Christmas with Grandma Elsie

Have you come to apply for the situation?"

"Yes, sir; I heered tell ye was wantin' a superior kind o' male man to take the school fer the winter, and bein' as I was out o' a job, I thought I mout as well try my hand at that as enny thin' else."

"Take a seat and let us inquire into your qualifications," said Herbert, waving his hand in the direction of a vacant chair. "But first tell us your name and where you are from."

"My name, sir, is Peter Bones, and I come from the town o' Hardtack in the next county; jest beyant the hill yander. I've a good eddication o' me own, too, though I never rubbed my back agin a college," remarked the applicant, sitting down and tilting his chair back on its hind legs, retaining his balance by holding on to the one occupied by Herbert. "I kin spell the spellin' book right straight through, sir, from kiver to kiver."

"But spelling is not the only branch to be taught in the Sharon school," said Chester. "What else do you know."

"The three r's, sir; reading, 'ritin,' and 'rithmetic."

"You are acquainted with mathematics!"

"Well, no, not so much with Mathy as with his brother Bill; but I know him like a book; fact I might say like several books."

"Like several books, eh?" echoed Chester in a sarcastic tone; "but how well may you be acquainted with the books? What's the meaning of pathology?"

"The science of road making of course, sir; enny fool could answer such a question as that."

"Could he, indeed? Well you've made a miss, for your answer is wide of the mark."

"How wide is the Atlantic ocean?" asked Herbert.

"'Bout a thousand miles."

"Another miss; it's three thousand."

"I know it useter to be, years ago, but they've got to crossin' it so quick now that you needn't tell me it's more'n a thousand."

"In what year was the Declaration of Independence signed?" asked Harold.

"Wall now, I don't jist remember," returned the applicant, thrusting both hands deep into his pockets and gazing down meditatively at the carpet, "somewheres 'bout 1860, wuzn't it? no, come to think, I guess 'twas '63."

"No, no, no! you are thinking of the proclamation of emancipation. Another miss. We don't find you qualified for the situation; so wish you good day, sir."

"Ah, ah! ah, ah! um h'm, um h'm! so I should say," soliloquized Mr. Lilburn, leaning on his goldheaded cane and watching the four lads as they scattered and left the room; "and so this is the end of act the first, I suppose. Miss, miss, miss, ah that's the syllable that begins the new word."

Evelyn now came in with an umbrella in her hand, Grace and Rose Lacey walking a little in her rear. Evelyn raised the umbrella and turning to the little girls, said pleasantly, "Come under, children, I can't keep the rain off you unless you are under the umbrella." They accepted the invitation and the three moved slowly back and forth across the room several times.

"It's a nice sort of shelter to be under when it rains," remarked Rose

Lacey.

"Yes, I like to be under it," said Grace.

"But it is wearisome to walk all the time; let us stand still for a little," proposed Evelyn.

"Yes; by that stand yonder," said Grace.

They went to it and stationed themselves there for a moment; then Grace stepped from under the umbrella and seated herself on the carpet under the stand.

"Look, look!" laughed Rose Lacey, "there's Miss Grace Raymond under the stand; a miss-under-stand."

A storm of applause, and cries of "Well done, little ones! Very prettily done indeed!" and Gracie, rosy with blushes, came out from her retreat and ran to hide her face on her father's shoulder, while he held her close with one arm, softly smoothing her curls with the other hand.

"Don't be disturbed, darling," he said; "it is only kind commendation of the way in which Rosie and you have acted your parts."

"Why you should feel proud and happy, Gracie," said Zoe, drawing near. "We are going to have that tableau now in which you are to be a little flower girl. So come, won't you? and let me help you dress."

Tableaux filled up the rest of the morning.

After dinner Harold and Herbert gave an exhibition of tricks of legerdemain, which even the older people found interesting and amusing. The little ones were particularly delighted with a marvellous shower of candy that ended the performance.

Some of Cousin Ronald's stories of the heroes of Scottish history and song made the evening pass delightfully.

But at an early hour the whole company, led by Grandpa Dinsmore, united in a short service of prayer, praise, and the reading of the scriptures, and at its close the guests bade good-bye and scattered to their homes.

"Well," said Max, following the rest of the family into the parlor, after they had seen the last guest depart, "I never had a pleasanter New Year's day."

"Nor I either," said Lulu; "and we had such a delightful time last year too, that I really don't know which I enjoyed the most."

"And we have good times all the time since we have a home of our own with our dear father in it," remarked Grace, taking his hand and carrying it to her lips, while her sweet azure eyes looked up lovingly into his face.

An emphatic endorsement of that sentiment from both Max and Lulu. Then the captain, smiling tenderly upon them, said, "I dearly love to give you pleasure, my darlings, my heart's desire is for my children's happiness in this world and the next; but life can not be all play; so lessons must be taken up again to-morrow morning, and I hope to find you all in an industrious and tractable mood."

"I should hope so indeed, papa," returned Max; "if we are not both obedient and industrious we will deserve to be called an ungrateful set."

CHAPTER XIV

The weather the next day was so mild and pleasant that Max and Lulu asked and obtained permission to take a ride of several miles on their ponies.

They went alone, their father and Violet having driven out in the family carriage, taking the three younger children with them.

On their return Max and his sister approached the house from a rear entrance to the grounds, passing through the bit of woods belonging to the estate, the garden and shrubbery, and across the lawn.

In traversing the wood they came upon a man leaning idly against a tree, in a lounging attitude, with his hands in his pockets, a half consumed cigar in his mouth.

He was a stranger to the children, and from, his shabby, soiled clothing, unkempt locks, and unshaven face, it was evident he belonged to the order of tramps.

He stood directly in the path the children were pursuing, just where it made a sudden turn, and Lulu's pony had almost trodden upon his foot before they were aware of his vicinity.

Fairy shied, snorting with fright, and almost unseated her young rider.

"Look out there, and don't ride a fellow down!" growled the man, catching hold of Fairy's bridle and scowling into the face of her rider.

Lulu did not seem to be frightened. Her quick temper rose at the man's insolence, and she exclaimed authoritatively, "Let go of my bridle this instant, and get out of the path."

"I will when I get ready, and no sooner," returned the man insolently.