c
 
 'TWIXT YOU AND ME
 
 'TWIXT YOU AND ME
 
 G race Le Baron 
 
 Qauyftter "
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 BY LITTLE, Buowx, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 sttg Press: 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 ittttU UES of grsterliag, 
 
 HOW 
 
 je ILatis anH ILassies of 
 
 2227852
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T3EIXG loth to cease my friendship of years 
 -*^ with THE LITTLE ONES OP YESTERDAY, I 
 have chosen to continue it \vith the present 
 story, in the fond hope that TWIXT You AND 
 ME may, like the flowers between its pages, 
 speak my loving message, and be a bond to 
 unite me a little longer to those who have now 
 grown into THE LADS AND LASSIES OF TO-DAY. 
 
 GRACE LE BAROX.
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. BY THE SEA 17 
 
 II. SEA REMINISCENCES 67 
 
 IT!. SCHOOL DAYS 93 
 
 IV. HOLIDAY PLEASURES 129 
 
 V. UNJUST ACCUSATIONS 167 
 
 VI. EXONERATED 193 
 
 VII. AT THE MERCY OF THE SEA . . . . 215 
 
 VIII. BAGLEY HALL 239 
 
 IX. To THE MUSIC OF THE WAVES . 275 
 
 CONCLUSION : SWEET MEMORIES ....... 291
 
 ""' ' r v 
 
 PAGE 
 
 RED ROSE . 
 WHITE ROSE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 FoRGET-Mr.-XoT, Enduring Memories . 64 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 . . Tender Thought . . 89 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 War 
 
 PANSY 
 
 . . War } 
 Sadness ) 
 
 126 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 JAPONICA Impatience of Absence . 164 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 MARJORAM Blushes 189 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 LILY OF THE VALLEY . Return of Happiness . 212 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 SWEET PEA Departure ..... 236 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 ANEMONE Expectation . . . . 272 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 POPPY Sleep 290
 
 "TOGETHER THEY RAMBLED DAILY OVER 
 
 THE MOORS " Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 "'WELL, LET ME SEE NOW,' HE COMMENCED" 74 
 
 "'Miss WILDER,' SAID Miss ABIGAIL" . . . 120 
 "BY THE LIGHT OF THE DIMLY BURNING CANDLE 
 
 SHE WROTE IX HER DIARY" 187 
 
 "BEULAH SAT, AS REQUESTED, ON A LOW FOOT- 
 STOOL AT THE STRANGER'S FEET " . . 265 
 
 Full-page drawings by ELLEN B. THOMPSON. 
 Floral decorations from drawings by KATHARINE PYLE.
 
 Come walk with me my garden path, 
 A'or wait until Life's aftermath 
 
 Shall blight the lily's stalk. 
 A nosegay I will pluck for you, 
 Of poppies red, and harebells blue ; 
 
 Come. Youth, and with me -walk.
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 9 
 i. 
 
 BY THE SEA. 
 
 FORGET-ME-NOT. ENDURING MEMORIES. 
 
 'T^IME, summer, and the hour, high noon. 
 -*- Two girls, with all the freshness of youth 
 and the budding promise of womanhood upon 
 their pretty faces, sit in the stern of a little sail- 
 boat, which almost defies its name, so idly does 
 it seem to float upon the water. The canvas 
 sail hardly moves, and the hot sun, shining in 
 the pretty girl-faces, does its utmost to add an- 
 other coat of tan and sunburn to the already 
 browned cheeks of the two. 
 
 The boat itself is a crude affair, never, of 
 course, to be dignified with the pretentious name 
 of " yacht ; " for even the more common one of 
 " sailboat " seems out of order for the home- 
 made-looking little craft. 
 
 " Oh, come, girls," cries their companion, a 
 freckle-faced boy, who, although he does not wear 
 2 17
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the conventional dress of a sailor lad, neverthe- 
 less aspires to impress his hearers with his 
 knowledge of winds and tides. " Come, I say, 
 girls, she '11 never get round the Point without 
 any more wind than this ! What shall we do ? 
 Turn back, or go ahead, or wait ?" 
 
 " Well," replied the elder of the two girls thus 
 addressed, " what a question to ask us, Harold 
 Macy ! What do we know about a sailboat? 
 And how do you expect to turn back without a 
 wind any more than to go on without one ? Of 
 course we must wait. Now, if this was only a 
 rowboat, why, Daisy and I might help at the 
 oars, but " 
 
 "But it is!" cried the lad; "and that is 
 just why I am asking. Come, which is it ? 
 Quick ! Have n't I been about in this harbor 
 ever since I was old enough to sit on the 
 wharves and toss a line to minnows ? and don't 
 I know all about winds and tides ? and don't 
 you see, for yourselves, there isn't even a cat's 
 paw, and the tide is going out fast ? Quick ! 
 what shall we do, girls ? Shall we row ? " 
 And without heeding an answer, the sail was 
 loosened from its thwart and tossed into the 
 bottom of the boat, with an air of importance, 
 18
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 or rather, unimportance ; the rowlocks were 
 quickly put in place; and "Presto, change!" 
 a rowboat ! and Harold Macy, bending to 
 the oars, proved that a boy in a boat is as 
 much at home as a fish in the water. 
 
 With the odds against the little craft, its 
 progress, however, was not all to be desired by 
 the impatient party on board. 
 
 " Do hurry, Cousin Harold ! " said Daisy 
 Wilder, the younger of the girls. " Why, we 
 shall never get there in time for the bathing, 
 and, see, the noon boat is just getting ready to 
 start. Oh, do hurry ! for we shall be right in 
 her way." 
 
 " She will be right in our way, you mean," 
 replied the lad, in an indifferent manner, quite 
 in contrast to that of his nervous cousin. 
 " Little folks like us must be looked out for," 
 said he. 
 
 " Yes," replied Daisy, " that is true ; but we 
 ought not to put ourselves in her way. Little 
 people have rights, and big ones too ; and we 
 have not any more right to bother the steamer 
 by getting in her course, than a big brother 
 has a right to hector his little sister. Then, 
 too, if the steamer should run us down, we 
 19
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 could not argue over rights much, any\raj\ 
 with our mouths full of salt water, and per- 
 forming gymnastics under her paddle-wheel, 
 could we ? But, come, row fast. Cousin 
 Harold, and we will make the Point before 
 she starts," said Daisy, in a coaxing tone, 
 which had its effect upon the boy, for he bent 
 with a will to his oars. 
 
 Soon, rounding the Point, which the light- 
 house guarded, the tiny boat danced up and 
 down in the wake of the steamer, as the latter 
 passed, and Harold Macy, with a triumphal 
 air, doffed his cap, crying out, " Good-bye, 
 strangers ! Good-bye, all ! Come fish with us 
 next summer again! Good-bye, strangers!" 
 
 " Strangers ! " repeated the two girls, in uni- 
 son, and in indignation as well. 
 
 " Harold, why do you call all of us who 
 come to this island, strangers?" asked Daisy. 
 " Just because we do not happen to have one 
 of the dozen names so common down here, and 
 be alphabetically tagged ? You came very near 
 not having one yourself, Harold Macy ; and 
 you would n't, if your mother's first husband 
 had n't died, and made a way for your father ! " 
 and Daisy's eyes glistened with a satisfaction 
 20
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 that, it is feared, had its birth in the family 
 discussion over the well-timed " passing away " 
 of Aunt Susan B.'s first husband. 
 
 Daisy continued : " I do not believe I am 
 half as much of a stranger in this town as old 
 Widow what 's her name ? up the lane, 
 there, who sits and rocks and knits, day in and 
 day out, and never goes out of the house, but 
 is always wondering ' what people want to live 
 up there for, anyway, where the land could be 
 had for a song when she was a girl.' Now, 
 what does she, or those like her, and there 
 are lots of them, too, down here, know about 
 the Cliff, and its people ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " Yes," chimed in Rosemary ; " Daisy and I 
 know every square inch of this island ! Every 
 cobblestone, even. Do we not, Daisy ? " 
 
 " I should think so, Rosemary," replied 
 Daisy ; " and I have good reason to remember 
 one cobblestone, with not too much affection 
 either, for tripping me up, and making me lose 
 a good part of my vacation last year ; " and 
 Daisy's mind wandered in fancy to her days of 
 solitude with her lame knee, which had ever 
 since carried the scars of the battle between 
 flesh and stone. 
 
 21
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Strangers ! Strangers ! Xo, indeed, Harold 
 Macy ! " said Daisy, assuming an air of playful 
 indignation. " Xo, Thomas Macy and I were 
 just as good friends as you and he ever were ! 
 He died before either of us was born, so you 
 did n't know him, neither did I ; but I never 
 heard that it was a written or unwritten law 
 which said I should not make this my home, 
 especially when my father pays taxes here. 
 Is n't home where you pay your taxes ? and 
 this is one of my homes, just as much as it is 
 yours, Harold Macy, and I love it ! Yes, I love 
 this place, better than you do, I believe, 
 too ! " 
 
 The boy rested on his oars, and, after a 
 momentary look of indignation excited by 
 Daisy's argument, resumed his rowing, saying 
 meditatively, " Well, perhaps you do, Cousin 
 Daisy. But you have not trudged these streets 
 and no other, as I have, always. Sixteen years 
 is a long-enough stay in any place for me." 
 
 " Xo, I have not, I know," replied Daisy ; 
 " but when I have, I shall be so fond of these 
 little crooked lanes and moss-grown cobble- 
 stones that even that evil genius that disputed 
 with me so forcibly will be forgiven, and become 
 22
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 as precious as a nugget of gold ! Many a night 
 I go to bed in the winter, and I fancy I hear the 
 waves plashing and dashing on the beach ; and 
 their music seems to soothe me off to sleep, with 
 their ' lullaby lullaby.' " 
 
 The boy looked up again from his oars, long 
 enough to say, " Lullaby ! Humph ! I just wish 
 that I could get where they don't sing lullabies, 
 Daisy, in the city, where you need n't sleep if 
 you don't want to." 
 
 " That is it, you see, Harold. Now, you just 
 want to turn your back upon a friend, and I am 
 satisfied to put my arms right around this little 
 stranger and stay forever on this island. Now 
 which of us really loves it the most, do you 
 think, you, or Rosemary and I ? So don't you 
 ever let me hear you call either of us ' Stranger ; ' 
 for if you do, I will never own you as a cousin, 
 even by marriage ! " replied Daisy, in a most 
 determined manner ; and with this convincing 
 argument the discussion ended, a discussion 
 that at times seemed to have a stronger flavor 
 of a children's petty quarrel than of a dignified 
 assertion of equal rights. 
 
 Rosemary McBurnie and Daisy Wilder were 
 friends of many summers. Their winter friend- 
 23
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 ship, like the snowdrops, which hide their pretty 
 heads under the snow only to fulfil their annual 
 promises, rested peaceably in their young hearts, 
 until the time when the cottagers on the beach 
 took down the shutters, that had defied the 
 winter's storms, and the summer homes of the 
 McBurnies and Wilders smiled again in the 
 harmony of happy friendships in the summer 
 sunlight. And again and again the two girls 
 renewed their friendship, too, none the less 
 sincere because of the long silence, and always 
 with the mutual question, " Why did you not 
 write to me last winter ? " and each had always 
 the same reason to give, of " good intentions 
 unfulfilled." 
 
 The two girls were quite unlike in disposition. 
 Rosemary had a sweet dignity, almost unnatural 
 to youth, and seemed to live in an atmosphere 
 which Daisy always said belonged to " cloud- 
 land, where the angels live." And Daisy ! 
 Daisy was the same little mischief, even in her 
 teens, that she had ever been, since the tim^ 
 when, as children, the two had indulged in the 
 pastime of brewing and baking that delectable 
 morsel of childhood's days, the mud-pie ! 
 Then it was that Daisy would upset Rosemary's, 
 24
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 and, with a merry laugh, run away as fast as her 
 little feet could trudge through the heavy sand 
 on the beach, leaving Rosemary to quietly refill 
 the pretty escallop shells which old Ocean 
 brought to her feet, and to make her choice of 
 mosses for their garnishing. 
 
 Happy days those were for them both ! Happy 
 days were still theirs ; and the two loved with a 
 love too sincere for anything but complete trust, 
 and too ardent for the encroachment of petty 
 jealousies. Rosemary's dignity often regulated 
 Daisy's natural roguishness, and a look on the 
 former's face often called a halt to the latter's 
 over-exuberance of spirit. In fact, it was just 
 such a look from Rosemary that made Daisy 
 give up her discussion with her cousin over her 
 rights, just as the steamer went far out of sight 
 with its deck-load of passengers, who never 
 would know what a loyal champion they had in 
 the Boston girl, Daisy Wilder. 
 
