by A. A. Milne
“I like that!” exclaimed Zoe. “Many thanks, mamma, for my share of the privilege. I shall choose to have my thousand go to help the mission schools in Utah. I feel so sorry for those poor Mormon women. The idea of having to share your husband with another woman, or maybe half a dozen or more! It’s simply awful!”
“Yes; and that is only a small part of the wickedness Mormonism is responsible for,” remarked Grandma Rose. “Think of the tyranny of their priesthood; interfering with the liberty of the people in every possible way— claiming the right to dictate as to what they shall read, where they shall send their children to school, with whom they shall trade, where they shall live, or ordering them to break up their homes, make a forced sale of their property, and move into another state or territory at their own cost, or go on a mission.”
“Their wicked doctrine and practice of what they call blood atonement, too,” sighed Grandma Elsie.
“And the bitter hatred they inculcate toward the people and government of these United States,” added Zoe. “Oh I am sure both love of country and desire for the advancement of Christ’s cause and kingdom, should lead us to do all we can to rescue Utah from Mormonism. Do you not think so, mamma?”
“I entirely agree with you, and am well satisfied with your choice,” Grandma Elsie replied.
“Perhaps I shall choose for mine to go there too,” said Rosie. “But I believe I’ll take a little more time to consider the claims of other causes.”
Walter closed his book and came to his mother’s side. “Am I to have a share in it, mamma?” he asked.
“In selecting an object for me to give to? Yes, my son.”
“A thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Oh that’s good! I think I’ll adopt an Indian boy, clothe and educate him.”
“Adopt?” laughed Rosie; “a boy of ten talking about adopting somebody else!”
“Not to be a father to him, Rosie— except in the way of providing for him as fathers do for their children. Mamma knows what I mean.”
“Yes, my boy, I do; and highly approve. As a nation we have robbed the poor Indians, and owe them a debt that I fear will never be paid.”
“I mean to do my share toward paying it if I live to be a man,” Walter said, “and I’d like to begin now.”
“I am very glad to hear it, my son,” responded his mother.
“Would you prefer to have all your thousands go to pay that debt, mamma?” asked Rosie.
“No, child, not all; as I have said, I highly approve of Zoe’s choice; and I would send the gospel tidings into the dark places of the earth, to the millions who have never heard the name of Jesus.”
“And there is another race to whom we owe reparation,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore, leaning back in his chair, and regarding the chess-board with a half rueful look. “There, Ned, my boy, I think you wouldn’t have come off victor if my attention had not been called from the game by the talk of the ladies.”
“Never mind, Grandpa; we’ll take all the blame,” laughed Rosie, jumping up to run and put her arms round his neck and give him a kiss.
He returned it, drew her to his knee, and went on with his remarks.
“You all know, of course, that I refer to the negroes, who were forcibly torn from their own land and enslaved in this. We must educate and evangelize them: as a debt we owe them, and also for the salvation of our country, whose liberties will be greatly imperilled by their presence and possession of the elective franchise, if they are left to ignorance and vice.”
“Grandpa, what do you mean by the elective franchise?” asked Walter going to the side of the old gentleman’s chair.
“The right to vote at elections, my son. You can see, can’t you, what harm might come from it.”
“Yes, sir; they might help to put bad men into office; some of themselves maybe; and bad men would be likely to make bad laws, and favor rogues. Oh yes, sir, I understand it!”
“Then perhaps you may want to help provide for the instruction of the colored race as well as of the Indians?”
“Yes, sir, I would like to. I hope the thousand dollars may be enough to help the work for both.”
“I think it will; that your mother will be satisfied to have you divide it into two or more portions, that several good objects may receive some aid from it.”
“Will you, mamma?” asked Walter, turning to her.
“Yes, I think it would perhaps be the wisest way.”
“And besides,” said Rosie, “mamma is going to give us young ones a chance to earn money for benevolence by paying us for good behavior. I know we ought to be good without other reward than that of a good conscience, but I’m quite delighted with the plan for all that.”
“I too,” said Walter, looking greatly pleased.
“Thank you, mamma dear. How much is it you’re going to give us?”
“Twenty-five cents for every day on which I have no occasion to find fault with either your conduct or recitations.”
“A new idea, daughter, isn’t it?” queried Mr. Dinsmore.
“Yes, sir; and not original. I learned at Woodburn to-day, that the captain was going to try the plan with his children. I trust it meets your approval? I might better have consulted with you before announcing my intention to adopt it.”
“That was not at all necessary,” he returned pleasantly. “But I quite approve, and trust, you will find it work to your entire satisfaction.”
“Talking of helping the blacks, and thinking of the advice so often given, ‘Do the work nearest at hand,’ it strikes me it would be well for us to begin with those in our own house and on the plantation,” remarked Edward.
“I think they have never been neglected, Edward,” said his grandfather; “a school-house was provided for them years ago, your mother pays a teacher to instruct them, visits the school frequently, often gives religious instruction herself to the pupils there, and to their parents in visiting them in their cabins; sees that they are taken care of in sickness too, and that they do not suffer for the necessaries of life at any time.”
