"Dan Dennison," said Mr. Van Brunt. "Now look out for a sharp fight."
Amidst a great deal of laughing and confusion, the line was formed, each person taking hold of a handkerchief or band passed round the waist of the person before him, except when the women held by each other's skirts. There were ranged according to height, the tallest being next their leader, the "goose." Mr. Van Brunt and the elder ladies, and two or three more, chose to be lookers-on, and took post outside the door.
Mr. Dennison began by taking off his coat, to give himself more freedom in his movements; for his business was to catch the train of the goose, one by one, as each in turn became the hindmost; while her object was to baffle him and keep her family together, meeting him with outspread arms at every rush he made to seize one of her brood; while the long train behind her, following her quick movements, and swaying from side to side to get out of the reach of the furious fox, was sometimes in the shape of the letter C, and sometimes in that of the letter S, and sometimes looked like a long snake with a curling tail. Loud was the laughter, shrill the shrieks, as the fox drove them hither and thither, and seemed to be in all parts of the room at once. He was a cunning fox that, as well as a bold one. Sometimes, when they thought him quite safe, held at bay by the goose, he dived under or leaped over her outstretched arms, and almost snatched hold of little Ellen, who being the least, was the last one of the party. But Ellen played very well, and just escaped him two or three times, till he declared she gave him so much trouble, that when he caught her he would "kiss her the worst kind." Ellen played none the worse for that; however she was caught at last, and kissed, too; there was no help for it, so she bore it as well as she could. Then she watched and laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, to see how the fox and the goose dodged each other, what tricks were played, and how the long train pulled each other about. At length Nancy was caught, and then Jenny Hitchcock, and then Cecilia Dennison, and then Jane Huff, and so on, till at last the fox and the goose had a long struggle for Mimy Lawson, which would never have come to an end if Mimy had not gone over to the enemy.
There was a general pause. The hot and tired company were seated around the room, panting and fanning themselves with their pocket-handkerchiefs, and speaking broken sentences; glad to rest even from laughing. Miss Fortune had thrown herself down on a seat close by Ellen, when Nancy came up and softly asked, "Is it time to beat the eggs now?" Miss Fortune nodded, and then drew her close to receive a long, low whisper in her ear, at the end of which Nancy ran off.
"Is there anything I can do, Aunt Fortune?" said Ellen, so gently and timidly, that it ought to have won a kind answer.
"Yes," said her aunt, "you may go and put yourself to bed; it's high time, long ago." And looking round as she moved off, she added, "Go!" with a little nod that as much as said, "I am in earnest."
Ellen's heart throbbed she stood doubtful. One word to Mr. Van Brunt, and she need not go that she knew. But as surely, too, that word would make trouble and do harm. And then she remembered, "A charge to keep I have!" She turned quick, and quitted the room.
Ellen sat down on the first stair she came to, for her bosom was heaving up and down, and she was determined not to cry. The sounds of talking and laughing came to her from the parlour, and there at her side stood the covered-up supper; for a few minutes it was hard to keep her resolve. The thick breath came and went very fast. Through the fanlights of the hall door, opposite to which she was sitting, the bright moonlight streamed in; and presently, as Ellen quieted, it seemed to her fancy, like a gentle messenger from its Maker bidding his child remember Him; and then came up some words in her memory that her mother's lips had fastened there long ago "I love them that love me, and they that seek me early shall find me." She remembered her mother had told her it is Jesus who says this. Her lost pleasure was well nigh forgotten; and yet, as she sat gazing into the moonlight, Ellen's eyes were gathering tears very fast.
"Well, I am seeking Him," she thought "can it be that he loves me! Oh, I'm so glad!"
And they were glad tears that little Ellen wiped away as she went upstairs, for it was too cold to sit there long, if the moon was ever so bright.