 Rosemary McBurnie had been a silent listener 
 to the discussion, - since it had really fallen 
 into a discussion, and sat looking out over the 
 water in dreamy mood. She watched the out- 
 going tide with a double interest, because of the 
 bathing in anticipation, and the home-coming ; 
 25
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 both of which would, of course, be influenced by 
 the laws governing tides and winds ; then ven- 
 tured the question, " Do you think that we shall 
 ever get to the Cliff in time for the bathing, 
 Harold?" Again, getting bolder, she asked, 
 " Will you let me help you row ? Oh, I know 
 how to row, perhaps not a Harvard or a 
 Wellesley stroke ; but do let me try, will you, 
 Harold ? " 
 
 And Harold Macy, too proud to allow that his 
 strength was in the least taxed, willingly resigned 
 one of the oars to the young girl, who surprised 
 the freckle-faced lad by her aptness and skill at 
 rowing ; and the little boat soon reached its 
 destination, the bathing shore. 
 
 Harold Macy, with the air of a gallant, as be- 
 fitted the amateur captain of the " Undine," 
 pulled the boat a little nearer to the sands, and 
 Rosemary and Daisy jumped from the bow, with 
 an agility as effectual as if learned on a ship's 
 deck and rigging, instead of within the four 
 walls of a city gymnasium. Rosemary, with the 
 air of an elder sister, drew her companion's hand 
 through her arm, and, with the bathing pavilion 
 as their Mecca, Daisy and she hurried their steps 
 over the sandy beach. 
 
 26
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 " Only think," said Daisy, " this is to be my 
 last visit to the Cliff this year ; and I must say 
 good-bye to it this morning." 
 
 " Why, Daisy, what do you mean ? " asked 
 Rosemary, in astonishment, and the least touch 
 of sadness in her voice. 
 
 " Did not mamma tell you that we go away on 
 Saturday ? and to-morrow will be my busy day." 
 And as Daisy said this, her usual merry laugh 
 seemed to echo a minor sound at the prospect of 
 leaving her holiday home and friends. " Yes," 
 she added, after a pause ; " we had a letter by 
 last night's boat, saying that Uncle Willard and 
 Aunt Frances will sail for Europe next week, 
 and mamma says that she must be at home 
 before they go. We were going away earlier 
 than usual this year, anyway, because I am going 
 somewhere to boarding-school." As Daisy said 
 these words, her face assumed an unusually 
 serious look. "Just think of it, going away 
 from home to school!" she said. "Oh, dear! 
 why must I go to boarding-school, I wonder ? 
 Every girl does not have to go away to school. 
 Oh, dear ! why must I go to school, anyway, when 
 so many stand ready to take my place ? I know 
 that I shall be the King's jester of the class. 
 27 y
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 But here we are now. Adieu, Rosemary, until 
 we meet at the fifth wave out by the jetty." And 
 the two friends parted from each other to pre- 
 pare for their swim, and later emerged to join 
 in a race for the water's edge, where, with a 
 " One, two, three," they flung themselves into 
 the waves, and were soon disporting themselves 
 as mermaids, rather than mortals. 
 
 Yes, it was all too true. Daisy Wilder was to 
 become a student, or to try to become one ; and the 
 possibilities of her success lay in her own con- 
 fession, that the privilege was not a privilege, 
 but a punishment. Books she had little respect 
 for, and no love whatever for such " time- 
 killers," as she called them. They were not to 
 her, as to many, her dearest companions, but 
 only to be cultivated when a rainy day deprived 
 her of other friendships, better suited to her 
 choice. 
 
 " No," she would often say, " I am not a 
 really and truly Bostonian ; for I don't wear blue 
 glasses, and I don't love books, and blue 
 stockings almost always crock ! I love every- 
 thing that God made, and man made books. I 
 love the birds and the flowers and the ocean." 
 
 What, then, is to be expected of a student like 
 28
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 Daisy Wilder, to whom Greek must indeed be a 
 " dead language," and Mathematics an " un- 
 known quantity " ? 
 
 Rosemary McBurnie, on the contrary, was, as 
 her mother often said, " all books." With high- 
 est honors she had graduated from her several 
 classes, and the diplomas that hung in their 
 pretty frames about her room in the McBurnies' 
 home in the city represented not only honors to 
 her, but recalled to her, as well, happy days of 
 study and close companionship with her books. 
 At the close of the holidays Rosemary, too, was 
 to resume her friendships with such friends as 
 the blind poet Milton, and those others Paul 
 and Virginia speaking to her in a foreign lan- 
 guage. So it was hardly to be expected that 
 she could fully sympathize with Daisy in the 
 latter's fancied misfortune. 
 
 But, despite this difference in taste and opin- 
 ion of books, the two girls had much in common 
 for enjoyment. Flowers spoke to them both, 
 in the same loving language of fragrance and 
 beauty. The ocean, whether at peace or toss- 
 ing its white caps upon the sands in deafening 
 roar, appealed to them both, in its magnificence, 
 as a messenger from God, to be heeded, to be 
 29 >
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 feared, and, above all, to be loved. Together, 
 they rambled daily over the moors of the island, 
 now gathering the flora in its brilliancy of 
 many colors ; now resting on the flowered car- 
 pet spread under their feet, to learn from 
 " Gray's Botany" any information about the blue 
 heather, or the pretty blossoms of the gerardia. 
 
 Long before their annual arrival at their sum- 
 mer home, explicit directions always preceded 
 them, to Sam Meader, a quondam sailor (who 
 had since been a general-utility landsman), 
 telling him to bring out from its winter hiding- 
 place the red rowboat, which had for many 
 summers served as a memory, and a pretty 
 flower-garden for the two girls. 
 
 Alas ! once this same little boat had started 
 out one summer afternoon, full of happiness, 
 with Guy McBurnie as its boy captain, and 
 when it was found the next day, beached high 
 and dry in the tall rushes, it was " mustered out 
 of service," as was its boy captain ; and at last 
 the mother's heart yielded to the children's 
 importunings, and so it had stood ever since be- 
 tween the two cottages, an ever-present bond 
 of sympathy between the two families, and a 
 floral memory to the loved but venturesome boy. 
 30
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 It was this same mutual fondness for flowers 
 that led up to the girls' conversation on their 
 homeward way ; for, leaving the beach with its 
 idle loungers behind tbem ; leaving the ocean in 
 the possession of its bevy of bathers, yes, 
 even leaving the " Undine " in its ill-befitting 
 and humiliating place on shore, they readily 
 accepted Harold Macy's proposition, to " let the 
 boat stay there until the tide should come in, 
 and walk home, up over the Cliff road ; " and 
 Rosemary and Daisy started along, with Harold 
 following in the rear. 
 
 Said Rosemary, " The summer will seem so 
 short with you gone, Daisy." 
 
 " And the winter will seem so long, will it 
 not, Rosemary, away from home and you ? " 
 returned Daisy, with a sigh. " You may think 
 of me, up to pranks, instead of books, though. 
 I wonder who will be my room-mate. Suppose 
 she should be some girl like Beulah Scilley ! 
 Dear me ! she will think that I ought to be 
 expelled before a week is out ; " and Daisy 
 laughed heartily, as if such a future had no 
 terrors, nevertheless. 
 
 " But, of course," said Rosemary, in gentle 
 rebuke at Daisy's threatened insubordination, 
 31
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 ' of course you will want to study, and not lay 
 yourself liable to such disgrace as that." 
 
 " Disgrace ! " repeated Daisy ; " why must it 
 always be thought a disgrace for a girl to have 
 all the fun she can in the world ? "Why, the 
 only reason I am reconciled to going away at 
 all is because everybody says that girls have 
 awfully nice times at a boarding-school!" and 
 Daisy Wilder looked as if she was beyond rea- 
 soning with ; but the mischief in her face that 
 emphasized her reckless speech could not deter 
 Rosemary from saying, 
 
 - Well, Daisy, you know, wherever we go to 
 school, we go to learn." 
 
 k - Yes, you do, I know, Rosemary," said Daisy, 
 u but you and I are not a bit alike ; but I love 
 you just the same, dearie ! " and the impulsive 
 Daisy showed that her heart was not quite given 
 over, as she would have others believe, to folly. 
 Forgetting the wet bathing-suit which she held 
 by a shawl-strap, oblivious to her cousin Harold's 
 presence, she threw her arms around Rosemary's 
 neck in close embrace, and kissed her fondly. 
 " Now, Rosemary," said Daisy, " you will write 
 to me this winter, won't you ? Think of me in 
 my loneliness, with no companion but a Beulah 
 32
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 Scilley to confide in. Send me a word now and 
 then, or even a little flower, to tell me what you 
 are doing, and that you still keep on loving me." 
 
 " That is just what 1 will do, Daisy," replied 
 Rosemary. " Yes, I will send you a flower, and 
 you must answer me by the same kind of a mes- 
 senger remember." 
 
 " Agreed ! " said Daisy. " We will talk noth- 
 ing but sweet words for the next six months ; 
 but, oh, dear ! what shall I send to tell you that 
 I am in disgrace, Rosemary ?" and Daisy's face 
 seemed to forebode mischief. 
 
 " Oh, some little faded flower," replied Rose- 
 mary. 
 
 " Yes," said Daisy, and she stooped to gather 
 a bit of marjoram from a neighbor's garden ; 
 " 1 will send you this. Had I best put it to press 
 now in anticipation ? It means blushes, and, 
 however mischievous I am, 1 shall blush to have 
 to send such a messenger to you of all others, if 
 the time comes for it." And Daisy closed the 
 flower in the leaves of the book she carried. 
 
 Thus the young girls talked on, seemingly 
 
 forgetful of their boy companion in the rear, 
 
 who, feeling himself already out of place in such 
 
 confidences, was only too glad to be joined by 
 
 3 33
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 one of his schoolmates ; and the two boys started 
 back to the beach " to whistle for a breeze," with 
 which to pilot the " Undine " back to town. The 
 last heard of them by the girls, Harold was say- 
 ing to Richard Bunker, " Girls are funny things, 
 Dick. Always seem to have so much of import- 
 ance going on : getting their heads together like 
 Siamese twins, and whispering and giggling, as 
 if they were half silly. I am glad that I am not 
 a girl. Boys suit me better, Dick." 
 
 " Are you going to Susan Coffin's lookout 
 party this afternoon, Daisy ?" asked Rosemary, 
 as they neared home. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Daisy ; " this is my last 
 holiday for a whole year, perhaps, for soon I 
 must work, work, work." And Daisy made an 
 effort to look solemn over the prospect, but the 
 merry twinkle in her eye and the bewitching 
 smile on her roguish face asserted themselves, 
 as the words fell from her rosy lips. 
 
 With a mutual " Good-bye ; I will meet you 
 on the lookout," the girls parted. 
 
 The lookout ! When first the little island 
 
 town began to be heralded as a fashionable 
 
 summer resort, old heads nodded disapproval, 
 
 but young hearts beat high at the prospect of 
 
 34
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 new interests that would be infused into their 
 summer life. 
 
 " That ever I should live to see an engine 
 running through our streets ! " said Mrs. Sarah 
 Valentine, with a long-drawn sigh, that might 
 have easily been interpreted into a bemoaning 
 over the disastrous fate that threatened her 
 island home. 
 
 " When d id you ever see one running, mother ? " 
 asked her daughter Phosbe Ann, who was oftener 
 called Phrebe A. by her relatives and friends. 
 " I am sure it is very moderate in its pace, 
 and such an accommodation to every one ! Why, 
 only the other day Joe Wilkins was driving his 
 cows home, and the train waited until every one 
 of them not only passed, but even waited for 
 two or three to nibble the caraway tops be- 
 tween the tracks." 
 
 " Well, well, Phoebe, something will come of 
 all such innovations. You will hear of some 
 terrible accident some day happening from that 
 same accommodating engine," said Mrs. Valen- 
 tine, in a tone of irony, and indicating that 
 her prophecy was even then nearing fulfilment. 
 " No, I am quite satisfied to jog on to the end 
 of the journey after old Jack, provided, of course, 
 35
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 that he does not get run over by your accommo- 
 dation train before then. No, this place never 
 was intended for a fashion resort, Phoebe." 
 
