A Dear Little Girl by Amy Ella Blanchard (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

seemed to her that she was never so glad in her life. All the unhappy things seemed to have melted away like snow. Louis was safe; Maggie had a happy home; mamma and papa were with her, and soon she should see sister and the boys; and Edna gave a long sigh of content as she fastened her last button and turned to go down to breakfast.

"Now, mamma, what are we going to do?" she asked, when the meal was over.

"I have concluded not to let you return to school," mamma replied, smiling. "All this excitement has been too much for one little girl to stand, without lessons; besides, the measles do not leave one's eyes in the best condition, and we shall be going home in a day or two, so it is not worth while to begin for so short a time; so we will go shopping this morning."

Edna's face beamed. "O, mamma, then we can get sister's buckle, and take it to her. I never had a chance to go to many shops, because Aunt Elizabeth only deals at one or two places, and so I could not find the buckle I promised sister."

"Very well. Then I want to call upon Mrs. Porter and thank her for her kindness to my little girl, who has had so many rough places to go over."

Edna was thoughtful. "It has been very mixy up, hasn't it, mamma? So many things have happened. What made you come back a month sooner than you expected?"

"Because I was feeling so much better, and papa had business in the city. Should you like to live in the city, daughter?"

Edna laid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I should like to live anywhere that you are mamma; but I think it is nice out where Dorothy Evans and Maggie live. O, mamma, I have a whole bushel of things to tell you. I believe my tongue will wear out before I get through."

And truly, mamma told her before the day was over that her tongue must be "hung in the middle to wag at both ends." But what a delightful day it was! So many pretty things to see. Something to be chosen for the boys, and for Celia a buckle, just like Grace Neal's, which was found after some hunting.

"Mamma," said Edna, "I should like to get something for Ellen, she has been so good to me."

"Of course," replied mamma, "that must not be forgotten;" and material for a pretty frock was chosen.

"And, mamma," continued Edna, as with much satisfaction she saw the breadths measured off, "could I get some tiny little something for Uncle Justus?"

"And Aunt Elizabeth?" added mamma.

"Ye-es," said Edna, rather doubtfully; "but--but--"

"But what, dear?"

"I should like what we get for Uncle Justus to be the nicest."

Mrs. Conway smiled. "You love Uncle Justus, don't you, dear? He has always seemed so stern and distant I hardly fancied you would find the way to his heart."

"But, mamma," said Edna, sagely, "it is such a big heart when you do find your way there." A remark which mamma considered a very wise one for such a little girl to make.

"What should you like to get for Uncle Justus?" asked Mrs. Conway. "What very nice thing do you think he would fancy?"

Edna looked perplexed.

"How would a nice umbrella do?" her mother asked.

"He might lose it, and it would wear out. I want something that will not wear out."

"That is not easy to find, although a book comes near it. How would that do?"

Edna shook her head. That didn't seem to please her, and her eyes wandered around the shop in which they were. Suddenly she jumped down from the high stool upon which she had been sitting.

"I know," she exclaimed. "A clock--I'd like a clock, 'cause he'd have to wind it up, and it would remind him of me, and I'll tell him when it is ticking it says 'Ed-na, Ed-na,' just as if it were talking."

Mamma laughed, but thought it a very good choice. A pretty little memorandum tablet was then bought for Aunt Elizabeth, and the shopping for that day was finished.

"I am afraid we shall be too late for a noonday meal if we go back," said Mrs. Conway. "I told Aunt Elizabeth not to expect us, so we will take a luncheon downtown."

This was a very delightful experience, and one that had never come to Edna before; therefore she enjoyed her meal hugely.

"Now we must go to see Mrs. Porter," said mamma, and Edna was made quite happy by having her mother say that she quite agreed with her little daughter in thinking Mrs. Porter a very charming woman.

"And, mamma, don't you think we ought to go to see Mr. and Mrs. Martin before we go home?" asked the little girl.

"To be sure, I want to meet all your friends, Mrs. Evans, Mrs. MacDonald, and all, but next we shall have to go to the hotel, where your Aunt Clara and Uncle William are."

"And Louis," added Edna.

"This is a jolly place," said Louis, when the two children were left alone. "I tell you I enjoyed my supper last night. No one said to me, 'Butter or molasses,'" and Louis' imitation of Aunt Elizabeth made Edna laugh.

"Now tell me," she said, settling herself in a big chair, "were you really going to run away? How was it?"