“Yes, sir, that is all true,” returned Edward, “but I was only thinking of giving them some extra care, instruction and gifts during the approaching holidays; says a Christmas tree loaded with, not the substantials of life only, but some of the things that will give pleasure merely— finery for the women and girls, toys for the children and so forth.”
“Meaning tobacco for the old folks and sweets for all, I suppose?” added Zoe with sportive look and tone.
“Yes, my dear, that’s about it,” he said, smiling affectionately upon her.
“O mamma, let us do it!” cried Rosie with enthusiasm; “let’s have a fine big tree in their school-room, and have them come there and get their gifts before we have ours here. We should get Vi and the captain to join us in it as the colored children from Woodburn attend school there too.”
“I am well pleased with the idea,” replied her mother, “and have little doubt that the captain and Vi will be also. But let us have your opinion, my dear father,” she added, turning upon him a look of mingled love and reverence.
“It coincides with yours, daughter,” Mr. Dinsmore answered. “And I move that Ned’ and Zoe be appointed a committee to find out the needs of the proposed recipients of our bounty; others being permitted to assist if they like.”
The motion was carried by acclamation, merry jesting and laughter followed, and in the midst of it all the door was thrown open and a visitor announced.
“Mr. Lilburn, ladies and gentlemen.”
Grandma Elsie hastily laid aside her crocheting and hurried forward with both hands extended. “Cousin Ronald! what a joyful surprise! Welcome, welcome to Ion!”
“Thanks, a thousand thanks, my fair kinswoman, my bonny leddy, my sweet Cousin Elsie,” returned the old gentleman, taking the offered hands in his and imprinting a kiss upon the still round and blooming cheek. “I have ventured to come without previous announcement o’ my intention,
or query about the inconvenience I might cause in your household arrangements, or— ”
“No fear of that, sir,” Mr. Dinsmore interrupted, offering his hand in return. “I know that you are, and always will be, a most welcome guest in my daughter’s house. You have given us a very pleasant surprise, and the fault will not be ours if we do not keep you all winter.”
The others, from Mrs. Dinsmore down to Walter, followed suit with greetings no less joyous and cordial, for the old gentleman was a great favorite at Ion, and with the whole connection.
He was presently installed in the easiest chair, in the warmest corner, and hospitably urged to take some refreshment.
But he declined, saying he had had his supper in the village, before driving over, and wanted nothing more till morning.
Then he went on to account for his sudden appearance. He had been sojourning some hundreds of miles farther north, had not been well, and his physician advising an immediate change to a more southerly climate, he had set out at once for Ion, without waiting to let them know of his intentions; feeling sure of just such a welcome as he had received.
“And a month’s warning could not have made you more welcome than you are, cousin,” said his hostess.
The conversation broken in upon by Mr. Lilburn’s arrival, was not renewed that evening, but the subject was introduced again the next morning at the breakfast table, and some questions in regard to it were decided. All could not be, however, without consultation with the captain and Violet, and with Lester and Elsie Leland.
Both families were speedily informed, through the telephone, of the arrival of Mr. Lilburn, and that afternoon saw them all gathered at Ion again to do him honor, and to complete their arrangements for the holiday festivities.
During the intervening weeks there was a great deal of traveling back and forth between the three houses, and to and from the city; for their plans involved a good deal of shopping on the part of both the older people and the children.
The latter were so full of pleasureable excitement that at times they found no little difficulty in giving proper attention to their studies. Such was especially the case with Rosie and Lulu, but both Grandma Elsie and Capt. Raymond were quite firm, though in a kind and gentle way, in requiring tasks to be well learned before permission was given to lay them aside for more congenial employment.
Rosie besought her mother very urgently for permission to sit up for an hour beyond her usual bedtime, in order to make greater progress with her fancy work for Christmas, but it was not granted.
“No, my dear little daughter,” Elsie said, “you need your usual amount of sleep to keep you in health, and I can not have you deprived of it.”
“But, mamma,” returned Rosie, a little impatiently, “I’m sure it couldn’t do me any great amount of damage to try it a few times, and I really think you might allow me to do so.”
“My daughter must try to believe that her mother knows best,” was the grave, though gently spoken rejoinder.
“I think it is a little hard, mamma,” pouted Rosie; “I’m almost grown up and it’s so pleasant in the parlor where you are all talking together— especially now that Cousin Ronald is here— that it does seem too bad to have to run away from it all an hour before you older folks separate for the night. I’d feel it hard even if I wasn’t wanting more time for my fancy work for Christmas.”
“A little girl with so foolish and unkind a mother as yours is certainly much to be pitied,” Mrs. Travilla remarked in reply.
“Mamma, I did not mean that; I could never think or speak of you in that way,” returned Rosie, blushing vividly and hanging her head.
“If you had overheard Lulu addressing the remarks to her father that you have just made to me, would you have taken them as evidence of her confidence in his wisdom and love for her?” asked her mother; and Rosie was obliged to acknowledge that she would not.
“Please forgive me, mamma dear,” she said penitently. “I’ll not talk so again. I haven’t earned my quarter for good behavior to-day. I’m quite aware of that.”