 " Perhaps not, mother," said Phoebe ; " but it 
 will always be a health resort ; and I say ' Open 
 sesame,' to all the broken-down nerves. ' We 
 will share our ozone with you. Come and bathe 
 in our waters of Babylon.' ' 
 
 " That is all very well, Phcebe, if it was only 
 the sick that came down here ; but the town is 
 just being besieged by a lot of strangers, who 
 almost walk into your very kitchen to ask if 
 your stew-pan once belonged to Bartholomew 
 Gosnold, or your grandmother. Why, only 
 the other day, two ladies well-dressed ladies, 
 mind you ! came to see if I would sell the 
 brass knocker on our front door. The z'-dea! 
 They ' liked it so much,' they said. So did I ! 
 and I told them so, too, and that no money could 
 buy it from me, for it was sacred to me, because 
 of the hands of angels that had clasped it. You 
 should have seen them, Phoebe. They looked at 
 me as if they feared I was a Salem witch or a 
 Spiritualist medium, or some kind of an hypno- 
 tist, and they would come under the spell. The 
 last I heard of them, one said to the other, 
 36
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 * What an impudent old woman she was ! ' Now 
 I ask you, Phrebe, which was the saucier, they 
 or I ? Were they in search of health, think 
 you ? No, they were looking after antiquities, 
 for some new Colonial house, probably ; and 
 these lovers of antiques forget their manners 
 sometimes. And I don't pity the Hon. Mrs. 
 Newrich if she did get cheated, and paid a fool- 
 ish price for a piece of willow ware that she could 
 buy in any china store for a song ; but after I 'm 
 dead, Phoebe, whoever takes that knocker off 
 that door will be obliged to wear it hung around 
 his or her neck, night and day, that it may call 
 attention to their foolishness, for not letting 
 things stay where they belong, at least, I am 
 going to make a codicil in my will to that effect. 
 So, hands off ! Phoebe, unless you want to go 
 around like Dan Pitman's vicious cow, with a 
 yoke about your neck marked ' of-ficious ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh, mother dear," replied Phoebe, " have n't 
 I always respected your wishes ? And should 
 that terrible hour of loneliness come to me, even 
 your slightest request would be to me sacred, 
 be sure of that!" 
 
 " Yes, I know, daughter, I can trust you," 
 replied Mrs. Valentine ; " and J promise you that 
 37
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 I won't add the codicil, if only to show my con- 
 fidence in you. But," continued she, " I was 
 talking about fashion's ways, and I notice that 
 some are falling into them so fast down here 
 that I could not keep up in the race if I wanted 
 to. It is getting to be very easy to talk about 
 lawn parties, and such like fol-de-rol. Bless me ! 
 where are there any lawns on this island, out- 
 side of that in front of the old North Church, I 
 ask you ? Look out that window, Phoebe, and 
 see if that beautiful beach, and that pretty, pic- 
 turesque little harbor, are not quite enough to 
 be proud of, without trying to make out of a 
 little back yard covered with burdock leaves a 
 fashionable, up-to-date lawn. And, by the way, 
 is not this the day fixed for Mrs. Coffin's look- 
 out party, Phoebe-Ann ? " 
 
 " Yes mother," replied Phoebe. " It is to be 
 this afternoon at three o'clock. Will you go ?" 
 
 " Lookout party ! " said Mrs. Valentine, in 
 disdainful sarcasm. " In my day, we called 
 them ' walks.' " 
 
 " Walks," repeated Phoebe. " Why, I think 
 ' lookout ' is one improvement of fashion, to say 
 the least, for surely ' lookout ' is much more ap- 
 propriate ; for is not there everything to see as 
 38
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 you walk ? " and the mother's pride reflected 
 itself in Phoebe's radiant face. Pride in the 
 same picturesque harbor ; pride in the long 
 stretch of sandy beach beyond, where sometimes 
 the ocean laid undue claim when the great 
 storms came ; and, more especially, pride in the 
 little town itself, which, on the landscape, looked 
 like a white city of rest. 
 
 " But tell me, mother dear," asked Phoebe, 
 " did you watch for father's ships up on our walk ? 
 and how did you feel when you saw them off the 
 bar ? Did n't you feel like singing, 
 
 " Oh that I had wings like a dove ! " 
 
 but there, mother dear," said Phoebe, as she 
 heard a significant sigh from the former," it was 
 thoughtless in me ; I forgot that last night's- 
 watch-on-the-walk of yours. Forgive me, mother 
 dear, and let us talk of something else. What 
 shall it be ? " 
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Valentine, " I wish to tell 
 you the story, for I have long wanted to do so ; 
 so that when others ask you if your father was 
 a sailor, you can answer with truth, that he was, 
 and a brave one, too. Each year of late, I have 
 wanted to tell you of my last night-on-the-walk." 
 39
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 As the words fell slowly from the woman's 
 lips, only a faint idea could be gained of the 
 struggle that was going on in her heart, for she 
 had nerved herself up for the recitation of the 
 sad chapter in her story of life, and determina- 
 tion was apparent. 
 
 Phoebe sat beside her mother, and as each 
 detail of the story fell from the lips of the latter, 
 a tighter clasp of the hand was the one telegraph 
 sign of sympathy between the mother and 
 daughter. 
 
 " Yes, Phoebe," began Mrs. Valentine ; " sea 
 captains and sailors are not mere automatons to 
 handle a ship's crew or a marlinspike. They 
 are heroes, the bravest of brave men ! But let 
 me commence. 
 
 " It was to be your father's third voyage, and 
 he had been a landsman for almost three years, 
 a long time for a sailor on shore, and I 
 quite agreed with him, it would be an honor to 
 go out in command of a great whaling ship like 
 the ' Leviathan.' (Ah, there were many such 
 went out from this harbor then ! and a girl who 
 had not a sailor lover in those days was looked 
 upon almost as an object of pity.) 
 
 " Well, one morning in early September, your 
 40
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 father came in here, yes, here, into this very 
 room where we are sitting now, Phoebe, only 
 you and I ; only the two of us, just as to-day ; " 
 and Mrs. Valentine for the moment seemed lost 
 in reminiscence, then continued, " But you, 
 Phoebe, you were a wee one then, and the 
 fever was on you ; and when I heard your 
 father's firm step in the hall, my silent prayer 
 of thanks to God went up, that he was at 
 home to bear the burden of anxious days and 
 sleepless nights with me, for, I thought, how 
 ever could I bear it alone and you so frail and 
 helpless ! 
 
 " But no sooner had I taken this comfort to 
 my heart, than your father said, ' Well, mother, 
 and how is little Phoebe, do you think ? Did 
 the doctor say the crisis was passed ? ' he 
 asked ; and he bent over your little face, hidden 
 deep in my arms, for I had held you all 
 through the long nights, as well as days. 
 
 " ' Yes, father/ I said ; ' the doctor thinks 
 that now, with good nursing and constant 
 watching, baby will live and grow up to be a 
 comfort in our old age ; ' and, thanks be to 
 God, Phoebe ! " said Mrs. Valentine, as she 
 looked with pride into the face of the womanly 
 41
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 woman by her side, " you have lived all these 
 years, and for almost forty years you have been 
 my only comfort." 
 
 Another tighter clasp of the two hands, and 
 Mrs. Valentine continued, " ' Well, wife,' said 
 your father, ' I have a surprise for you ! Be pre- 
 pared. What do you think could be the best 
 thing to happen, now that baby is getting 
 better ? ' 
 
 " I thought a minute, daughter, or seemed as 
 if thinking, for I knew well what was coming, 
 and only stole the minute to gain time for my 
 answer ; but my pulse quickened, and I thought 
 my heart would tire out and stop from palpita- 
 tion, it throbbed so. Then I replied as coura- 
 geously as 1 knew how (oh, we women on this 
 island in those days had to be steeled to brave 
 words and deeds !), ' Why, the best thing that 
 could happen to you, husband, is to have a ship 
 to command, of course ! ' 
 
 " ' Yes, wife,' replied he. ' The owners of 
 the " Leviathan " have asked me to command 
 her ; and you shall be known no more as a first 
 mate's wife, but as Mrs. Valentine, the wife of 
 Captain Valentine, in command of one of the 
 greatest whaling ships that ever sailed out of 
 42
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 this harbor. So cheer up, Sarah ; cheer up, 
 and think what glory it will be to come home 
 with two thousand and more barrels of sperm 
 oil. Won't that be oil on the troubled 
 waters ? ' he asked, and his face seemed to 
 grow radiant at the prospect. 
 
 " Ah, the ' troubled waters ' of my soul needed 
 other solace ; but I could not dash such hopes 
 and such prospects indifferently aside, and so, 
 when the ' Leviathan ' sailed out one morning 
 from this harbor, you and I, Phrebe, went down 
 to the shore to see the great whaling ship start 
 out on her last voyage, and it was your little 
 hand that tossed the last kiss to him, who 
 never came back." 
 
 A sigh, and another significant tighter clasp 
 of the hands ! 
 
 " Well," continued Mrs. Valentine, " father 
 and mother took us right over to their house 
 that very day, and there we stayed for a while ; 
 and then then we came back here, Phoabe, 
 and here we have lived alone, ever since." 
 
 "Not alone, mother," interrupted Phoebe; 
 " for somehow, when I look up at that old- 
 fashioned portrait on the wall, and look into 
 father's dear face, I sometimes think that he 
 43
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 is here with us, in spirit, at least. But go on, 
 mother dear, I must hear it all; and then we 
 will never speak of it again, if it pains you." 
 
 " My daughter," replied the widow, " I have 
 wanted to tell you this for a long, long time. 
 It is your right to hear of your father's bravery, 
 from an eye-witness."' As these last words 
 fell slowly from the mother's lips, it seemed as 
 if a new inspiration came with the memory of 
 that last night-on-thc-walk. 
 
 " Well," she continued, " one year, two years 
 - yes, three years went by, and news came 
 sparingly. Now, it would be by some ship who 
 had spoken the ' Leviathan ' off in the deep 
 waters ; but I was grateful for news of his 
 safety. Again, it would be from the columns 
 of some daily paper, telling of the number of 
 barrels of oil already in her cargo. For that, 
 too, I was grateful ; for then I knew of his suc- 
 cess and safety, too. Then, when letters came 
 in your father's familiar handwriting, even 
 though there was the doubt of months be- 
 tween the writing and my receipt of them, then 
 I was happy ; and, Phoebe, although you were 
 too young to understand much that he wrote, 
 I always went into our bedroom, and closed the 
 44
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 door behind me, as if the moment was too 
 sacred for intruders. (Oh, I know sailors' wives 
 were not supposed to be romantic ! but were 
 we not schooled in romance ?) 
 
 " Well, then," continued Mrs. Valentine, " I 
 would shut myself up in that room alone with 
 you, and his silent presence ; and as I held you 
 in my lap, I would read aloud his words to you, 
 Phoebe, and your great blue eyes would open 
 wider and wider in astonishment as I read, as 
 if wondering what a father was" ; and when the 
 big kiss at the end was marked in love's 
 hieroglyphics, I would give it to you, and you 
 would say in your baby talk, and pinch my 
 cheeks to give me a sailor's kiss, ' Send 'is one 
 to papa, by the wind, mamma.' 
 
 " Alas, I never told you that I did not know 
 what wind to send it by, for all winds, both foul 
 and fair, blew over the ' Leviathan's ' decks. 
 
 " Well, at last, news came that the ' Levia- 
 than ' was on her homeward way. It had been 
 almost three years and a half since she sailed so 
 proudly out of our quiet harbor, with the 
 ' bravos ' of the townspeople, and their ' God 
 speed ' as a blessing. You were still little else 
 than a baby, Phosbe, trotting about the house, 
 45
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 and prattling in your baby way about your ' new 
 papa ' that was ' coming way way over the 
 water ; ' but you were then, as now, my comfort 
 in my loneliness. 
 
 " It was the middle of March. All night long 
 the winds shook our little home, here, with the 
 fury of the gale. I could hear the ocean waves 
 beating mercilessly on shore. The fish-houses 
 and the time-worn wharves were only sweet 
 morsels for the hungry waters to feed upon. 
 
 " I could not 'sleep, so I dressed me, ready for 
 any emergency that might come, I thought ; but 
 was I quite ready ? You shall decide, Phoebe, 
 when you have heard of my night-on-the-walk, 
 my last one, for I have never placed my foot 
 upon its sacred boards, since. 
 
 " I could not sleep, as I said. I bent over 
 your crib many times, my daughter, during that 
 fearful night of storm, as if to assure myself 
 that it had not spent itself upon your innocent 
 head, and taken you from me ; but you slept on, 
 unmindful of it all, and your mother's coming 
 sorrow ; unmindful of your unknown loss. And 
 I kept watch alone. 
 
