The Old Stone House - Constance Fenimore Woolson (each kindness read aloud txt) 📗

said all the family in a chorus, “that is too much.”

“I would as soon go into the woods with a set of pirates,” said Sibyl.

“They howl so,” said Bessie.

“We could never carry enough for them to eat,” said Gem.

“I could not take such a responsibility,” said Aunt Faith; “something might happen, they might get into the lake.”

“They would be sure to get in; they take to the water like young ducks,” said Hugh.

Before this mass of testimony, Tom was obliged to give way. “Well,” he said, after a pause, “never mind about the B. B.‘s so long as you have the picnic.”

“Of course we cannot go to-day,” began Sibyl.

“Why not?” interposed Tom; “no time like the present. I’ll agree to do all the running round; I can run like a tiger.”

Sibyl sighed, and glanced out into the sunshine with a foreboding of heat and freckles.

“Who shall we have?” said Bessie.

“Mr. Leslie will go, I presume,” said Aunt Faith; “I know that clergymen often make a holiday of Monday.”

Sibyl’s face cleared, and she made no further objection to the plan.

“As I do not like to be hurried,” continued Aunt Faith, “I propose that we do not start until after dinner; we will have a tea instead of a dinner in the woods, and come home at twilight.”

At first Tom objected to this idea, but as the others liked it, he yielded, and the question of invitations was taken up.

“I propose we leave that to Aunt Faith,” said Bessie; “if we once begin discussing it, we shall sit here all the morning, for we never can agree.”

“Where shall we go?” said Hugh.

Aunt Faith suggested Oak Grove.

“Oh no!” said Tom, “that is too near town. Let us go somewhere ever so far away, so that we shall feel like Robinson Crusoe on a desert island.”

Hugh, who had a secret plan for driving a four-in-hand, seconded Tom’s idea, and finally it was decided that they should go to Mossy Pond, a beautiful glen ten miles from Westerton, in a rocky region on the lake shore apart from the farming country. Sibyl took the list, and went out to deliver the invitations which Aunt Faith had wisely confined to the immediate neighborhood. Mr. Leslie was the only one who lived at some distance, and immediately after the early dinner, Hugh drove over and brought back, as he said, “vi et armis.” “Here is Mr. Leslie, Aunt Faith,” he called, as he opened the dining-room door. “Walk in, sir, if you please.” Having thus safely accomplished his charge, Hugh disappeared to arrange the means of transportation. Aunt Faith supposed they were to go in two wagons drawn by their own bays, and Mr. Marr’s blacks. She little knew the truth!

Mr. Leslie thus unceremoniously introduced into the family circle, took a seat at the table, and watched the proceedings with amused interest. “Surely we do not need all that coffee, Mrs. Sheldon,” he said, as Aunt Faith filled a tin box with the fragrant mixture,—ground coffee and egg all prepared for the boiling water.

“My only fear is that it will not be enough,” replied Aunt Faith, with a smile.

“And those biscuits! Do you keep stores for an army on hand night and day?”

“Oh, no; I sent to a bakery for these. But, with all my efforts, I have not been able to get enough cold meat.”

“You say that in the face of this mountain of cold tongue? Do we, then, turn into gormandizers by going a few miles into the country?”

“I fear we do, Mr. Leslie,” said Bessie, as she packed the loaves of fresh cake in a long basket. “I, for one, am always ravenous; I do not remember that I ever had as much as I wanted at a picnic.”

At this moment Sibyl entered the dining-room, and the color rose in her face as she saw the young clergyman at the table. He rose and offered his hand, as he said, “Good-morning, Miss Warrington, we are, I trust to be companions for the day; I shall take good care of you in the wilderness.”

John Leslie’s way of speaking was often a puzzle to Aunt Faith; he seemed so frank, and yet if he had planned each sentence, he could not have contrived words so well adapted to carry their point. He always seemed confident that Sibyl agreed with him, and that their views coincided on all points. He took the lead, and never seemed to have a doubt but that she would follow, and, when he was present, Sibyl generally did follow; it was only when he was absent that the wide difference in the motives which actuated their lives became clearly visible, and Aunt Faith saw worldliness on one side, and unworldliness on the other, with an apparently impassible gulf between. When Mr. Leslie spoke, therefore, Sibyl smiled, and took a seat by his side while she occupied herself in wrapping up the cups and saucers ready for the hamper which Nanny and Bridget were packing on the back piazza.

At two o’clock everything was ready, and the family assembled on the front piazza to wait for the expected guests. “Are they all coming, Sibyl?” asked Aunt Faith.

“Most of them, aunt. We shall have Edith Chase and Annie, Lida Powers, Walter Hart, Rose Saxon and Graham Marr, Mr. Gay, Gideon Fish, William Mount, and one of the B. B.‘s,—Jim Morse.”

“Oh, General Putnam!” said Bessie: “so much the better. He will give a military air to the scene.”

“Seventeen in all,” said Aunt Faith; “the two wagons will be well loaded.”

Bessie turned away her head, but not before Mr. Leslie had seen the smile on her face. “Miss Bessie is laughing at the idea of a possible break down,” he said: “but for my part I am quite well able to walk home, and even help draw the wagon if necessary.”

