A Little Girl in Old Salem

by Amanda M. Douglas

She assented, though she thought the house and the rooms were large enough for the few people in it. Cynthia was interested in her studies, and the girls, and the new books coming in. For now Sir Walter Scott was having a great hearing, and there were some new poets.

It was not expected that people would be at all gay when there had been a death in the family, so Cynthia felt compelled to decline her few invitations. The new room was finished and made much brighter with the two added windows. The walls were painted a soft gray, with a warm tint. There were yards and yards of new rag carpet up in the garret, sewed in bagging to keep out moths. Of course, it might as well be used. The old bedstead was taken out and though the one substituted was quite as old, it was very much prettier, with its carved posts and the tester frame from which depended white curtains. Some of the other furniture was changed and it made a very pretty room, so Eunice came back to it very much pleased, though not quite sure so much comeliness was best for the soul.

At Christmas Chilian took the little girl down to Boston on a special invitation. There were two visitors a little older than herself, one whose father was a representative from the State, the other from New York.

Washington was not much thought of in those days. Other cities had yielded their claims unwillingly, and there had been much talk of its being set in a morass. Mrs. President Adams had described her infelicities very graphically. The rooms were not finished, and she took one of the parlors for an adjunct to the laundry to dry the wash in. New York considered itself the great head for fashion and gayety, Boston for education and refinement, and she too, had quite an extensive port trade.

But Giles Leverett thought the little girl from Salem was quite as pretty and well bred as Boston girls, and really she never seemed at loss now, and was seldom overtaken with a fit of shyness. They had a gay, happy time, with a regular dancing party, which filled Cynthia with the utmost delight.

And though the winter seemed cold and bleak spring came again, as it always does. Mrs. Taft had gone away to another bad case. Eunice and Miss Winn kept the house. There had been quite an entertaining episode with Miss Winn. A very prosperous man, who lived up on the North side, and had a fine house and five children, asked her to be his wife, thinking she would make such an excellent mother for girls. It was supposed at that time that no woman could refuse a good offer of marriage.

"Consider it well," said Mr. Leverett. "I don't know how we could give you up, and, of course, you could not take Cynthia. Her father made a generous provision for you, and I think he chose wisely for his child. But——"

"I don't know that I want to begin over again," and she gave a peculiar smile. "Five seems quite an undertaking when you have had only one. And you have taken so much the charge of her."

"But you see, now she will need a woman's guidance more than ever. She has outgrown childhood. I see the change in her every day. Eunice could not supervise her clothes and her pleasures, times have changed so much. I want her to be very happy and have a life like other girls——"

She thought she could give up the prospect good as it was, won by that persuasive voice. And she had come to really love Miss Eunice, who was blossoming in a new phase now that there was nothing to restrain her natural sweetness.