No brother could have been kinder to Abby and Hannah, when Mr. Hadley really took charge of them at the commencement of their long journey. He showed them all that he could think of that would interest them in New-York, until their heads were in a whirl of panoramas, and museums, and picture galleries, with dissolving views of the Battery and High Bridge, and strong recollections of bookstores and confectioners. For once in her life Hannah had enough of candies and new books. Mrs. Gilman was afraid they would be completely spoiled, and talked to Mr. Hadley very seriously about indulging them so.
He seemed to have adopted the whole family, for he said “mother” half the time. So much, that several people on the steamer talked to Abby about “her brother,” much to her delight and amusement. He was attentive as a son to all Mrs. Gilman’s wants and wishes through the discomforts of sea-sickness, and crossing the Isthmus. The girls enjoyed the Isthmus mule-ride more than any part of the journey. Abby laughed at Hannah’s mishaps, and slipped off the mule herself the next rough place they came to. Mr. Hadley laughed at both of them, and said he should have to give them lessons in horsemanship as soon as they got to the ranch.
They arrived safely in San Francisco, the steamer before Sam expected them, and Mr. Hadley would not send him word, as he counted on a grand surprise.
The team was waiting the arrival of the little steamboat, which now touched twice a week to the Embarcadero, Mr. Maloney having come down for a load of supplies, which Sam had been commissioned to get in advance, for his mother’s arrival. He was “tuck off his feet entirely,” when he saw his employer step on shore, and land Mrs. Gilman and the girls, instead of the expected furniture.
It was a little earlier in the season than when Sam had arrived the year before, but every thing in the valley was looking as lovely as a bright day could make it. Mrs. Gilman, full of one thought—the meeting so near at hand,—scarcely saw the country; but the girls begged to have the wagon stopped every acre of red, and blue, and yellow flowers they came to. They could hardly believe Mr. Hadley’s assurance, that the ranch was covered with them, and they could gather a bouquet as large as a bushel basket in ten minutes, if they chose to. The Queen of Sheba could not have been more astonished with the magnificence of the Court of Solomon, than these New Hampshire girls with the beauty and abundance of the floral treasures of Sonoma Valley.
Sam was discovered in the pastoral occupation of watering his flocks and herds; that is to say, Buck and Jerry, who had come to show a less truant disposition,—and a shaggy-looking colt, he considered the handsomest steed in the valley. It was in his eyes, for “Shanks” was his own personal property, and returned his affection with interest.
It was a meeting which we cannot attempt to describe, and none of the party quite recovered their senses until the next morning, when Mr. Hadley rode over to Sonoma on business, and left Sam to do the honors of the house, garden, and ranch generally. In the garden there was not much to be seen as yet, but good intentions and a few heads of lettuce,—but Sam had laid out nice flower-beds for Abby in the front of the house, and stocked them with hare-bells and wild valley lilies, golden cardinals and blue larkspurs,—all kinds of roots and seeds that had taken his fancy. The new barn was nearly completed, Sam and Maloney were the principal carpenters,—a trellice of very respectable lattice work relieved the square front of the house, and a porch shaded the neat-looking kitchen. Abby was introduced to her special territory, the enlarged chicken house, where the children and grand-children of “Topknot” and her coop-mates flourished, and then they all went to work to get the front room in order before Mr. Hadley’s return. Maloney had arrived with the load of furniture before breakfast; and the neat chairs and tables were soon in their places. There was a bureau for Mrs. Gilman’s room, the upper chambers had been finished off, and Mr. Hadley taken up his quarters in one of them, while Maloney and his adherents retired to the barn chamber.
Mr. Hadley came dashing up to the front door at nightfall, and declared he did not know his own house. The front room was graced with curtains, and a lounge Sam had helped the girls to manufacture. The tables held enormous bouquets, and there was a work-basket still standing on the window seat, sure token of a woman’s presence. Mrs. Gilman had set the tea-table, from what seemed, to her economical eyes, the extravagance of the store-room, and no one could have wished a more cheerful welcome home.
Mrs. Gilman sat thinking of the beauty and abundance of all around her that evening, and the hearty kindness, which made her feel how useful and happy she should be there. A prayer for the pardon of her faithless doubts and fears, came into her heart. She had not one, but two Thanksgiving Days, and could join most heartily in the glad invitation,—
O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good, and His mercy endureth for ever!