my affairs. I have sent to the city for 
 my son Richard, and am expecting him as soon as it 
 is possible for him to arrive. I wish to make him 
 acquainted with my wishes in regard to 'Ogilvie's 
 
1D8 TIMOTHY AND HIS PKlENDS. 
 
 Pride.' I have always intended it as the inheri- 
 tance of my eldest son, Mark Ogilvie, but he is ab- 
 sent, and for years I have been hopeless of his return. 
 But I wish the place held in trust for him during the 
 period of ten years; if at the end of that time he is 
 not here to take possession, 'Ogilvie's Pride' will 
 revert to Richard, and after him to his daughter 
 Isabel. 
 
 "During that ten years I would like Mother Ur- 
 sula and yourself to take possession, and have your 
 home with Mary. My attorney, Lawyer Dubreil, 
 will see that a trusty overseer is provided, and you 
 would have no trouble with outside matters, for it is 
 my wish and hope that your life should not be dis- 
 turbed by my death. It remains for you, Angela, 
 to say whether 'Ogilvie's Pride' may not be a life- 
 time home for you," continued he, taking her hand 
 and gazing into her colorless face. 
 
 "In what way?" questioned Madame Angela, 
 faintly, a tint of rose coming into her cheek. 
 
 "Become my wife even now; let me send for a 
 chaplain this hour, then my dying moments will be 
 blessed by the presence of my wife." 
 
A TRIAL FOB TIMOTHY. 199 
 
 "I cannot — oh, I cannot," said the lady, growing 
 paler than before, and rising from the bedside she 
 glided to the door, and opening it quietly, glanced 
 down the long hallway. It was silent and tenant- 
 less, and coming back she resumed her seat. 
 
 "Colonel Ogilvie," she said, "when we came to 
 this neighborhood, you, of course, had been here 
 many years; it is your native place, and every one 
 is known to you. Did no rumors reach you in 
 regard to our former life?" 
 
 "I heard suppositions occasionally, but nothing 
 derogatory ; all spoke in loving praise of your good- 
 ness in times of sickness and trouble. It was these 
 words of appreciation from those who knew you that 
 first attracted me to you, and when I learned to know 
 Mother Ursula and yourself it never occurred to me 
 to question your former life." 
 
 Madame Angela became more tranquil; the 
 troubled look passed from her eyes, and she pro- 
 ceeded more firmly, but in a low voice. 
 
 "Then I hope it will not be too much of a surprise 
 or shock when I tell you that I am not a widow, as 
 you have supposed, but a wedded wife." 
 
 "And your husband ?" 
 
200 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Is the lover of my youth ; loving and beloved." 
 
 A silence reigned in the sick room after these 
 words were spoken. Madame Angela sank back in 
 the depths of the large chair and gazed anxiously 
 upon the dying man. 
 
 She would not have recalled her words if she 
 could; it was no more than his confidence in her 
 merited. She could not let him die without telling 
 him that she was not what her manner of dress and 
 opinion of the neighborhood had led him to suppose. 
 She agreed with Mother Ursula that it would be 
 deceiving him not to confide so important a matter 
 to him; it might change his plans in regard to the 
 guardianship and care of Mary, but she would do the 
 right, let the result be as it might. 
 
 When the communication first reached Colonel 
 Ogilvie, a look of mute surprise alone marked his 
 features ; but as she furtively watched him, she saw 
 that look had given place to one of grave perplexity. 
 His thoughts were rapidly traveling the by-paths of 
 the years which had intervened since he had taken 
 knowledge of them. His fixed eye, and corrugated 
 brow showed that his sagacious and penetrating 
 mind was unraveling the thread of a fabric of which 
 
A TRIAL FOR TIMOTHY. 201 
 
 the clue had been put into his almost nerveless hand. 
 Then his eye lighted, his breath came quickly, and 
 reaching out his hand he grasped that of Madame 
 Angela. 
 
 "I see it all now. God bless you both and bring 
 you home to heaven." 
 
 In a few words Madame Anglea told him all he 
 desired to know, but would not ask, of her former 
 life, of her husband, of the dangers which had beset 
 Mother Ursula, but from which their adopted coun- 
 try had offered a safe asylum. 
 
 "This does not change my plans," said he when 
 she concluded, "I have but a few more directions to 
 give, but before you leave me I wish to entrust to 
 your care a box containing some treasures for 
 Mary." 
 
 Obeying a motion of his hand, Madame Angela 
 brought a rosewood box, resembling a writing desk, 
 and rested it upon a chair by the bedside. 
 
 He selected a key from those she handed him, and 
 requested her to unlock it. She complied, and rais- 
 ing a sheet of satin paper, a little blue merino dress 
 met her view, then a dainty white ruffled apron, and 
 a pair of small worn shoes, hardened by time, but 
 
202 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 which caused a thrill to pass over Madame Angela, 
 almost depriving her of consciousness, and lastly a 
 ring, the very one that she had clasped in the hand of 
 Christine the day they landed from the Miriam. 
 
 "Colonel Ogilvie, how came you by these things ?" 
 she exclaimed, her eyes darkening and her lips color- 
 less from emotion. 
 
 "They are little Mary's. When my daughter, 
 Mrs. Willoughby, died, she entrusted them to 
 me. She was Mary's adopted mother. The ring 
 was given to Mary by a lady who took charge of her 
 when she crossed the ocean. Why do they thus 
 affect you?" 
 
 "That ring was mine. I clasped it in the hand of 
 a child named Christine, who slept in my arms. 
 Dear little Christine; did she never return to her 
 home? I suppose she had left America long ago?" 
 
 "No, she was an orphan, and my daughter adopt- 
 ed her, and loved her as her own. It was she who 
 gave her the name of Mary Ogilvie and dropped the 
 name of Christine." 
 
 "And Mary has lived within sight of my cottage 
 for months and I have not known it was my darling 
 Christine." 
 
A TBIA1 PoB TIJiO'THY. 203 
 
 "And now," said Colonel Ogilvie, "you will do 
 me one more kindness ; take Mary home with you to 
 the cottage this evening. The conveyance which 
 brings my son, Richard, will also bring Lawyer 
 Dubreil, with whom I yet have some business. I 
 shall never see you again in this world. Farewell !" 
 
 When the will of Colonel Ogilvie was read it was 
 found that beside the guardianship and care of 
 Mary, a liberal annuity for life was bequeathed to 
 Mother Ursula and Madame Angela to be paid into 
 their hands by Lawyer Dubreil at the beginning of 
 each year. 
 
 No looking forward now to lonely and poverty- 
 stricken old age. All that was provided for by the 
 thoughtfulness of the man who felt himself indebted 
 to them for their great kindness to him and Mary. 
 They had cast their bread upon the waters and after 
 many days it had returned. 
 
 It was one of the singular coincidences of life that 
 Mark Ogilvie should have returned to his home the 
 very day that his father was laid in his quiet resting 
 place in Dorton church-yard. But such was the 
 case, and without a word of opposition from any 
 quarter, he took possession of "Ogilvie's Pride," and 
 
204 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 outwardly and inwardly affairs continued the same, 
 as though the colonel were yet master there. 
 
 Mother Ursula and Madame Angela remained at 
 the cottage and Mary with them; all satisfied that 
 they were quite as happy there as they could 
 have been at "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 But strange as was Mark Ogilvie's appearance at 
 that time, it did not occasion so much suprise as the 
 knowledge would have done, that it was not his first 
 return to his native village during his long absence. 
 
 The very year that Timothy and Granny Ed- 
 monds had found a home with Miss Bowlsby was 
 the date of his former visit, and not a creature, not 
 even his father, knew that on a bright moonlit 
 night Mark Ogilvie was standing on a gentle knoll 
 by Archibald Levering's mill taking a long look at 
 his old home. 
 
 The years of absence had sprinkled his hair with 
 silver and converted his reserved manner into one 
 almost austere. 
 
 He had lived in Italy and its suns had bronzed his 
 yet handsome face ; the passing years had attenuated 
 his once robust form. He left his home saddened 
 
A TRIAL FOB TIMOTHY. 205 
 
 and disappointed; he returned world-weary and 
 more silent than ever. 
 
 He had not heard one word from Miss Bowlsby 
 since he left his native land, and it was his longing 
 to see her that had brought him home. He had 
 landed in Baltimore and the same evening drove out 
 to Dorton, and directly to the farm once owned by 
 the Bowlsbys. He was unrecognized, for none of 
 the Carleton family had seen him, and from them he 
 gained the information that he asked without excit- 
 ing any surprise on their part. 
 
 His sorrow was sincere when he heard of the trials 
 and afflictions which she had undergone since the 
 death of her foster-parents, but a new hope came into 
 his heart when he heard she was yet unmarried, and 
 was living in a home of her own. Before an hour 
 had passed he was back in Baltimore, and the next 
 morning found him in the quiet parlor of Miss 
 Bowlsby). 
 
 It was Timothy who opened the door for him, and 
 a strange thing happened. 
 
 Mark Ogilvie, who had no fondness for children, 
 and never noticed them, gazed for a moment into the 
 pensive brown eyes of the boy ; tears filled his own ; 
 
206 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 he turned a shade paler, his lips trembled, and stoop- 
 ing low, he took the boy in his arms and pressed a 
 kiss upon the broad forehead. 
 
 Miss Bowlsby did not refuse to see Mark Ogilvie, 
 but her heart thrilled no more at the sound of his 
 once loved voice; that belonged to the past. She 
 received him kindly as an old friend, and made no 
 allusion to her lonely, suffering life since they part- 
 ed. But her answer to his second offer of marriage 
 was a gentle but firm refusal. She could have 
 reminded him that the obstacle which he had raised 
 against their union still existed ; she knew no more of 
 her parentage than she did when he made his first 
 offer of his hand. 
 
 She assured him that no living being should know 
 of this interview save themselves, and with a pang of 
 regret for "the might have been," Mark Ogilvie bade 
 her farewell and left the house and neighborhood. 
 Now, after the lapse of years he was back at "Ogil- 
 vie's Pride" as owner ; a lonely, silent man, as differ- 
 ent from Colonel Ogilvie as if of another race. 
 
 As time passed, his neighbors ceased to make an 
 effort to be social with him, and none could say that 
 they felt comfortable in his society. His work-peo- 
 
A TSIAL FOB TlllOTHY. 207 
 
 pie were kept upon farm topics alone when with their 
 dignified employer and always felt constrained and 
 awkward in his presence. 
 
 He was not liked, and he knew it ; but it made no 
 change in his deportment toward the people he had 
 known all his life. His words were few; a silent 
 nod being his only recognition of those he met upon 
 the highways, if men, and a courtly raising of his hat 
 if women. 
 
 Mark Ogilvie had one trait in his nature besides 
 his haughty manner which was not agreeable to his 
 neighbors, that being his determined dislike to allow- 
 ing anything to trespass upon his property, barking 
 dogs being his especial abomination. 
 
 Grace Darling would trespass and would bark as 
 often as pleased her, and this in time brought grief 
 to the tender heart of Timothy. She appeared to 
 have a particular fondness for Mr. Mark Ogilvie' s 
 domains and everything seemed to encourage the 
 preference. If she started a rabbit in Mrs. Carle- 
 ton's woods, it was sure to run into that belonging 
 to Mr. Ogilvie and Grace Darling after it, and Tim- 
 othy found her less obedient to his whistling and 
 
208 TIMOTIIY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 calling than at any other time, she apparently finding 
 so much to interest her there. 
 
 When Timothy set snares and box-traps and 
 went in the early dawn to examine them, Grace Dar- 
 ling was always in advance, and had a hilarious time 
 barking in Mr. Ogilvie's woods while waiting for 
 Timothy, which Mr. Ogilvie was sure to hear, for he 
 appeared ubiquitous, the village boys who appreci- 
 ated fruit and melons, affirming that he prowled 
 around all night. 
 
 One morning Timothy arose early to visit his 
 snares. A light snow had fallen, the very best of 
 times for rabbits to be abroad. 
 
 He had intended slipping off without Grace Dar- 
 ling, not that he dreaded Mr. Ogilvie, for he knew 
 nothing of his dislike to dogs, but because she had 
 followed him twice to Dorton and also to Mr. Lever- 
 ing's mill during the afternoon before, and he knew 
 she must be weary. He descended quietly into the 
 kitchen, warm and light from the coal fire smoulder- 
 ing in the large stove, and quiet, for as yet none of 
 the family were astir. Grace Darling — curled up 
 on a pillow appeared to take no notice of Timothy, 
 not even stirring to let him know that she was aware 
 
A TEIAL FOB TIMOTHY. 209 
 
 of his presence; but the moment he reached for his 
 cap, she was alert, and when the outer door was 
 opened, she shot out like an arrow, barking at the 
 highest pitch of her sharp, dear voice. 
 
 Timothy ran briskly over the crisp surface, and 
 reaching a gentle knoll he stood for a moment taking 
 a view of the surrounding country. Everything 
 looked beautiful under its mantle of snow ; and Tim- 
 othy, refreshed by sleep, light-hearted and healthy, 
 felt that life had much in store for him. 
 
 He could see Mr. Wheeler — the miller employed 
 by Mr. Archibald Levering — emerge from his cot- 
 tage, lantern in hand, descend the path to the mill, 
 unlock the the door and enter. Timothy knew that 
 a few moments would elapse until the water would 
 be turned on, and the huge wheel would start on its 
 unhasting, yet unresting round. He waited to 
 hear it. 
 
 He saw the first puff of smoke issue from the 
 chimneys of "Ogilvie's Pride," and his eyes were 
 keen enough to discern the servants, lazily opening 
 the shutters and the plaid-turbaned head of Chloe as 
 she went from the kitchen of the mansion to the 
 cooking-shed and smoke-house. The bark of a dis- 
 
210 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 tant watch-dog sounded clearly and distinctly on the 
 morning air, the east was beginning to redden, tinge- 
 ing with rose each frosted tree and shrub. Timothy 
 loved the country, and this morning above all oth- 
 ers, he thought that nothing could be lovelier. 
 
 The deep rumble of the mill aroused him to a 
 sense of passing time, and whistling to Grace Dar- 
 ling, he ran on, and soon reached the snare. It was 
 bent almost to the ground with a fine fat opossum, 
 around which the dog was capering in an ecstasy of 
 joy. 
 
 Timothy's face was in a glow of delight; he 
 viewed it all around, then concluded to let it remain 
 until his return from his traps. Grace Darling, as 
 usual, ran on before, and for a moment he lost sight 
 of her, when the sharp crack of a rifle, followed by a 
 yelp of mortal pain, caused his tender heart to 
 bound. Almost stupified with dread, he followed 
 the sound. There lay Grace Darling, blood flowing 
 from her mouth, and quivering in the agony of 
 death. 
 
 The boy's grief was too deep for tears. He took 
 the suffering creature to his breast and laid his pale 
 cheek upon her glossy head. She tried to caress his 
 
A TBIAL FOR TIMOTHY. 211 
 
 hand, but her strength was gone, and with the last 
 quiver of her dainty limbs, Timothy fell senseless 
 upon the snow. 
 
 When he revived, he found himself upon the 
 lounge in the sitting-room at Mrs. Carleton's, and 
 through the half open door he heard her voice, sup- 
 pressed and trembling with passion. 
 
 "He is a poor orphan, Ogilvie ; the dog saved his 
 life and the lives of many others ; no wonder he loved 
 it. It was an unmanly, wicked deed in you to kill 
 her." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 "With the means and education you have you 
 might be of use in the world instead of a blight and 
 a terror ; no wonder everybody hates you and shuns 
 you." 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 "Leave this house, sir, instantly ; and never let me 
 see you upon my premises again." 
 
 There was no reply. The shutting of the door 
 and departing footsteps were sufficient answer. 
 
 Mrs. Carleton's boys set out for school at Dorton 
 without Timothy that morning, for he was not able 
 to accompany them. His tears flowed silently the 
 
212 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 greater part of the forenoon, as he lay nearly mo- 
 tionless upon the lounge, and Mrs. Carleton, passing 
 in and out upon her household errands, felt deep 
 sympathy for the sorrowing boy, mingled with 
 indignation against the unprovoked cruelty of her 
 neighbor, Mark Ogilvie. 
 