"Why," replied Louis, a little awkwardly, "I might have gone; but, you see, when I wrote to father and mother about not getting along well and all that, and when Uncle Justus wrote about that time, you know when the boys were there, and said I ought to be in a regular boys' school, where I'd have companions, they concluded they'd send me to a military school next year. I'd like that; I'll learn to drill and have a fine time, with boys to play with all the time, although," he added, seeing a little hurt look on Edna's face, "to tell you the truth, Edna, if it hadn't been for you I don't know how I should have managed; we did have some good times, and you made me ashamed of myself lots of times; so I didn't get into trouble near as often as I might have done if you hadn't been there; but while you were away I couldn't stand it, and I really did think I'd run away--I should have stopped on the way to say good-by to you, though--but when father and mother came I forgot all about everything, you see. I tell you, you are a brick, and stood up for me like a Trojan. I told father and mother all about it."

Praise like this was very sweet to Edna.

"You stood up for me when that boy, that Phil Blaney, was so dreadful," she made answer.

"Ho! that was nothing, I found out what a mean sort of a chap he was that day, and I've not liked him since. I like Charlie Stabler much better. Say, how will you like living here?"

"What do you mean? Am I really to come back? Did you hear mamma say so? And you will not be here. O, dear!"

"I heard some talk of you all coming here to live."

"That was what papa meant then. O, I wish I knew."

"He's in the other room now talking to my father. Let's go ask him," and the children ran tumultuously in to Mr. Conway.

"Well, I'm thinking of it," was his reply to their questioning. "It looks now as if my business would bring me here."

"And we'll really all come here to live?" cried Edna.

"Yes, I think so."

"O, then! O, papa! Couldn't we live in the country where Dorothy Evans lives? Mr. Evans comes to the city every day. It isn't far."

Mr. Conway looked at his wife. "That would not be a bad idea," he said.

"It would be an excellent one provided we can find the right place. I think it would be much better for the children," she replied.

So then and there it was arranged that a trip in that direction should be made the next day.

"Edna will be so happy to be near her friends," said Mrs. Conway to Mrs. Morrison; "although I do believe the child would try to be contented anywhere," she added.

"She has a very helpful spirit," returned Mrs. Morrison. "I don't know what Louis would have done without her. She has been much braver than he." An admission which, while perfectly true, Mrs. Conway thought was a very generous one for a mother to make.

"I can take Moggins to Margaret," said Edna, delightedly, on their way back to Aunt Elizabeth's; "and you can see all the people I like so much, mamma, my dear Miss Agnes, and all."

The gifts were duly presented, and Uncle Justus promised that the clock should say, "Ed-na, Ed-na" to him, and, many a time after, as he sat beside the fire in his easy chair, did the cheerful ticking remind him of the little loving child.

The expedition to the country was a great success. Moggins behaved beautifully, for he was curled up asleep in his basket most of the way. Margaret's delight on again having him was good to see. She was overjoyed at the possibility of having Edna for a neighbor, and Dorothy fairly screamed at the news.

"I know just the place to suit you," said Miss Agnes to Mrs. Conway. "It is about halfway between here and the depot. You know that white house, Edna, with the vines over the porch and the big oak tree on the lawn; it is so pretty there in summer, and is very convenient to the station." And true enough it proved to suit exactly.

After this came the preparations for returning home. At first the question was raised as to whether or not Edna should be left with her aunt and uncle until after the removal, but the sight of the little, wistful, disappointed face went to the mother's heart, although Edna made no protest.

"We expect too much of the child," she said to her husband. "She has been more courageous than most children under many sore trials to a sensitive little heart; and she loves her pets, and has been separated from us all so long." Therefore, Edna was told she could pack up Ada's belongings and make ready for the return.

"We shall not be ready to remove for a couple of months," said mamma, "and you will have a good time running about for that length of time."

It was not hard to say good-by when there was such a near prospect of coming back, and even the parting with Louis was made easy because he was to spend part of the summer with his cousins.

"When we get to our new home we shall have such a good time," said Edna. "The Porter boys can play with our boys, and I can play with Dorothy and Margaret, and sister can have Miss Agnes, and O, it will be just splendid!"

It was very delightful to be at home again; to find everything looking just the same; to discover that Snowflake was nearly ready to hatch out a brood of chickens; that Mooly had a dear little calf; that the boys were as funny as ever; that sister was so,