Mildred's New Daughter Part 4

"Well, how soon are we to expect them?" she asked.

"They are already here," he replied, "and the errand from which I have just returned was to the vessel that brought them. Albert proposes to keep the whole four for a few days, till they have had time to become somewhat acquainted with us, and parted with the good woman--the wife of a soldier in Canada--who had charge of them on the voyage."

"And after that?"

"We propose to make a division--each taking two; our wives, of course, having a vote as to which two each of them may prefer to take."

"And they have been already sent up to your brother's, I suppose? I wonder how Augusta likes it."

"Surely she can hardly be without some feeling of compa.s.sion for the sorely bereaved little ones," he returned with emotion.

"They are to be pitied," she said, her voice softening somewhat. "Well, I came for a little money to spend in doing good--helping some of the unfortunates in our midst. Can you spare it?"

"Certainly," he replied, opening his his purse and handing her a small roll of banknotes.

"Thank you," she said; "I'll see to it that your bounty is not wasted."

"I'm sure of it, Sarah; I never knew you to be wasteful."

She smiled at that, understanding it as a well deserved compliment; then took a hasty leave, as she perceived that someone was at the door seeking an interview with Mr. Eldon.

"Well, it's a bad business," she sighed to herself as she hurried along the street; "as if it was not enough to be plagued with my own brother's child, I must have his too. And really there's no necessity for it; it would be a charity to pay somebody to take charge of the four, saving them the trial of being separated and helping the caretaker to make a living; decidedly I think it is a brilliant idea and that I shall have no difficulty in persuading Augusta to join me in insisting upon having it carried out."

Mrs. Augusta was in her dressing room, just completing her dinner toilet, when to her intense surprise a tap at her door was followed by the entrance of her sister-in-law.

"Ah, you had no idea it was I coming upon you so unceremoniously,"

remarked the caller with a grim smile, and seating herself without waiting to be invited; "but I came to have a bit of chat with you about this invasion of our homes by uninvited young guests. I for one see no reason why we should be expected to take charge of them, our husbands being amply able to pay someone else to do so, someone who may be glad to add in that way to a meagre income."

"Why, Sarah, that's a brilliant idea! If only such a person--one whom George and Albert would be willing to trust--can be found," exclaimed Mrs. Augusta, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Have you anyone in mind?"

"Yes, I have thought of that poor Irish curate, Coote, who is so continually applying for help. Wasteful creatures he and his wife must be to need it so often, with never a chick or child of their own to support."

"I should think so; and I can't bear him--red-headed, pompous, dictatorial, domineering creature that he is! He should never have charge of a child of mine."

"Well, don't, I beg of you, be silly enough to say that to your husband or mine."

"Of course not; if they can't see for themselves, why should you or I enlighten them? Still I do feel a little sorry at the thought of giving him a chance to domineer over those poor little orphans."

"Let them behave themselves and they will do fairly well, I have no doubt," returned Mrs. Sarah with a frown. "They must be taught to expect to support themselves from the time they can be made capable of doing so, and lessons in self-control and the endurance of some hardship will be a decided benefit to them."

"So we will endeavor to believe, at all events," laughed Mrs. Augusta.

Then they consulted together as to the best plan for approaching their husbands on the subject; and decided that their wisest course would be to say nothing at present, but wait till some trouble between the newcomers and their own children should so annoy the gentlemen that they would be ready to purchase peace at almost any price.

CHAPTER V.

Things went pretty smoothly with the little orphans while their friend Mrs. McDougal stayed. She managed to keep the peace between them and their cousins by soothing and petting her young charges and interesting all the occupants of the nursery with her fairy tales, her stories of Wallace, the Bruce, and Robin Hood and his merry men.

But all too soon came the day when she must leave Philadelphia and go to the husband who was wearying for his good wife; a sad, sad day to the poor little fatherless and motherless children! They clung to her until the last moment, and she had to tear herself away leaving the whole four weeping bitterly.

Their uncles were kind, but because of business cares seldom seen; the aunts took little notice of the young strangers, each being absorbed in her usual round of occupation, while the treatment of the cousins, older and younger, varied with their varying moods--sometimes they were kind, disposed to pet and humor their forlorn little relatives, and again--without any apparent reason for a change--treated them with coldness and indifference.