 That evening, while the boys were in the sitting- 
 room preparing their lessons for the morrow and 
 Grandfather Carleton in bed, Mrs. Carleton and 
 Timothy sat by the stove in the kitchen. 
 
 "If I could only get my poor dog and bury her," 
 said he sorrowfully, "I would not feel so badly ; but 
 I am afraid to go ; I am afraid of meeting Mr. Ogil- 
 vie." 
 
 "I saw Pomp driving him to the village this even- 
 ing in the sleigh, perhaps he has not yet returned. 
 Suppose you go now; it is moonlight and the snow 
 will enable you to find her." 
 
 Comforted, Timothy took his cap and went. 
 
 He followed his and Grace Darling's tracks in the 
 snow, until he came to where she met her death, but 
 the body was not there. With tears flowing he 
 returned to trace his steps, when Mark Ogilvie 
 
A TRIAL FOE TIMOTHY. 213 
 
 stepped from behind an oak tree and confronted the 
 terrified boy. 
 
 "Do not shrink from me," said the master of 
 "Ogilvie's Pride" almost imploringly. "I am sorry 
 I killed your dog. If money could restore her life 
 it would be freely given. I crave your forgiveness. 
 The deed is done, never to be undone, but I will try 
 to make amends. I am a lonely man, have no rela- 
 tives except a brother, Richard Ogilvie, from whom I 
 am estranged. I want something to occupy my long 
 evenings, I am weary of being alone. If you wish 
 an education, I am capable and willing to give it to 
 you." 
 
 Timothy was too bewildered to frame a reply, he 
 turned abruptly away. 
 
 "Boy!" exclaimed Mr. Ogilvie, placing a detain- 
 ing hand upon his shoulder, "say that you will for- 
 give me, and will accept my offer." 
 
 Granny's favorite motto, "Overcome evil with 
 good," came into Timothy's mind. He thought of 
 her as he had once seen her, helpless and homeless, 
 but patient and resigned upon her bed in the hos- 
 pital, he reached out his hand to Mr. Ogilvie. 
 
214 TIMOTU* ANf) HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 "I will ask Mrs. Carleton and do as she says," 
 said he, simply. 
 
 After that night, all leisure times and every even- 
 ing found the boy alone with Mr. Ogilvie, whom he 
 had learned to esteem, to revere and love. To Tim- 
 othy Mark Ogilvie gave the results of his rich expe- 
 rience, the benefit of his cultured mind. Together 
 they roamed the wooded hills in search of plants and 
 minerals, together contemplated the starry heavens, 
 and Mrs. Carleton, noble and unselfish, looked on, 
 well pleased. 
 
CHAAPTER XII. 
 
 THE GAKRIGUE. 
 
 The undertaking suggested by Lawyer Dubreil 
 proved to be a success. The brownstone dwelling 
 was a home appreciated by its guests and the little 
 lawyer did his share to make it so. 
 
 The gloomy forbodings which had beset Airs. 
 Amanda Levering were forgotten in the prosperity 
 that attended the change of abode, the activity of 
 body and mind developed by necessity and the con- 
 genial society of intelligent people. 
 
 The comforts by which she was surrounded, and 
 
 the pleasure of having her mother always with her, 
 
 reconciled her to any little discomforts which crossed 
 
 her path. She had not lost caste among those with 
 
 whom she wished to mingle, as she had darkly 
 
 prophesied, instead, handsome equipages brought 
 
 her old-time callers to the main entrance of "The 
 
 Garrigue," and it was those acquaintances whose 
 
 friendship was worth retaining who came. 
 
 215 
 
216 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Yes, Mrs. Garrigue and Mrs. Levering were lead- 
 ing prosperous and busy, therefore happy lives ; and 
 were for the most part, as exempt from annoyance 
 as could have been expected. True, there were the 
 trifling ones inseparable from boarding houses; the 
 pair of lovers for instance, and the inevitable drum- 
 mer upon the piano. 
 
 The lovers belonging to "The Garrigue" were a 
 model couple indeed, so devoted to each other, so 
 oblivious of the miniature world about them that 
 they monopolized the parlor every evening of their 
 lives with as much sang froid as though they consid- 
 ered it their individual property. 
 
 To give them due credit they did not, by hint or 
 by look, intimate a desire for such monopoly; but 
 when a lady guest of the house descended to the par- 
 lor after tea, she found no one but the lovers, and 
 finding herself de trop sought again the seclusion of 
 her room. Perhaps another lady tried it with like 
 result, and in time it became an understood thing 
 that the guests of the house should pass their even- 
 ings in their own rooms or that of their friends and 
 leave the parlor to the lovers. It was not the pleas- 
 ant meeting ground that it had been the winter pre- 
 
THE GAKRIQUE. 217 
 
 ceeding, when all the ladies and gentlemen in the 
 house, with perhaps guests of some of them, met 
 there of evenings and had a social time. 
 
 Applications for board from eligible people had 
 been frequent, owing as much to the charming soci- 
 ety to be found under its roof as to the superior man- 
 agement of Mrs. Garrigue, and she did not wish the 
 impression counteracted, so resolved to ask advice of 
 her ally — Lawyer Dubreil. 
 
 "They are really driving everybody out of the par- 
 lor of evenings;" said she plaintively, "although I 
 will do them the justice to believe that they are inno- 
 cent of such intention." 
 
 "Just so, just so, my dear madam ; they are blind 
 — blind as bats to everybody but each other. Well, 
 well, it is really wonderful how silly young people 
 are when they are in love ; the ostrich with its head 
 stuck in the sand of the desert is a Socrates in com- 
 parison." 
 
 "You are fertile in expedients, Mr. Dubreil ; can- 
 not you suggest some plan which I can adopt for the 
 benefit of yourself and the other guests without 
 offending the couple?" 
 
218 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 Mr. Dubreil considered. "It has always been a 
 maxim of my life, my dear madam, that in union 
 there is strength ; could not you ladies organize and 
 descend in a body, and so rout the common enemy ?" 
 
 "I do not care to make it a subject of discussion if 
 it could be avoided, for they are not only pleasant 
 guests, but I esteem them as personal friends. I 
 also take an interest in the attachment, for I think it 
 will be an excellent and suitable match. But that 
 does not help me out of the difficulty," she added 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "Quite true, my dear madam, quite true; and that 
 is the point to be considered at this time." 
 
 "Independent of the lady guests, who are ham- 
 pered up in their rooms in the evenings, there is 
 young Dr. Adriance and the other medical students, 
 who are compelled to pass their evenings out because 
 they have no social evenings here; we must really 
 devise some way to bring about a change of affairs." 
 
 "Some amusement or other," replied Mr. Dubreil, 
 "that will interest the lovers as well as the others. 
 Well, well, my dear madam, give me a little time to 
 consider. It has always been a maxim of mine 'to 
 be sure you are right and then go ahead.' " 
 
THE GABMGUE. 219 
 
 "Take as much time as you think best, but I hope 
 you will think of something practicable very soon, 
 or I fear I shall be under the necessity of giving 
 them a gentle hint — which I should be loth to do." 
 
 The next morning at breakfast the little lawyer 
 arose and made a short speech, which was listened 
 to attentively, and elicited marks of approval. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, you are all invited to 
 assemble in the parlors this evening. I have a plan 
 in view for helping to pass our evenings pleasantly 
 this winter, and would like your assistance in carry^ 
 ing out my design." 
 
 After much speculation and discussion during the 
 day, it was not surprising that all the guests were 
 congregated after tea in the parlor. 
 
 It was suggested by Lawyer Dubreil and met with 
 unanimous approval that a literary club be organized 
 to be called "The Garrigue Literary Society." It 
 was to include every lady and gentleman in the 
 house, each member being privileged to invite a 
 guest to the fortnightly meeting of the society. 
 
 Lawyer Dubreil was elected president, and Mrs. 
 Garrigue vice-president. Then Mr. Dubreil nom- 
 inated one of the lovers as secretary and the other as 
 
220 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 treasurer, seconded by Mrs. Garrigue, which was 
 agreed to unanimously, much to the satisfaction of 
 the originators of the society. Another feature of 
 the fortnightly meeting which met with unanimous 
 approval was, that whatever the literary offering 
 tendered by the member who was appointed to pro- 
 vide it for that particular evening, let it be sketch, 
 story, essay or poem, it must be original with that 
 member. Three at least must be provided for each 
 evening, and any visitor who provided an original 
 article would receive the thanks of the society. Be- 
 tween the readings they decided that charades, tab- 
 leaux, conversation and music would give variety to 
 the exercises. 
 
 Four evenings of each week all the members who 
 could possibly make it convenient, were to meet in 
 the parlor to arrange the tableaux and to assist those 
 appointed to prepare original papers, if such assist- 
 ance were desired, and it was expressly stipulated 
 that no member should decline to prepare an article 
 if it fell to his or her lot to do so, but they were priv- 
 ileged to decline reading it, if they so desired. 
 
 A small admission fee was to be required of mem- 
 bers and guests, to be appropriated at the last of the 
 
THE GABBIGUE. 221 
 
 season for the purchase of an autograph album for 
 each member of the club, as a memento of the win- 
 ter's amusement. 
 
 The secretary was called upon to take the names 
 of the members upon separate slips of paper, and 
 when the drawings for the first original article was 
 made, the name of Mrs. Amanda Levering was 
 drawn. 
 
 "Oh, please excuse me !" cried the lady blushingly, 
 "I never wrote but one sketch in my life, and that 
 was a school composition." 
 
 "And that won the prize," said one of the other 
 members smilingly, "you see I was there, my dear 
 Mrs. Levering, and know whereof I speak." The 
 other members joined in the laugh at the discomfit- 
 ted essayist, and all had something to say. 
 
 "It is unparliamentary to decline," lisped the treas- 
 urer, who was a law student of Mr. Dubreil. If it 
 had been my name that was drawn you would have 
 seen how readily I would have complied." 
 
 "Ignorance is certainly bliss," murmured the 
 other law student. 
 
 "Perhaps your turn may come next," replied the 
 president smilingly to the treasurer. 
 
222 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Can he not take ray place?" questioned Mrs. Lev- 
 ering, depreeatingly. "I will do what I can to assist 
 him in preparing his sketch if he wishes it." 
 
 "You can call upon any member to assist you 
 also," remarked Lawyer Dubreil consolingly; 
 "please set a good example by conforming to the 
 rules of the society." 
 
 At the second ballot, to the amusement of all, the 
 name of the treasurer was drawn. 
 
 Mrs. Levering's blushes were dim in comparison 
 with his, and his lady-love sympathized in his em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 "I was never known' to write an original para- 
 graph in my life," lisped he. 
 
 "Except a recipe for hair-oil," suggested the other 
 law student. 
 
 "It is unparliamentary to decline," remarked Mrs. 
 Levering. "And you can have all the members to 
 help you," laughed another guest. 
 
 "It is nothing to write an original article, boy," 
 said another. 
 
 "I feel like a bird in a snare or a fish in a net," said 
 the hapless youth, and he fell into a revery which 
 lasted until the third ballot decided that the next 
 
THE GABRIGUE. 223 
 
 original article was to be prepared by Dr. Garnet 
 Adriance, when he came out of his study of a theme, 
 to unite in the general laugh at the discomfiture of 
 the young medical student. 
 
 The fourth writer was not drawn by ballot, but 
 any member or guest who was willing to add to the 
 pleasure of the evening was solicited to oblige in this 
 happy way. The society then adjourned. 
 
 "That was a stroke of policy, my dear madam, 
 that was a stroke of policy, that of giving each of 
 the lovers an office," said Lawyer Dubreil to Mrs. 
 Garrigue rubbing his small white hands gleefully, 
 when the members were scattered about the spacious 
 parlors^ "It was on the principle of the counter- 
 irritant which physicians employ in obstinate cases ; 
 the only difference being that we reverse it, and use a 
 counter-amusement." 
 
 "And a very effective principle it bids fair to be," 
 smiled Mrs. Garrigue. 
 
 "That was a grain of wisdom that I gathered 
 while teaching a district school when quite a young 
 man, in the village of Dorton. I have never forgot- 
 ten it, and it has been of vast use to me through life." 
 
224 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 Mrs. Garrigue's appreciative smile encouraged 
 him to proceed. 
 
 "You see, my dear madam, the young people of 
 the neighborhood organized a society each winter 
 which they called a lyceum, meeting one evening in 
 a week in the school house, the school teacher being 
 president. Well, my dear madam, the winter I was 
 there we were annoyed by four or five large boys 
 who congregated outside and amused themselves by 
 pounding on the shutters, whistling through the 
 keyhole, and occasionally throwing stones against 
 the door. 
 
 The teacher had no more authority over them 
 than any one else, and without taking undue praise 
 to myself I will tell you how I put an end to the 
 whole annoyance. Why, the simplest way in the 
 world. Invited them all in and gave every renegade 
 of them an office. To be sure we had to manufac- 
 ture a few to suit the exigency, but no matter, they 
 each felt that something was expected of them, and 
 were of as much account as anybody ; and, my dear 
 Mrs. Garrigue, it worked like a charm." 
 
 "All honor to tact," laughed Mrs. Garrigue, "it 
 
THE GARRIGUE. 225 
 
 was far more effective than all the expostulations 
 that could have been offered." 
 
 The first meeting of the club proved a decided suc- 
 cess, every member was present, and many of them 
 had an invited guest. The admission fees rattled 
 merrily into the treasurer's box, the literary contri- 
 butions were unexpectedly creditable, every promise 
 given by the program was fulfilled, and better than 
 all everybody was pleased. 
 
 The lovers sat upon the divan, and were as much 
 interested as one could expect under the circumstan- 
 ces, and if they ever suspected "there was method in 
 
 the madness," they kept their own counsel. 
 15 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CAROLINE A HEROINE. 
 
 To Caroline Levering, reared in a retired farm- 
 house everything in and around her uncle's elegant 
 home, on one of the most fashionable streets of St. 
 Louis had come with the prestige of novelty, and 
 each and every pleasure was anticipated and enjoyed 
 to its fullest extent. 
 
 She was young and inexperienced, but also apt 
 and intelligent, and developed more rapidly in the 
 surroundings so congenial to her, in the first three 
 months of her visit than in any one year of her exist- 
 ence at home. That mode of life Caroline realized 
 was entirely suited to her, and she dropped naturally 
 into the luxurious manner of living, though entirely 
 different from any she had experienced or even 
 imagined. 
 
 She enjoyed everything; days and weeks flew by 
 upon golden wings; she never before had thought 
 that life could be so full of pleasure. 
 
 226 
 
CABOLINE A HEROINE. 227 
 
 All the education that Caroline had received previ- 
 ous to leaving home, was obtained in the district 
 school of Dorton, and as it was given up to boys in 
 winter, the girls of the neighborhood who were too 
 large to go to Cousin Melie's home school had to be 
 satisfied with what knowledge they could gain 
 through the summer months, therefore Caroline's 
 acquirements were necessarily limited. 
 
 Her cousin, Sylvia Harkness, was favored with an 
 efficient governess, who was requested by Dr. and 
 Mrs. Harkness to bestow the same attention upon 
 the instruction of their niece as upon their daughter, 
 and Caroline applied herself so diligently to study 
 that her progress surprised and charmed them all. 
 
 So the four years of Caroline's sojourn in the 
 beautiful home were passing away and the holidays 
 of the last winter of her stay being near at hand, 
 preparations for welcoming the new year were pro- 
 gressing briskly in the family of Dr. Harkness. 
 
 The two girls entered heartily into the spirit of it, 
 for this was the first season that Sylvia was to help 
 her mother entertain callers, and Caroline was to 
 assist in doing the honors. 
 
228 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 For years past no New Year's receptions had 
 eclipsed those of Mrs. Harkness, and she resolved 
 that the coming one should surpass them all. 
 
 The toilets of the young lady friends who had in 
 preceding years assisted her in receiving were mar- 
 vels of artistic beauty, and she decided that those of 
 Sylvia and Caroline should not suffer by compari- 
 son. 
 
