A Little Girl in Old Boston by Amanda Minnie Douglas (free novels txt) 📖

lap. She could not study, she did not want to read or sew or make lace. Uncle Winthrop had gone up to Sudbury Street. All the family were to be there. The Kings had come from New York and the Mannings from Salem.

"Oh," said Doris, after a long silence, "how can Aunt Elizabeth live, and Betty and Warren, when they cannot see uncle Leverett any more! And there are so many things to talk about, only they can never ask him any questions, and he was so--so comforting. He was the first one that came to me on the vessel, you know, and he said to Captain Grier, 'Have you a little girl who has come from Old Boston to New Boston?' Then he put his arm around me, and I liked him right away. And the great fire in the hall was so lovely. I liked everybody but Aunt Priscilla, and now I feel sorry for her and like her a good deal. Sometimes she gets queer and what she calls 'pudgicky.' But she is real good to Betty."

"She's a sensible, clear-headed woman, and she has good solid principles. I do suppose we all get a little queer. I can see it in myself."

"Oh, dear Miss Recompense, you are not queer," protested Doris, seizing her hand. "When I first came I was a little afraid--you were so very nice. And then I remembered that Miss Arabella had all these nice ways, and could not bear a cloth askew nor towels wrinkled instead of being laid straight, nor anything spilled at the table, nor an untidy room, and she was very sweet and nice. And then I tried to be as neat as I could."

"I knew you had been well brought up." Miss Recompense was pleased always to be compared to her "dear Miss Arabella." There was something grateful to her woman's heart, that had long ago held a longing for a child of her own, in the ardent tone Doris always uttered this endearment.

"Miss Recompense, don't you think there is something in people loving you? You want to love them in return. You want to do the things they like. And when they smile and are glad, your whole heart is light with a kind of inward sunshine. And I think if Mrs. Manning would smile on Elizabeth once in a while, and tell her what she did was nice, and that she was smart,--for she is very, very smart,--I know it would comfort her."

"You see, people haven't thought it was best to praise children. They rarely did in my day."

"But Uncle Leverett praised Warren and Betty, and always said what Aunt Elizabeth cooked and did was delightful."

"Foster Leverett was one man out of a thousand. They will all miss him dreadfully."

Aunt Priscilla would have been amazed to know that Mr. Leverett had been in the estimation of Miss Recompense an ideal husband. Years ago she had compared other men with him and found them wanting.

Uncle Win was much surprised to find them sitting there talking when he came home, for it was ten o'clock. Cary returned shortly after, and the two men retired to the study. But there was a curious half-dread of some intangible influence that kept Doris awake a long while. The wind moaned outside and now and then raised to a somber gust sweeping across the wide Common. Oh, how lonely it must be in the old burying ground!

Mr. Leverett's will had been read that evening. The business was left to Warren, as Hollis had most of his share years before. To the married daughters a small remembrance, to Betty and her mother the house in Sudbury Street, to be kept or sold as they should elect; if sold, they were to share equally.

Mrs. King was very well satisfied. In the present state of affairs Warren's part was very uncertain, and his married sisters were to be paid out of that. The building was old, and though the lot was in a good business location, the value at that time was not great.

"It seems to me the estate ought to be worth more," said Mrs. Manning. "I did suppose father was quite well off, and had considerable ready money."

"So he did two years ago," answered Warren. "But it has been spent in the effort to keep afloat. If the times should ever get better----"

"You'll pull through," said Hollis encouragingly.

He had not suffered so much from the hard times, and was prospering.

The will had been remade six months before, after a good deal of consideration.

When Mrs. King went home, a few days after, she said privately to Warren: "Do not trouble about my legacy, and if you come to hard places I am sure Matt will help you out if he possibly can."

Warren thanked her in a broken voice.

Mr. King said nearly the same thing as he grasped the young fellow's hand.

They were a very lonely household. Of course, Betty could not think of going away. And now that they knew what a struggle it had been for some time to keep matters going comfortably, they cast about to see what retrenchment could be made. Even if they wanted to, this would be no time to sell. The house seemed much too large for them, yet it was not planned so that any could be rented out.

"If you're set upon that," said Aunt Priscilla, "I'll take the spare rooms, whether I need them or not. And we will just go on together. Strange though that Foster, who was so much needed, should be taken, and I, without a chick or a child, and so much older, be left behind."

