And Dan, climbing sturdily up the heights at his saintly guide’s bidding, has found the way, so far, smoothed and softened beyond his hopes by his summer at Killykinick. Even his stumbling-stone Dud was removed to another college, his father having been ordered to a Western post. With Jim and Freddy as his friends, all the “high-steppers,” old and young, of St. Andrew’s were ready to welcome him into rank and line. And, with Aunt Winnie as administratrix of Captain Carleton’s pension “there isn’t a dacinter-looking boy in the college,” as Mrs. Mulligan stoutly declares.
How Aunt Winnie stretched out that pension only the Irish fairies, or perhaps the Irish angels, know. The little pink-flowered rooms have blossomed out into a very bower of comfort and cheer. There are frilly curtains at the windows, a rosy-hued lamp, and a stand of growing plants always in bloom. There are always bread and cheese and apple sauce, or something equally “filling,” for hungry boys to eat.
And when Aunt Winnie was fairly settled, who should appear but Miss Stella, who had come to nurse a dear old friend near by,—Miss Stella, who dropped in most naturally in her off hours to chat with dear old Aunt Winnie and take a cup of tea! And Freddy’s daddy, who had plunged into life and law business with zest, often brought his big automobile round to take Freddy for a spin after study hours, and called on the way very frequently to take Miss Stella home.
It was on one of those bright afternoons that they all went to look at the new house that was going up on a wooded hillside not very far from the college—the house that was to be Freddy’s long-wished-for home. It had been a lot of fun watching it grow. Now it was nearly done,—the big pillared porch ready for its climbing roses; the pretty rooms waiting their rugs and curtains; the great stone chimney, that was to be the heart and life of things, rising in the center of all.
“My! but this in fine!” said Freddy, who had not seen this crowning touch before. “Let’s light it up, daddy,—let’s light it up and see how it burns.”
And, dashing out for an armful of wood left by the builders, Freddy soon had a glorious blaze on the new hearthstone,—a blaze that, blending with the sunset streaming through the west windows, made things bright indeed.
“This is great!” said Freddy. “And when we have the chairs and tables and cushions and curtains—who is going to pick out the cushions and curtains, dad?”
“Oh, I suppose we can have them sent up from the store!” answered dad, anticipating such matters by pushing up a big packing box to the fire, to serve as a seat for their smiling guest.
“Oh, can’t you do it, daddy?”
“George! no! I wouldn’t know a curtain from a rug, my boy!”