 The music, floral decorations and refreshments 
 she resolved should excel those of any previous 
 year. 
 
 "There is one vexation I have to contend with," 
 she remarked while she and the girls were making 
 out the list of refreshments. 
 
 "I think I know what it is, mamma," said Sylvia. 
 
 "Yes, I am sure you do ; it is your Uncle James, 
 who makes it a point to come around especially to 
 protest against my offering wine to callers. He 
 vexed me so last year with his puritanical nonsense 
 that I was almost tempted to ask him to oblige me by 
 not troubling himself to call upon us on New Year's 
 days if the mere sight of wine upset him so." 
 
 "I wonder if he really thinks it wrong, or consid- 
 ers that because he is a minister it is his duty to 
 
CAROLINE A flESOtNE. 229 
 
 frown down everything of the kind?" questioned 
 Caroline. 
 
 "Oh, he is sincere, you may be sure. You ought 
 to have heard the parlor sermon he preached to me 
 last New Year's morning about 'leading souls to 
 ruin by my wicked persistence in having intoxicating 
 beverages at my parties, but his twaddle counts 
 nothing with me. I am twenty years older than he, 
 and consider myself quite as capable of managing 
 my own affairs as he is to manage them for me." 
 
 "There is no truer proverb," laughed Caroline, 
 than 'A prophet is not without honor save in his own 
 country.' What would some of Mr. Ridgely's par- 
 ishioners, who look upon him as almost infallible, 
 think to hear you ?" 
 
 "Oh, I think the world of him, too," replied Mrs. 
 Harkness quickly. "His only fault lies in being too 
 good. He makes mountains out of mole-hills, and 
 seems to believe that every little harmless thimbleful 
 of wine is a pitfall for unwary youth. But some- 
 how I can never look upon his opinion except in the 
 light of boyish enthusiasm, which will subside as he 
 grows older." 
 
£30 TlJtOtH* AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "What does Uncle Harkness say to your brother's 
 interference?" 
 
 "He laughs at him for worrying, and at me for 
 being provoked at it; but as he sees that I always 
 carry the day, he troubles himself no further." 
 
 "Perhaps he will not say anything about it this 
 year, as no evil result ever followed our receptions," 
 remarked Sylvia. 
 
 "I am looking for him every day," sighed her 
 mother. 
 
 "I don't believe that any gentleman that ever 
 called here was the worse for the wine they drank," 
 continued Sylvia, "and our wines are noted for 
 their age and excellence, and some of them drank a 
 good deal." 
 
 "I reminded Brother James of that last year," 
 said Mrs. Harkness. 
 
 "Poor Uncle James!" laughed Sylvia, "he put on 
 the longest and saddest face you ever saw and sighed 
 bitterly as he said, 'the future will tell.' He really 
 acts in this respect as though the whole responsibility 
 rests upon us of making drunkards of the young 
 men who visit here. You may be sure he is worry- 
 ing about it already." 
 
CAROLINE A HEROINE. 231 
 
 "I took time by the forelock and reminded him 
 that it would be of no use to prepare arguments for 
 this New Year, for we would not be the first to set 
 an example of penuriousness," said Mrs. Harkness. 
 
 "Well, he certainly will not force his opinions 
 upon you after that," remarked Caroline serenely. 
 
 "I am not so sure of it," replied her aunt. "He 
 was always so persevering, and it appears to me that 
 opposition only strengthens him in his opinions. 
 Why, when he was a little fellow he would have his 
 notions of right and wrong, and after one had 
 fatigued one's-self nearly to death arguing a point 
 with him the first thing you knew without any talk 
 about it, he was having his own way. Oh, I know 
 him thoroughly, but I intend having my own way in 
 my own house, as much as I think of him." 
 
 Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful and 
 the Harkness family went to church, as was their 
 usual custom. Brother James had not been around 
 with his customary New Year remonstrance and 
 Mrs. Harkness, though professing to care but little 
 for his opinion, was jubilant in consequence. She 
 resigned herself to his discourse, at peace with him 
 and all the world, notwithstanding the sealskin cloak 
 
232 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 in the pew before her, wrapped in its soft folds a 
 rigid temperance woman, who had once been a cru- 
 sader. 
 
 The sermon was over and Brother James, with a 
 slight tremor in his voice, begged the attention of 
 the congregation a few moments longer. He wished 
 to ask them not to place alcoholic drinks upon their 
 refreshment tables on the coming New Year's day. 
 
 "I scarcely deem it necessary, my friends, to apol- 
 ogize for thus calling this matter to your attention, 
 although I feel almost sure that there are no 
 families in my congregation, with one exception 
 (glancing toward his brother-in-law's pew) who are 
 willing to turn their parlors into bar-rooms on New 
 Year's day, or any other day. If I thought so I 
 would beg them to consider well before laying such 
 traps for unwary feet. Many a young man," con- 
 tinued he, "who would shun a place which was kept 
 for the sole purpose of dispensing liquors, would be 
 tempted to drink among friends whom they looked 
 upon as examples, and when fair ladies were the 
 tempters. Do not, my friends, I beseech you, sully 
 the first page of the fair New Year with such a 
 blot." 
 
CAROLINE A HEROINE. 233 
 
 There was one person at the very lowest calcula- 
 tion in the pew of Dr. Harkness, who, compelled to 
 be silent, was swelling with indignation and shame. 
 Several other pairs of eyes had traveled stealthily in 
 that direction — guided by those of the minister and 
 the sealskin coat, which by reason of proximity, 
 could not see how neighbor Harkness relished this 
 home thrust, nodded a cordial acquiescence with his 
 sentiments. 
 
 The feelings of Mrs. Harkness that afternoon 
 were anything but devotional. Anger at her broth- 
 er's daring mode of attack was the most predom- 
 inant, and plans for showing her resentment without 
 drawing upon herself or him the censure of his con- 
 gregation, occupied her mind the best part of the 
 afternoon. Not that she wished to really wound or 
 offend him ; her pride in him, and affection for him 
 was deep and sincere; she only wished to impress 
 upon his mind that she was tired of what she consid- 
 ered his unwarrantable interference in her affairs 
 and to let him know once for all, that he was not to 
 lecture her with impunity in public. 
 
 "To think," said she to the family at tea time, 
 "that he had no more regard for my feelings than to 
 
234 TIMOTHY AND HIS FUIENDS. 
 
 draw the attention of the whole church toward me ; 
 I saw several look around to see how I took it, and 
 felt that plenty more were doing so." 
 
 Brother James had noticed it also, and not for a 
 moment regretting his action in the matter, was sad- 
 dened and depressed that his sister had enforced it 
 upon his conscience to give a rebuke thus publicly. 
 
 As for Dr. Harkness, he enjoyed the whole affair 
 heartily, and indulged in an irrepressible laugh 
 every time he thought of it. In all the little di- 
 versities of opinion between his better half and 
 himself she had come off with flying colors, and left 
 him nowhere ; and that Brother James, whom he had 
 always looked upon as the most pliant of men should 
 show himself equal to the emergency filled him not 
 only with surprise and admiration, but if possible 
 awakened a deeper respect for one whom he had 
 looked upon as too amiable to possess much moral 
 courage. 
 
 "I hope he will call to-morrow," said Mrs. Hark- 
 ness angrily to Sylvia, "I want to admonish him that 
 I am not to be lectured in church by a boy." 
 
 The next day was as bright as diamonds, the light 
 snow which had fallen the evening before rendering 
 
CAROLINE A frEKOINE. 23§ 
 
 the ivy and potted plants which decorated the Hark- 
 ness mansion more vivid by contrast and the flowers 
 more fragrant when inhaled after the keen air with- 
 out. 
 
 Mrs. Harkness, Sylvia, Caroline and several other 
 ladies all elegantly attired received the guests, and 
 groups of gentlemen were conversing with each 
 other — the first callers of the day — when Brother 
 James was announced. 
 
 Sylvia and Caroline had received orders from 
 Mrs. Harkness not to offer him refreshments, 
 as she wished to take that duty upon herself, and 
 allowed him to mingle with the other callers until it 
 suited her convenience. 
 
 His eye immediately sought out Caroline, who, 
 looking as sweet as a violet in her simple but elegant 
 toilet, had received the callers and exchanged the 
 compliments of the season with the ease and com- 
 posure of one long accustomed to society, and had 
 now withdrawn to a big bay window to cull a tiny 
 bouquet for a friend from the violets blooming lux- 
 uriantly there. 
 
 As she turned from the window her hand was 
 taken and held closely in that of Mr. Ridgely. 
 
236 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 "I can dp nothing with my sister and niece," he 
 said, "they are joined to their idols. You are yet 
 innocent of leading a fellow-creature into tempta- 
 tion ; this hand is yet guiltless of a brother's blood ; 
 promise me to keep it so." 
 
 Caroline glanced up at the form which towered 
 above her. Mr. Ridgely's face was pale, his eyes 
 moist with unbidden tears. 
 
 Her aunt and Sylvia were regarding her with 
 vexed solicitude, her uncle with an amused smile. 
 
 "I promise you," she replied gravely, "promise 
 for now and always." 
 
 "Thank God for this victory!" he whispered 
 reverently, and pressing her hand in farewell, he 
 bowed slightly to his sister and the others and left 
 the house. 
 
 Caroline had no liking for wine; it was no hard- 
 ship to promise to refrain from touching it herself or 
 presenting it to others, therefore she promised. She 
 had no scruples in regard to it, having all her life 
 been accustomed to seeing it, but had given the sub- 
 ject no thought in any way. 
 
 One of her Aunt Hesba's accomplishments was 
 the ability to make choice home-made wine, prin- 
 
CAROLINE A HEROINE. 237 
 
 cipally blackberry and currant. Not that she was a 
 wine-bibber, for she scarcely ever tasted it, nor did 
 any member of Archibald Levering's family except 
 in case of sickness. It was only for those who were 
 ailing that it was made, and there were few persons 
 for miles around who had not some time or other in 
 their lives sampled Aunt Hesba's wine. 
 
 Even persons in the city had sent for her black- 
 berry cordial, which was considered a valuable tonic ; 
 but Hesba would have cut off her right hand rather 
 than offer it to any human being, had it occurred to 
 her that she was putting temptation in her way. 
 
 The years of Caroline's stay in St. Louis had been 
 happy ones to Mr. Ridgely as to herself. He took 
 great interest in the beautiful and attractive girl and 
 did his share in educating her. He loaned his books 
 to her and bought others that he wished her to read, 
 took her and Sylvia out driving, visiting objects of 
 interest in and around the city, interested himself in 
 her music and painting and in all her studies encour- 
 aged and assisted. 
 
 One would almost wonder that a handsome, popu- 
 lar and wealthy young man would waste his time 
 entertaining and instructing a school girl, when the 
 
238 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 loveliest and most accomplished young ladies in St. 
 Louis would' have felt flattered with attention from 
 him. But the truth was that he had loved her from 
 the first moment of seeing her ; while in return, she 
 did not appear — even at seventeen — to look upon 
 him in the light of a lover. To her, he was Sylvia's 
 uncle; she was perfectly at her ease with him, and 
 showed her pleasure at his coming without any at- 
 tempt at disguise. 
 
 One would naturally suppose that Caroline would 
 not be at home but a short time until she would drop 
 into the niche she had occupied before her visit to St. 
 Louis, but such was not the case ; she had outgrown 
 all that once interested her there, and would not try- 
 to enter into the pursuits of those about her. 
 
 She sat by the window in her room most of the 
 time gazing at the chance vehicles that passed on the 
 way to and from Dorton, alternating that occupation 
 with reading the light literature which had accom- 
 panied her from St. Louis. Thus a fortnight passed 
 and she was growing more discontented every day. 
 
 "Caroline," said her Aunt Hesba one morning as 
 the girl arose languidly from the breakfast table, 
 
CAROLINE A HEROINE. 239 
 
 "there is to be preaching over at the village this 
 evening, will you go?" 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Hesba, what good would it do me to 
 go trailing through the wet grass to hear a stupid 
 ignorant preacher, and see people with bonnets ten 
 years behind the times." Aunt Hesba's face 
 flushed indignantly at this response to her really 
 kind request. 
 
 "It is because I thought it might do you good, 
 Caroline, and I don't know anyone who stands more 
 in need of it than yourself. It is only a mile across 
 to Dorton, as you well know, traveling it twice a 
 day to school as you did when you were younger 
 and better. The grass is not damp at this time of 
 year, and one has a good long rest there before walk- 
 ing back." 
 
 "You are not going, are you ?" 
 
 "To be sure I am, and you should certainly stand 
 the walk as well as I." 
 
 "You do not go alone through those lonely, dreary 
 fields, do you?" 
 
 "No, Archie, the dear boy, will go with me. Mrs. 
 Wheeler goes when she can, and we sometimes call 
 for Mrs. Grayson. " 
 
240 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Archie was saying this morning before you were 
 up, Caroline," said her mother, who had been a silent 
 listener to the conversation, "that Mrs. Wheeler told 
 him last evening that you were welcome to practice 
 upon her piano if you wished. She said you would 
 be apt to get rusty in music if you had nothing to 
 practice upon." 
 
 "What, the miller's wife? Has she a piano in 
 that pigeon-box she lives in ?" 
 
 "It was a pigeon-box large enough to hold your 
 mother," commented Aunt Hesba grimly, "do not 
 forget that she was born there, and always lived 
 there until she married your father." 
 
 "I suppose it is some old tin-pan of an affair," 
 said Caroline ignoring her aunt's remark, "some old- 
 fashioned thing they have picked up second-hand in 
 the city, and thought to astonish the neighborhood 
 with it when they moved out here." 
 
 "I am no judge of pianos, Caroline, as you well 
 know," said her mother, "but Mrs. Wheeler makes 
 good music upon it; I know enough to know that." 
 
 "What! does she play?" said Caroline with 
 awakened interest, "the miller's wife?" 
 
CAROLINE A HEBOLNE. 241 
 
 "If it had been summer time and the doors open, 
 there would be no need to have asked that question, 
 and being a miller's wife need not prevent her from 
 knowing A from B," said her aunt. 
 
 "No," said Caroline dryly, "but it is a wonder she 
 married a miller." 
 
 "Your father is not a miller, I suppose," remarked 
 Aunt Hesba. 
 
 "Father owns the mill and hires a miller to run 
 it," said Caroline with marked emphasis. 
 
 "It was very kind in Mrs. Wheeler to make the 
 offer of her piano," said Mrs. Levering soothingly, 
 "you ought to go down, dear, and thank her." 
 
 "She has never called upon me," said Caroline 
 with curling lip. "I shall wait for that." 
 
 "Well, I hope you will have to wait a while," said 
 Aunt Hesba as she arose to leave the room. "Do be 
 a sensible girl, Caroline, if you can ; put on your bon- 
 net this afternoon and go down to the cottage, and 
 not wait for such nonsense here as a first call; you 
 know she has been sick ever since you have been at 
 home." 
 
 "I do think that Aunt Hesba grows more dis- 
 agreeable every day," remarked Caroline, as her aunt 
 16 
 
242 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 withdrew from hearing, "and I still say that it is 
 strange that the miller's wife plays the piano." 
 
 "I do not see why her husband's occupation should 
 make a difference in that way," replied her mother 
 mildly, "but Mr. Wheeler was not always a miller, 
 he was a bookkeeper in the city when he and Mrs. 
 Wheeler were married." 
 
 "How did he happen to get out here with father ?" 
 questioned Caroline, who having read everything 
 she had brought home with her, was for lack of 
 something to interest her, prolonging the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "He picked up a knowledge of machinery when 
 he was a boy, and the confinement of bookkeeping 
 not agreeing with his health, he came out here. He 
 has friends in Dorton who sent him word that your 
 father needed a miller ; he came and is a competent 
 person." 
 
 "His wife must be a strange creature to be con- 
 tented here." 
 
