“And my daughter, Judy, will cry herself to pieces, if she doesn’t see her sir to-night.”
The noise below now aroused Madam Fayerweather, who called out between sleeping and waking:
“What’s the matter, Amy?—Mr. Fayerweather?” Then thoroughly awake, she exclaimed—
“Where are they all gone?” and rising from the bed, said in a louder tone—“Vi’let, what upon earth is the matter?”
Vi’let snored out, “It’s that ’ere Scip; he’s the torment and plague of my life—he’s always making a hullagaloo.”
Here the whole party entered the chamber. What was madam’s surprise at seeing George! When she discovered that he had been out in all the storm, she complained loudly of having been kept in ignorance of his danger.
“As if I was not his mother, and had not a right to know every thing about him; but it’s the way you always do, Mr. Fayerweather, and I do not take it kindly of you at all. I should have had a fit had I known that he was on the water all this time.”
And madam was near falling into one at the idea of it; but the fear that her son might be half-starved, and not be able to get any thing to eat if she should take up the time in having hysterics, made her think better of it; so she desired Vi’let to get a good supper and make George some white wine-whey. Vi’let, punching Peter down stairs before her, and followed by her satellite Flora, made her descent, grumbling and muttering at having vittles to get at that time o’ night.
They had an excellent supper, during which George related all the wonders which he and Dick had seen and performed on that memorable day—and if he felt somewhat lifted up, might he not be pardoned? After supper Mr. Wendell took his leave, and the family sought repose; though not before offering up fervent thanks for George’s preservation.
The shrill reveille of the barn-yard trumpeter early aroused Nature from her slumbers, and fearing she had overslept herself from the fatigues of yesterday, she threw off her dark counterpane and donned in haste her gray kirtle. The bull-frog had ceased tuning his eternal bass-viol, and with the beetle, the whippowil, the owl, and other roysterers of the night, had gone to bed. All was still, excepting that here and there might be heard the soft twitter of some warbler who was to take part in the grand chorus of the morning, as nestled among the branches he tuned his little pipe. Her wearied handmaidens were yet sleeping after their night’s toil; and their indulgent mistress left them awhile longer to their repose, for never had they better performed her bidding. The eastern casements were new hung in draperies of rose-color and gold, and the morning-star was peeping in, to see that all was in order for his monarch’s arrival; while the moon still lingered near the western portal, to take one look at his joyous visage before her departure. The west-wind now woke, and sweeping fragrance from the new-born flowers, gently fanned the face of the careful matron as she cast a pleased eye over her fair domain. Her fountains were filled to the brim and gleamed in the early light; her fresh green turf was glittering with gems, and a diamond hung from every leaf of her foliage. But the paling of the morning-star now gave notice of the sun’s approach; and spying his steeds advancing over the ocean, and her broad mirrors reflecting his glance on their burnished surfaces, she gave the signal for the morning concert to strike up, and all radiant with smiles welcomed her lordly visitor. The moon meekly courtesied her adieu.