David Fleming's Forgiveness

by Margaret M. Robertson

The supply reserved for the second tables, and even for the third and fourth tables, seemed to Miss Elizabeth to be inexhaustible. Baskets of cookies and doughnuts, and little cakes of all kinds; great trays of tartlets and crullers, boxes of biscuits, and buns and rolls of all shapes and sizes, fruit-pies, and crackers, and loaves of bread: there seemed to be no end of them.

“End of them! If they hold out, we may be glad,” said Miss Betsey. “Every child on the field is good for one of each thing, at least, biscuits and cookies and all the rest, and there are hundreds of children, to say nothing of the grown-up folks. They’ve been all calculating to have the children come in at the last, but two or three of us have concluded to fix it different.”

The speaking was to come before the eating, and as the crowd who would wish to hear would leave no room for the children, Miss Betsey’s plan was that they should have their good things while the speaking was going on, at a sufficient distance to prevent their voices from being troublesome, and that the tables should be left undisturbed. Some dozens of young people were detailed to carry out this arrangement, and Davie and Katie were among them. Miss Elizabeth would have liked to go with them; but she was a little anxious about her father, who had been made the chairman of the occasion, and did not wish to be far away from him.

The children’s tea was the best part of the entertainment, David said afterward. There was some danger that the third, or even the second tables would have little to show, for it had been agreed by those who served the children that while any of them could eat a morsel, it should be supplied. And it was a good deal more than Miss Betsey’s “one apiece all round” of everything. The quantity that disappeared was amazing.

Miss Betsey came out wonderfully in her efforts in behalf of the young people. Miss Elizabeth had been rather surprised to find her in the Grove at all, and had quite unintentionally allowed her surprise to appear. It was not like her cousin Betsey to take part in this sort of thing, on pretence of its being a duty, and her thought was answered as if she had spoken it.

“I told mother I wasn’t going to set up to be any wiser than the rest of the folks this time. It’s a good cause, and if we don’t help it much, we can’t do much harm. I mean the children shall have a good time as far as victuals are concerned.” And so they did.

Betsey sacrificed her chance of hearing some good speaking, which was a greater disappointment to her than it would have been to some others, and Katie stayed with her. But when the children were at last satisfied, they turned their faces toward the stand, still hoping to hear something. They passed along slowly, for there was a great crowd of people, not half of whom were listening to what was said. At one side of the stand, a little removed from it, but yet near enough to hear if they cared to listen, they saw Miss Elizabeth and her brother, and Miss Langden. Katie pointed her out to Miss Betsey.

“How pretty she is, and such a pretty dress, and everything to match! Look, Miss Betsey. Did you ever see anything prettier?”

“Why, yes. I don’t know but I have. The dress is well enough,” said Betsey.

Which was faint praise. The dress was a marvel of elegant simplicity in some light material of soft dim grey, with just enough of colour in flowers and ribbons to make the effect perfect. It was worth while coming a long way just to see it, more than one young person acknowledged. The dress and the wearer made a very pretty picture to many eyes. She was very modest and gentle in manner, and listened, or seemed to listen, like the rest, but Clifton Holt claimed much of her attention, smiling and whispering now and then in a way that made his sister uncomfortable, she scarcely knew why, for the young lady herself did not seem to resent it.