 "She has her household duties to interest her, and 
 a sweet little daughter, Annette, and the baby ; both 
 as you know are great company for Archie, who is 
 down there every day of his life; and just now a 
 
CABOLINE A HEROINE. 243 
 
 nephew of Mr. Wheeler is visiting there, a little boy 
 younger than Archie." 
 
 It was evident that Mrs. Wheeler knew what eti- 
 quette required of her for a day or so after Caro- 
 line's conversation in regard to her, she called, card- 
 case in hand, and clad in a neat and becoming toilet. 
 
 Caroline could not help being pleased with her 
 gentle, self-possessed neighbor, and chatted pleas- 
 antly with her while she remained, but the visit con- 
 ferred no lasting cheerfulness. Mrs. Wheeler was 
 not Sylvia nor any of her friends, and Caroline had 
 nothing in common with her. 
 
 The letters which she received from her cousin, 
 and which Caroline looked upon as her only pleasure, 
 but added to the measure of her discontent. 
 
 The gay, sparkling missives, filled with gossipy 
 news of the sayings and doings of the progressive 
 and brilliant world of society of which Caroline had 
 once been a valued member, and from which she 
 considered herself unnecessarily withdrawn, formed 
 a striking contrast to the answering letters, and no 
 one was more conscious of it than Caroline herself. 
 
 Archie's letters from his mother also spoke of the 
 pleasures of their winter evenings, specified by Mrs, 
 
244 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Amanda with the design of amusing and instructing 
 her boy, and which answered the desired end with- 
 out creating one thought of discontent; for Archie 
 was truly happy in his home. 
 
 The mill and all that belonged to it was a perpet- 
 ual source of pleasure; he never wearied watching 
 the huge wheel as it performed its alloted task with 
 such dignified faithfulness, and the miller's admira- 
 tion was sincere at the boy's quickness in understand- 
 ing the management of the machinery. Yes, Archie 
 was contented, and that was more than could be said 
 of his young Aunt Caroline. Since her return Mrs. 
 Amanda had sent her many pressing invitations to 
 visit her, and although Caroline had bitterly con- 
 trasted the life there, as given in Archie's letters, 
 with her own objectless existence, yet she had never 
 gone, for the simple reason that she would not step 
 foot in the antediluvian carriage, and there was no 
 other conveyance. 
 
 Time passed on, and one evening Aunt Hesba 
 ventured again to ask her to accompany her to 
 church at Dorton the next day. A preacher was 
 visiting the different churches, and although that 
 of Dorton came on his list upon a week day, and 
 
CAEOLINE A HEBOINE. 245 
 
 what was more, one of Aunt Hesba's busiest ones, 
 she never thought of missing such an opportunity, 
 and to her pleased surprise Caroline accepted the in- 
 vitation and accompanied her. 
 
 After church Aunt Hesba lingered to speak to the 
 minister, and to have a chat with friends and neigh- 
 bors, and Caroline, impatient at the delay, set off 
 for home alone. 
 
 Her reflections were not cheerful as she walked 
 along. She had only gone to church to kill time, 
 and the benefit derived from the services was slight, 
 indeed. 
 
 She was startled from the reverie into which she 
 had fallen by a scream of terror, and looking toward 
 the dam above the mill, she saw a small boy disap- 
 pear beneath the water, while Archie and several 
 other terrified comrades stood upon the bank help- 
 less to render assistance. 
 
 Throwing aside bonnet and gloves in her rapid 
 flight, Caroline rushed to the bank, plunged into the 
 smooth, clear water, and swam swiftly toward the 
 drowning boy. Twice he sank and rose, and was 
 disappearing for the third time when Caroline 
 grasped him. 
 
246 liteotKt AftD HIS FRIfcNDS. 
 
 "Don't !" she cried, sharply, as the boy strove to 
 clasp her about the neck. "I will save you if you do 
 not hinder me ; if you drag me under, we will both 
 drown." 
 
 Holding him on one arm, she grasped the boat 
 from which he had fallen, and resting her other arm 
 upon it, she assisted him into it, and after waiting 
 a moment to recover breath, struck out for the 
 shore, taking the boat with her. 
 
 She had not been in the water for several years ; 
 the weight of her clothing retarded her motion, and 
 she was weary from her walk; but she was a fear- 
 less and expert swimmer, was determined to save 
 the boy, and she did save him. Almost exhausted 
 she reached the shore, where stood Mrs. Wheeler, 
 pale and anxious, the boy being her husband's 
 nephew, and she had seen the whole occurrence from 
 her window. 
 
 In the joy of his deliverance, Mrs. Wheeler 
 clasped the shivering girl to her breast, and be- 
 sought her to go with them to the cottage which was 
 nearer than her father's home, but Caroline thanked 
 her and declined, and with rapid steps crossed the 
 meadow, and in a few moments reached home. 
 
CAROLINE A HEROINE. 247 
 
 Kind and anxious hands removed wet clothing; 
 heating drinks were administered, comfortable beds 
 received rescuer and rescued. The evening which 
 Caroline had expected to pass drearily as usual was 
 a pleasant one, happier by far than any she had 
 spent since her return to her father's house, for she 
 had done a good deed. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. 
 
 "Caroline," said Mrs. Levering one morning as 
 her daughter came in from a visit to Mrs. Wheeler, 
 "there is a letter for you on the table in your room. 
 It came enclosed in one for your father." 
 
 "In a letter to father!" echoed Caroline; "who 
 could have written to me that did not know that I 
 am at home instead of at uncle's in St. Louis ?" 
 
 "The letter is from St. Louis, and the writer ap- 
 pears to be a gentleman." 
 
 "A gentleman !" Caroline's beautiful face flushed 
 with delight, and without further words, she 
 bounded up the steps and in a moment was in her 
 room. 
 
 There it lay upon the table, a firm, manly looking 
 epistle, directed in a clear, educated, business hand. 
 Caroline recognized it at a glance; knew every line 
 and curve of the address, knew the monogram seal, 
 
 248 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. 249 
 
 knew, in short, that it was a letter from the Rev. 
 James Ridgely, and no other. 
 
 But to her father — why was that? She held it 
 in her hand ; she pondered ; she must still the throb- 
 bing of her heart before she drew the letter from its 
 envelope, she must for a moment enjoy in anticipa- 
 tion what at will she could make reality. 
 
 It could be but for one cause that Mr. Ridgely, 
 would write to her father, and that cause must be 
 herself. Caroline was right. Mr. Ridgely had 
 written to Archibald Levering, asking permission to 
 address his daughter, and win her as his wife if 
 he could. 
 
 If there had been no letter in it for Caroline, it is 
 doubtful if she would have ever heard from her 
 father that he had received it. Mr. Levering would 
 in all probability have answered it, giving Mr. 
 Ridgely liberty to do his own wooing without any 
 assistance from him ; but in some way the letter en- 
 closed was a bond of unity between his daughter and 
 himself; it touched some chord in his own blighted 
 life which responded to the touch, and his heart 
 warmed toward the unknown lover, as though he 
 had unwittingly turned a page in his own youth. 
 
250 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Although caring but little for the courtesies and 
 etiquette of society, Archibald Levering was by na- 
 ture a gentleman, and he appreciated this token of 
 respect from Mr. Ridgely far more than his daugh- 
 ter or anyone else would have given him credit for ; 
 therefore, when he gave the letter to Mrs. Levering 
 to deliver to Caroline, he left the one addressed to 
 himself with it, so Caroline had the whole story. 
 
 "To think he asked father first!" thought Caro- 
 line, flushing anew. "He thinks he is a polished 
 gentleman like himself or Uncle Harkness; what 
 will he think when he sees him? Oh, if father 
 would only be a little more like other people !" 
 
 Mr, Ridgely's letter to Caroline was kind and 
 friendly, but not lover-like. Having asked permis- 
 sion of her rightful guardian to address her as his 
 future wife, he would wait until that permission was 
 given before doing so. In the meantime he told her 
 of the news in social circles, everything of religious 
 interest that was transpiring there, spoke of her 
 uncle's family, and mentioned how much she was 
 missed by all. 
 
 After reading her own and her father's letter sev- 
 eral times, Caroline fell into a delightful reverie. 
 
a visitoB frfeoii s*. toma. 251 
 
 Of course her father would give his consent, and 
 it would result in her going back to St. Louis as 
 the beloved wife of a popular young pastor. She 
 saw herself presiding over the elegant home which 
 she knew him to be able to possess, and her heart 
 swelled with pride at the brilliant prospect. 
 
 Caroline felt a natural diffidence at meeting her 
 father at dinner, so put off coming down as long as 
 possible, and not until Hesba had sharply called her 
 for the second time did she summon courage to 
 answer the call. 
 
 Her father had removed his coat, as was his cus- 
 tom at meals, and hung it upon its peg behind the 
 door, and was already at the table. He did not look 
 up when Caroline entered, for which she mentally 
 thanked him, though she feared at the same time 
 that it was an unfavorable sign as to his opinion of 
 Mr. Ridgely and his proposition. The meal was, 
 as usual, partaken of almost silently, and as soon 
 as it was finished Mr. Levering donned his coat and 
 returned to the mill. 
 
 Caroline had that morning promised Mrs. Wheel- 
 er a book, and after tea walked down to the cottage 
 with it in her hand. Under the exhilarating in- 
 
252 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 fluence of happiness, how beautiful everything ap- 
 peared to Caroline that evening, as she lightly trod 
 the fresh young grass of the meadow which lay be- 
 tween her home and the cottage! How romantic 
 and beautiful looked the hoary old mill in the rosy 
 beams of the setting sun! How cheerily the birds 
 were twittering their evening song in the newly 
 leaved woods at the back of the cottage! How 
 sweet and pure and lovely all things were, and yet 
 at the same hour the evening before, how cold and 
 dull and lifeless it had all appeared ! 
 
 Mr. Levering was standing in the mill door in his 
 usual attitude, upright, with his hands crossed be- 
 hind him, as his daughter passed through the 
 meadow a short distance from him. Her face 
 flushed as she saw that he was observing her, and a 
 presentiment that he intended speaking to her quick- 
 ened her steps away, though why it did so she could 
 not explain, even to herself. He reached for his 
 cane, which always stood just within the mill door 
 when not in use, stepped down the three steps which 
 led to the mill yard, and went to meet her. 
 
 "Who is this James Ridgely who has written to 
 me, enclosing a letter to you, Caroline?" he asked. 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. U53 
 
 The question did not surprise Caroline, for in the 
 evenings when she condescended to entertain the 
 home circle with scraps of information in regard to 
 her visit, although her father occupied his accus- 
 tomed place, he always appeared to be intently read- 
 ing, and she did not know whether he caught any 
 of the conversation or not. In these conversations 
 Mr. Ridgely filled a prominent place, because he 
 had been a prominent feature in her sojourn from 
 home. 
 
 "He is a brother of Aunt Harkness, father," re- 
 plied she, gaming confidence ; "is a minister and has 
 a fine church and congregation in St. Louis." 
 
 "An oldish man, I suppose?" commented her 
 father. 
 
 "No, I do not think that he is more than twenty- 
 seven or eight ; he is twenty years younger than Aunt 
 Harkness, I once heard her say." 
 
 "I guess he is a fine man," said Mr. Levering, hesi- 
 tatingly, "but—" 
 
 Caroline saw that her father had something on 
 his mind, to which he did not give utterance, but 
 never imagined that it was sorrow at the prospect of 
 her going away again ; for Mr. Levering was one of 
 
254 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 those persons who pass through life with their hearts 
 veiled from those who are nearest and dearest, there- 
 fore are misunderstood and unappreciated. 
 
 "But you will not refuse him, father ?" said Caro- 
 line, putting her own construction upon his hesi- 
 tation. "You will answer his letter, giving your 
 consent." 
 
 "Yes, child, yes," said her father, almost impa- 
 tiently, as he turned away from his daughter and 
 retraced his steps to the mill, while Caroline re- 
 sumed her walk to the cottage. 
 
 Poor lonely father ! Oh, Caroline, was there no 
 affectionate instinct in your heart which prompted 
 you to give your father one caress, or word of filial 
 affection, one token that he was dear to you, one 
 sigh at the thought of separation ? 
 
 Mr. Ridgely's letter was answered by Mr. Lever- 
 ing, and the correspondence between Caroline and 
 himself was regular and frequent, but no word in 
 regard to it passed between father and daughter. 
 
 At length one evening Caroline received a letter 
 from Mr. Ridgely which set her to thinking and 
 planning seriously. Mr. Ridgely had written that 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. 255 
 
 he would do himself the honor of paying her a visit 
 the following month. 
 
 Caroline was a believer in first impressions, and 
 she made up her mind that her lover should see her 
 upon her own ground under the most favorable cir- 
 cumstances possible; and these circumstances, she 
 decided with her shallow reasoning, were not to be 
 found under her father's roof, but in the city home 
 of her brother David's widow. 
 
 Her resolution was soon made and her plans com- 
 pleted ; she wrote to her sister-in-law, thanking her 
 for the first time for her many kind invitations, and 
 telling her when she might expect her. From 
 thence she intended writing to Mr. Ridgely, telling 
 him she was visiting and invite him to meet her at 
 the home of Mrs. Amanda, in Baltimore. 
 
 "I am determined that he shall not see my home 
 this trip, anyhow," she said to herself, "and by the 
 next time he comes I hope there will be a change." 
 
 Poor girl! by the next time there was a change, 
 but one which, with all her apparent heartlessness 
 and real selfishness, bowed her to the earth in deep 
 and sincere sorrow. 
 
256 TIMOTHY AND His FRIENDS. 
 
 The answer from Mrs,. Amanda Levering came 
 promptly, giving her a cordial invitation to come 
 any day, and expressing her pleasure that it had at 
 length suited Caroline's convenience to pay her a 
 visit. 
 
 The young girl was now delightedly busy. The 
 handsome dresses given her by her Aunt Harkness 
 came into use, and as through her cousin Sylvia she 
 had kept herself posted in regard to the changes and 
 vagaries of fashion, she set cheerily about remodel- 
 ing her wardrobe. 
 
 Aunt Hesba offered her assistance in the matter of 
 doing the laundry work for laces and muslins, which 
 offer was gladly accepted, and Caroline knew that 
 she need exercise no care for their being well done, 
 for in that matter, as in every other that she under- 
 took, Aunt Hesba was proficient. 
 
 There was, however, to all this anticipated pleas- 
 ure the inevitable drawback, the old carriage. Caro- 
 line was compelled to go to the city in it or stay at 
 home. 
 
 Under any other circumstances she would' most 
 likely have postponed the visit, hoping, like Micaw- 
 ber, for something to turn up. But in such a case 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. 257 
 
 as the present, she was willing to risk a little damage 
 to her pride for the sake of the object in view ; he- 
 sides, she thought of a way in which, if she could 
 get her father to acquiesce, all mortifications in re- 
 gard to the carriage and his antiquated appearance 
 might be avoided, or at least in a measure lessened. 
 
 She knew that her father in his rare visits to the 
 city stopped at a farmer's hotel to have his horse fed ; 
 and she thought she could manage, without his sus- 
 pecting her motive, to induce him to let her alight 
 there, and walk to her sister-in-law's, and Mrs. 
 Amanda could send for her trunk that evening. 
 Wardrobe completed and plans laid, Caroline bade 
 her mother and Aunt Hesba a cheery goodbye and 
 set out on her visit. 
 
 "Where do you intend stopping, father, when we 
 get into town?" she questioned as the spires of the 
 Monumental City came in sight, "I am not in the 
 least hurry to get to Amanda's, as I did not tell her 
 what time to expect me, so I will go around with 
 you first wherever you wish to stop." 
 
 "I want to call at Lawyer Dubreil's office for a 
 few minutes and at one or two other places, but first 
 I will have the horse fed at the 'Golden Sheaf,' and 
 
258 TIMOTHY AND HtS FfilENDS. , 
 
 as they keep carriages there to run to the depot and 
 other places, I think it will be best to hire one, and 
 send you and the trunk up to .Amanda's ; that will 
 save me from going, and I will get home earlier." 
 
