Aunt Kitty's Tales
Page 21
CHAPTER VII.
CHANGES.
I have nothing strange to tell you of our journey. Mary's father andmother 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 withHarriet and Florence, while Rover gambolled along as gayly as if he hadhad no travelling that day.
The next morning there was no difficulty in getting Florence up, for shewas so impatient to mount the pony, that I could scarcely persuade herto wait till I was dressed and able to go with her and witness her firstlesson in horsemanship. Pony was so gentle that I felt there was littledanger in trusting her on him, and so delighted was she with her newamusement, that she rode wherever she went, and I think Harriet was onlytwice on horseback during her visit, and one of these rides was nottaken for her own pleasure. They seldom went out without me, but onemorning when I was very much engaged, Mary came over to say, that hergoverness having gone on a visit to a sick friend, from which she wouldnot return for two days, her mother had given her permission to inviteher young friends in the neighborhood to spend the next day with her,and as she was going this morning to give her invitations herself, shewished Florence and Harriet to go with her. Florence was quite ready togo, provided she could ride; so pony was saddled, and as I knew wherethey were going, and felt there was really no danger in the way, Iallowed them to go without me, sending with them, however, a servantwhom I knew to be careful and discreet. Gay, laughing and chatting, theyset out. The farthest house to which Mary intended extending herinvitations was only three quarters of a mile distant, yet as she hadseveral calls to make, I did not expect them to return under an hour anda half, or perhaps two hours. Greatly surprised was I, therefore, whenin 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 fewwords from Florence, and there was no mistaking the fact, that her voicewas decidedly sulky. Mary was already in the piazza, when, laying asidemy work, I approached the window. Harriet was not with her, nor wasFlorence in sight. With some alarm I inquired, "Where are Harriet andFlorence?"
"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 thingthe matter with Harriet?"
"No, but Mrs. O'Donnel's baby is ill--oh! so ill, Aunt Kitty!--andHarriet 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 withme such simple medicines as I thought might be useful, if I shouldarrive before the doctor. As I left the parlor Mary followed me, andbegged very earnestly to be allowed to go with me and carry some of myvials.
"But Florence, Mary, would you leave her alone?"
"I do not believe Florence cares to have me stay with her, Aunt Kitty,and I am sure I do not wish to stay," said Mary, coloring.
I remembered the angry tones I had heard, and thought it was perhapswisest not to leave these children together while they were so evidentlyout of temper, so returning to the parlor, where Florence had just madeher appearance, I asked her if she would like to go with me.
"No," she replied, "I am tired."
"Then, my dear, rest yourself on the sofa a while, and when you get up,look in that closet and you will find some peaches. Mary is going withme, but I will send Harriet to you as soon as I see her."
"I do not want Harriet or Mary either," said Florence, impatiently.
I soon found that I had not left all the ill-humor behind when I leftFlorence, for we were scarcely down the steps before Mary expressed herconviction, that "there never was such another selfish girl as FlorenceArnott."
"Mary," said I, "I once told you that you were hasty in pronouncingFlorence to be very generous; but that was not so blameable as yourpresent condemnation of her, whatever she may have done. It may beunwise to be ready to praise so highly on the acquaintance of a fewdays, but it is unamiable to blame so severely for a single fault."
"But, Aunt Kitty, it is not a single fault. I have been thinking a longtime, almost ever since you told me what made a person generous, thatFlorence was not so generous as I thought at first; but I do thinkanybody that would rather a poor little baby should die than to lose aride for themselves, is very selfish, very selfish indeed," repeatedMary, with great emphasis.--"And now, Aunt Kitty," she continued, "Iwill tell you how it was, and then you will see if I am not right."
"Stop, my dear Mary," said I, as she was about to commence her story,"you are just now very angry with Florence, and would not therefore be afair witness in the case. I had rather hear from some one else how itwas."
"Why, Aunt Kitty," said Mary, with a very proud look, "you do not thinkI would tell you a story, I hope."
"No, my love, I am sure you would tell me nothing which you did notbelieve to be true; but anger makes the words and looks, and even theactions of people, appear to us very unlike what they really are.However, you have no time to tell me any thing, even if I wished it,for here we are at Mrs. O'Donnel's."
My readers may not be as unwilling as I was to hear what Mary had tosay, so I will tell them what I afterwards heard of the morning'sadventures from Margaret and Harriet, as soon as I have given them someaccount of Mrs. O'Donnel and her baby.