CHAPTER VII.
CHANGES.
I have nothing strange to tell you of our journey. Mary's father and mother were expecting us, and we arrived in time to take tea with them, sending the carriage home with our trunks. After tea, I walked home with Harriet and Florence, while Rover gambolled along as gayly as if he had had no travelling that day.
The next morning there was no difficulty in getting Florence up, for she was so impatient to mount the pony, that I could scarcely persuade her to wait till I was dressed and able to go with her and witness her first lesson in horsemanship. Pony was so gentle that I felt there was little danger in trusting her on him, and so delighted was she with her new amusement, that she rode wherever she went, and I think Harriet was only twice on horseback during her visit, and one of these rides was not taken for her own pleasure. They seldom went out without me, but one morning when I was very much engaged, Mary came over to say, that her governess having gone on a visit to a sick friend, from which she would not return for two days, her mother had given her permission to invite her young friends in the neighborhood to spend the next day with her, and as she was going this morning to give her invitations herself, she wished Florence and Harriet to go with her. Florence was quite ready to go, provided she could ride; so pony was saddled, and as I knew where they were going, and felt there was really no danger in the way, I allowed them to go without me, sending with them, however, a servant whom I knew to be careful and discreet. Gay, laughing and chatting, they set out. The farthest house to which Mary intended extending her invitations was only three quarters of a mile distant, yet as she had several calls to make, I did not expect them to return under an hour and a half, or perhaps two hours. Greatly surprised was I, therefore, when in about half an hour I heard tones which seemed to me very like Mary's, but not gay and laughing, as I had last heard them. Then came a few words from Florence, and there was no mistaking the fact, that her voice was decidedly sulky. Mary was already in the piazza, when, laying aside my work, I approached the window. Harriet was not with her, nor was Florence in sight. With some alarm I inquired, "Where are Harriet and Florence?"
"Florence has rode to the stable, and Harriet has gone for the doctor," Mary replied.
"The doctor!" I exclaimed, still more alarmed; "for whom? Is any thing the matter with Harriet?"
"No, but Mrs. O'Donnel's baby is ill—oh! so ill, Aunt Kitty!—and Harriet has gone for the doctor, and Margaret has stayed with the baby, and sent me back to beg you to go there."
Confused as Mary's account was, it was clear enough that aid was wanted, and without waiting to ask any further questions, I set out, taking with me such simple medicines as I thought might be useful, if I should arrive before the doctor. As I left the parlor Mary followed me, and begged very earnestly to be allowed to go with me and carry some of my vials.
"But Florence, Mary, would you leave her alone?"