CHAPTER II.
AUNT MARIA'S FAMILY.
But where were Aunt Maria's family? The carriage, when it left the wharf, had been driven up a long narrow street, quite different from any the children had ever seen before. On either side irregularly built houses, most of them old and dingy, stood close together. Here and there was a new one, which had the air of having dropped down by mistake. They left this street, and turning into another, crossed a bridge, which spanned an arm of the river that ran through part of the town. Now the [pg 19] houses began to be large and stately, and were surrounded by ample gardens, and walls of brick or iron railings separated them from each other and the street.
Aunt Maria's coachman drove on and on, and the children began to think he was going to drive into the river, for he seemed to be approaching nearer and nearer to it. They looked out and saw a broad sheet of water, over which many sloops and schooners, and many little row-boats were moving. The light of the setting sun was touching the white sails and the waves with a rosy glow. At the very water's edge they stopped, and Aunt Maria led the way into her house.
It was a large mansion. One side of it was covered with ivy, and an immense live-oak tree stood in the garden. Two or three tall magnolias, and a number of fig-trees were scattered through the yard. Though it was still wintry and cold at home, here the trees were in leaf, and there were flowers in bloom.
A colored woman, with a red and yellow turban on her head, and a blue and white checked dress on, came forward to receive the children. Their trunks were carried up stairs, and opened, and they took off their travelling dresses, and proceeded to get ready for dinner.
"Aunt Chloe will help you dress," Mrs. MacLain said. But Edith and Mabel were unused to colored servants, and stood in great awe of her. They were glad when she left the room to get some wood.
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"It too cold for missy without any fire," said she, as she went away.
"O Edith," Mabel whispered, "if we were only at home! I don't like it here, I just hate it!"
"Never mind, it won't last always," said Edith. "I wish I had asked mamma what to wear. Do you think we ought to put on our best frocks the first day?"
"We're company, and company always do put on their goodest things," said Mabel.
"But not when they've come to stay so long. I suppose mamma [pg 22] would say, 'Use your own judgment,' but I haven't any judgment, I'll ask Aunt Chloe."
"La, honey, I don't know," said she. "Reckon I'll 'quire o' Miss Mariar."
Aunt Maria came back with her, looked over the children's wardrobe, and told them to put on a crimson delaine dress, and a white apron. It was what they usually wore afternoons at home.
Johnnie had had no such trouble. His clothing was to him of no great importance, so long as it had buttons and strings on.
But where was Aunt Maria's family? The table was only spread for four. The children looked at each [pg 23] other, but were too polite to ask questions.
"Bring Lucifer Matches," said Aunt Maria to Henry the waiter. As it was broad daylight, the children wondered why she asked for matches. Henry came back soon, followed by a funny little Scotch terrier, who bounded up to his mistress, and looked at her with intelligent eyes.
"Lucifer Matches," said Mrs. MacLain, "is my special and particular pet. I call him Luce for short. Johnnie, you may play with him as much as you like."
"Come in, you angel!" the lady then exclaimed, as if to encourage somebody who was hesitating at the door. Six eyes followed hers. The [pg 24] angel was a huge black cat, with green eyes, that shone like emeralds. Mabel felt like getting down to pet her, and Edith who did not admire cats, felt a cold chill creep down her back.
So, you see, the dog, the cat, the horses, the geese, the cow, and the chickens, with the people who took care of them, composed Aunt Maria's family.
After dinner, they had family worship. "We will have family prayers before you are all tired and sleepy," their aunt said. The servants all came in, and Mrs. MacLain read a chapter from John, and gave out a hymn, which everybody sang. It was the beautiful hymn,
"Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise,
On Thee, when storms of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies."
It was a great comfort to Edith to sing this, for it was one of her mamma's favorites. After the singing they all knelt in prayer and Aunt Maria asked God to take care of this family that was divided for the present. "Be with the sick mother, and make her well," she prayed, "and bless these dear little ones under this roof."
So the children felt safe, and at home. It makes everybody feel safe and at home even in a strange house, if there is prayer in it, and Jesus is loved and worshipped there.
Bright and early next morning, Mabel was dressed and out of doors, with a piece of corn-bread in her hand to feed the chickens and geese. She felt the least bit of terror when the geese craned their long necks and hissed at her, but they soon stopped this and became very friendly.
Folks talk about dumb creatures, but they are not very dumb, are they, children? though they have not the gift of speech. They soon learn to know who love them, and they testify their affection in many pleasant ways. Now Luce was not a dog to strike up friendships with everybody, but he and Johnnie seemed to like each other at first sight. Of course, [pg 27] the very first evening, bedtime came early, and weary eyes were very glad to shut. But before noon the next day Johnnie had discovered that his new companion could perform ever so many tricks: he could shoulder arms, stand on his hind feet, pretend to smoke a pipe, carry a basket, and beg in the most enchanting manner. Johnnie played soldier with Luce for flag-bearer, for nearly an hour, till his auntie called him in.
"I think, dear," she said, "that I must have you read a while every morning. Edie has promised to practise an hour a day, and Mabel is going to sit by me and crochet. All work and no play would never do, but all play and no work would make [pg 28] you all wish you had never seen Locust Hall."
"Now, Aunt Maria, how can you say that! I am sure I should be perfectly happy if I could play with Luce and do nothing else all day long."
"Well, I'll let you try it, some day, on this condition: you will promise, as an honorable boy, that no matter how tired you get, you will keep to your part of the bargain."
Johnnie was about to promise, when Edith called out:
"Better think about it first, Johnnie. I once tried playing a whole day, and it was tiresome enough, I can tell you, before I got through with it. It was dreadful."
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"If we agree to do it, I'll keep to my part, Aunt Maria; but as Edith says, I'll think about it first." So Johnnie went off to the library, and took down a volume of stories about the Revolutionary war.