 Oh, no ! Archibald Levering was no dunce. Had 
 he not been entirely satisfied in his own mind that 
 he was doing precisely what Caroline most desired, 
 her sudden rise in spirits and inability to conceal her 
 pleasure at the proposal, would have convinced him. 
 
 Before they drew up at the ladies' entrance to the 
 hotel, it might have been noticed that Caroline's blue 
 veil was in demand, and her retiring manner and 
 evident desire to avoid attracting attention were 
 beautiful to behold. 
 
 Her father procured the carriage at once, and in 
 the shortest possible time she had bidden her father 
 goodbye, had received a much more liberal supply of 
 money than she had expected, and was driven in 
 fine style to "The Garrigue." 
 
 Caroline was again in her element ; and she appre- 
 ciated keenly the large wide halls, the handsomely 
 furnished rooms, the luxuries that met her upon 
 every hand, and brought back to her mind that lovely 
 visit to St. Louis. 
 
A YISITOE FROM ST. LOOTS. 259 
 
 Her sister-in-law received her cordially and con- 
 ducted her to a pleasant room adjoining hers, from 
 iwhich she could look out upon the street ; and after 
 a chat in which Archie formed a prominent feature, 
 left her that she might rest and refresh herself for 
 'dinner. 
 
 "You came at a very opportune time," said she 
 as she was leaving the room ; "the Literary Society 
 meets this evening in the parlor, and I know you 
 will enjoy it, besides you will be a valuable addition 
 to the club." 
 
 Caroline felt as though floating through air, so 
 jubilant, so happy was she ; everything gave prom- 
 ise of a charming visit. 
 
 "Then I will dress again for evening, shall I not?" 
 inquired she, eagerly. 
 
 "You can use your pleasure altogether about 
 that," smiled Mrs. Amanda; "the ladies usually don 
 something light for evening, but it is entirely op- 
 tional; as you know, I wear nothing but black." 
 
 "And becoming as it is to most people, it is more 
 so to you," said Caroline, sincerely. 
 
 Mrs. Levering left her to herself, but not before 
 supplying her with writing materials, and in half an 
 
260 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIEND8. 
 
 hour the letter to Mr. Ridgely was safely in the 
 street letter-box, and Caroline could turn her atten- 
 tion to other things. 
 
 Evening came, and all the members of the Liter ary 
 Society were present with the usual number of 
 guests, and Caroline said to herself that she was 
 never one of a more intelligent and agreeable com- 
 pany, while they were charmed with the beauty and 
 grace of the young sister-in-law of Mr9. Levering. 
 
 Archie in the meantime had been watching some- 
 what impatiently for the return of his grandfather 
 from the city that evening, and the moment he saw 
 the gray horse turn into the lane he ran to open the 
 gate. 
 
 Strange that it did not occur to' any of them, even 
 to Archie, how conveniently he could have visited 
 his mother and returned in the evening. 
 
 If Caroline had thought of it, she would have most 
 likely kept her thoughts to herself, as her maneuvers 
 and calculations tended toward getting to hef sister- 
 in-law's without going in the old carriage, and 
 Archie's going might have upset all her plans. As 
 for Archie, he was so full of a little scheme of his 
 
A VISITOR FEOM ST. LOUIS. 261 
 
 own that even the pleasure of a visit to the city did 
 not occur to him. 
 
 "Did you see mother, grandfather?" he said, 
 eagerly, as he commenced mechanically to help un- 
 harness the old gray horse. 
 
 "No, Archie, I did not go to the house; I sent 
 your Aunt Caroline up in a hack." 
 
 Archie was a manly little fellow, but a chill of 
 bitter disappointment came over him, and tears filled 
 his large brown eyes. His grandfather noticed it, 
 and sympathized with the boy. 
 
 "Did you want me to go and see her, Archie ; you 
 did not say anything about it before I went?" 
 
 "I did not know you could do any other way than 
 go yourself," replied Archie, vainly striving to con- 
 trol his 'voice. "I wanted you to see mother and 
 grandmother and the baby and tell me how they all 
 looked, and besides I wrote a note to mother and 
 sent it by Aunt Caroline." 
 
 "Caroline did not say a word to me about it, but 
 that will make no difference ; she will give it to your 
 mother as soon as she gets there." 
 
 "Yet, but it would be of no use then. Wednesday 
 of next week is Annette Wheeler's birthday, and I 
 
262 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 wrote to mother to get something nice for my pres- 
 ent to her, and send it by you. I know that mother 
 would have gotten the very nicest thing she could." 
 
 "I am really sorry about it," said Mr. Levering, 
 compassionately; "how would it do to give Annette 
 some money and let her buy whatever suits her ?" he 
 added, looking about him and lowering his voice, as 
 though afraid of being detected in doing a kindness. 
 
 "Oh, I don't think she would like that at all," re- 
 plied the boy, "but thank you all the same, grand- 
 father." 
 
 "Well, then, I cannot help you any, I fear ; maybe 
 your grandmother or Aunt Hesba could think of 
 something; women know more about such things 
 than men." 
 
 "Yes, sir, but I asked them before, and it was 
 grandmother who put it into my head to write to 
 mother, and send the letter by Aunt Caroline." 
 
 "Your Aunt Caroline did not know what was in 
 the note, I suppose, or she would have told me," re- 
 marked Mr. Levering, reflectively. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir, she knew, but I reckon she forgot 
 it." 
 
' He had offered himself to Caroline and been accepted ' 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOTOS. 263 
 
 "I could get some boy who brings grain to the 
 mill to catch you a rabbit or squirrel to give her, 
 and she could have it for a pet." 
 
 "Oh, that will be the very thing ! How kind you 
 are, grandfather. I know that would please An- 
 nette better than anything I could buy." 
 
 "There is a squirrel cage with a strong reel in it 
 in the mill. I will paint it a pretty color, and it will 
 look like new." 
 
 Archie was very happy over this prospect, know- 
 ing that his grandfather never failed in keeping a 
 promise. 
 
 Timothy happened to be the first boy who came 
 to the mill after the conversation, and it was he who 
 was engaged to catch the squirrel; and by the time 
 the cage was painted and dry, succeeded in getting 
 a beauty, with bright eyes and bushy tail, a busy, 
 active little fellow, that could make the reel fly, and 
 Annette's present was complete. 
 
 Her birthday happened upon a school holiday, 
 which Archie and she decided was the luckiest thing 
 that ever could happen. 
 
 They helped Mrs. Wheeler make the birthday 
 cake the evening before, and Archie, by special invi- 
 
264 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 tation from Mrs. Wheeler, and consent of his grand- 
 mother, remained to tea at the cottage, for they were 
 to deck the walls with evergreen and crowfoot, in 
 honor of the occasion. 
 
 As soon as the frugal repast was over they set to 
 work and had just finished, and were admiring the 
 effect, when a knock was heard upon the door, and 
 Hesba, with a shawl over her head, came in. A car- 
 riage load of visitors were at the house, and she 
 had come for Archie. 
 
 Hesba was a little flustered by her speedy walk, 
 and was in a hurry to go back, but she took time to 
 admire the beauty of the room, the pure white walls 
 gleaming through the lovely clinging foliage, with 
 here and there scarlet berries adding to the effect. 
 
 Hesba had not informed Archie who the visitors 
 were, for in truth she had not time, for he was off 
 in a flash as soon as he heard of it; but to Mrs. 
 Wheeler she gave the information that it was Mrs. 
 Amanda Levering, Mr. Ridgely, and Caroline, who 
 had driven out from the city to remain over night. 
 
 Caroline's enjoyment of her visit to her sister-in- 
 law did not fall an iota short of her expectations. 
 Mr. Ridgeby came at the appointed time and stopped 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. IXTUIS. 265 
 
 at a hotel in the neighborhood of " The Garrigue," 
 and as in St. Louis he came very often to take Caro- 
 line out for a drive. 
 
 Sometimes he came with a double-seated carriage 
 and invited Airs. Garrigue and Airs. Amanda to ac- 
 company them iniong drives into the country. He 
 remained over the Sabbath and preached at one of 
 the most noted churches in the city. Several of 
 the guests of the house went to hear him, and their 
 appreciation of his discourse was sweeter than mu- 
 sic to the ears of his affianced, for he had offered 
 himself to Caroline, and had been accepted. 
 
 "Miss Caroline," said Mr. Ridgely one morning, 
 while sitting in the parlor of "The Garrigue," "I 
 must return to St. Louis the last of next week and 
 I shall not feel satisfied to leave here until I have seen 
 your father and mother. Living as they do within 
 driving distance of the city, I feel that it would be 
 inexcusable in me to make no effort to pay my re- 
 spects to them. We will go any day you appoint, 
 and will be most happy to have Mrs. Levering ac- 
 company us," bowing to Mrs. Amanda, who was 
 present. 
 
266 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 "I shall be delighted to go," responded Mrs. Lev- 
 ering, quickly, to cover Caroline's chagrined silence; 
 "I have, as you know, a son out there, and am glad 
 to have the opportunity of going, particularly at this 
 time, as he wrote a note by his Aunt Caroline for 
 me to attend to some little matters for him, but as 
 his grandfather could not make it suit to call that 
 day, I could not send what he wrote for." 
 
 "Let me see," said Caroline, reflectively, mentally 
 resolving to put it off long enough to give the home 
 folks a chance to make some preparation; "this is 
 Saturday; the birthday is next Wednesday. Sup- 
 pose we go on Tuesday and spend the day," 
 
 "Whatever suits you ladies," said Mr. Ridgely, 
 courteously. "I am entirely at your service." 
 
 "Or would it not be better to go on Tuesday even- 
 ing and return on Wednesday morning," said Mrs. 
 Amanda, who longed to pass an evening with Archie. 
 
 Caroline agreed; for she ran it quickly over in 
 her mind that if there were any circumstances under 
 which the dreary old parlor at home, with its striped 
 home-made wool carpet, rush-seated chairs, and 
 white muslin curtains, were endurable, it was when 
 lighted up by a crackling hickory fire, arid if there 
 
A VISITOR FROM ST. LOUIS. 267 
 
 were any fair side to the picture, she wanted Mr. 
 Ridgely to see it. 
 
 The reverend gentleman had scarcely disappeared 
 through the hall door that morning before Caroline 
 flew upstairs, wrote a letter home, and slipping out 
 took it herself to the nearest letter-box. 
 
 She directed it to her Aunt Hesba, because Archie, 
 who would call at the postoffice on his way home 
 from school on Monday and receive the letter, would 
 be less apt to ask Aunt Hesba its contents than if 
 received by his grandmother ; at all events, he would 
 be less apt to hear them if he did ask, so to Hesba 
 it was sent. 
 
 Caroline did not mention even to Mrs. Amanda 
 that she had written, and took the precaution to 
 tell her aunt and mother that she had not done so. 
 
 "It will not be necessary for any of you to men- 
 tion to Mr. Ridgely and Amanda that I gave you 
 notice," she added, and underscored, "then any 
 changes you make will not be known as changes, 
 and above all, don't tell Archie," this latter clause 
 with marked emphasis. 
 
 "It will at least prevent us from catching mother 
 with her every-day cap on," she thought to herself 
 
268 TIMOTHY AND HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 as the letter dropped into the box, "and Aunt Hesba 
 knitting at a stocking a yard long, and father in his 
 shirt sleeves, and the sitting-room littered with bits 
 of leather and strings and other traps which Archie 
 has around him with his everlasting covering of 
 balls." 
 
 So they went, and found all in perfect order, were 
 warmly welcomed, and had a charming visit. 
 
 Now that they were really in her father's house, 
 Caroline wondered that she could have dreaded it, 
 everything was passing along so excellently. 
 
 How bright and comfortable looked the old-fash- 
 ioned parlor in the blaze of the crackling fire which 
 had been kept there all day ! For, although spring 
 had far advanced, the mornings and evenings were 
 very cool, and Caroline offered a devout thanksgiv- 
 ing in consequence. 
 
 It is doubtful if Archie had not been so interested 
 in the birthday festival, whether he could have been 
 kept in ignorance of the unusual preparations going 
 on at home ; but he was at school all morning and at 
 the cottage all afternoon, so the only time he had 
 been in the house that day was to eat his dinner, and 
 his grandmother and aunt took particular care that 
 
A VISITOR FBOM ST. lOUIS. 269 
 
 nothing likely to attract his attention should be about 
 just at that time. 
 
 Hesba made one of her choicest pound-cakes, and 
 dressed the finest poultry on the place, and Mrs. 
 Levering did her share in getting all in readiness, 
 unknown to Archie. 
 
 As to the fire in the parlor, it could have burned 
 there a month and Archie have been none the wiser. 
 The parlor was a spot which the boy did not affect ; 
 its everyday funereal aspect chilled him to the mar- 
 row of his bones. He thought it the dreariest place 
 on earth, and it was until lighted and warmed by the 
 rollicking fire which glorified every nook and angle, 
 and made diminutive twin images of itself in the 
 eyes of the happy circle around it. 
 
 Caroline could see that her father was pleased with 
 Mr. Ridgely, and what was far more important in 
 her eyes, that Mr. Ridgely was pleased with her 
 father. 
 
 In all ner remembrance of Archibald Levering 
 she had never before seen him take real interest in 
 conversation ; as to her mother, anybody that suited 
 Caroline suited her. 
 
270 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 Archie was in his favorite position on a stool at 
 his mother's side, his arm resting upon her lap and 
 hers around him, while she and Mrs. Levering 
 dropped naturally into the subject so dear to both, 
 that of the loved and lost — Archie's dead father. 
 
 Mrs. Amanda was very grateful to the grand- 
 parents for their kindness to her boy, glad to see 
 him well and happy, glad that he could roam in the 
 sweet green fields and woods, instead of up and 
 down the stairs of a boarding house. 
 
 Caroline, seeing all happily interested, went out 
 to chat with her aunt, who was putting the finishing 
 touches to the supper. The long drive had given 
 them excellent appetites, and Archie was reminded 
 of his first evening there, when he saw the estimation 
 in which his aunt's broiled chicken and excellent 
 bread and coffee were held. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Amanda had arrived that evening 
 and laid aside her wraps, she had given Archie the 
 presents from his Grandmother Garrigue, also a 
 handsome wax doll for Annette, and a picture-book 
 and puzzle to amuse both — the latter being Archie's 
 present to Annette. 
 
A VISITOR FBOM ST. LOUIS. 271 
 
 The visitors had intended returning to the city 
 the next morning, but were so cordially invited to 
 remain to dinner that they consented, and Archie 
 was permitted to invite Annette up to take dinner 
 with them, so, from the beginning, it was destined 
 to be a perfect festival to the children. 
 
 After breakfast Archie accompanied his grand- 
 father and Mr. Ridgely upon a walk down the creek, 
 and Mr. Ridgely was charmed with the romantic 
 beauty of the place. 
 
 Considering the short time which elapsed between 
 breakfast and dinner, it was amusing to note the 
 many private conferences that took place between 
 the entertainers and their guests. 
 
 Mr. Ridgely had a few moment's private conver- 
 sation with the parents of his betrothed, in which he 
 affectionately thanked them for the confidence they 
 reposed in him in giving him their only child, where- 
 upon it was noticeable that Archibald was much af- 
 fected, although for anything he possessed he would 
 not have had anyone notice it, while Mercy smiled 
 unmoved, with her usual placid sweetness. 
 
 Mrs. Amanda also had a few minutes' private 
 conversation with the parents of her deceased hus- 
 
272 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 band, to which Mr. Levering listened immov- 
 ably, while Mercy's eyes filled with tears. Perhaps 
 it concerned Archie, perhaps not ; but whether so or 
 otherwise, it made not a shade of difference in their 
 kindness to her. 
 
 Caroline had a private chat with Aunt Hesba, in 
 which she told of her engagement; also that Mr. 
 Ridgely had received a call to the church in which 
 he had preached since his visit to her, that he in- 
 tended accepting it, and they would be settled near 
 Mrs. Amanda. 
 