 " As the daylight dawned, I muffled myself 
 up, and crept above stairs. As I opened the 
 46
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 trapdoor leading to the walk, the icy sleet 
 struck me in the face, and drove me into shel- 
 ter ; and as I turned back, I knelt, and prayed, 
 as I never prayed before, for those ' who go down 
 to the sea in ships.' 
 
 " What was it, I thought, that seemed so 
 ominous to me ? that sad foreboding at my 
 heart? I could not tell, but was impelled by 
 some unknown cause to look again out upon the 
 night, into which the trace of daylight was, like 
 myself, trying to pierce. 
 
 " Again 1 ventured to open the trapdoor lead- 
 ing to the walk, and threw it back, with a de- 
 termination that nothing should prevent me 
 from knowing the worst of this terrible storm. 
 Again, the rain and snow and sleet beat, as 
 mercilessly as ever, upon my young head. I 
 could see our people running towards the wharf. 
 Some commotion was bestirring our island family. 
 Was a ship in? I asked. Was my ship in ? I 
 asked myself again. But no, that could not be, 
 for no boy had as yet raised our brass knocker 
 on the door, to claim his shining silver dollar 
 from the wife of the captain of the ' Leviathan/ 
 I remember well the great comfort that came 
 with that hope (as great as false, alas, daugh- 
 47
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 ter!) and again I thought of the ship 'Levia- 
 than ' itself, and how well it deserved its name. 
 Nothing could harm that grand ship, I said to 
 myself. 
 
 " But I saw men, boys, yes, and even 
 women, running our streets ! Reaching out 
 for the spyglass, which always hung just inside 
 the door, I grasped it as tightly as my trembling 
 hands would allow. I thought I heard your 
 baby voice calling, ' Mamma ! Papa ! ' but I had 
 already levelled the glass, and I was powerless 
 to answer you, for another's voice beyond, over 
 the waters, seemed calling to me above the 
 winds. 
 
 "Of course it was only my imagination, 
 daughter ; but I love still to think I heard your 
 father's brave voice calling from out his peril, 
 ' Courage ! Courage ! ' True, he might have been 
 saying it to his crew, for he was always so brave ; 
 but I like to feel that it was his dying message 
 to me, ' Courage ! ' and to this day, whenever 
 trouble or perplexities come, Phoebe, I hear that 
 helpful message of his, ' Courage ! ' and take 
 heart. 
 
 " Well, to return," said the brave woman, " 1 
 levelled the glass again and again, and again and 
 48
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 again, the rain almost froze upon it, and I could 
 hardly make out but I did a ship off the 
 bar. There was but one ship for me, thought I, 
 and yet, in such a storm, all ships needed my 
 prayers. 
 
 " Yes, there she was, helpless even in her 
 great strength. I saw a flag flying from her 
 masthead, but only a remnant of a flag it 
 proved ; for the fury of the wind had played sad 
 havoc with the ' star-spangled banner,' and that 
 other, the ship's flag, too. 
 
 " There I stood, alone, and faced the storm 
 and my future, Phoebe ; for, by the brighter 
 light of the morning, which only intensified my 
 night of sorrow, I saw my ship come in. 
 Signals of distress were hoisted. Signals, guns, 
 and lights appealed to the crowd on shore and the 
 lonely watcher on the walk. All in vain ! for in 
 such a furious gale life-lines, lifeboats, all would 
 have been useless, and only made other widows 
 and other orphans in this island family. 
 
 " How long I stood there I never realized ; 
 but through the frosted glass I saw the ship, 
 his ship, as if in the last throes of her death- 
 struggle, rise on a stormy wave, as if making 
 one last effort to be saved from destruction, and 
 4 49
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 then down down down she sank, and 
 only the top of her mizzen-mast was visible ; 
 and the sighing of the gale through her torn 
 flags marked the grave of the * Leviathan ' and 
 her gallant crew. And on the winds caine that 
 message to my widow's heart of the life sacrifice 
 of her captain, and told me too that my watch 
 was over; and I knew no more, and no one ever 
 told me more, for I seemed to know it all in my 
 waking dreams and the delirium of fever that 
 followed. 
 
 " And it was on such a night as that, Phoebe, 
 that the ' Leviathan ' and her brave captain and 
 crew perished within sight of home, he, your 
 father, almost within sound of your baby voice, 
 calling him to you." 
 
 The squeeze of the hand was not so apparent 
 this time, for Phoebe buried her face in her 
 mother's lap, saying, " My brave, brave mother ! " 
 
 " Yes," replied the widow, who had thus told 
 the story of her life with unusual dramatic 
 power ; " but I have been sustained through all 
 these years by that last message of your father's, 
 imaginary, if you say so, telling me always 
 to have ' Courage ! Courage ! ' And I have tried 
 to be brave as he was in his hour of peril, and as 
 50
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 I know he would have me to be ; but sometimes 
 bravery has a great price upon it." And the 
 widow's face bore the marks of her struggle for 
 the victory. 
 
 So was told the story of that last night-on-the- 
 walk, a story of repetition in the hearts of 
 many of the women in that little island town 
 to-day. 
 
 So it was told ; and at its conclusion Mrs. 
 Valentine said, " Come, come, daughter ; this 
 will never do ! Tears, Phoebe ? What ! tears, 
 like these, from a hero's daughter ? Let us 
 always remember we have his inheritance to live 
 up to, and that we are both brave women. And 
 know, that to some ' a night on the walk ' is, in 
 these later days of fashion, only a pleasure day 
 ' on the lookout,' and you may as well join 
 the procession that moves on towards Susan 
 Coffin's ' lookout party,' for you promised Mrs. 
 Coffin, you know, that you would certainly help 
 in serving refreshments to the young people. 
 So go before you are too late to be of service." 
 
 " Must I go, mother ? " asked Phosbe. " I can 
 
 never again step foot on a walk. It is from this 
 
 time a sacred spot to me. But you are right ; I 
 
 promised to help Martha, and so I will ; but I 
 
 51
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 must leave to some one else any assistance at 
 entertaining on the ' lookout,' as the invitation 
 reads. Good-bye, mother dear ; until now my 
 father was a stranger to me, but to-day I know 
 him as a good, brave man, a hero ! Good-bye." 
 
 And with this parting message repeated again 
 Phoebe Valentine went her way. But it was 
 quite a different story from the one to which she 
 had just listened, that Phoebe overheard when 
 she arrived at Mrs. Coffin's, where the " lookout 
 party " was at its height of fashion and enjoy- 
 ment ; for old Captain Howland, Mrs. Coffin's 
 father, a rough old fellow, whose rheumatism 
 would not allow him to climb to the walk, sat 
 ensconced in the front hall, surrounded by a 
 bevy of boys who stood agape at the wonderful 
 stories of the sea with which the old salt was 
 amusing his audience. 
 
 " No, I can't climb up to the cross-trees any 
 more, boys," said the old captain, as a twinge of 
 lumbago emphasized the truth of his words ; 
 " but once, I can tell you, I was as nimble as 
 any of you. Whew ! " and the old man gave a 
 whistle that must have been heard even up on 
 the lookout, where some of the young people 
 were "taking observations." " Why, the way I 
 52
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 once climbed those masts was a caution, boys ! " 
 said the captain, in pride. " Tell yer a whale 
 story ? " he repeated, as one of his audience 
 asked for " a true whale story." " Dunno as I 
 can remember one. That was a long time ago, 
 boys, when I used to go a-whaling, with some of 
 your grandfathers," said the old man ; " and we 
 did n't make half the fuss that these fashionable 
 city chaps make to-day, when they go a-blue- 
 fishing down here, with their oilskin suits and 
 sech fixin's. Little we cared whether we had a 
 lunch by us or not. Some days we forgot all 
 about eating. Fact was, sailing and striking a 
 sperm whale was meat and drink for us, and we 
 made merry over our luck, had a jollification, 
 I can tell you, boys ; but don't ask me how." 
 And the expression upon the old man's face 
 betokened a knowledge to be kept secret. 
 
 " Well, a whale story, is it, you ask for, boys ? 
 Let me see. Here it is, boys ! " and the old 
 weather-beaten, storm-tossed sailor, who had 
 rounded Cape Horn a dozen times or more, in 
 short, explored almost every corner of the known 
 globe, commenced : 
 
 " It was about the year 18 , and we had been 
 out months and never put eyes on a spout, when, 
 53
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 one day, it was the second mate's watch on 
 deck, we heard the cry, 'There she blows!' 
 and we shouted back to him, ' Where away ? ' 
 ' Two points on our lee bow,' came back his 
 answer to us. 
 
 " Talk about cool heads ! " said the old cap- 
 tain. " Why, there wasn't one aboard that old 
 whaler! I hate to spoil a good story by saying 
 so, boys ; but the truth must be told, you know ! 
 Why, I had to just pull myself together, and 
 make sure that I was captain of the whaleship 
 ' Jonah.' 
 
 "Folks didn't want her named that, but her 
 owners were determined on it. Said they would 
 cure sailors of silly superstitions. Never can ! " 
 said Captain Rowland, in an aside. " Never can 
 cure a sailor of superstition so long as Mother 
 Carey's chickens have wings to fly with, and Davy 
 Jones' locker has a door. They, the owners, 
 said that if a whale did get hold of us, and 
 attempt to swallow the ship, we 'd be just as 
 lucky as Jonah was, and come to life again. So 
 they defied superstition, and the sailors too, for 1 
 had mighty hard work to get a ship's crew, I can 
 tell you. Seems as if when a sailor heard the 
 ship's name he 'd no further use for her or me." 
 54
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 " And did you ever get eaten up by a whale ?" 
 asked one of the old captain's over-excited 
 hearers. 
 
 "Did I ever get eaten up, lad?" asked Cap- 
 tain Howland, repeating the question of the boy. 
 " No, not just. Ain't I all here ? that is, all but 
 the tip-ends o' those two fingers of mine, when 
 I came pretty nigh making a meal for that fel- 
 low." And Captain Howland showed his hear- 
 ers a rough, weather-beaten hand minus the ends 
 of two of the fingers. 
 
 " Well, to go on : we watched for the flukes 
 of that visitor two points on our lee bow, and 
 then we saw him, and the boats were manned. 
 Every man on board wanted to go, of course, 
 but somebody had to be left to keep ship, boys, 
 and take care of her ; for my wife would insist 
 upon going with me, that voyage, and knowing 
 by observation what a whaling voyage was like. 
 She found out before we got home, I can tell 
 you, and she never asked afterwards to go to 
 sea with me. 
 
 " Well, 1 picked out my men to go with me to 
 look for Jonah's enemy, though I hoped to con- 
 vert him into a friend to my Jonah. Yes, of 
 course I went, for I made up my mind if there 
 55
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 was going to be any fun, I should be in it. You 
 see I wanted my share of fun, and oil too." 
 
 " How do you get the oil, captain ? " asked 
 one of his hearers. 
 
 " Oh, that 's a long story, boys ; but you come 
 over to my house, some day, and I '11 tell you all 
 the mysteries of harpooning and lancing and 
 cutting in. This is no place to tell it, with all 
 these young ladies about in their frills and fur- 
 belows. Might get some oil on their bright 
 ribbons, you know," said the old captain, face- 
 tiously. " But I want to tell you about those 
 two missing finger-tips, and then I 'm done for 
 to-day. 
 
 " You see," continued the old sailor, " when 
 a whale goes down into the ocean, after he has 
 sighted trouble ahead, on his lee bow, you have 
 to keep run of the spot he chooses for his door 
 of escape, sort o' mark it, with a tablet like ; 
 a tablet in your memory, boys, but look out 
 for it, and mark it, ' Dangerous ! ' 
 
 " Well, this fellow was a treacherous old un. 
 I suspicion he 'd felt the prick of a harpoon 
 before, and knew it all. 'T any rate, he proved 
 too wise for some of us ; for when his jaws 
 opened, seemed like we saw eternity in the 
 56
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 cavern, and when he closed 'em, well, eternity 
 seemed right next door ! Ugh ! I can hear 
 that crunching of his jaws now, just as when he 
 took my boat, and me, too, between his ivories ; 
 and while I did n't stay in the whale nigh so 
 long as Jonah did, I had as long an acquaint- 
 ance with him as I wanted, and one I sha'n't 
 soon forget. Bless my stars ! unlucky ones, 
 boys, I can tell you, they were, if I 'd 'a' had 
 this rheumatiz of mine then, I 'd 'a' lost more 'n 
 two finger-tips, boys ; but he got 'em ! and we 
 parted company." 
 
