Mark and John inform Mrs. Grey and their sisters of the surrender of Cornwallis. The Tory makes his way out as quietly as possible, with a very evident desire to do so unobserved, saying, "Cornwallis surrendered! Then this is no place for me!" The curtain falls, as Mrs. Grey exclaims, with clasped hands and upraised eyes, "The morning has dawned at last!"
There was the usual applause, and soon visitors and children—the entertained and the entertainers—were on their homeward way, and the "exhibition" had become a part of the past.
CHAPTER VII.
THE YOUNG WARRIOR MAIDS.
After the entertainment, things went on in their accustomed routine. Winnie, Miriam, Gretta and Fannie became more intimate than ever, and really tried, in spite of many discouragements, to conquer their bad habits.
For a couple of weeks the little band of "Giant Killers" had had no meetings, but on the second week after the Washington celebration, the four girls received a pretty invitation from Winnifred's Aunt Kitty to take tea with her on the following Friday, and to consider themselves invited to hold their next meeting at her home, bidding them tell their mothers that the hostess would see that they arrived home safe not later than half-past nine. Also, inclosed under cover to Winnie, was an invitation for Ernestine Alroy, to be delivered only in case the other three girls were willing. Upon Winnie's showing this, Fannie was the first to propose that not only should the invitation be delivered, but that Ernestine should be invited to join their society.
The family of Winnie's grandmother was a small one, Mrs. Benton often saying, with a sigh, that her children had all left her except Kitty and Fred. Whereupon Kitty would take hold of her mother's hand and assure her, in a serio-comic manner, that this daughter she would have ever beside her, "to warn, to comfort, to command." Mrs. Benton was not wealthy, but she had a comfortable income of her own, and as Fred received a very good salary in one of the large railroad offices, they always had means for the comforts of life and many of its luxuries. They lived in a suite of rooms in one of the finest apartment houses of the city.
The "Arlington" was a very large building, and as the girls were not accustomed to such immense houses, they had arranged with Winnie that they should all go together at five o'clock. Accordingly that hour found them all standing in the vestibule together, to the manifest amusement of the janitor when he answered Winnie's ring. As Mrs. Benton's apartment was only one flight up, they did not take the elevator, but Winnie ran lightly up the stairs, the others following more slowly. She knocked at the door at the right of the hall, which was immediately opened by Miss Benton, to whom Winnie introduced the other girls, who more or less timidly put their hands into the outstretched one of this pleasant young lady, but found their timidity vanish almost as if by magic when they felt her warm, cordial clasp as she drew them into the parlor.
And a very pretty parlor it was, with a quaint individuality of its own—"just like Kitty Benton herself," as her friends were wont to say. There were no two chairs alike, but they all agreed in one respect—that of being exceedingly comfortable, from the high-backed willow to the low chair upholstered in old gold and scarlet tapestry.
On the walls were five or six oil paintings—a couple of marines, and the others bright, summer landscapes. There was one, which Miss Benton had herself painted, entirely different from the others. A cloudy sky, with dim, gray mountains in the distance. In the foreground a single grave under a willow, but lying in such vivid sunlight, which came from a break in the clouds, that it had almost a jubilant look for so sad a subject, as most people would have deemed it. On a low shelf stood a beautifully engraved Madonna, and on a table near was a portfolio of fine etchings. About the room were bits of bric-a-brac of various kinds, among them a piece of genuine old Wedgwood. On the upright piano stood a tall vase of Easter lilies.
Miss Benton, having helped her young visitors to divest themselves of their wraps, seated them close to the open fire, and then took down the etchings to show them. These, however, proved a little beyond them, so she took from the table a stereoscope and some views, every one of which had been collected by her mother or herself during their various trips, and about each one she told some incident, amusing or pathetic, so that an hour had passed away almost before the girls knew it.