 Archie had a private conference with his mother 
 in which he informed her in all sincerity that An- 
 nette Wheeler was the very prettiest girl in the 
 whole world, and that he intended to marry her 
 when he grew to be a man. Whereupon Mrs, Aman- 
 da smiled, and evinced a laudable curiosity to see the 
 little maid; and when Annette appeared at dinner, 
 a sweet, modest, well-bred child, Mrs. Amanda 
 smiled again, and thought to herself that if in time 
 it should turn out as Archie had planned, her con- 
 sent would not be hard to gain. 
 
 Caroline had a few minutes' private conversation 
 with her mother, in which she hurriedly whispered, 
 
A VISITOR FBOil ST. LOUIS. 273 
 
 "Don't let Aunt Hesba put any wine on the dinner 
 table, nor give a hint that she makes it." 
 
 Yes, it was a charming visit to all, and no one 
 more than Hesba, for Mr. Ridgely had inquired into 
 the state of the village church, and finding it lan- 
 guishing had interested himself in all the particulars. 
 
 Once upon a time it had been in a nourishing con- 
 dition, had a minister of its own, and a parsonage; 
 but a new church had been built in a neighboring 
 village, and now it was only at chance times that 
 service was held, and the parsonage had for many 
 years been occupied by different mechanics who had 
 successively moved into the village. 
 
 Mr, Ridgely had money, and he had influence; 
 he resolved to use both in an endeavor to bring about 
 a better state of things ; and his prayer in the home 
 circle that night seemed to Hesba to hold in it a com- 
 forting hope for the future. Nothing had endeared 
 Archie more to her than his willingness to accom- 
 pany her across the lonely fields to prayer meeting, 
 and she longed for this change as much for him as 
 for herself. 
 
 The dinner was, to Aunt Hesba's innocent satis- 
 faction, a complete success, and about the middle of 
 
 the afternoon the guests returned to the city. 
 18 
 
274 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mrs. Amanda had embraced her mother-in-law, 
 even more tenderly than usual ,and with tears in her 
 lovely eyes besought Mr. Levering to bring her to 
 the city for a good long visit. 
 
 "It would do mother much good," she said ; "she 
 needs a change." 
 
 For Mrs. Amanda had noticed what perhaps none 
 of the others had given a thought — not Mr. Ridgely, 
 for it was his first time of seeing her; not her own 
 family, for they were with her all the time ; she no- 
 ticed that her mother-in-law's health was very frail. 
 She sadly observed the languid step, the hurried 
 breathing after exertion, the hollow eyes, the wan 
 cheek; yes, Mercy Levering' s time on earth was 
 short, and no one was so conscious of it as herself. 
 
 At the urgent request of the church where Mr. 
 Ridgely had preached, he remained in Baltimore 
 over the second Sabbath, and again filled the pulpit, 
 to the great satisfaction of all. 
 
 Monday evening was the semi-monthly meeting 
 of the Garrigue Literary Society. He was to be 3 
 guest of the club, and unknown to all but a select 
 
A VISITOR FBOM ST. LOUIS. 275 
 
 few, had a double reason for not leaving the city 
 at the time first appointed by him. 
 
 Mr. Ridgely had enjoyed every moment of his 
 visit thoroughly, and this last evening was no ex- 
 ception. Every member of the club was present, 
 and Lawyer Dubreil, after calling the meeting to 
 order, made a short speech. 
 
 "It has always been one of my favorite maxims," 
 said he, blandly, "that variety is the spice of life; 
 so we will substitute something this evening in place 
 of the tableaux and charades which have been ar- 
 ranged. Our honored guest, the Rev. Mr. Ridgely, 
 will address us for a few moments, after which our 
 literary exercises will proceed as usual. 
 
 The president then excused himself and with- 
 drew, and the conversation became general. 
 
 "That is because there is a minister present, I 
 suppose," said one of the medical students in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "What is because there is a minister present?" 
 questioned Dr. Garnet Adriance. 
 
 "Why, having no charades nor tableaux nor 
 nothing," said the medical student, discontentedly. 
 
276 T1M0TH* AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "Did you not hear the president say that Mr. 
 Ridgely was going to fill in with an address ?" 
 
 "Yes, but that need not drive all the fun out of 
 doors. I had a splendid tableaux for this evening, 
 costumes and scenery and all." 
 
 "What was it ?" inquired Dr. Garnet. 
 
 "Why a wedding, and now it has all to be set 
 aside." 
 
 At that moment the parlor door opened, and after 
 a hush of expectation Mr. Ridgely arose and ad- 
 vanced to the center of the room. The company fol- 
 lowed the example of Mrs. Garrigue and arose in a 
 body, as Mr. Dubreil, with Mrs. Amanda Levering 
 upon his arm, advanced slowly to the spot where Mr. 
 Ridgely awaited them, and who began immediately 
 to address them in the words that bound them to- 
 gether. 
 
 Very sweet and lovely looked Mrs. Amanda in her 
 soft, dove-colored silk, and flowing veil, and the 
 little lawyer never looked so well in all his life. 
 
 "Did you ever?" murmured the medical student, 
 nearly overwhelmed with astonishment, when the 
 ceremony was Over. 
 
 "No, I never!" muttered the law student. 
 
a nsrroB fboh st. lotus. 277 
 
 "I don't like such sudden surprises; they are in- 
 jurious to the nerves," said another medical student 
 with the traditional shake of the head, which is the 
 especial property of the disciples of Esculapius. 
 
 Congratulations in the meantime had been hearty, 
 and smiles and good wishes for the happiness of the 
 newly married ones. 
 
 "Well, my dear sir," said the happy groom, as the 
 law student advanced, "I believe I succeeded in giv- 
 ing you a surprise. I hope it was a pleasant one." 
 
 "But how in the world did you keep it such a 
 secret," said the secretary; "I am sure not one of us 
 suspected such a thing." 
 
 "We did not keep it secret intentionally," smiled 
 the bride ; "you did not ask us, and we did not care 
 to go out of the way to tell you." 
 
 "It goes to prove, however, that there are excep- 
 tions to all rules," remarked one of the guests, "and 
 some couples can be lovers without their acquaint- 
 ances suspecting it, and some boarding houses can 
 exist without gossip." 
 
 The club received another surprise when the doors 
 of the dining-room were thrown open, and disclosed 
 refreshments tables groaning under the weight of 
 
278 TtMOfHt AND HIS fflttEttDS. 
 
 rich cakes, splendid fruits, ices, and other luxuries, 
 and all agreed that it was the most charming wed- 
 ding they had ever attended; no formality nor re- 
 straint, yet sufficient solemnity to keep all present in 
 remembrance that two members of the society had 
 entered into a solemn covenant that would end only 
 with life. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TIMOTHY'S INHERITANCE. 
 
 Time passed, and brought with it more changes to 
 Timothy's neighbors and friends. 
 
 Mrs. Mercy Levering had passed from earth, her 
 departure making but little change in the daily rou- 
 tine of the home from which she had been taken. 
 
 Mr. Ridgely and Caroline were married a few 
 months after her mother's death, and occupied the 
 handsome parsonage belonging to the church of 
 which he was pastor, and "The Garrigue" was in 
 its usual flourishing condition, the marriage of Mr. 
 Lauren Dubreil and Mrs. Amanda Levering adding 
 to its popularity, as the genial couple gave frequent 
 entertainments to the guests, to which they were 
 privileged to invite friends, and the fortnightly 
 meetings of the Literary Society were still held in 
 the parlors. 
 
 One evening several years after Timothy had been 
 
 under the instruction of Mark Ogilvie, and had been 
 
 279 
 
280 TIMOTHY AND TIIS FRIENDS. 
 
 his well-beloved companion at all leisure times, he 
 set out from Mrs. Carleton's farmhouse for "Ogil- 
 vie's Pride." 
 
 He had not for some time been general utility boy 
 at Mrs. Carleton's, that position having been given 
 another waif; instead, he had the management of 
 the dairy, and there was no better judge of stock 
 than he, in the State, Farmer Brayson taking credit 
 to himself- as instructor. 
 
 The passing years had made much improvement 
 in his appearance. The foxy shade of his hair had 
 changed to a rich auburn, his freckles had disap- 
 peared, the bloom of health was upon cheek and lip ; 
 he was tall and well-developed ; a handsome, intelli- 
 gent and well-bred youth, and, better than all, he was 
 a Christian. On his way through the woodland to 
 "Ogilvie's Pride" he passed the spot where Grace 
 Darling had lost her life. He paused and reflected 
 as he had done many times before. It had always 
 been a mystery to him what had become of her body, 
 but he never alluded to it in the presence of Mr. 
 Ogilvie, for he felt that in some way he was con- 
 nected with its disappearance. 
 
TIMOTHY'S INHERITANCE. 281 
 
 He walked on and. reached the house at his usual 
 time. Margery, the old housekeeper, was busy in 
 the kitchen, and the others engaged in, their usual 
 evening duties about the place. 
 
 He passed the door of the unused parlor, which 
 he had never known unlocked, and entered the 
 library, where Mr. Ogilvie and himself passed their 
 evenings. 
 
 The lamp was lighted, the fire burned cheerily 
 upon the hearth, all things wore their wonted look 
 of refined comfort. In his accustomed place sat 
 Mark Ogilvie, but he turned not to greet his loved 
 pupil. The master of "Ogilvie' s Pride" was dead ; 
 had passed away while waiting to hear the voice of 
 the one who was nearer and dearer to him than any- 
 one else upon earth. 
 
 This discovery was a great trial to Timothy. He 
 loved Mark Ogilvie with an affection that he felt for 
 no other human being, and his face was as white as 
 that of his departed friend when he left the room to 
 summon others to the house of death. 
 
 Kind friends and neighbors were not wanting in 
 this time of bereavement. Madame Angela and 
 
TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mrs. Carleton were among the first to come, and to 
 remain to receive Richard Ogilvie and Isabel. 
 
 The days that intervened before Dorton church- 
 yard received the form of his beloved friend were the 
 saddest that Timothy had ever known, and the after- 
 noon of the day that Mark Ogilvie's body was com- 
 mitted to Mother Earth he was summoned to the 
 parlor of "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 There sat the attorney of the late owner, and with 
 him were Richard Ogilvie, Isabel, Mr. Archibald 
 Levering, Dr. Garnet Adriance, Mrs. Carleton, and 
 Madame Angela; before whom the attorney pro- 
 ceeded to read the last will and testament of Mark 
 Ogilvie. 
 
 All bonds, stocks and mortgages were bequeathed 
 to his brother's only child, Isabel Ogilvie, but 'Ogil- 
 vie's Pride,' with all that appertained thereto, was 
 left without reservation to Timothy ; "and especially 
 to my beloved pupil Timothy, in addition to "Ogil- 
 vie's Pride," do I bequeath, with my blessing, the 
 statue concealed by a curtain in one corner of this 
 room." These words concluded the will, and all 
 eyes turned instinctively to the curtain. 
 
fllfOTHY's ISfiEBItAJfCE. 285 
 
 Timothy made no move toward it, so the lawyer 
 advanced and drew aside the fold of crimson bro- 
 cade. 
 
 On a marble pedestal stood Grace Darling, as life- 
 like as though her taxidermist had been endowed 
 with more than human skill. 
 
 "Oh, papa, it is Cousin Mary Ogilvie's dog, little 
 Flora," cried Isabel, as all arose and crowded about 
 it. "See, papa, there is Mary's monogram upon the 
 collar." 
 
 The father had recognized the dog at a glance, for 
 he had purchased it as a present to little Mary; but, 
 like Isabel, had no more thought of disputing the 
 possession of it than he had of the farm which they 
 had just heard bequeathed to Timothy. 
 
 Tears filled the eyes of Timothy as he thought of 
 the sorrow of his loved and honored friend, whose 
 one act of cruelty had been atoned for in so many 
 ways, and feeling that he could bear no more, he 
 turned away and quietly leaving the room, returned 
 to Mrs. Carleton's. 
 
 Everything seemed strange and unreal to him ; he 
 wished to be alone to think it over. He could not 
 realize that his position in life was changed, but was 
 
284 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 bitterly conscious that he had lost his best friend; 
 should see him no more upon earth. 
 
 The Baltimore newsboy had become a landowner ; 
 his fine estate adjoining that of his steadfast friend, 
 Mrs. Carleton, and it was to her he went for counsel 
 in his new circumstances. 
 
 She advised him to take up his residence at "Ogil- 
 vie's Pride," and continue at Dorton Academy the 
 education of which Mark Ogilvie had laid such a 
 substantial foundation, and Timothy took the ad- 
 vice, and went directly there. 
 
 All through his boyhood there had been a secret 
 wish to know something of his parentage. Ever 
 since he could remember he had borne the name of 
 Edmonds, but he did not believe it to be his name. 
 A feeling like the fading remembrance of a dream 
 haunted him, that he had known another life, and 
 other associations than those of Hammers Alley. 
 Once he had startled Granny by asking for informa- 
 tion on that subject, but instead of telling him she 
 smoked vigorously until something occurred to 
 change the current of the boy's thoughts. 
 
 Now that he had a position to maintain in the 
 neighborhood, he became more anxious than before; 
 
timothy's inheritance. 285 
 
 and resolved to take advantage of the next holiday 
 and pay a visit to the "Home," for the purpose of 
 finding out from Granny who and what he was. 
 
 The lovely face of Mary Ogilvie was another mo- 
 tive which impelled him to this step, for from the 
 first moment he had seen her at the lawn gate of 
 "Ogilvie's Pride," he had loved her, although never 
 for a moment imagining that she was the little girl 
 who had crossed the ocean in the Miriam at the 
 same time with Granny and himself. 
 
 He had supposed her to be the niece of Mark Ogil- 
 vie, and his knowledge of that gentleman had taught 
 him to think that no one of that name would con- 
 descend to recognize one who could not boast of 
 distinguished lineage. 
 
 Isabel Ogilvie's first visit to the neighborhood 
 since her grandfather's death had been to her Uncle 
 Mark's funeral. 
 
 Mrs. Richard Ogilvie's haughty spirit had been 
 wounded that Colonel Ogilvie had left little Mary in 
 charge of Mother Ursula and Madame Angela, in- 
 stead of herself; and this indignation was increased 
 when Mark Ogilvie came suddenly from abroad and 
 took possession of "Ogilvie's Pride," without any 
 
286 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 consultation whatever with his brother Richard; 
 henceforth she never interested herself in Mary, and 
 up to the time of her death had no communication 
 whatever with "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 Mother Ursula, with her clear-sighted thoughtful- 
 ness, saw how much the two girls, Isabel and Mary, 
 both growing into lovely womanhood, would be ben- 
 efited by companionship with each other, so she and 
 Madame Angela — at the time of Mark Ogilvie's 
 funeral — gave Isabel a cordial invitation to remain 
 and make Mary a visit at the cottage, which invita- 
 tion was gladly accepted, and in return Mary was 
 invited to visit Isabel in her city home. 
 
 After that it came to be the understanding that 
 Mary should pass her winters in the city with Isabel, 
 while the picturesque cottage of Mother Ursula and 
 Madame Angela was graced and enlivened by both 
 girls each summer. 
 
 Sometimes when Timothy was trudging home 
 from Dorton Academy, his books under his arm, or 
 of serene, moonlit nights was returning from a walk 
 to Mrs. Carleton's, he met a merry company of 
 four, and among them one whom he worshiped, but, 
 alas, from afar, 
 
TIMOTHY'S INHERITANCE. 287 
 
 Though Mary always recognized him by a slight 
 smile and faint blush, his heart at times was heavy in 
 his bosom, for he doubted that the distance between 
 them would ever be lessened. 
 
 Sometimes the party were on horseback, the girls 
 appearing very lovely in their close-fitting habits of 
 dark blue cloth ; Rufus Carleton, the devoted cavalier 
 of Isabel Ogilvie, while at Mary's side rode, with 
 boyish nonchalance; his brother Frank. 
 
 Timothy looked on the successful wooing of Ru- 
 fus with heartfelt rejoicing, but, noble of soul as he 
 was, he envied, while he wondered that Frank 
 seemed to hold the bliss of being in the society of 
 Mary so lightly; a happiness for which he would 
 have given every earthly possession. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS. 
 