 By this time his hearers had become almost 
 as excited as the old captain himself ; and an- 
 other boy, more anxious for information than 
 the first one, asked, " What did you think of, 
 captain, when you was in the whale's mouth ? " 
 
 " What did I think of ? 1 thought he 'd make 
 a hunderd barrels ! " replied Captain Howland, 
 to whom the rehearsal of his life at sea had 
 been equally inspiring as to his youthful hearers, 
 who joined in a hearty laugh at the old man's 
 ruling passion, strong even in the presence of 
 death; and the heroic old captain arose from 
 his chair, followed by three hearty cheers from 
 his audience, for " Captain Howland and his 
 57 x
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 friend Jonah ! " leaving the young people to 
 find their way to the refreshment room ; and 
 the " lookout party " at its close was voted a 
 success, despite the associations with its less 
 fashionable name of " walk." 
 
 As Rosemary and Daisy went their way home, 
 the setting sun reminded them both that not 
 only was the day ending, but that their summer 
 would soon pass, and be but a memory, even 
 though August winds were still blowing over 
 the sea-girt island, that had been to them a 
 happy, happy home for many happy, happy sum- 
 mers. Both of the young girls seemed as if 
 thinking of the coming parting, which would 
 only too soon sunder the summer ties of friend- 
 ship : its shadow seemed intruding itself to mar 
 the happiness of the afternoon hour of pleas- 
 ure ; and the girls for a time were silent, but 
 the waves on the beach still kept creeping nearer 
 and nearer to them, as they did in those other 
 days of childhood, when they bared their feet to 
 the ocean's kisses, and laughed in glee over the 
 ruin of their pretty frocks. 
 
 Rosemary it was, who broke the silence, say- 
 ing, " Now, you will not forget your promise, 
 Daisy, to send me a flower now and then, will 
 58
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 you ? You know flowers can talk, even though 
 their messages are not always as sweet as their 
 fragrance." 
 
 " No," replied Daisy ; " I shall not forget my 
 promise, Rosemary. Have no fear of that ; but 
 I cannot yet keep from wondering what will be 
 quite the right messenger to send when the pre- 
 ceptress shall whisper in my ear that fatal word 
 ' Expelled ; ' " and Daisy made an effort to be 
 tragic, but she was no queen of tragedy, as was 
 easily seen by a look into her roguish face, for 
 comedy was seemingly more to the taste and 
 disposition of the sunny, merry-hearted girl, 
 who did not really mean the half she said, cer- 
 tainly not in its worst interpretation. 
 
 " Oh, Daisy dear," said Rosemary, " I shall 
 be so sorry to get that flower. Think of me, 
 dearie, and you will never send me that thorn 
 out of your flower-garden, that faded bit of 
 marjoram." 
 
 And the day of parting came. 
 
 The hour for starting was an early one. The 
 
 steamer lay at her dock in the haze of a summer 
 
 morning. Her bell sounded its note of warning. 
 
 The baggage wagons rattled over the cobble- 
 
 59 >
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 stones, as if threatening total annihilation of 
 man, beast, and baggage. The wharf was in 
 possession of a good-natured crowd ; the browned 
 faces of the majority telling, more emphatically 
 than words ever could, of holiday pleasures. 
 The loaded trucks of baggage were rushed 
 aboard the steamer, no discrimination being 
 made between the Saratoga of the summer belle 
 and the insignificant piece of luggage, securely, 
 if not artistically, bound by a hemp rope by its 
 owner, who had served her apprenticeship at the 
 fashionable summer hostelries of the island. 
 Little groups of people gathered here and there 
 about their particular passenger to go on the 
 morning boat, and for whom they had sacrificed 
 that last nap, that they might wish a " God 
 speed " to carry them safely to " the haven 
 where they would be." 
 
 At last, just as the final warning bell was 
 sounding, came Daisy Wilder, with a covered 
 bird-cage in one hand, and guiding by a string, 
 in her other, Dandy, her Boston terrier ; her 
 hurried walk, which might better be called a 
 run, threatening to upset Dick, the canary, in 
 his cage, or to strangle little Dandy, whose feet 
 were guided more by his inclinations to remain 
 60
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 on shore than to respond to the drawing of 
 the string fastened to his collar. 
 
 Following Daisy, came " mistress " Mrs. 
 Wilder, Daisy's mother and "maid;" the 
 latter trying, almost in vain, to hold in place 
 the cover of a hasket, against which Tom, the 
 house cat, was using all his strength, and keep- 
 ing himself constantly in the mind of his attend- 
 ant, Kate Sullivan, by continual piteous cries, 
 which, with the barking of Dandy and the shrill 
 screeching of Polly, under Harold Macy's care, 
 made a noisy jargon of discords that waited 
 for no encore from the assembled company 
 gathered to bid " good-bye " to their vanishing- 
 bit of sunshine, their loved companion, Daisy 
 Wilder. 
 
 " Here comes the Zoo ! " called the latter, as 
 she hurriedly put her pets in charge of the 
 stewardess, and then ran ashore for just one 
 last word with her young friends, who could 
 not find words enough in which to express 
 the loneliness that would be in their hearts 
 after her departure. " Well," said Daisy, " is 
 not it better for me to go away now, than stay, 
 perhaps to wear my welcome out, and part as 
 strangers ? " and as Daisy repeated the last 
 61
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 word, she looked towards her cousin, Harold 
 Macy ; and, pointing her finger as if in warn- 
 ing, she said to the latter the one word, " Re- 
 member ! " which must have had the desired 
 effect, for he was never again known to speak 
 the tabooed word in connection with his cousin 
 Daisy. 
 
 Adieus were said, promises made, sealed 
 by a kiss all around ; and as Daisy stepped 
 aboard the gangway plank, she placed in Rose- 
 mary McBurnie's hand a ball of strong twine, 
 saying, " Take it, Rosemary, and let go fast." 
 Then getting in position, on the stern end of 
 the steamer, Daisy watched her friend on shore 
 (who had, by the way, mounted on the tall piles 
 that helped to support the wharf), unwind- 
 ing unwinding and unwinding the cord 
 which bound, but separated, the two young 
 hearts ; and the steamer started out on its 
 daily journey. 
 
 Oh, for the sincerity always of those friend- 
 ships of Youth, before the world has blighted 
 the leaves of the roses, and planted its thorns 
 of prejudice and distrust in our path. Live 
 on, happy Youth ! live on in your friendships 
 of To-day! and trample out the weeds that 
 62
 
 By the Sea. 
 
 threaten destruction to every garden whose 
 seeds are not sown in the true spirit; for 
 weeds of discord can never grow where sincerity 
 of heart and purpose bid defiance to such 
 intruders. 
 
 Slowly, at first, the steamer went on its way, 
 and slowly the cord unwound. Still Daisy sat 
 at her post in the stern of the boat, winding 
 the loose cord, that Rosemary, on shore, was 
 unloosing unwinding and winding wind- 
 ing and unwinding. So they sat in the one 
 mood of thought ; and just as the steamer was 
 about to round the Point, Daisy wound in her 
 last length, and there fell at Rosemary's feet 
 a tiny box, from which dropped in all its sweet 
 significance a 
 
 FOR GET-ME-NO T. 
 
 63
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Foryet-Me-Not. 
 
 Enduring Memories. 
 
 'Tis a little flower in raiment blue : 
 It speaks to me, and it speaks to you ; 
 Its voice is Love, and its message true, 
 " Forget-Me-Not." 
 
 It may be that He ah ! who can say ? 
 Let fall a star, to beckon the way 
 To the heart of Man, and bade it say, 
 " Forget-Me-Not." 
 
 The little flower has a dress of blue, 
 As blue as the sky the stars shine through ; 
 Like a star it hides, and cries, " Peep-Boo ! 
 Forget-Me-Not." 
 
 With His holy blessing for its claim, 
 Its life is crowned. It seeks not fame. 
 Only your love. Do you ask its name f 
 Forget-Me-Not. 
 
 GRACE LE BARON. 
 
 64
 
 II. 
 
 SEA KEMINISCEXCES. 
 
 PANSY. THOUGHTS OF THEE. 
 
 A WILD unrest seemed to overshadow Rose- 
 mary's usual happy summer life. The 
 very ocean, she fancied, partook of her loneli- 
 ness ; for a storm followed closely upon Daisy's 
 departure, and the waves beating upon the 
 beach only responded to Rosemary's sorrowful 
 heart. She even felt that the rain was but the 
 sky mingling its tears with hers. Only the 
 flower-garden smiled, as before, to her, in all 
 its wealth of color and harmony ; and Rose- 
 mary, as she watched lovingly over the pretty 
 flowers, bestowed upon them an unusual care, 
 now that they were to serve as messengers of 
 love to her absent friend. 
 
 The Wilder cottage, with its closed shutters, 
 seemed symbolical of the loneliness that filled 
 Rosemary's heart ; and it was in vain that she 
 tried to comfort herself with the thought that 
 soon she too would be in the work-a-day world 
 67
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 of school-life, with her chosen companions of 
 school-days, her books. 
 
 The little forget-me-not was still speaking, 
 in all its freshness and delicate beauty, of the 
 absent one ; for Rosemary had nursed it with 
 greatest care for many days, that it might 
 bring her the comforting memories of happy 
 hours with Daisy Wilder. 
 
 " Mamma," said Rosemary, " I never knew 
 such a long summer ; and it promised to be 
 such a happy one, too ! Is it not always the 
 way ? Does it not seem that when you just 
 get to enjoying yourself, something comes to 
 make you miserable and unhappy ? " 
 
 " Quite right ; so it seems to us, until we 
 know His wisdom, Rosemary," replied Mrs. 
 McBurnie. " And it is so all through life. 
 Only yesterday I sat under the window, and 
 heard two old sea captains bemoaning the loss 
 of one of their craft, evidently. Said one, 
 ' That 's just it, cap'n ; just when a man gets 
 fixed, and ready to live, he ups and dies.' And 
 I thought it was pretty true. But, pray, what 
 is the matter now, Rosemary ? Is it because 
 Daisy has left you to try to live one month 
 more of summer without her that you forget 
 68
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 the two happy months with her? That must 
 not be. Each day has its jewel, set in a gar- 
 niture of happiness and content." 
 
 " I am afraid that you have guessed rightly, 
 mother ; but I am going to count my jewels as 
 you suggest," replied Rosemary. 
 
 " Yes," interrupted her mother ; " and do not 
 be looking for the flaws, or a larger Kohinoor 
 in your neighbor's world." 
 
 " I am glad, mamma, for one thing, and that 
 is that the summer is going out in a blaze of 
 glory, with the picnic, on Wednesday the 
 twenty-ninth, and then home, our other 
 home, I mean. I shall write to Daisy after 
 the picnic ; that is, the Goddess Flora will 
 be my private secretary. Hers is a cipher 
 language." 
 
 " And what little flower is to have its head- 
 piece cropped for a messenger to hoydenish 
 little Daisy ? " asked Mrs. McBurnie. " Has 
 she gone to her school, I wonder, Rosemary ? 
 Poor girl ! if only she comes under the right 
 influence in her school-life, she will develop 
 into a noble woman. Hers is a nature that 
 love and not law can make much of. Only 
 find the right key to her loving heart, and her 
 69
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 head and feet will be always turned in the 
 right direction ; but I tremble for such a girl, 
 for much will depend upon the one who has 
 the moulding of her youthful mind. I wonder 
 that Mrs. Wilder sent her away from her 
 watchful eye. Where is she going to school, 
 Rosemary ? " 
 
 " I do not know, mamma, " said Rosemary, 
 in reply. " I met her cousin, Harold Macy, at 
 the Cliff; and he said that Daisy wrote his 
 mother that she would soon be starting for 
 the battlefield, -to slaughter, but not to con- 
 quer. Just like her, the little witch ! I am 
 afraid that it will not be long before we hear 
 of her in some mischief; but there is one thing, 
 mamma, Daisy is very honest and straight- 
 forward. She will never see another suffer 
 for her shortcomings, but confess her naughti- 
 ness ; and such girls always get imposed upon 
 by others, who are only too glad to make them 
 a target for everything. No ; Daisy has not a 
 particle of deceit in her make-up." 
 
 Loyal little friend ! Your words have the true 
 ring. 
 