There was a new trustee to be looked up for Doris. A much younger man was needed. If Cary were five or six years older! Foster Leverett's death was a great shock to Winthrop Adams. Sometimes it seemed as if a shadowy form hovered over his shoulder, warning him that middle life was passing. He had a keen disappointment, too, in his son. He had hoped to find in him an intellectual companion as the years went on, but he could plainly see that his heart was not in his profession. The young fellow's ardor had been aroused on other lines that brought him in direct opposition to the elder's views. He had gone so far as to ask his father's permission to enlist in the navy, which had been refused, not only with prompt decision, but with a feeling of amazement that a son of his should have proposed such a step.

Cary had the larger love of country and the enthusiasm of youth. His father was deeply interested in the welfare and standing of the city, and he desired it to keep at the head. He had hoped to see his son one of the rising men of the coming generation. War horrified him: it called forth the cruel and brutal side of most men, and was to be undertaken only for extremely urgent reasons as the last hope and salvation of one's country. We had gained a right to stand among the nations of the world; it was time now that we should take upon ourselves something higher--the cultivation of literature and the fine arts. To plunge the country into war again would be setting it back decades.

He had taken a great deal of pleasure in the meetings, of the Anthology Club and the effort they had made to keep afloat a _Magazine of Polite Literature_. The little supper, which was very plain; the literary chat; the discussions of English poets and essayists, several of which were reprinted at this era; and the encouragement of native writers, of whom there were but few except in the line of sermons and orations. By 1793 there had been two American novels published, and though we should smile over them now we can find their compeers in several of the old English novels that crop out now and then, exhumed from what was meant to be a kindly oblivion.

The magazine had been given up, and the life somehow had gone out of the club. There was a plan to form a reading room and library to take its place. Men like Mr. Adams were anxious to advance the intellectual reputation of the town, though few people found sufficient leisure to devote to the idea of a national literature. Others said: "What need, when we have the world of brilliant English thinkers that we can never excel, the poets, and novelists! Let us study those and be content."

The incidents of the winter had been quite depressing to Mr. Adams. Cary was around to the Royalls' nearly every evening, sometimes to other places, and at discussions that would have alarmed his father still more if he had known it. The young fellow's conscience gave him many twinges. "Children, obey your parents" had been instilled into every generation and until a boy was of age he had no lawful right to think for himself.

So it happened that Doris became more of a companion to Uncle Win. They rambled about as the spring opened and noted the improvements. Old Frog Lane was being changed into Boylston Street. Every year the historic Common took on some new charm. There was the Old Elm, that dated back to tradition, for no one could remember its youth. She was interested in the conflicts that had ushered in the freedom of the American Colonies. Here the British waited behind their earthworks for Washington to attack them, just as every winter boys congregated behind their snowy walls and fought mimic battles. Indeed, during General Gage's administration the soldiers had driven the boys off their coasting place on the Common, and in a body they had gone to the Governor and demanded their rights, which were restored to them. Many a famous celebration had occurred here, and here the militia met on training days and had their banquets in tents. At the first training all the colored population was allowed to throng the Common; but at the second, when the Ancient and Honorable Artillery chose its new officers, they were strictly prohibited.

Many of the ropewalks up at the northern end were silent now. Indeed, everybody seemed waiting with bated breath for something to happen, but all nature went on its usual way and made the town a little world of beauty with wild flowers and shrubs and the gardens coming into bloom, and the myriads of fruit trees with their crowns of snowy white and pink in all gradations.

"I think the world never was so beautiful," said Doris to Uncle Winthrop.

It was so delightful to have such an appreciative companion, even if she was only a little girl.

Cary's birthday was the last of May, and it was decided to have the family party at the same time. Cary's young friends would be invited in the evening, but for the elders there would be the regular supper.

"You will have your freedom suit, and afterward you can do just as you like," said Doris laughingly. She and Cary had been quite friendly of late, young-mannish reserve having given place to a brotherly regard.

"Do you suppose I _can_ do just as I like?" He studied the eager face.

"Of course you wouldn't want to do anything Uncle Win would not like."

Cary flushed. "I wonder if fathers always know what is best? And when you are a man----" he began.

"Don't you want to study law?"

"Under some circumstances I should like it."

"Would you like keeping a store