“Aunt Faith, how could you put Gideon Fish on the list?” said Bessie, as Sibyl and Mr. Leslie strolled off into the garden.

“Because I think you are somewhat unjust to him, Bessie; he has excellent qualities.”

“Well, aunt, if you like him, will you be so kind as to entertain him when he comes?” said Bessie impatiently.

“Hey,” said Tom, looking up, “Bess is getting mad! What fun!”

“There’s Rose Saxon!” said Bessie; “how do you do, Rose? You are the first and shall have the heartiest welcome.”

“What has gone wrong, Bessie? There is a wrinkle between your eyes that betokens something vexatious, I know,” said Rose, taking a seat on the step.

“It is Gideon Fish,” answered Bessie, in a low tone as Aunt Faith went into the sitting-room for a shawl.

“Is he coming?” exclaimed Rose.

“Yes; he was invited, and of course he will not decline when cake and coffee are in question.”

“And when Miss Darrell is in question,” said Rose, laughing.

“Do not tease, Rose. I am vexed in earnest this time.”

“What do you say to having a little fun out of him, Bessie?”

“By all means, if you can extract it from such material.”

“Well, then, I have thought of something. Come down in the arbor and I will tell you about it.” The two girls walked away, and Aunt Faith was left alone to welcome the guests as they gradually assembled on the piazza. Mr. Gay, the Boston bachelor, was the last to arrive.

“Now we are all here,” said Aunt Faith; “I will tell Hugh to have the wagons brought round.”

“I will go, Aunt,” said Bessie, and running through the house she went down to the stable-yard where Hugh sat expectant in his car of triumph. Slowly the equipage came round the house and drew up in front of the piazza, it was a circus band-wagon, gayly painted, and drawn by four horses, two bays and two blacks, while Hugh as charioteer sat on the high front-seat and held the reins with a practised hand.

“Hugh Warrington!” exclaimed Aunt Faith, “Four horses! I shall never dare to ride after them!”

“Do you suppose we are going to make spectacles of ourselves in that wagon, Hugh?” asked Sibyl scornfully.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” replied Hugh, laughing. “Aunt Faith, I have driven a four-in-hand over and over again, so you need not feel alarmed. And, as to the circus-wagon, I consider it the crowning attraction of the picnic.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Gay calmly. “The West is a country of new sensations. I vote for the circus-wagon, by all means.”

The majority of the guests agreed with Hugh, and climbed into the decorated chariot with great hilarity. Even the fastidious Miss Chase was pleased to be amused with the idea, and quietly secured the seat nearest the driver, which gentle manoeuvre having been observed by Bessie, that wilful young lady took the very last seat at the extreme end of the wagon, and devoted her entire attention to Mr. Walter Hart. The provisions had been sent out in a cart some time previously, and the merry party laughed and talked all the way to Mossy Pond, amused with the sensation they created on the road, amused with themselves, amused with everything; the four-in-hand carried them safely in spite of Aunt Faith’s fears, although one of the leaders showed some signs of restlessness, wishing, Hugh said, to have his share of the fun.

Mossy Pond was a small, deep pool, skirted with moss and shaded with evergreens; the brook which issued from it ran down the glen, jumping over the rocks in a series of waterfalls, reaching the lake a quarter of a mile distant where it disappeared under a sand-bar, after the manner of the streams that ran into the western lakes. On the shore the headland was bold, rugged and treeless, commanding a fine view of the water, but back in the glen the shade was dense, and there was a faint spicy odor in the air, coming from the cedars, a rare tree on the fresh-water seas. Altogether it was a wild, secluded spot, and but few of the company had ever visited it, so that the charm of novelty was added to the other attractions, and parties of explorers scaled the rock, penetrated up the glen or down towards the lake shore, coming back with wild-flowers, vines, cones, and mosses,—treasures of the forest by whose aid they transformed themselves into nymphs and woodmen, not even Aunt Faith escaping without a spray of grasses in her hat.

There were however some disadvantages in the wildness of the locality; as there was no shed for the horses. Hugh and Jonas the man-servant were obliged to unharness them and fasten them as well as they could to the trees, not without misgivings as to the result; but the blacks and bays stood quietly eating their dinner, and, at length, leaving them to the care of Jonas, Hugh went back to the glen to assist in making the fire.

“Mr. Warrington, you are not to do anything,” said Rose Saxon as he approached; “it is understood that you regard picnics as devices for extracting severe labor from unwilling young men, and we have resolved to convince you of your error. This, sir, is a strong-minded picnic; we are standing upon our rights, and request you to take a back seat upon that log with the other despots, and see us throw off our chains.”

On the log, in a row, sat all the gentlemen of the party,—Mr. Gay, Mr. Leslie, Graham Marr, Walter Hart, William Mount, Tom, and “General Putman,” Hugh gravely joined the band. “When are you going to throw off the chains, Miss Saxon?” he asked.

“We are throwing them off now. Don’t you hear them clank?”

“Not a clank!” said Hugh.

“That is because you do not choose to