Idle Hour Stories Part 2

It was three years before I went back. Then they said, "Miss Chrissy is alone." Alone I found her. She was little changed. The brightness had merely gone from her smile. I noticed that her talk was less of her patterns, and more of the gray slabs. She no longer clung to the proud little boast, "I design my own patterns." She was apt to tell what Suffy said, or Polly, or Phoebe, not forgetting Becky, our quilter.

"No," she said, when I asked: "Polly was not sick. She said in the morning, 'Chrissy, do you ever feel strange in your head?' Next morning she did not wake up. Suffy was never as strong as the rest--her back was bad; so when she had a sort of fit one day, it was soon over."

"You don't--you can't--stay here all alone?"

"No, Mrs. John, Henrietta is with me. You know Henrietta? She belongs to the people down stairs. I shan't forget her kindness."

"Are you very lonely, Miss Chrissy?" I asked, choking down the tears.

"No, not lonely. The dear Lord is with me; He will stay to the end. No, Mrs. John, not lonely."

She had always refrained, in diffidence, or humility, from religious talk. I know it was from no lack of deep spiritual conviction. If ever the world contained a purer, sweeter sisterhood, I have not known it.

Their work was homely, as their lives were secluded, but no one ever saw them idle or impatient. In one straight and narrow path they walked through earth's temptations to heaven's reward.

One of the last things she said to me was that I should take some of the choicest patterns to my western home, notably "little John's first short dress edge."

"You have been a helper to us in more ways than one. G.o.d will bless you, Mrs. John."

"Is there nothing you would have me do now? Dear Miss Chrissy, do not hesitate to speak."

She did hesitate. "I don't think of anything. My papers have long been drawn up. Lawyer Thomas will attend to them. You know our little savings are to go to the Home for Aged Women."

I never saw her again. Sitting one day, placid and patient, she fell asleep over the yellow box; and when they lifted the soft white old face, all was still.

The Ghost at Crestdale

AN ADVENTURE

"Here we are, safe and sound," cheerily said the driver of the huge black ambulance, as he pulled up before the piazza of Crestdale, the beautiful villa whose tower had been tantalizing the travelers for several miles.

A party of five descended from the wagon as the wide doors were flung open by the housekeeper, and a kindly welcome greeted them, as well as comfortable fires.

"My! how cold it is," exclaimed a fresh young voice, as the speaker hurried close to the generous heater.

"Be careful, dear, or you will burn your coat," warned an older lady, while a stalwart young fellow tenderly loosed the seal wrap in question.

Placing the fair wearer in a great arm-chair, he said: "There, Mademoiselle Jessie, be a good girl--if you can. Now, sister ours, what can I do for you?" turning gallantly to the other lady.

"Thanks, you foolish boy," was the pleasant rejoinder; "look after those parcels and those live commodities shivering there."

The live commodities were a maltese cat, a canary bird, and two raw recruits from Erin; and the "foolish boy" at once set about a.s.signing places for people and things.

"There's a kitchen somewhere back here; come along, Michael. All right, Katie, follow me, and fetch the menagerie with you."

Duly installing them in their domain, the young man made his way back through the wide, chilly rooms that intervened, and joined the ladies who were fast making themselves at home.

"A trifle bleak this, isn't it?" he said, rubbing his hands before the blazing logs. "But just take note of that fragrant beefsteak. Say, girls, I don't see any table set anywhere;" and he looked ruefully around.

"Give us time, sir," remonstrated the elderly lady. "Here is a move in the right direction already," she added, as the housekeeper entered with the tea tray.

"Mabel, can't we have m.u.f.fins?" pleaded the young voice.

"m.u.f.fins! Not on such short notice; but you may have toast and eggs."

"You'll disenchant me with your enormous appet.i.te," chaffed the young fellow, and got a saucy slap for his pains.

"Riding hours and hours on that horrid train is enough to starve any one," was the ready defense; "you only came from New York. Come on, everybody, while the steak is hot." And they gathered round to do justice to the repast.

Mabel and Jessie Winthrop were orphan sisters, the one fifteen years the elder, and was mother as well as sister to her idolized charge. Her own life romance was a buried chapter, and now she was chiefly concerned for the happiness of the two young persons seated there.

George Randolph was a distant cousin, and was to be married to Jessie Winthrop in two weeks' time. They had come down to make ready the seaside villa, which was their favorite home. It stood upon a winding river close to sh.o.r.e, and commanded a view of the surrounding country for many miles.

It was an immense house, containing some twenty-five rooms, and full of unexpected niches, nooks, and crannies. It was kept furnished throughout, but was locked up in the winter months. An unlooked-for cold wave, speeding from the northwest, had made the coming of the prospective bridal party a somewhat dreary affair.

A few happy touches here and there transformed the gloom into cheer, and it was with renewed animation that they arose from their repast an hour later.

George was to return to the city next day, but would run down frequently before the wedding day. Meanwhile this, their first evening, pa.s.sed quickly and agreeably for all.

The ensuing week was a busy one. A whole army of sweepers, dusters and renovators were turned loose in and about the villa, and the good work went on with a will.

Michael took charge of a pony phaeton, and the sisters often drove in to the village shops, two miles away, where the nearest railroad station was. It was necessary, however, that Mabel should make a final trip to the city to purchase some articles, and she arranged her time so that George could return with her on the evening train.

"You won't be afraid, darling?" was Mabel's fond question, as she made out her list.

"Afraid?" echoed the other. "Why, no; what is there to be afraid of? It is perfectly safe here."

"Yes, I know; otherwise, I would not leave you even for the day."

"The house is big," said Jessie, "but we have near neighbors. Besides, there's Mike and Katie, and Mrs. Lawrence. Oh, I'm all right, Mabel dear."

"See that the house is securely fastened;" was Mabel's parting injunction as she kissed her sister goodbye. "Look for us at the sound of the whistle to-night."

"Indade, Miss Jessie," said Katie a little later, her face in a pucker, "indade it's not right for the loikes af yees to be here all alone."

"Why, Katie, what's the matter," laughed the girl; "you don't call this being alone, do you?"

"Ah, but haven't yees heard the quare noises in the tower, Miss Jessie?

An' shure there's a ghost in this house--Holy Mother defind us!" and Katie piously crossed herself in real terror.

"A ghost, Katie! I'm ashamed of you. It is only the wind. It blows here fearfully. You might turn a regiment loose in the house, and they could scarcely make more noise than these big, rattling windows."

"Arrah, me jewel," protested Katie; "there's a turrible walkin' about in the tower ivery night these two noights. An' didn't yees hear about the awful murther in the town over beyant us an' the murtherer iscapin'?

Sich a quare murther, too, with the finger rings all left on, and the money purse in the pocket. Ah, Miss Jessie, a murtherin' ghost won't niver be laid."

"You silly Kate!" said Jessie merrily. "Don't be afraid, I'll take care of the ghosts. We are all right."