 Mrs. Amanda Dubreil was as prompt in her cor- 
 respondence as had been Mrs. Amanda Levering, 
 and her letters to her son Archie were frequent. 
 
 These letters from his mother were a great pleas- 
 ure to Archie, one of his many pleasures, and he 
 wished all his friends to share it. 
 
 His Grandmother Levering had always been fa- 
 vored with the reading of them after himself. 
 Since her death Aunt Hesba was the first one he 
 gave them to, then his grandfather, who perused 
 them after he came from the mill in the evenings, 
 after which they were taken down to the cottage to 
 Annette. 
 
 It happened one morning that Mrs. Amanda had 
 seated herself to write to her son, when Caroline 
 called, in her handsome carriage, to take her out for 
 a drive, on a shopping expedition for herself, one 
 
 288 
 
AFTER MANY YEARS. 289 
 
 may be sure, she wishing the benefit of her sister-in- 
 law's exquisite taste. 
 
 Knowing that she would be detained too late to 
 mail her letter to reach Dorton that day, Mrs. 
 Amanda asked her mother to write, that Archie 
 might not be disappointed; so for the first time in 
 his life Archie received a letter written by his Grand- 
 mother Garrigue. 
 
 After tea, the day on which this letter was re- 
 ceived, Mr. Archibald Levering took his accustomed 
 seat in the wide porch which faced the mill and the 
 narrow grass-fringed path which led to Mr. Wheel- 
 er's cottage. Down this path Archie was passing, 
 having, as he went by his grandfather, laid the letter 
 upon his knee. 
 
 Archie had traversed but a little way when he 
 heard footsteps behind him. His grandfather had 
 followed him, had overtaken him, and grasping him 
 by the arm had turned him about and was searching 
 his countenance eagerly, his own face pallid with 
 emotion. 
 
 "Archie, my son's son, what was your grand- 
 mother's name?" 
 
 "Martha Garrigue," replied the startled boy. 
 19 
 
290 TIMOTHY AKD HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "But before she married, before she married, did 
 you never happen to hear anyone mention it?" 
 
 "No," replied Archie, slowly, "I don't think I ever 
 did." 
 
 Mr. Levering groaned. "Try and think, Archie. 
 I will give you time.'* 
 
 "Once when I was a very little boy," said Archie, 
 after a pause, "I was at grandma's, and she was 
 dressing to go out. She let me look in her dressing 
 bureau, and in a little box in one of the drawers 
 there was a picture in a gold case, with a name en- 
 graved upon it. I asked grandma whose name it 
 was, and she told me to spell it and she would pro- 
 nounce it for me." 
 
 "And it was — " said Mr. Levering, eagerly. 
 
 "Martha Rutledge." 
 
 "Martha Rutledge!" repeated his grandfather 
 with quivering lips. "Oh, I knew it !" 
 
 "I did not know whose name it was," continued 
 Archie, "grandma said the picture was given to her 
 by a very dear friend." 
 
 "But did not say whom?" 
 
 "No, sir ; but there was something else on the case, 
 
AFTER MANY TEAKS. 291 
 
 and when I said it over, grandma said that was the 
 name of the friend who gave it to her." 
 
 "What were the letters ?" 
 
 "Let me think," said the boy reflectively; "yes, 
 that is it. Martha Rutledge from A. L." 
 
 "Did you see the picture?" 
 
 "Only for a moment, grandma took it, put it back 
 in its little box and locked it up in the drawer." 
 
 "Did it look like anyone you knew ?" 
 
 "No one that I know now. It was a young and 
 handsome man, and I said to grandmother that it 
 looked like father." 
 
 "What did she say to that?" said Mr. Levering 
 leaning forward with intense interest to catch the 
 answer. 
 
 "She turned suddenly, drew me to her breast and 
 kissed me twice, and told me not to mention to any- 
 body that I had seen it ; and I have never done so 
 until now ; perhaps I should not have done so, even 
 to you." 
 
 For answer, Mr. Levering turned and with rapid 
 steps sought his sister. 
 
 "Hesba!" rang his voice like a, trumpet call 
 through the silent house, 
 
292 TIMOTHY AND I1IS FRIENDS. 
 
 Hesba came, her face like that of the shrouded 
 dead. What subtle agency told her that the time 
 had come when she must answer to her brother for 
 the blight put upon his life, and by her? 
 
 "You told me she was dead ; you have been a liv- 
 ing lie!" 
 
 "As God is my witness, Archibald, I thought she 
 was dead until it was too late — Mercy was your 
 promised wife." 
 
 "Give me the proof, nothing else will satisfy me, 
 for I know you hated Martha Rutledge." 
 
 "I did dislike her, Archibald, but not to that ex- 
 tent as to blight your life in order to punish her." 
 "And without cause; she never harmed you." 
 "She laughed at me; she ridiculed me in the pres- 
 ence of the only man I ever loved ; so when I found 
 that it was a cousin of the same name and not herself 
 that lost her life in a railway accident — I kept it to 
 myself. You were promised to Mercy, I had to live 
 with you — thanks to Martha Rutledge, whose flirt- 
 ing with Andrew Rice and ridicule of me alienated 
 his affection from me. But for her I would have 
 had a home of my own," 
 
AFTER MANY YEABS. 293 
 
 "It was a cruel, unsisterly act, Hesba; I had 
 thought you an honorable girl when we were young 
 and in our old home." 
 
 "It was wrong and unchristian-like, Archibald, 
 and I have deeply repented the harm I did you. I 
 should have done the right, no matter what the 
 result would have been to myself. I will say though, 
 in justice to myself, that I really believed that Mercy 
 would make you the better wife of the two. I had 
 no love for Martha Rutledge, how could I have ; yet 
 I should not have taken that matter in my own 
 hands. Brothers and sisters should not interfere 
 with each other's attachments without greater reason 
 than I had, but it appears that only age and experi- 
 ence will teach them this." 
 
 "Did you know while Mercy lived that Archie's 
 Grandmother Garrigue was the Martha Rutledge 
 whom we both knew ?" asked Mr. Levering, his eyes 
 becoming dim at the thought of his meek wife who 
 had never given him a frown. 
 
 "I have known it always, Archibald. It was no 
 trouble for me to keep informed of her through the 
 Athelings, whom she visited in her young days, and 
 where you first met her." 
 
2&4 TIMOTHY AND HIS FfilENDS. 
 
 "The Athelings would rather have me believe her 
 dead; no doubt they kept you in ignorance of the 
 mistake as long as possible, fearing that you would 
 tell me, for they never liked me." 
 
 "And whose fault was that, Archibald? You 
 slighted them, and never noticed them any more 
 than the dust under your feet until Martha Rutledge 
 visited them. They knew that you only made a con- 
 venience of their house; girls do not forget these 
 things." 
 
 "They must have known that I was engaged to 
 Martha Rutledge and had promised to visit her after 
 her return home." 
 
 "Of course they knew it, but not until after you 
 were engaged to Mercy, then like myself they 
 would not grieve her, whom they loved and respect- 
 ed, to please you who had slighted them. It was 
 through them that I heard of her marriage with Gar- 
 rigue, and after their daughter Amanda grew to 
 womanhood, of David's attachment for her. The 
 Rutledge's were old friends of Lawyer Dubreil,, as 
 were the Garrigues, and when David went there to 
 read law with Mr. Dubreil of course he saw much 
 of Amanda. I miglit have interfered then, and 
 
AFTER MANY TEABS. 295 
 
 again avenged myself upon Martha Rutledge, but I 
 had enough of match-breaking, besides I knew that 
 you wanted David to marry some one in the country 
 so that he might remain upon the farm, but I would 
 not lay a straw in the path of the poor boy's happi- 
 ness." 
 
 "Do you suppose that Martha knows that David 
 was my son ?" 
 
 "Why, Archibald, how could she help knowing 
 it ? You have always lived here, and have the same 
 name that you had then. David's wife visited here 
 after her marriage and you were at David's funeral; 
 how could she help knowing?" 
 
 "Do you suppose Mercy suspected ?" 
 
 "Mercy had never seen Martha Rutledge, conse- 
 quently when she saw Martha Garrigue at David's 
 home, she was a stranger to her. She could not help 
 hearing that you had loved some one else before you 
 married her, and most likely heard she was dead ; but 
 I am quite sure she heard no further, for the Athel- 
 ings would have been the last ones in the world to 
 tell her, although Mercy, as you know, was easy and 
 indifferent." 
 
296 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 Mr. Levering winced. "She was a good wife to 
 me ; poor Mercy." 
 
 "Moreover, I knew that Mercy loved you," con- 
 tinued his sister, "and I was not willing that she 
 should be disappointed for the sake of one so utterly 
 unworthy as I considered Martha Rutledge." 
 
 "Who told you that Mercy loved me; not Mercy 
 herself I am sure?" 
 
 "It does not always require words, Archibald. 
 Our father married his miller's daughter, and when 
 people used to quote that to Mercy, and would 
 jokingly tell her that you would follow his example, 
 one would be indeed blind not to see that she loved 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Levering turned to leave the room. 
 
 "Archibald," said his sister, "as we will probably 
 never speak upon this subject again, I want to ask 
 you one question, who told you that Martha Rut- 
 ledge and Martha Garrigue were one and the same?" 
 
 For answer Mr. Levering took Archie's letter 
 from the pocket of his coat and spread it open upon 
 the table, then unclasping his collar he took a slender 
 guard from his neck, to which was attached a small 
 
AFTER MANY YEARS. 297 
 
 morocco case. He opened it and drew forth a worn, 
 time-stained letter, and laid it beside the first. 
 
 "There is the only letter I ever received from 
 Martha Rutledge ; it has never left me since I heard 
 of her death ; compare them." 
 
 A few days after this conversation a visitor called 
 at the elegant home of the Rev. James Ridgely and 
 Caroline descended to her luxuriously furnished par- 
 lor to greet her guest. It was her father in his 
 inevitable suit of blue. 
 
 "Caroline," said he, "I am going to 'The Gar- 
 rigue' to see Amanda and her little girl ; will you go 
 with me?" 
 
 "Not dressed as you are, father. If you will let 
 me send out for a clothier to take your measure and 
 bring you a suit of clothes I will go with you." 
 
 "You may send for one, Caroline." 
 
 "Oh, father, are you in earnest? And for a 
 barber?" 
 
 "And for a barber also, Caroline ?" 
 
 "And for a hatter, father?" 
 
 "For a hatter, if you wish, Caroline." 
 
 "And for anything else you require, father?" 
 
 "For anything you think I require." 
 
298 TIMOTHY AND HIS FKD3NDS. 
 
 "Oh, father, you are the dearest man in the 
 world !" and Caroline in a maze of delight rang the 
 bell for a waiter. 
 
 "I said I spected it was an old party who had been 
 to a masquerade and somebody stole his clothes," 
 commented the grinning waiter as he returned to the 
 kitchen for his hat, before setting out upon his 
 errand. 
 
 In a short time as handsome an elderly gentleman 
 as one would wish to see called with Mrs. Caroline 
 Ridgely at "The Garrigue." That gentleman was 
 Mr. Archibald Levering. He passed several days 
 with his daughter, the first visit he had ever paid in 
 his life, and every evening while in the city he passed 
 with Mrs. Garrigue, and in a short time there was 
 another wedding in the parlor of "The Garrigue," 
 and Caroline had gained a stepmother, while Mrs. 
 Amanda's father-in-law was converted into a step- 
 father, the Rev. James Ridgely being the officiating 
 minister. 
 
 In view of the turn that affairs had taken it may 
 be questioned whether Hesba's feelings were those 
 of unmingled joy; but that did not prevent her from 
 having one of her excellent suppers for the bride and 
 
AWeE MAftT TEAES. 299 
 
 groom on the evening of their journey to their old 
 home. 
 
 Neither did it prevent her from making Archi- 
 bald's home as agreeable as possible to the new Mrs. 
 Levering, who remained a week, then returned to the 
 city to make arrangements for making the farm 
 house her permanent home.. 
 
 Before Archibald Levering had found the be- 
 trothed of his youth, Lawyer Dubreil had his own 
 views in regard to the brown-stone dwelling known 
 as "The Garrigue." 
 
 It had been rather crowded for some time, and 
 Mrs. Garrigue had taken the subject of enlarging 
 the building under serious consideration, as she 
 would not listen to the removal of Lawyer Dubreil 
 and his family to another home. 
 
 The wise little man discouraged the proposed 
 enlargement for he thought he foresaw the time 
 when Mrs. Garrigue would weary of that life and he 
 would then take the house off her hands and give 
 her the opportunity to pass the afternoon and even- 
 ing of her life in tranquillity with him, Mrs. 
 Amanda and the children. 
 
300 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Fate, as usual, aided him, but took her own way of 
 doing so. Mr. Levering stepped in with a prior 
 claim, and sensible little lawyer as he was, he grace- 
 fully accepted the situation and gave his sincere con- 
 gratulations in his usual cheery manner. 
 
 Mrs. Archibald Levering was a practical woman ; 
 her arrangements were made for removing to her 
 rural home without putting any of the members of 
 her large household to any inconvenience that could 
 be avoided. In her kind, helpful, genial way she 
 assisted those who needed counsel in finding pleasant 
 homes, and at the appointed time was back at Lever- 
 ing's mill. 
 
 She loved the country, and the neighborhood of 
 Dorton in particular, but there was one deficiency 
 which she resolved to do all in her power to remedy. 
 There was no regular service in the church, and 
 being all her life a steady church-goer, considered it 
 impossible to exist in a community where this was 
 the case, without making a stir in the matter. 
 
 Mr. Ridgely had done what he could to send sup- 
 plies out to Dorton church, and Hesba's heart was 
 made glad in consequence. This was very good, 
 but Mrs. Martha wanted a stationed preacher and a 
 
AFTER MANY YEARS. 301 
 
 parsonage, and she and Mr. Ridgely had many con- 
 ferences in regard to it. In one of them she hap- 
 pened to mention the name of Andrew Rice, for the 
 part she had taken in thoughtless youth in breaking 
 the engagement between him and Hesba had always 
 been a painful recollection, and she told Mr. Ridgely 
 the whole affair. To her surprise she heard that 
 Mr. Rice was yet in the ministry and just then with- 
 out a charge. 
 
 "Oh, James, if we could only have him at Dor- 
 ton !" said Mrs. Martha eagerly ; "it would make me 
 so happy to try to atone for the past. Do exert your 
 influence to have him sent here." 
 
 Mr. Ridgely did use his influence, and before the 
 parsonage — to the erection of which he had con- 
 tributed every dollar — was completed, Mr. Andrew 
 Rice, still a bachelor, was appointed pastor in charge 
 of Dorton church, and made his home with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Archibald Levering until the parsonage should 
 be ready for occupancy, and then he and Hesba, or 
 rather Rev. Andrew and Mrs. Rice took possession. 
 
 Mrs. Levering and the other ladies of the congre- 
 gation had made it ready, and welcomed by a 
 pleasant entertainment, their minister and his wife, 
 
302 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 who, by way of a bridal tour, had paid a visit to 
 Caroline and Mrs. Amanda. 
 
 It was noticed that Archibald Levering upon that 
 occasion passed among the people conversing with 
 this one and that one, in a manner never witnessed 
 in him by the oldest inhabitant; and the following 
 Sunday, and every Sunday that followed, he took 
 his seat with his wife and Archie in one of the main 
 pews of Dorton church, and was one of the most 
 intelligent hearers of his brother-in-law, Andrew 
 Rice, whom he honored and respected for his deeply 
 spiritual nature and unaffected goodness. 
 
 Sometimes they were all prevailed upon by the 
 happy Hesba to remain the rest of the day at the 
 parsonage to be on hand for the evening service, 
 upon which occasion they partook of one of her 
 excellent Sunday dinners, prepared for the most part 
 the day before, than which Archie thought nothing 
 could be better. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FRUITION. 
 
 "Life hath its hopes fulfilled; 
 Its glad fruitions, its best answered prayer, 
 Sweeter for waiting long, whose holy air, 
 Indrawn to patient souls, breathes forth its rare 
 
 Grand speech, by joy distilled." 
 