“No, my child, I am sorry to have to say you have not,” sighed her mother.
It was one afternoon in the second week after Mr. Lilburn’s arrival that this conversation between Rosie and her mother was held.
At the same hour Max and Lulu were in their work-room at home, busily carving. Since their dismissal from that morning’s tasks, they had spent every moment of time at that work, except what had necessarily been given to the eating of their dinner.
Presently their father came in.
“You are very industrious, my darlings,” he said in a pleasant tone, “but how much exercise have you taken in the open air to-day?”
“Not any yet, papa,” answered Max.
“Then it must be attended to at once by both of you.”
“O papa, let me keep on at this just a little longer,” pleaded Lulu.
“No, daughter, not another minute; these winter days are short; the sun will Boon set, and outdoor exercise will not do you half so much good after sundown as before. Put on your hats and coats and we will have a brisk walk together. The roads are quite dry now and I think we will find it enjoyable.”
The cloud that had begun to gather on Lulu’s brow at the refusal of her request, vanished with the words of invitation to walk with papa, for to do so, was one of her dear delights.
Both she and Max obeyed the order with cheerful alacrity, and presently the three sallied forth together to return in time for tea, in good spirits and with fine appetites for their meal; the children rosy and merry.
Violet was teaching Lulu to crochet, and the little girl had become much interested in her work. When the hour for bedtime came she did not want to give it up, and like Rosie begged for permission to stay up for another hour.
“No, dear child,” her father said, “it is quite important that little ones like you should keep to regular hours, early hours too, for going to rest.”
“Then may I get up sooner in the mornings while I’m so busy?” she asked coaxingly.
“If you find yourself unable to sleep; not otherwise. My little girl’s health is of far more importance than the making of the most beautiful Christmas gifts,” he added with a tender caress.
“And I sha’n’t forget this time that papa knows best,” she said in a cheery tone, giving him a hug.
He returned it. “I think to-morrow is likely to be a pleasant day,” he said, “and if so I hope to take my wife and children to the city for some more of the shopping you all seem to find so necessary and delightful just now. Your Aunt Elsie and Evelyn are going too, so that you can probably have your friend’s help in selecting the articles you wish to buy.”
“Oh how delightful!” she exclaimed. “I ought to be a good girl with such a kind father, always planning something to give me pleasure.”
“You enjoy such expeditions, don’t you, Lu?” queried Violet.
“Yes, indeed, Mamma Vi, and I hope papa will take me several times. I want to select my gift for Rosie to-morrow, with Eva to help me; and I’d like Rosie to go with me another time to help me choose one for Evelyn.”
“I think I shall be able to gratify you in that; and to give you more time for Christmas work, I will release you from the task of taking care of your own rooms, till after the holidays, and have them attended to by one of the servants,” said the captain. “But now bid good night and go to your bed.”
“Oh thank you, dear papa,” she cried joyously, and obeyed at once without a murmur.
The weather next day was favorable, and the shopping a decided success. The ladies and little girls returned somewhat weary with their exertions, but in fine spirits, Lulu feeling particularly happy over a present for Rosie, which every one thought was sure to be acceptable.
A few days later her father took her and Rosie together, Evelyn being left out of the party in order that her present might be selected without her knowledge.
Indeed in the afternoon of every
pleasant day, from that to the one before Christmas, the Woodburn carriage might have been seen driving to and from the city; and on almost every occasion Lulu was one of its occupants.
But on the twenty third she preferred to stay behind— so much that she wanted a share in was going on at, or near home; first the trimmings with evergreens of several rooms in the mansion, then of the school-house for the poor whites of the neighborhood, which Capt. Raymond had caused to be built on a corner of his estate— paying a teacher that the children might be instructed without cost to their parents.
A fine large Christmas tree was set up in it, another in the school-house for the blacks at Ion.
The colored people employed on the Fairview estate attended there also, and were to have a share in the entertainment provided for those of Woodburn and Ion; so the children of the three families united in the work of ornamenting first one building, then the other, finding it great sport, and flattering themselves that they were of great assistance, though the older people who were overseeing matters, and the servants acting under their direction, were perhaps of a different opinion. Yet the sight of the enjoyment of the little folks more than atoned for the slight inconvenience of having them about.
Christmas came on Wednesday and the holidays had begun for them all the Friday before. Lessons would not be taken up again till after New Year’s day.
It had been decided at Woodburn that they would not go to Ion till Christmas morning, as they all preferred to celebrate Christmas eve at home. The children were going to hang up their stockings, but had not been told that they would have a tree or any gifts. They thought, and had said to each other, that perhaps papa might think the money he had given them to spend and to give, and the privilege of selecting objects for his benevolence, was enough from him, but the friends at Ion and Fairview always had remembered them, and most likely would do so again.
“Still they may not,” Lulu added with a slight sigh when she talked the matter over with Max and Grace that morning, for the last time; “for they are all giving more than usual to missions and disabled ministers, and poor folks, and I don’t know what else; but it’s real fun to give to the poor round here; I mean it will be to help put things on the trees and then see how pleased they’ll all be when they get ’em: at least I do suppose they will. Don’t you, May?”
