Considerate in all things, Mr. Brook had sent his own carriage to the station to bring Mrs. Beckwith and Belle with little Robert, but he had not accompanied it himself. He wanted the first glimpse of her new home should be an impartial one on the lady’s part, and he was too prejudiced a person to refrain from pointing out this or that favorable feature of the spot he loved so well. So the family were quite by themselves, and free to express their thoughts as they were inclined without fear of wounding anybody’s preferences, had there been any danger of their doing so. But there was not. As Roland had said, when he returned from that first visit of the autumn before, “It is all so much better than one could have dreamed!” was the one and only feeling of the brave little woman who stepped down from the carriage with happy face and shining eyes.
“Here at last, my darling! All together once more. Are you not tired out with all your hard work? And, Roland, my son, it actually seems to me you have grown, even in these few days!”
“Grown in importance, Motherkin. He’s really very ‘masterful’ up here. He feels that he is the head of the family now, in good earnest. You should hear him say: ‘Bonny! that room must be my mother’s. It is the very sunniest, pleasantest in the whole house!’ in such a tone. As if a body wished to dispute his royal highness! But—how do you like it? And how did you manage in the boarding-house, after we came away with the ‘things’?”
“Oh, we managed nicely. Did everything come? Don’t you think you are very smart, you two, to take the whole responsibility of settling a house, and such a big house as this? How nice it looks! How pretty, nay, how beautiful, it all is! See the delicate green of those tree-buds! And that clump of willows by the river-side. What an exquisite color! And the plashing of the water at the foot of the bluff! I had no idea it was so lovely!”
“Now, Motherkin! That’s charming of you; but you don’t wish to waste all your enthusiasm out of doors, I hope. As for those willow boughs, I can tell you exactly what to do them in. Cadmium, Motherkin, cadmium yellow, number two, with shadows of terre verte and umber. Oh! I know! I was taken with just such an artistic spasm the other day when I was scrubbing the kitchen pantry, and I sat right down and made a study of those willows on the back of the moulding-board. I didn’t quite finish it, though, for Roland called to me to help him with the stove-pipe, and that sort of dampened my spirits for a while. Stove-pipes have a depressing influence on mankind generally, I believe; for we couldn’t get it right, though we tried never so, and after a little while Roland had to call on Mr. Dolloway for advice. He— I fancy I had best not tell what he said. It wouldn’t have been allowed in polite society. He—”
“Bonny, do keep still! Mother, she talks all the time up here. That is one drawback I have discovered to this paradise. It is either talk or sing with Beatrice; she cannot keep still a minute.”
“Never mind! A happy racket never is disturbing to me. So this is my room? Well, I thank you for selecting one so big and cheerful. How well our old furniture does look, after all! And what pretty matting! It—seems like a dream. And there is almost as much space in this one apartment as in the whole of our little flat. I feel like a Mrs. Crœsus! And what a light for my embroidery!”
“Motherkin, you are not to embroider one stitch for one whole week. True. Roland has said so, and you will not dare to disobey the Laureate—and the head of the family—combined!”
It was indeed a cheerful, picturesque old farm-house, and could not have been situated more pleasantly. To the east, across the river, the highlands were violet in the light of the setting sun, and the broad stream itself was flecked here and there by the white-sailed boats which had awaked from the winter’s sleep with the opening of navigation, and now darted busily up and down intent upon making lost time good. Barges and steam-tugs, a steamer or two, and the rattle of trains on both banks of the Hudson gave what Roland called “an American flavor to an idyllic picture,” and convinced them all that in turning their backs upon the city they had not left behind them all connection with its stirring life.
“Now the greenhouse, Mother! Then you may have your supper. Miss Brook invited us there to-night, but I asked her to excuse us. I thought you would be tired and would like to eat your first meal in your new home. Though we are all to go there to dine to-morrow, and she is coming over to see you ‘early in the morning,’ which means early, too! Those two people have not a thing to do except please themselves; and how do you think they do it? One of the ‘hows’?”