 One beautiful morning in spring-time, Lawyer 
 Dubreil, now the possessor of a handsome carriage 
 and pair of spirited but gentle horses, took his family 
 out to pass the day with his mother-in-law, Mrs. 
 Archibald Levering. 
 
 The carriage was stowed full of children, even to 
 the exclusion of the little lawyer himself, who sat on 
 the box with the coachman, while Mrs. Amanda held 
 alternately two children upon her lap, the one whose 
 turn it was standing in the meantime by the lowered 
 glass door of the carriage, gazing with delight at the 
 varying scenery, so new and enchanting. 
 
 303 
 
304 TIMOTHY AND HIS FEIENDS. 
 
 Several of the children had been borrowed for the 
 occasion, for whenever Lawyer Dubreil had the 
 enjoyment of an outing he wished all who could to 
 share it, and his neighbors on either side were more 
 than pleased to have their darlings enjoy a trip to 
 the country. 
 
 Archibald and Mrs. Levering were in readiness 
 to receive them, and Archie, brimming over with 
 joy, took the children in charge, and Mrs. Levering, 
 having invited Annette Wheeler to help entertain 
 them, they had a grand day of it, as indeed every- 
 body had who visited the Leverings. 
 
 The mother and daughter had much to interest 
 them, and the time fled all too fast, while the little 
 lawyer could not enjoy enough the green fields and 
 fragrant woods through which he had roamed in his 
 youthful school-teaching days at Dorton. 
 
 In the afternoon Mrs. Carleton called, and she, 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Levering, aided by Mr. Dubreil, 
 recalled many of the frolics of their younger days, 
 to which Mrs. Amanda was an amused listener. 
 
 "Do take your bonnet off and stay this afternoon," 
 said Mrs. Levering for the second time; I am sure 
 
FBDITION. 305 
 
 there is nothing to call you home, and we would all 
 enjoy having you stay." 
 
 "No, there is nothing to prevent me," said Mrs. 
 Carleton, reflectively, "except that Timothy, who 
 went to the city a few days ago, is to return to-day, 
 and on his way from Dorton is to call at our place to 
 let me know the result of a small business matter 
 which I asked him to attend to for me." 
 
 "Timothy? What Timothy?" inquired Lawyer 
 Dubreil with his ever alert eye to business. 
 
 "I really cannot say ; he goes by the name of Ed- 
 monds," replied the lady. 
 
 "Bless my heart, madam !" cried the little lawyer 
 excitedly, "was ever the like of that known before? 
 Here I have been inquiring for that boy and adver- 
 tising for him in the daily papers in every prominent 
 city in the union for the last two weeks, and find him 
 here under my very nose. Well, well, it has always 
 been a maxim of mine that truth is stranger than 
 fiction." 
 
 "Are you aware that you are speaking in enig- 
 mas?" rejoined Mrs. Carleton quickly, "What 
 
 about Timothy. Who is he?" 
 20 
 
306 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 "He is the son of your old neighbor, Mark Ogil- 
 vie, of 'Ogilvie's Pride.' " 
 
 "Is that really true !" ejaculated Mrs. Carleton in 
 astonishment. "Mark Ogilvie's son!" 
 
 "Yes, my dear madam; and his mother was the 
 daughter of an English nobleman, Sir John Man- 
 ning, and what is better for Timothy, she was Mark 
 Ogilvie's lawful wife." 
 
 "His wife !" echoed Mrs. Carleton, while Mr. Lev- 
 ering and the others listened with deeper interest. 
 "Why, everybody in the neighborhood thought he 
 was unmarried." 
 
 "No doubt he wished many a time that their opin- 
 ion was correct," replied Mr. Dubreil, "for he and 
 his young wife were not at all suited to each other 
 and lived unhappily the one year they were together. 
 His marriage with the petted, only child, with mind 
 undeveloped, was but an impulse with Mark Ogilvie, 
 he never loved her; Miss Bowlsby was the one 
 woman in the world for him, and he could not love 
 again, and should not have married. When Mark 
 left Liverpool and went off alone to Italy her father 
 forbade all communication with him, and when the 
 poor girl-wife died, he packed the boy — then three 
 
frBUITION. 307 
 
 years old — and his nurse, Granny Edmonds, off to 
 America, and sent word to Mark Ogilvie in Italy 
 that mother and son were dead. He had promised 
 Nurse Edmonds to send money quarterly for the 
 maintenance of the boy, but never did ; and how they 
 subsisted until Timothy found a home with you, the 
 Master above only knows." 
 
 "But how did you find all this out, tell us that?" 
 said Mrs. Carleton eagerly. 
 
 "I am coming to that, my dear madam; coming 
 to that all in good time. It has been a maxim of my 
 life that the more haste the least speed, so we will 
 allow the story to develop itself. The vessel upon 
 which Timothy and Nurse Edmonds sailed was 
 bound for Baltimore, but whether it ever reached 
 there that heartless old grandfather never troubled 
 himself to ascertain!. But when he found himself 
 about to leave the world and his possessions, he 
 longed to find the one person on earth who had the 
 best right to them, and that one is Timothy." 
 
 "He tried to have Mark Ogilvie found in Italy, 
 and failing in that he instructed his lawyer to com- 
 municate with some attorney in Baltimore who was 
 to try to find the boy. This attorney happened to 
 
308 TIHOTHT AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 be me, and I immediately undertook the commission 
 with the understanding that I am to have half the 
 sum set aside in Sir John Manning's will for that 
 purpose — should the boy be found. If this be the 
 boy we are searching for, and I have no doubt in the 
 world but that it is, he will be the richest man south 
 of Mason and Dixie's line, or my name is not Lauren 
 Dubreil, attorney-at-law." 
 
 A rap upon the hall door interrupted the conver- 
 sation and Timothy was announced. 
 
 He had stopped at Mrs. Carleton's, and finding 
 that she had gone to call upon Mrs. Levering, con- 
 cluded to take Levering's mill in his route and 
 inform her of the result of her commission. 
 
 The rather careworn expression with which he 
 had left home had disappeared, for Timothy carried 
 near his heart the antidote for most of the ills which 
 life could hold for him. 
 
 The light of happiness beamed in his handsome 
 eyes, his manner was self-possessed, easy and grace- 
 ful, and as usual, courteous and respectful. 
 
 Timothy had seen Granny Edmonds, and had 
 heard good news. Being of age, Granny considered 
 
FRUITION. 309 
 
 that he had a right to know all that she had to tell, 
 and that was much. 
 
 She had taken the precaution, several times since 
 coming to Baltimore, to go to different magistrates 
 and make solemn affidavit that what lawyers had 
 recorded as it fell from her lips was true. These 
 papers were left with the lawyers, and to them Timo- 
 thy applied, and the records were now in his pos- 
 session ; coinciding exactly with Mr. Dubreil's story. 
 Congratulations were cordially given by the inter- 
 ested listeners, and none more heartily rejoiced than 
 his true and tried friend, Mrs. Carleton, who re- 
 moved her wraps and stayed to tea, as did also Timo- 
 thy, at the pressing invitation of Mrs. Levering; 
 for there was much to talk over, and no better oppor- 
 tunity could be afforded than at that time. 
 
 Before they separated it was decided that Lawyer 
 Dubriel should accompany Timothy to Liverpool by 
 the next steamer that sailed from Baltimore; then 
 the little ones were again placed in the carriage for 
 their drive back to the city, and Timothy returned to 
 "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 He sat long that night in the library where he 
 and his father had so often talked, but he had no 
 
310 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 inclination to read, although his lamp burned bright- 
 ly and all was comfortable about him. His thoughts 
 were busy upon all he had heard that day, and also 
 of one piece of information imparted to him by Mrs. 
 Edmonds which he intended to share with Mrs. 
 
 Carleton the next day. 
 i 
 "Timothy," Granny had said, "you told me once 
 
 of a lady as was named Miss Jane Houston, and I 
 told you to treat her fair, because she was a lady and 
 because of her name. Well, Timothy, her name was 
 the same as your grandfather's and of your mother 
 before she married your father; for,, Timothy, the 
 poor, forsaken creature was the only child of your 
 grandfather's brother. When I was your' nurse, 
 Timothy, your mother used to tell me of her cousin, 
 Jane Houston Manning, who wrote letters from 
 America to your grandfather begging him to help 
 her get her money from her uncle on her mother's 
 side, who had been her guardian, and took all her 
 property. But your grandfather would not answer 
 her letters because he had had a fallin' out with his 
 brother, Miss Jane's father, who died in Canada, 
 And your sweet young mother pitied her so, Tim- 
 othy, and cried because she could not help her. 
 
FEUITION. 311 
 
 And, Timothy, when I saw Miss Jane Houston in 
 the Home, I know'd her by your mother, for she was 
 the livin' image of her, Timothy, only she was older 
 than your mother was when she died. Trouble had 
 set heavy on her, and she dressed queer; not like 
 your grandfather's wife and his daughter dressed. 
 So Miss Jane Houston Manning was your mother's 
 own cousin, Timothy, and I am glad you always 
 treated her fair." 
 
 All this had Granny told him, and he knew it to be 
 literally true, and tears filled his eyes as he thought 
 of the last hours of his forlorn relative. 
 
 A week later Lawyer Dubreil and Timothy sailed 
 for Liverpool, which they reached in safety and 
 found all as represented. Without trouble or delay 
 Timothy came into possession of his grandfather's 
 estate and title, but his heart was in his adopted 
 country, and he resolved that his home should be 
 among the dear friends who had loved and cared for 
 him when he was poor and unknown. 
 
 Five years passed away, years which brought 
 changes to these dear friends. Archibald Levering 
 and his family were prospering, Archibald looking 
 younger and handsomer than when Timothy had 
 
312 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 first seen him. A comfortable new carriage had 
 been bought by him and the body of the old one con- 
 verted by his skillful hands into a handsome sleigh, 
 Archie having painted and gilded it in an artistic 
 manner. With handsome lap-robe crocheted by his 
 Annette's fair hands the two glided "over the hills 
 and far away" to the merry tinkling of the bells, and 
 the grandson of Martha Rutledge bade fair to> be the 
 third Archibald Levering to marry the miller's 
 daughter. 
 
 The Rev. Andrew and Mrs. Rice were growing 
 steadily into the respect and affection of his people, 
 the number of which had more than trebled since he 
 took Dorton church in charge. Though married 
 late in life, years were doing their work toward 
 assimilating dispositions entirely opposite, and both 
 were benefited by the discipline. The strong will 
 and quick temper of Hesba were subdued and held 
 in restraint by the consistent and placid example of 
 her husband, while his amiability was not suffered 
 to degenerate into weakness by his self-reliant and 
 energetic wife, who possessed originality unknown 
 to his gentler nature. 
 
FBCTTIOSr. 313 
 
 Hesba's Bible-class included nearly all the young 
 men and maidens of the neighborhood, and among 
 the first communicants brought into Mr. Rice's 
 church, mainly through her teachings, were Mary 
 Ogilvie, Rufus and Frank Carleton, and Timothy. 
 Other influences had united in bringing Timothy 
 into the fold. The Bible given him by Miss Jane 
 Houston Manning had been read each day and the 
 influence of her bequest did not stop with him. 
 Mark Ogilvie in explaining passages which were 
 obscure to Timothy, found his interest strengthened, 
 and the Bible became his best loved book, perused 
 sometimes far into the night — when Timothy was in 
 the deep sleep of healthy, happy youth. 
 
 Mr. Ridgely and his family were prospering, as he 
 deserved; Caroline looking out for number one, as 
 she had done all her life. She was admired and pet- 
 ted by her husband's parishioners, who were proud 
 of her beauty and elegance, while her affection for 
 them could only be compared to the vivifying 
 warmth of an electric light upon snow. 
 
 Lawyer Dubreil, happy in his home and successful 
 in business, was the same prompt, reliable, alert little 
 man that had the village school at Dorton. Mrs. 
 
314 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Amanda, the happy mother of four lovely children, 
 was filling her life with good deeds, and with the 
 help of faithful Bridget was brightening the lot of 
 the outcast, the discouraged, the homeless. 
 
 At Mrs. Carleton's there had been a change, 
 Grandfather Carleton had been called home. 
 
 "Why weep ye then for him, who having won 
 The bounds of man's appointed years at last — . 
 Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labor done 
 Serenely to his final rest has passed ; 
 While the soft memory of his virtues yet 
 Lingers like twilight hues when the bright sun is 
 set." 
 
 Isabel Ogilvie had married happily, for her hus- 
 band was Rufus Carleton, and two lovely children 
 were well-springs of pleasure in the Carleton farm- 
 house, their grandmother convinced that two hand- 
 somer and better children could not be found upon 
 the broad earth. 
 
 At the cottage, which outwardly appeared the 
 same, there were changes. Old age had stolen upon 
 Mother Ursula, had whitened the once raven black 
 hair and dimmed the lustre of the starry eyes. The 
 violin had refused to respond to the stiffened fingers 
 
FKD1TI0N. SIS 
 
 and feeble will, and when one day, leave was taken 
 of those who had made life so sweet, a void was left 
 in the hearts of the survivors which no one else could 
 fill. 
 
 A year passed and Madame Angela said nothing 
 in regard to a tombstone to mark the grave of Moth- 
 er Ursula; and Mary and Isabel gently suggested 
 that one should be placed there. It was not until 
 after Madame Angela's own death that they compre- 
 hended her reply — "All in good time, my children ; 
 we will keep it bright and fresh with flowers, and 
 when I am gone I know that you will follow the 
 directions I shall leave for the inscription upon the 
 tombstone which will stand for Mother Ursula and 
 myself." 
 
 "We will follow your directions implicitly," re- 
 plied Mary and Isabel, and the subject was not 
 mentioned again. 
 
 A few years after, when Madame Angela departed 
 in peace, they remembered her instructions, and in 
 her desk they found a sealed missive containing 
 what she had told them they should know 
 
 One sweet summer morning the children of Dor- 
 ton school spelled aloud the inscription upon a stone 
 
316 TIMOTHY AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 placed to the two graves known to be those of 
 Mother Ursula and Madame Angela. 
 
 "Sacred to the memory of Count Victor Emanuel 
 Costelli, a native of Florence, Italy, who for political 
 reasons was forced to flee his country. He loved his 
 adopted land and his prayers were for its prosperity. 
 This stone is also sacred to the memory of his wife — 
 Countess Marie Josepha Angela Costella— who 
 shared his exile. Both departed this life in calm 
 submission to the will of God." 
 
 Changes had also taken place at "Ogilvie's Pride." 
 
 A substantial farm-house was built for the occu- 
 pancy of an overseer, and "Ogilvie's Pride" was 
 enlarged in accordance with the suggestions of 
 Mother Ursula and Madame Angela. It resembled 
 an Italian villa, and was fitted out with every luxury 
 which wealth, without ostentation, deemed neces- 
 sary. It was the home of Timothy Ogilvie and his 
 fair wife Mary, who were once two young subjects 
 of the queen, of honored memory. 
 
 In two of the new additions were suites of apart- 
 ments, each adapted to the needs of a very small 
 family, and furnished with every comfort. 
 
FRUITION. 317 
 
 A fine toned piano was in one of these suites in 
 accordance with a promise of long standing made by 
 Timothy, for it was the residence of Cousin Melie, 
 while the other wing was the home of Granny Ed- 
 monds, three happy Christian homes under one roof. 
 
 Children with the auburn hair of Timothy and 
 the dimpled beauty of Mary Ogilvie made the once 
 silent house ring with merriment while behind the 
 brocade curtain, as when placed -there by the repent- 
 ant hand of Mark Ogilvie, stood the graceful figure 
 of Grace Darling. 
 
ALL the books in this list were 
 written or translated by Mrs. 
 Mary E. Ireland, of Washing- 
 ton, D. C, and can be purchased from 
 the publishers of each, or will be fur- 
 nished to libraries and individuals at a 
 discount of 25 per cent, from list prices. 
 
 The Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 
 Richmond. Virginia. 
 
 R. E. MAGILL. Secretary and Treasurer. 
 
; •