There is one more package, marked, “From Mamma; not to be opened till an hour after dinner,” and when the hour passed, there were found bright golden bananas and oranges, with their luscious juiciness, to refresh and amuse the weary little travellers.
That fruit did a double duty, for the children braided the banana rinds, made “gums” of the orange-peel, and filliped the pits out of the window, till nothing was left of their feast; then, as the sun went down behind the far-away hills, the little limbs grew weary, little tempers fretful. Daisy then remembered “to be kindly affectionate one toward another,” and with a half-suppressed sigh, closed that interesting book, “Cushions and Corners,” just at that thrilling part when the two children “are making wine jelly, or rather spilling wine jelly on the kitchen floor,” and taking Rosie and Jack, one on either side, she tells them the story of the little Cushions who ever were and remained Cushions, and the little Corners that became Cushions, after much tribulation.
Daisy is well paid for her self-denial by the interest the little upturned faces show, and soothed by her gentle tones, Bear droops his tired head on the shawl-pillow Artie has fixed on Charlotte’s knee.
The kind elder sister’s power of story-telling was at last quite exhausted, and her spirit ready to rebel at Jack’s continued plea.
“Do, Sister Daisy, do tell another. It’s so hot and tired here.”
Just then a pleasant face looked out of the opposite section, and a kindly voice called out—
“Come, little folk, come into my den, and I’ll tell you no end of stories.”
There was no hesitation then. Cushions and Corners, nurse, dolls, and sleeping brother were all left behind.
That section must have been made of India rubber; originally, it held but two, and its occupant, the clergyman of —— Church, Providence, who formed the centre figure of the group, was no shadowy outline, but real flesh and bones, and a great deal of both, yet there was room for Artie and Daisy on either side, whilst for Rosie and Jack, there was a knee apiece, and a shoulder, too, for each tired head; for the clergyman had well conned the lesson of his Master—
“As ye have done it unto one of these little ones, ye have done it unto Me,” and so it was that the shrill whistle shrieked out their near approach to Providence, tired travellers took down their wraps and bundles from the racks above, and Bear started, with a fretful cry, before the children had thought of growing weary of the stories of Narragansett Bay, the Indians who once inhabited its shore, with hosts of boy-adventures so frightful as to make them shiver, or so funny as to make them hold their wearied sides.