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Page 48
"The beast's eyes seemed to look at me in such a life-like way that I
was afraid to touch it until Lloyd put a sofa pillow over its head and
sat down on it. Then I began to shear off a little near the tail, where
I thought it wouldn't show much; but the mattress didn't fill up very
fast. So I kept on shearing, a little farther and a little farther, here
a patch and there a patch, until I had taken a great streak out of the
middle of the back, and the rug was ruined."
"What did your father say?" asked Joyce.
"Oh, he was furious! He said a seven-year-old child ought to know better
than to do a thing like that, and if she didn't she should be taught.
But mamma wouldn't let him touch me, and only scolded the nurse for not
watching me more closely."
"Now it is Betty's turn," said Joyce, when the giggling that followed
Eugenia's tale had subsided. "What mischief did you get into, Betty?"
Before she could reply there was a step in the hall, a tap at the open
door, and a pleasant voice said: "Good morning, young ladies."
"Oh, it is the minister's wife, Mrs. Brewster," whispered Lloyd, jumping
up from the sofa and going forward to greet her.
There was no need of introductions, for the girls had met the
sweet-faced old lady several times.
"Mothah isn't heah, Mrs. Brewster," said Lloyd. "She went to town this
mawnin' on the early train, but we are lookin' fo' her to come on this
next train. And we are just dyin' fo' company, ou'selves. Won't you
come in an' wait, please?"
Involuntarily on her arrival the girls stopped lolling in their chairs,
and sat up straight, with their hands folded primly in their laps. Mrs.
Brewster had an air of quiet dignity that always made people want to be
on their best behaviour before her. Every one in the Valley was fond of
the minister's wife, but most people stood in awe of her, and considered
the turn of their sentences and the pitch of their voices when talking
to her. She never had a pin awry. Her gray hair was always as smooth as
a brush could make it, and every breadth of her skirts always fell in
straight, precise folds. From bonnet-strings to shoe-laces there was
never a wrinkle or a spot. But the Little Colonel felt no awe. She had
discovered that under that prim exterior was a heart thoroughly in
sympathy with all her childish joys and griefs, and in consequence the
two had become warm friends. Lloyd stood beside the rocking-chair, where
she had seated Mrs. Brewster, and waved a big fan so vigorously that the
bonnet-strings fluttered, and a lock of gray hair was blown out of place
and straggled across the placid brow.
"We were tellin' each othah about some of the worst things we evah did
in ou' lives, Mrs. Brewster," said Lloyd. "Won't you tell us about some
of the things you did when you were a naughty little girl?"
Mrs. Brewster laughed. Few people would have remembered that she had
ever been a little girl, and only the Little Colonel would have dared to
intimate that she had been a naughty one, for she was one of those
dignified persons who look as if they had always been proper and grown
up.
"That is a long time ago to look back to, dear," she began. "I was very
strictly brought up, and the training of my conscience began so early
that I was always a good child in the main, I think. I was more timid
than my brothers and sisters, which may account for some of my goodness,
and for the most daring deed I ever did, I was punished so severely that
it had a restraining effect on me ever after."
"What was that?" asked Lloyd, with such an air of interest, that Mrs.
Brewster, looking around on the listening faces, was beguiled into
telling it.
"It was when we lived in a little New England village, and I was about
eight years old. Although I was a very quiet child, I dearly loved
company, and always felt a delicious thrill of excitement when I heard
that the Dorcas Sewing Society was to be entertained at our house, or
that some one was coming to tea. Mother thought that growing children
should eat only the simplest, most wholesome dishes, so usually we had
very frugal fare. But on state occasions a great many tempting goodies
were set out. I remember that we always had spiced buns and tarts and a
certain kind of plum marmalade that mother had great skill in making. It
was highly praised by every one. But it was not alone for these things
that I was in a state of complete happiness from the time the company
arrived until they departed. I enjoyed listening to every word that was
said. An hour before the guests began to arrive I would station myself
at the window, to watch for them. I loved to see the ladies stepping
primly down the garden path in their best gowns, between the stiff
borders of box and privet, stopping to admire mother's hollyhocks or
laburnum bushes.
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