 Rosemary McBurnie was right. Daisy Wilder 
 had not a trace of deceit in her character. Mis- 
 70
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 chief was to her, not a crime to be bemoaned, 
 but an overflow of spirit that must have vent. 
 Her heart was in its right place, although her 
 head planned much that led her feet in dan- 
 gerous ways ; and Mrs. McBurnie was right in 
 affirming that " love, and not law," would be 
 her most successful guide. 
 
 And the days of summer passed. 
 
 The last holiday of the season was to be 
 brightened by a trip to see the new little island 
 that old Ocean had given to the mother island, 
 when it washed over the rushes and added 
 another of nature's jewels in the little harbor's 
 crown of beauty. 
 
 The holiday trip was to be a true picnic of 
 pleasure on the water ; but a picnic on the water 
 has more hindrances to its success than one on 
 shore ; where, if winds blow, or do not blow, it 
 is quite the same, under the sheltering shade of 
 the pine-trees of a country forest. 
 
 There was, then, much in this last holiday 
 picnic to be desired, in order that the little party 
 should enjoy without fear of disaster or disap- 
 pointment. But fears of too high winds were 
 groundless, for, when the morning came for the 
 picnic, the harbor was as smooth as a mill-pond ; 
 71
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 but, alas ! here, too, was something undesirable, 
 for a sail was a sail, and a sail and a calm were 
 enemies. There was much consultation over 
 the winds to be, and the winds that were not. 
 
 Finally, old Captain Wyer was consulted. He 
 was an oracle on all nautical matters, but, like 
 most of the captains of the island, rarely gave 
 a definite answer ; so that when he said, " No 
 wind now, that's sure," every one knew that. 
 And when he added, " Should n't wonder if it 
 breezed up before night ; it might, and then, 
 again, it might n't," every one thought so too. 
 
 Fortunately, time was of no particular value 
 to the party of picnickers, and old Boreas held 
 the scales of measurement. The party gathered, 
 one by one, at the boat's landing; and since 
 there was only a " white ash breeze " in favor of 
 going, they all sought shelter from the hot sun 
 under cover of an old boat-house on the wharf 
 near by, where they could watch the little white 
 fleet in the harbor, all, like themselves, wait- 
 ing for a moment's warning, when they might 
 " up anchor," and start. 
 
 In the old boat-house sat three old sailors, ex- 
 changing "yarns," and the young people gathered 
 about the trio to share in their stories. 
 72
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 One of them had long bushy eyebrows, and a 
 wealth of eyelashes, which might easily have 
 been held responsible for his loss of sight, had 
 not cataracts come with his old age, to shut from 
 him the light of day. He had, however, one 
 boast, and that was, of his hearing ; and he 
 would often assert that he could hear the bell 
 buoy off the bar some miles away, and by it 
 tell the way o' the wind. 
 
 The second sailor always sat with his elbow 
 on his knee, and with his left hand up to his ear, 
 telling every one that he was just " a leetle hard 
 of hearing," which was quite true, since it 
 was doubtful if anything short of a cannon, 
 touched off in closest proximity to his defective 
 organ, would move him, or make him change 
 his one position. Not to be outdone by his 
 blind companion in boasting, he would say to 
 any and all who failed to make him hear their 
 voice, " Just let a whale come into this harbor, 
 and I can see him miles out ; " but a whale never 
 came. 
 
 So it was that the third old sailor, once a sea 
 
 captain, was the life of this party of three, for he 
 
 could see and hear and talk ; and although at 
 
 times his stories did seem a bit incredible, yet 
 
 73 ^
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 they had just enough flavor of truth in them to 
 make them interesting. 
 
 The little party of young people gathered 
 about him, and begged for just one story. " Just 
 one, while we wait, captain, please," said one of 
 the party ; and the request was echoed by the 
 others. So the old captain tipped back in his 
 rickety old chair, laid his tarpaulin down beside 
 him on the floor, and, stroking his long gray 
 beard, seemed as if thinking of something with 
 which to amuse his youthful hearers and pos- 
 sibly to astonish them as well. 
 
 " Well, let me see, now," he commenced. 
 " Guess you have all of you heerd about the 
 wreck of the ' Jonah,' Captain Howland's ship, 
 heerd how it went to bottom in the South Pacific. 
 Then, no doubt, good many of you have heerd 
 of the mutiny of the crew of the ' Lottie Ann ; ' 
 so I '11 tell you this story. Don't think you have 
 ever heerd of the passenger we took aboard the 
 ' Petrel,' have you ? " 
 
 His hearers indicated by a ready shaking of 
 heads that they had never heard about the 
 mysterious stranger ; and Captain Hussey com- 
 menced with his usual preface, " Now, this un 
 is an out-and-out true story, mind you " 
 74
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 But, to some of his hearers, these words did 
 not convey much ; for Captain Hussey, as before 
 said, was not always correct in his discrimi- 
 nation between an out-and-out true story and a 
 fabrication in mild form. 
 
 " It was in the fall of 18 ," said the captain, 
 " and I was in command of her, the ' Petrel,' I 
 mean. She was a merchant trading ship, and 
 but she was a beauty, though ! as trig as these 
 city girls in their ship's togs, down here ! One 
 day I got a letter asking me if I would take a 
 passenger on the ' Petrel,' one who needed a 
 long sail, ' to purify him ! ' Well, I thought that 
 my two years' voyage would purify the worst case 
 of dyspepsy ever known, so I commenced to cor- 
 respond with the gentleman, and it was finally 
 agreed upon that we should put into port at 
 Charleston and take aboard our passenger. 
 
 " Well, I sorter expected our kid-gloved 
 friend, whomsoever he was, would change his 
 mind when he saw our craft and her crew ; but 
 I found out that he was built of different stuff. 
 
 " We set sail, and, as agreed, put into port 
 
 at Charleston. We waited, too, as agreed, 
 
 about five hours, and were just on the point of 
 
 getting under way, when a stylish-looking car- 
 
 75
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 riage dashed down the wharf, and the first 1 
 ever heerd of him my passenger was his 
 voice, close to my elbow, saying, in a ' don't you 
 know ' kind of a way, you should have heard 
 the twisfc he gave to ' Ship Ahoy ! ' The Petrel,' 
 I told him, and ' we 're off for the Sandwich 
 Islands. Who are you, young man ? ' said I. 
 
 " I expected, you understand, to see a cadave- 
 rous old man with that look a dyspepsy fellow 
 always has, that seems to say, ' Life may be 
 worth living, but I have n't found it so yet ! ' 
 Instead, there stood before me an up-to-date 
 young man, wearing a long ulster that came 
 down to his heels. Talk of checker-boards ! 
 why, the checks of that ulster (long topcoats or 
 raglans, they called 'em then) would have made 
 enough of such toys for all you folks. It had 
 what they called wings, but, from the look of 
 him, they were n't angels' wings. A marine glass 
 was strapped over his shoulders, and he carried 
 umbrellas and canes enough to stock up any 
 travelling pedler. In short, he was a reg'lar 
 up-to-date young man ! 
 
 " His face was rosy, and he wore a mustache, 
 waxed, mind you ! for if it had n't been, you 
 would have needed to take observations to find 
 76
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 it. He looked as if dyspepsy was a nightmare 
 he never even dreamed of. 
 
 " ' I am going sailing with you and your gal- 
 lant crew, captain,' said he. 
 
 " ' You are, are you ? ' said I. ' Who said you 
 might ? ' 
 
 " ' You did, captain,' replied he ; and, sure 
 enough, he held out for me to read my own let- 
 ters, that I had supposed I had been writing to 
 a poor, suffering dyspeptic what wanted to be 
 purified. 
 
 " I looked him all over, from that waxed 
 mustache to the tip-end of his long coat, then I 
 said, ' Oh, and so you are the gentleman that 
 expects to be purified by a sea voyage. Why, 
 you don't look as if you was suffering from 
 anything, less it is good health.' 
 
 " ' Oh,' he said, ' I am not sent on this journey 
 for my health, Captain Hussey.' 
 
 " ' What then ? ' said I. 
 
 " ' Why, my father thinks my morals need 
 purifying, I expect, and that this long sea voy- 
 age will give me a chance to come to my senses,' 
 replied the young man. 
 
 " I do wish," said the old captain to his 
 hearers, " I wish that landsmen would n't send 
 77
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 their ne'er-do-wells to sea to reform 'em. Sea 
 captains are n't Sunday-school teachers ; they 
 don't ship for that. 
 
 " Then I said to my young man, by way of 
 encouragement (you know what a sinner needs 
 is encouragement to reform his ways ; lie does n't 
 want to be told he is a sinner, for he knows 
 that ; we all know that. We are all sinners). 
 so I said to him, ' Why, you don't look like a 
 half-bad fellow, my boy. What do you know 
 about the sea ? ' I asked. ' Do you know 
 enough not to lose your head when a hurricane 
 comes ? for with the first wind that blows you '11 
 have to close reef that mustache of yours.' 
 
 " The young man answered ; ' No, captain, I 
 don't know anything about a hurricane at sea; 
 and I guess that I don't know much, anyway,' 
 he added, and laughed in a good-natured man- 
 ner ; and so I thought I 'd agree with him, and 
 take a little conceit out of him, if he had any, 
 and I said, as good-naturedly, 'No, you don't 
 look as if you do,' for all I could think of was a 
 ship in full sail, head on, all trig, running into 
 one of those South Pacific hurricanes unawares. 
 
 " But I could n't scare that young man one 
 bit, for he looked me full in the eye, and said, in 
 78
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 an honest, straightforward way, ' But I can learn, 
 captain,' and that one saying won me towards 
 that boy then and there, I can tell you, folks. 
 
 " Many a night I 've sat watching over that 
 boy when he slept (he was a little sick for a 
 while, of course, that 's likely !), thinking, think- 
 ing, of my own lad, that was down here then, 
 caring for his mother ; and I wondered if he was 
 sent out alone, away from every one that belonged 
 to him, with a strange company of men, how 
 he 'd turn out ? 
 
 " But, there," said the old captain, as he put 
 aside his red bandanna handkerchief, " I have n't 
 got my passenger aboard ship yet, have I ? so let 
 me go back in my story. As I said, I had con- 
 fidence in that young man right away. 
 
 " Then he turned to the porter on the wharf 
 and said, as if he 'd ordered all his life, l Here, 
 take my luggage aboard, John.' 
 
 " But I was a-keeping my weather eye out on 
 that same luggage, too ! and when I saw the 
 porter tipping, end over end, two suspicious- 
 looking cases, and starting aft with 'em, I said 
 to my young friend, ' Look a-here, young man ; 
 no dynamite in 'em, is there ? ' and I pointed the 
 porter's way. 
 
 79
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " ' No,' answered he. ' No dynamite, captain ; 
 only a little something for this thirsty throat of 
 mine ; ' and he kind o' laughed as he said it, as 
 if he thought he 'd been smart. 
 
 " ' Fire-water, I suppose,' said I, * worse than 
 dynamite ! for one makes a clean job, and kills 
 instanter, and the other kills by degrees. First 
 the legs totter, and then the hand gets shaky, 
 and then away goes the head, and then ' and 
 1 looked at him as solemn as I knew how 
 'then the heart stops beating, and where are 
 ye ? No, no,' said I, firmly but kindly, ' I said I 'd 
 take you with us ; but I did n't guarantee to take 
 any such dangerous friends of yours as these.' 
 
 " Then I turned to the porter and said, * Put 
 those in irons, to be called for on our return in 
 two years' time ! ' And I put my hand on that 
 boy's shoulder, and said, ' You are my boy now, 
 and I will be to you as 1 would have another be 
 to my lad at home.' 
 
 " He told me afterwards that was the first 
 battle that he ever lost ; and he owned up, at the 
 same time, that it was the beginning of a glorious 
 victory for him. He never even whimpered at 
 my order, ' mark those to be called for in two 
 years' time, when the " Petrel " comes back.' 
 80
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 But we never called for 'em, and, for all I know, 
 they may be there now. 
 
 " Well," said the old captain, with a twinkle 
 in his eye, " there are a few things age improves, 
 
 if it does make old men and women out of 
 some of us. 
 
 " So, at last, we hoisted sail, and started off 
 on our two years' voyage ; and such a voyage ! 
 I '11 never forget it nor will he." 
 
 " And what was his name, Captain Hussey ? " 
 asked one of the company. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm not giving you any riddle, young 
 friends. This is an out-and-out true story, you 
 know. Don't be too inquisitive, please," and with 
 this gentle rebuke the old man evaded all further 
 interference of the kind, and continued his story. 
 