That was hard to bear, and caused many a fit of home-sickness and bitter weeping for the loss of the dear father and mother whom they would never see more upon earth.

Ethel, who was, in spite of her tender years, a very womanly little girl, earnestly strove to act a mother's part to her younger sisters and little brother--soothing and comforting them in their griefs and seldom giving vent to her own except in the darkness and silence of night when none but G.o.d, her Heavenly Father, could see and know it. Her pillow was often wet with tears as she sobbed herself to sleep while pouring all her sorrows into His sympathizing ear, as both her mother and Mrs.

McDougal had taught her to do, repeating to her again and again that command and precious promise, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify Me."

"Oh, if I could only find our dear grandpa and grandma," she sometimes said to herself; "they would love us as dear mamma and papa did, and take us home to live with them, and we would be, oh, so happy!"

Then she would comfort herself with the hope that perhaps some day they would be found, and she and her brother and sisters be taken to the sweet and lovely home she could remember as a half forgotten dream, where no one would think them in the way; but they would be loved and petted and made much of, instead of being barely tolerated as those of whose presence their entertainers would gladly be relieved.

But scarcely a week had elapsed after the departure of their beloved caretaker, Mrs. McDougal, when the little orphans were subjected to yet another trial in the removal of Blanche and Harry to the house of their uncle George and the custody of his cold-mannered, unsympathetic wife.

The enforced separation was a bitter thing to both themselves and the other two. But tears and cries brought only reproof and punishment; especially to Harry, who proved, under the tyrannical rule of his uncle's wife, a very determined little rebel, bringing upon himself punishments so many and severe that to hear of them, as she did in one way and another, almost broke Ethel's heart.

She sorrowed for Blanche too, and for Nannette and herself; for their situation was only slightly better than that of their brother and sister.

Things grew worse and worse with all four until at length their uncles, wearied out with complaints from their wives and feeling that it was sad to have the children separated, began to talk of trying to find a good home for them elsewhere.

Then Mrs. George Eldon broached her idea that it would be a help to poor Mr. Coote if he and his wife were paid to take charge of the little orphans, and at the same time a pleasant change for the children, as the whole four could be together.

She did not add the information that she had already written privately to Coote, telling of her plan and advising him to casually call in upon her husband and his brother, speak of his cramped circ.u.mstances and remark that he was thinking of trying to get a few boarding pupils to help himself and wife eke out their small income.

The uncles hesitated over Mrs. George's suggestion, but finally consented to let the experiment be tried, provided Coote and his wife might like to try it; or if not they, someone else likely to prove a suitable person could be found.

It seemed to them quite a providence when a day or two later Coote called at their place of business and made known his desire for just such an opportunity for increasing his meagre means, asking if they could recommend him to someone who had the guardianship of children in need of a good home where they would receive parental care and training.

The brothers exchanged glances of relief and pleasure.

"Yes, Mr. Coote," replied the elder Mr. Eldon, "we ourselves are wanting just such a home and caretaking for the orphan children of a deceased brother; four little ones--the eldest eight, the youngest about three years of age."

"Possible?" cried Coote, simulating delighted surprise, laughing in a gleeful way and rubbing his hands together with a look of great satisfaction. "Well, sirs, you may rest a.s.sured that if committed to my care and that of my estimable wife they will not long miss their departed parents, and will be trained up in so G.o.dly a manner that they will no doubt be reunited to them in a better world."

"Not too soon, I hope," observed Mr. Albert dryly. "I desire them to live to years of maturity, becoming happy, honorable, and useful citizens of this free land which we have adopted as our own."

"Oh, certainly, sir," responded Coote, "and I'm thinking they'll be more likely to live and thrive in the wholesome air of the country town in which I am located than here in the city."

"I hope so indeed," said the elder Mr. Eldon; "but if we trust them to you and Mrs. Coote it must be with the distinct understanding that they are to be well fed and clothed, and to receive truly parental care and affection."

"Oh, certainly, certainly, sir," again responded Coote; "my wife and I will look upon and treat the poor little orphans quite as if they were our own."

"Better, I trust, than some people treat their own," returned Mr. Eldon.

"Well, sir, if my brother approves, we will, I think, give you an opportunity to show yourself a kind and wise guardian to these little ones who, as the offspring of our deceased brother, are very near and dear to us."