Elsie at Nantucket

"Oh, don't use them if you can help it!" she cried.

"I shall not," he assured her, "unless it is absolutely necessary."

He snatched the weapons from beneath his pillow as he spoke, and went from the room, she closely following.

At the instant that they entered hers a low growl came from the inner room, and simultaneously they exclaimed, "A dog!"

"Somewhat less to be feared than a lunatic, unless he should be mad, which is not likely," added Edward, striking a light.

Lulu sprang up with a low cry of intense relief. "O Grandma Elsie, it's only a dog, and I thought it a crazy man or a wicked murderer!"

As she spoke the animal emerged from his hiding-place and walked into the outer room, dragging his chain after him.

Edward at once recognized him as a large mastiff Harry Duncan had shown him the previous afternoon.

"It's Mr. Duncan's dog," he said; "he must have broken his chain and come in unobserved before the house was closed for the night. Here, Nero, good fellow, this way! You've done mischief enough for one night, and we'll send you home."

He led the way to the outer door, the dog following quite peaceably, while Elsie, hearing sobs coming from the other room, hastened in to comfort and relieve the frightened children.

Grace still slept on in blessed unconsciousness; but she found Lulu crying hysterically, quite unable to continue her efforts at self-control, now that the necessity for it was past.

"Poor child!" Elsie said, folding her in her kind arms, "you have had a terrible fright, have you not?"

"Yes, Grandma Elsie; oh, I've been lying here so long, so long, thinking a murderer or crazy man was under the bed, just ready to jump out and kill Gracie and me!" she sobbed, clinging convulsively about Elsie's neck.

"And did not scream for help! What a brave little girl you are!"

"I wanted to, and, oh, I could hardly keep from it! But I thought if I did it would wake Gracie and scare her to death, and the man would be sure to jump out and kill us at once."

"Dear child," Elsie said, "you have shown yourself thoughtful, brave, and unselfish; how proud your father will be of his eldest daughter when he hears it!"

"O Grandma Elsie, do you think he will? How glad that would make me! It would pay for all the dreadful fright I have had," Lulu said, her tones tremulous with joy, as, but a moment ago, they had been with nervousness and fright.

"I am quite sure of it," Elsie answered, smoothing the little girl's hair with caressing hand, "quite sure; because I know he loves you very dearly, and that he admires such courage, unselfishness, and presence of mind as you have shown to-night."

These kind words did much to turn Lulu's thoughts into a new channel and thus relieve the bad effects of her fright. But Elsie continued for some time longer her efforts to soothe her into calmness and forgetfulness, using tender, caressing words and endearments; then she left her, with an injunction to try to go immediately to sleep.

Lulu promised compliance, and, attempting it, succeeded far sooner than she had thought possible.

The whole occurrence seemed like a troubled dream when she awoke in the morning. It was a delicious day in early October, and as soon as dressed she went into the garden, where she found John Hencle already at work, industriously weeding and watering his plants and flowers.

"Goot-morning, mine leetle mees," he said, catching sight of her, "Was it so goot a night mit you?"

"No," she said, and went on to tell the story of her fright.

"Dot ish lige me," he remarked, phlegmatically, at the conclusion of her tale. "Von nighd I hears somedings what make me scare. I know notings what he ish; I shust hears a noise, an' I shumpt de bed out, and ran de shtairs down, and looked de window out, and it wasn't notings but a leetle tog going 'Bow wow.'"

"I don't think it was very much like my fright," remarked Lulu, in disgust; "it couldn't have been half so bad."

"Vell, maype not; but dat Nero ish a goot, kind tog; he bide dramps, but nefer dose nice leetle girl. Dis ish de great day when dose nice old lady pees von huntred years old. What you dinks? a fery long dime to live?"

"Yes; very long," returned Lulu, emphatically. "I wish I knew papa would live to be that old, for then he'd be at home with us almost forty years after he retires from the navy."

"Somebody ish call you, I dinks," said John, and at the same moment

Grace's clear, bird-like voice came floating on the morning breeze,

"Lulu, Lulu!" as her dainty little figure danced gayly down the garden path in search of her missing sister.

"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed, catching sight of Lulu. "Come into Aunt Wealthy's house and see the pretty presents everybody has given her for her hundredth birthday. She hasn't seen them yet, but she is going to when she comes down to eat her breakfast."

"Oh, I'd like to see them!" exclaimed Lulu, and she and Grace tripped back to the house together, and on into the sitting-room, where, on a large table, the gifts were displayed.

They were many, and some of them costly, for the old lady was very dear to the hearts of these relatives, and they were able as well as willing to show their affection in this substantial way.

There were fine paintings and engravings to adorn her walls; fine china, and glittering cut glass, silver and gold ware for her tables; vases for her mantels; richly-bound and illustrated books, whose literary contents were worthy of the costly adornment, and various other things calculated to give her pleasure or add to her ease and comfort.

She was not anticipating any such demonstration of affection – not expecting such substantial evidences of the love and esteem in which she was held – and when brought face to face with them was almost overcome, so that tears of joy and gratitude streamed from her aged eyes,

They were soon wiped away, however, and she was again her own bright, cheery self, full of thought and care for others – the kindest and most genial of hostesses.

She took the head of the breakfast-table herself, and poured the coffee for her guests with her own hands, entertaining them the while with cheerful chat, and causing many a merry laugh with the old-time tripping of her tongue – a laugh in which she always joined with hearty relish.

"There is too much butter in this salt," she remarked. "It is some John Hencle brought in this morning. I must see him after breakfast and bid him caution his wife to use less."

But as they rose from the table John came in unsummoned, and carrying a fine large goose under each arm.

Bowing low: "I ish come to pring two gooses to de von hundredth birthday," he announced; "dey pees goot, peaceable pirds: I ish know dem for twenty years, and dey nefer makes no droubles."

A smile went round the little circle, but Miss Stanhope said, with a very pleased look, "Thank you, John; they shall be well fed, and I hope they will like their new quarters. How is Jake doing? I haven't seen him for some time."

"No; Shakey is go to school most days. I vants Shakey to knows somedings."

"Yes, indeed; I hope Jakey is going to have a good education. But what do you mean to do with him after he is done going to school?"

"Vy, I dinks I prings mine Shakey to town and hangs him on to Sheneral

Shmicdt and makes a brinting-office out of him."

"A printer, John? Well, that might be a very good thing if you don't need him to help you about the farm, or our grounds. I should think you would, though."

"Nein, nein," said John, shaking his head; "'tis not so long as I vants Shakey to makes mit me a fence; put I tash! Miss Stanhope, he say he ton't can know how to do it; and I says, 'I tash! Shakey, you peen goin' to school all your life, and you don't know de vay to makes a fence yet.'"

"Not so very strange," remarked Edward, with unmoved countenance, "for they don't teach fence-making in ordinary schools."

"Vell, den, de more's de bity," returned John, taking his departure. But turning back at the door to say to Miss Stanhope, "I vill put dose gooses in von safe place."

"Any place where they can do no mischief, John," she answered, good-humoredly.