 " Well, about that voyage. Let me tell you 
 about it. It was the worst one ever fell to my 
 lot in all my forty years' experience ; but that 
 boy young man, I suppose I ought to call him ! 
 
 what a comfort he was to me ! There were 
 hurricanes, and storms, and happenings enough 
 on that two years' voyage to make a book. Let 
 me tell you about one storm that came to us 
 about off Cape Horn. It had been following us 
 for days and days, but we hoped to run out of it. 
 
 6 81
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 No such luck for us, though ! It came upon us, 
 in all its fury, just about there. 
 
 " My boy and I, I like to call him my boy 
 now more than I did then, even ; for then I had 
 a son of my own," and the old man's voice had a 
 tremolo in it. Some of his hearers knew of the 
 loss of that boy of Captain Hussey's, and had 
 often heard of the time when, after the battle of 
 Fair Oaks, the name of George Hussey had led 
 the list of the missing, and he was never more 
 heard of. 
 
 " But there, there," said the old man, " this 
 will never do ; and you all want to hear about 
 the voyage of the ' Petrel,' don't ye ? " 
 
 A nodding of heads intimated that the interest 
 of his audience was not waning, despite the old 
 captain's digressions. 
 
 " Well, my boy and I had a good many long 
 talks together, and I found out what kind of 
 stuff he was made of, and that there was a lot 
 of good in him. One day, I told him if a storm 
 should come, we must face it like men, for there 
 was no back door of escape at sea. 
 
 " And the storm came ! 
 
 " It beat and blew as I never heard it before, 
 and never want to again. Why, sometimes I 
 82
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 wish I was deaf, like old Dunham, here ;" .and 
 he turned toward the latter, still propping up 
 his left ear with the same commendable patience, 
 although it was very doubtful if the captain's 
 story was in the least understood. " Yes, I some- 
 times wish I was blind, even, like my old friend, 
 Swain, yonder," and again he turned to his other 
 companion, whose eyes were forever closed to 
 the beauties of sea and land. " For, if I were 
 deaf and blind, I could rid myself of the sound 
 of that tempest, that I seem to hear even nowa- 
 days, and the sight of those waves, which haunt 
 me still ; for, ugh ! how they bore us about, 
 then, up and down, down and up, till we felt 
 like a chip in a pail of water. 
 
 " We cut away the masts ; we cleared away 
 the hamper, and then just waited, for I told the 
 crew that we had done all there was to be done. 
 But that boy well, there was no braver man 
 aboard than he. 
 
 " Once he said to me, * Well, captain, if we 
 go to the bottom, we won't have to look about 
 for the red lights of the fire escape nor hunt up 
 a back door, for there is n't one, as you was say- 
 ing,' such pluck ! 
 
 " But we were saved ! and I often think of 
 83
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the coolness of that boy. Why, he seemed to 
 have an influence over the sailors, I never could 
 account for ; although one of them said after- 
 wards to me, 
 
 " ' Captain, I did n't propose to be beat by 
 that chit of a boy, and so I got braver with every 
 wind that blew.' 
 
 " But we got home, safe and sound, as you 
 see," concluded the captain. 
 
 ' And the boy ? the young man ? what of 
 him ? " asked one of the interested company of 
 listeners. 
 
 ' ; What became of him ? " repeated the cap- 
 tain. " Oh, he married in a few years ; and 
 I 've heerd say that he used often to tell his own 
 boys the story of how he was purified by old 
 Captain Shubael Hussey ; but, bless you! he did 
 his share. 
 
 " Once in a while, one of his sous comes 
 down here in his handsome yacht, and drops 
 anchor in our harbor, I 'm told ; but of course 
 he has n't any use for an old barnacle like me. 
 But, bless my stars, now ! if I don't see, this 
 very minute, his yacht off there, opposite the 
 Point, yonder. Why, it must have dropped 
 anchor during the night, and I doff my hat 
 84
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 to her for the sake of ' auld acquaintance.' " 
 And the old man arose to his feet, and touched 
 the rim of his weather-beaten tarpaulin as if in 
 respectful salute to the new-comer in the harbor. 
 
 " And you may as well doff your hat to her 
 captain, too, my good friend," said a young 
 man of the waiting company. 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir, that I will," replied the old salt, 
 " when I see him." 
 
 "Look at him now, then, sir," said the speaker ; 
 and Captain Hussey studied very attentively the 
 young man, who stood with outstretched hand, 
 waiting to grasp that other of his father's friend, 
 of whom he had often heard. 
 
 "Then you've heerd that story before, I 
 reckon, have n't you, young man ? " said Cap- 
 tain Hussey, as he took the latter's hand, 
 and shook it with a hearty will, that forcibly 
 emphasized his words, "You are your father's 
 own image, and I love him, and every one that 
 belongs to him." 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied the young man. " I have 
 heard that story time and time again, until 
 Captain Shubael Hussey of the ' Petrel ' has 
 become the patron saint of our home. Here, 
 here, captain, is a letter from that same ' boy/ 
 85
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 that I was told to deliver before night, to 
 you. Father waits now for you aboard the 
 ' Sea-Gull,' out yonder. He is not quite well, 
 of late ; but he was determined to come down 
 here, if only to see you once more, he said. 1 
 am afraid it will be his last sea-voyage. Come, 
 the tender waits, and my father is still more 
 eagerly waiting for his old friend. Come." 
 
 u Why can't we start, too ? " said Harold 
 Macy, who was one of the merry party. " Is n't 
 it breezing up, captain, just a bit ?" 
 
 ' Yes," said Captain Hussey ; " there 's a 
 cat's paw, sure enough. Should n't wonder if 
 you had quite a breeze before long ; but here 's 
 hoping that you '11 never have such a wholesale 
 one as promised to wreck the ' Petrel ' and her 
 mysterious passenger." And Captain Hussey 
 prepared to follow in the steps of the young 
 man, then turned again for " just a few last 
 words." 
 
 " Young folks, I don't want you to go away 
 thinking I did n't have any trouble with him 
 at all. Why, that would be too much to ex- 
 pect. Oh, I often had to tell him that he 
 would know more when he got older. You 
 see, some boys have an idea it is manly to 
 86
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 do at twenty as their father did at forty. 
 Think they know at twenty all that it took 
 their father twice that time to learn by expe- 
 rience. While a girl well, a girl at sixteen 
 thinks she knows more then than she rarely 
 ever comes to know at all ! Your pardon, 
 young folks," said Captain Hussey, in leaving ; 
 " but take an old sailor's advice, and learn to 
 handle a jack-knife before you try your skill 
 at a marlinspike." 
 
 With this parting injunction, the old man 
 went down to the wharf where the " Sea Gull's " 
 tender stood in waiting, with its white-capped 
 crew, utterly forgetting, as he got aboard, the 
 " crick in his back," of which he was always 
 telling. 
 
 The young people, too, encouraged by their 
 captain, who had waited for them all this 
 time, began to stow themselves away on the 
 deck of the trim little sailboat, whose white 
 sails filled to catch every cat's paw of whatever 
 size, large or small ; and the holiday party were 
 on their way, their musical voices floating over 
 the water, to the tune of " Merrily we roll along." 
 
 To Rosemary, there was one voice of sweetest 
 harmony missing, and Daisy , Wilder, although 
 87
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 absent from her, was a close companion in her 
 thoughts. But the day was by no means with- 
 out its attendant pleasures. The dinner on 
 shore, although primitive in its serving, was 
 commendable for its appetizing menu. The 
 walk on the beach, and the return sail home, 
 all helped to make Rosemary's last day of 
 summer a happy one. 
 
 The little garden-boat still held its fragrant 
 treasures, and Rosemary walked about them 
 with a last lingering look and the consciousness 
 that the salvia and the marigold must bloom 
 without her care and approving glance. She 
 looked at them, as if to friends to whom she 
 was bidding a last " good-bye " with the uncer- 
 tainty of the future over them. Again, she 
 studied her little garden, now thinking how 
 best she could convey to Daisy Wilder the 
 message which her own heart prompted, that 
 she was never nor would ever be forgot- 
 ten. Tenderly she fondled the blossoms, and 
 as her eye discerned one fairer to her above 
 all others, she took it from its hiding-place, 
 and enclosed to her absent friend a 
 
 WHITE PANSY.
 
 Sea Reminiscences. 
 
 Pansy. 
 
 Tender Thought. 
 
 little Pansy, ivhite, 
 
 Go thou to her, and say 
 My thoughts are hers, all night 
 
 And all the livelong day ! 
 Within thy velvet leaves, 
 
 Her very self I trace ; 
 For Love, the Artist, weaves 
 
 Dear fancies round her face ! 
 
 Grace Le Baron.
 
 V s , V* 
 
 p^p^^w 
 
 v ^%k^i 
 
 SCHOOLDAYS 
 
 4
 
 in. 
 
 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 RED EOSE WHITE ROSE. WAR SADNESS. 
 
 WHAT a host of memories cluster around 
 that first night away from home ! Does 
 any girl ever forget that loneliness which came 
 with it ? that conflict that was hers ; that 
 striving to be a woman when only a girl's 
 heart beat in response to her resolutions, and 
 the tears would come ! 
 
 Is there a boy but will ever remember that 
 first visit to the old farm, off among the hills, 
 and the time when he started away from home, 
 full of the anticipated delight of the hayrack 
 ride, or the fishing trip with his country cousins, 
 feeling himself quite a little man ; only to realize, 
 when bedtime came, that an inexpressible some- 
 thing was tugging at his heart ; and that there 
 was, too, something missing from his holiday 
 pleasure, because he could not tell mother or 
 father of his new happiness, and "brother Jack" 
 was not at his side, to make merry with. 
 93
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Yes, even Daisy Wilder, the merry-hearted 
 Daisy, was to have such a memory. Little she 
 dreams it, though, now, as with a heart recon- 
 ciled to study, she boards the train for Hillside, 
 where she is to become a pupil of the " Misses 
 Bagley's Fashionable Boarding-School." 
 
 Father and mother have come to the station, 
 to see her started on her journey. Their solem- 
 nity does not seem to affect Daisy's usual gay 
 spirits ; for is she not in the " heyday of youth " ? 
 
 " Good-bye, mamma ! Good-bye, papa ! " she 
 calls from the car-window, and adds in a semi- 
 dramatic voice, " Ye that have tears, prepare to 
 shed them to-morrow ! " 
 
 And the train speeds on to its destination. 
 
 " The Misses Bagley's Fashionable Boarding- 
 School " was a thought evolved out of the brains 
 of the two spinster sisters, in order that they 
 might earn a livelihood, and at the same time 
 secure for themselves the old homestead, which, 
 when they first commenced their venture, was 
 so heavily mortgaged that the villagers said that, 
 " before long, even Abigail and Lucindy Bagley 
 would have to become part and parcel of the 
 goods and chattels of old Deacon Simpkins." 
 94
 
 School-Days. 
 
 The homestead itself was an old Colonial house 
 in truth, not, as in the fashion of to-day, a new 
 old Colonial house, but a genuine affair, whose 
 pedigree was easily traced by its architecture 
 alone, even did not tradition help to establish it. 
 The spacious rooms would have made the so- 
 called " Colonials " blush, in invidious compari- 
 son. Queer little cupboards, built into the wall, 
 hid themselves in unseen places everywhere. 
 The great hall, well deserving its name, ran the 
 entire length of the old house, and, by the way, 
 was the only feature of the past preserved in 
 its entirety by the Misses Bagley, in planning 
 for the future use of the old Bagley homestead, 
 and its transformation into the " Misses Bagley's 
 Fashionable Boarding-School." 
 
 When the sisters returned after long years 
 to take up their abode where they had only until 
 then spent their summers, the village folk won- 
 dered "what it all meant?" Then, recalling 
 that their father, " Squire Bagley," as the towns- 
 people called him, had, through reverses, died 
 almost bankrupt, the curious came very near to 
 the truth in their guessing, when they circulated 
 the report that the sisters had come " to save the 
 homestead from the hammer.", But how ? 
 95
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 The first move of the Bagleys was to make of 
 the large square rooms on either side of the wide 
 hall, recitation-rooms. Upstairs, the great bed- 
 rooms were divided into smaller ones, and the 
 tall old clock in the hallway was soon sounding 
 its curfew to the youthful occupants of these 
 same little bedrooms ; for, before the villagers 
 had hardly time to set aright their thinking 
 caps, " The Misses Bagley's Fashionable Board- 
 ing-School " became a reality, a stern reality, 
 it might be said ; for whatever other virtues the 
 sisters may have had, they were no more fitted 
 to guide the youthful mind than they were to 
 drive the plough. 
 
