[THE AMERICAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.]
THE ROSE FESTIVAL.
BY EMMA J. GRAY
eneath a most capricious sky Mabel stood sedately wondering whether or not she could wear her white tulle frock this afternoon and not have it forever ruined, when all in a moment the sun disappeared, the leaves of the trees rustled, and Mabel's hitherto sedate face saddened dolefully. Had not her mother happened near there surely would have been a shower of tears, for she had counted so very much on going to the festival. But mothers know how to manage, and putting her arm around Mabel's shoulders, she caressingly said: "Don't cry, whatever you do; wait for that when you know you cannot go; perhaps this afternoon will just glisten with sunshine, and then think of all the tears you'll have wasted! Why, only look here; there are cobwebs in the grass"—and Mabel's mother stooped to examine, thus making herself quite sure she was not mistaken—"and you know, dear, what they say, 'that cobwebs in the grass is a sure sign of a clear day.'" And so it was that Mabel's tears never really got beyond her eyelashes, and her long doleful face changed into blushes of sudden delight.
When the afternoon came, the cobweb test was proved true, for the dew fogs stole away in line and column, the warm, rich, gladsome sunshine leaped over hill, lawn, and road, and gave a tint of amber, purple, or rich red rose, according to the way the trees leaned or their stately branches swayed and curved.
The country was the majestic Berkshire section; and Mabel, who had but just entered her teens, was with her mother visiting her Aunt Lucretia in her country home.
Aunt Lucretia had no children, and didn't understand them very well, and Mabel's visit thus far had been rather unsatisfactory. But about two weeks before she was thrown all in a flutter because of an invitation to a Rose Festival, given by the daughter of "the richest man in the place"—so Aunt Lucretia explained, and with a positive shaking of her head from side to side, continued, "It would be an elegant affair, she knew, and she was much flattered that her niece had been remembered," etc. Besides Mabel, her aunt, uncle, and mother had been invited, the only difference in the character of the invitations being that to hers were added the rather informal words, "All the young people will personate favorite roses." And as she would surely be considered among the young people, and as the Cornelia Cook rose was Mabel's favorite, it took not a little ingenuity on the part of her mother and aunt to indicate this rose in her costume. But it was deftly, as also simply, arranged at last by fastening a bunch of these rose-buds on the top of each sleeve, edging the waist close to the neck with rose-buds also, and dropping a few at uncertain distances over the skirt—"as though she'd been caught in a shower of roses," was her uncle's pleasant criticism. So that it was no wonder, in consideration of the so far disappointing visit, dainty apparel, and the prospect of a gay party, that Mabel's blue eyes had looked anxiously for sunshine through the cloudy sky of the early morning.
It was shortly after three o'clock when the impatient Mabel stepped into the landau that was to convey her aunt, uncle, mother, and herself to the festival; and the horses, feeling the exhilaration of the charmed atmosphere, pranced and cantered along so rapidly that the few miles that lapsed between were soon over, and Mabel was at once bewildered with beauty and gayety. Already several emptied carriages had their wheels rolling towards home, while others had gone back of the broadly grand and altogether captivating gray-stone house to accept the hospitality of the stables graciously offered to their owners.