Her mother's secret

by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

Other members of the family dropped in, as it was now near the breakfast hour. And the conversation ran on the clear, crisp day, the fine sleighing opportunities, and the coming dance of the evening. All was pleasant anticipation. The day was spent in preparations.

It was still an hour to sundown when the whole family, including, of course, the guest, after an early tea, and being well wrapped up in hooded cloaks and heavy shawls, entered a capacious sleigh, lined with bearskins, furnished with foot warmers, and drawn by four strong horses, covered their laps with more bearskins and started for Oldfield.

The full moon was rising over the bay on the east, and the sun was sinking behind the high, wooded hill on the west, as they passed out of the south gate and entered the turnpike road that skirted the hill and then ran parallel to the shore of the bay all the way to Oldfield Farm. It was a fine, level road along the shore, and they had a delightful sleigh ride over the frozen snow, which, in a little more than an hour’s time, brought them to Oldfield Farm. The approach from the bay side was through a pine wood, from which, when they emerged, they came in view of the house, which was lighted up from garret to ground floor. Half a dozen or more of other sleighs, which had brought company to the farm, and from which the horses had been taken and led to the stable, stood in the yard.

The negro boy, Dan, no longer ragged, as when we first made his acquaintance at Grove Hill, but dressed neatly in his new Christmas suit, came to the horses’ heads, while Mr. Force and Leonidas got out to assist the ladies and children to alight.

“Marse Abul,” said Dan, apologetically, “I can take dese horses to de stable, an’ put all dese b’arskins in de lof’, an’ ’vite Uncle Jake inter de kitchen, but I ’spects I’ll hab ter leabe de big sleigh out yere, caze dere ain’t no room in de stable fo’ all dese yer big sleighs in de yard. ’Sides w’ich, it bein’ ob a cl’ar night, de sleigh won’t take no harm.”

“All right; leave the sleigh here, my boy,” said Mr. Force, drawing his wife’s arm within his own, and leading the way into the lighted passage, followed by all the rest of his party.

On the right side of the passage was an open door, leading into a room in which tables along the walls were covered with Christmas goodies; while on the left hand was another room, in which were gathered about thirty people, young, middle-aged and old—some sitting down, some standing in groups, some walking about in pairs, and all talking at once, and no one listening, apparently.

At the end of the hall, directly opposite the front door, there was a flight of steps leading to the rooms above, and up these stairs our party went to take off their wraps. In the upper passage there were doors on the right and left leading into bedrooms. At one of these doors, on the right, stood Peggy Grandiere, ready to show the lady guests into their dressing room; at the opposite door, on the left, stood Sam Grandiere, ready to show the gentlemen into theirs.

Here, of course, our set divided and followed their guides—Mr. Force and Leonidas going one way and Mrs. Force and her party the other.

In the ladies’ room they found a good, open fire, and the colored girl Henny in attendance; but there was none of the company present besides themselves, except Miss Sibby Bayard, who was standing before the glass, settling a smart cap made of white Irish gauze and white satin ribbon on her head.