 So it is, often, that strength misdirected 
 becomes a weakness, that not only destroys its 
 own good intentions, but, as well, makes others 
 to reflect its failure. 
 
 And it was to such a home of learning as this 
 that Daisy Wilder was destined. She ensconced 
 herself in the cars, with an air of resignation, it 
 must be said, rather than one of anticipation. 
 She tried, again and again, to interest herself in 
 the reading of " Midsummer Night's Dream," 
 but to her distorted fancy, it became a night- 
 mare, and Puck, himself, a grim ogre. Each 
 96
 
 School-Days. 
 
 whistle of the engine seemed to disturb her 
 peace, and bring her nearer to her fate ; for in 
 no other way could she look upon her entrance 
 to the " Misses Bagley's Fashionable Boarding- 
 School." 
 
 At last "Hillside!" was announced; and, 
 by the aid of the obsequious porter, whose palm 
 had been crossed by a silver piece, before start- 
 ing, by Mr. Wilder, Daisy was assisted to the 
 platform, bag and baggage. 
 
 Standing as if in bewilderment at what to do 
 next, she turned to face a man who looked as if 
 he, too, might have been an antique relic of 
 Colonial days. His dress was a shabby genteel 
 livery, of what once had been plum-color. He 
 saluted Daisy with great deference, saying, in 
 an interrogatory way, "Miss Wilder of Boston 
 for the Misses Bagley's School ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Daisy, glad enough to find 
 some way to turn with a certainty. 
 
 "The carriage is here, miss," said the anti- 
 quated-looking coachman ; and as Daisy was 
 about to enter the equally antiquated-looking 
 conveyance that stood in waiting, a voice from 
 within gave her greeting: "Pupil Number Ten 
 Miss Wilder of Boston, welcome." 
 7 97
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 As Daisy heard herself thus addressed, she 
 had hard work to control her feelings at the odd 
 greeting ; for the ridiculous always appealed to 
 her sense of appreciation. Was she to be a 
 piece of merchandise only in her new home ? 
 she thought. 
 
 " At least," she said to herself, " there are 
 nine others to be companions of my misery." 
 And then an instant's thought went out to that 
 lonely one, Pupil Number One, who would never 
 know how many were to keep her company. 
 " Poor girl ! " she sighed. 
 
 While James, the antiquated-looking coach- 
 man, was busy arranging at his feet Daisy's 
 small pieces of baggage, Daisy herself had time 
 to study more closely her companion ; evidently 
 one of the Misses Bagley, she had already de- 
 cided, even before that personage had announced 
 herself, saying, " One of us, my sister or myself, 
 always comes to the station to meet our pupils. 
 I am Miss Lucindy." 
 
 " If this is the ' one of us,' what can the 
 other be like ? " thought Daisy, as she looked 
 
 O ! ' 
 
 again at her quaint companion, for Miss Lu- 
 cindy might easily have been taken for a well- 
 preserved " Betsey Trotwood."
 
 School-Days. 
 
 Her angular features were surrounded with 
 a wealth of hair, that, at Miss Lucindy's age, 
 suggested borrowed property. The latter was 
 worn in short curls at the front, that refused 
 to retain their curl, even under cover of the 
 long veil, embroidered with sprigs of flowers 
 that were as faded as their originals, now 
 drooping from the first frost of October. The 
 whole rusty affair Miss Lucindy gathered, or 
 clutched, rather, in her gaunt hands. These 
 same hands wore their ever-constant covering 
 of black mitts. Some there were who averred 
 that Miss Lucindy wore these mitts because 
 of her modesty, while others whispered among 
 themselves that they were simply coverings to 
 " two of the homeliest hands ever bestowed 
 upon a daughter of Eve." The Paisley shawl 
 wrapped about Miss Lucindy's shoulders was, 
 like the rest of her costume, a reminder of 
 " ye long ago," a long ago, be it said, in 
 which the sisters always liked to live, even 
 though the indisputable mark of " shabby gen- 
 teel " was upon them and all their worldly 
 possessions. 
 
 Poor Daisy ! She felt that now she had 
 found one who would curb her desire for even 
 99
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the most innocent of fun and frolic ; and her 
 resolutions came thick and fast, that she would 
 lend herself to her much-despised companions, 
 her books, if only that she might, the sooner, 
 graduate from " The Misses Bagley's Fashion- 
 able Boarding-School," which, alas ! she was 
 now only entering. 
 
 With a precision of speech never before at- 
 tempted by her, Daisy answered meekly all the 
 questions put to her by Miss Lucindy. 
 
 " Miss Wilder," said the latter, " is this to be 
 your first boarding-school life?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," meekly replied Daisy, adding 
 under her breath, " and if I ever get out of 
 this alive, it will be my last ! " 
 
 " Miss Wilder," again said Miss Lucindy, 
 " always answer me, * Yes, Miss Lucindy,' or 
 ' No, Miss Lucindy,' as the case may be, will 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, ma yes, Miss Lucindy," replied Daisy, 
 again submissively. 
 
 And this " prunes and prism " conversation 
 was continued until the arrival of the carriage 
 at the Bagley homestead. Poor Daisy had all 
 the way kept up another conversation with her 
 inner self. She felt it would not be long, de- 
 100
 
 School- Days. 
 
 spite all her good resolutions when she left 
 home, before she would have to send to her 
 absent friend, Rosemary McBurnie, her mes- 
 senger to tell of impending yes, already 
 threatening disgrace ! And she even found 
 herself anticipating such a way out of her 
 present unhappiness of spirit. 
 
 So it is that from us all goes out that silent 
 though still speaking influence to those about 
 us, for, like Daisy Wilder, many a young per- 
 son has had the whole current of her life 
 turned aside into a turbulent stream, by that 
 other who at the going down of her sunset of 
 life, has had to recognize that she has followed 
 the wrong guidepost, which led her to the end 
 of her journey, and seen that her milestones 
 of disappointment have proved stumbling-blocks 
 in the way of success for herself and her 
 neighbor. 
 
 Daisy's reveries were brought to an end by 
 her arrival at Bagley Hall, the abbreviated 
 name for the Misses Bagley's Boarding-School, 
 where she was confronted by the other Miss 
 Bagtey, whose Christian name was Abigail. 
 That other proved equally tall, equally angu- 
 lar in face and feature, equally quaint, and 
 101
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 equally forbidding in manner. The headgears 
 of the two seemed to be the only discriminating 
 feature. Miss Abigail's was a marvel ! Jute 
 everywhere, in puffs at the side, curls at 
 the neck, and an indescribable topknot, that 
 could be likened to nothing else but jute ! 
 
 Extending her hand to Daisy, her long bony 
 fingers closed about the latter's small hand 
 with a grip that Daisy used afterwards always 
 to insist meant to say, " Now I 've got you," 
 and Daisy felt that with two such mistresses to 
 serve, she could love neither, and prayed that 
 she might not hate both ! 
 
 Miss Abigail repeated her sister's form of 
 welcome, saying, " Pupil Number Ten, Miss 
 Wilder of Boston, welcome. Be seated, Miss 
 Wilder." 
 
 There was no cordiality in the greeting, no 
 bond of sympathy that could unite the hoyden- 
 ish Daisy with such an element of frigidity ; 
 and the girl, with the same submission, seated 
 herself in a low high-backed chair, to wait for 
 - what she knew not. Hers only to obey, and 
 she did so. 
 
 Looking about the little reception-room (which, 
 by the way, had once been the pantry of the 
 102
 
 School- Days. 
 
 old homestead), Daisy studied, with a newborn 
 awe, the straight-backed chairs, and the old 
 family portraits of the Bagley ancestors hang- 
 ing upon the wall. 
 
 " Shades of their ancestors, I suppose," said 
 Daisy to herself, as she studied more closely the 
 silhouettes of the female line, with their high- 
 backed combs and puffed hair, and inwardly 
 decided that these very pictures must have 
 offered suggestions for hairdressing to the Misses 
 Bagley. And, too, the ruffled shirtfronts of the 
 male progenitors of the Bagley line seemed, 
 to Daisy's already prejudiced eye, no less stiff 
 and precise than were the faces and manners of 
 their descendants, with whom now, alas ! her 
 lot was cast. 
 
 In this way, Daisy sat, it seemed to her, for 
 hours, although the old clock on the hall landing, 
 in truth, only rang out but one quarter of an 
 hour. Then, leading the way, Miss Lucindy 
 preceded Daisy to one of the little bedrooms 
 above stairs, upon whose door was that significant 
 number, " Ten," witli which the latter had now 
 become familiar. But Daisy took heart, as she 
 noticed its companion number, " Eleven," by its 
 side. 
 
 103
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Opening the door, Miss Lucindy said, " Your 
 room-mate will arrive to-morrow. Tea will be 
 served at six o'clock sharp ! " And with this 
 parting injunction and a marked emphasis upon 
 the last word, as if to say, " Disobey upon your 
 peril ! " and in a manner that would have done 
 credit to her Puritan ancestors, Miss Lucindy 
 left Daisy to herself and her thoughts. 
 
 " And this is a fashionable boarding-school," 
 said Daisy, aloud, as she surveyed the furnish- 
 ings of " Room Number Ten and Eleven," fur- 
 nishings which seemed to dispute their claim 
 to any fashion but those of "ye long ago," 
 however. 
 
 " Everything in twos," said Daisy, again, as 
 she noted the two dressing-cases, side by side, 
 which, in her ignorance of Chippendale, conveyed 
 only the idea of " up garret " to her. Two brass 
 candlesticks, one on each dressing-case, guarded 
 the two square pincushions whose coverings, 
 Daisy had to allow, were very pretty, even if 
 quaint in their suggestion of old-time fancy-work, 
 as done by her great-grandmother ; the rose, 
 covering the top of them had its petals shaped 
 by a padding of wool, that filled out the flower 
 and made of the cushion an ornamental as well 
 104
 
 School-Days. 
 
 as a useful article. Two beds, neatly covered 
 with white immaculately white knitted 
 quilts, appealed to Daisy's tired limbs and 
 longing heart ; but, no, there was that " tea at 
 six o'clock sharp ! " and Daisy was now under 
 orders. 
 
 As she walked about the little room, towel .in 
 hand, trying to remove the signs of travel, her 
 eyes were arrested by a card tacked to the door, 
 upon which she read : 
 
 RULES AND REGULATIONS OF THE MISSES 
 BAGLEY'S FASHIONABLE BOARDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 nxx/u4y 
 tfuA/v 
 ja/u/jcuZk' cLu/u/rujp tvt/uV ^o/i/p cut IScucy- 
 
 Authority ! read Daisy again. Was she not 
 already bound by the chains of compulsory obe- 
 dience ? " Where are the death's head and bones, 
 I wonder ? I have half a mind to put them 
 there," she said. And here was the very key- 
 note of the Misses Abigail and Lucindy Bagley's 
 failure in life, authority ! An authority never 
 105
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 tempered by that close companionship between 
 teacher and pupil that makes love a law, and 
 law a voice of love. 
 Daisv read further : 
 
 o/t 
 u-ott cx/t jgHyOu 
 
 Six thirty, A. M. ! That was an hour never 
 known in Daisy's calendar, for it had always 
 needed the persuasive powers of mother and 
 father and her maid Charlotte, to bring her to 
 the breakfast-table at eight o'clock. 
 
 " Dinner at twelve," she read again. To one 
 like Daisy, used to a fashionable seven o'clock 
 dinner, a dinner at twelve seemed a very primi- 
 tive custom to follow. 
 
 ou/t a/t Cx/cpnA/ truA/to 
 
 And so read the rules and regulations of Bag- 
 ley Hall. Truly a new life was opening to Daisy 
 Wilder with her entrance into the " Misses 
 Bagley's Fashionable Boarding-School," where 
 106
 
 School-Days. 
 
 love was wanting for the perfection of that 
 life. 
 
 " Six o'clock ! " sounded out ominously from 
 the tall hall clock, as Daisy slowly retraced her 
 steps to the floor below. Miss Lucindy, watch in 
 hand, stood at the dining-room door, and, with 
 a reproving look at Daisy, said in a stern voice, 
 " Fifty seconds late, Miss Wilder ! " With this 
 humiliation as an introduction to the young- 
 ladies standing at table, Daisy joined the stu- 
 dents who were to be her companions for she 
 dared not think how long. Miss Abigail, who 
 sat at the head of the table, made the presenta- 
 tion of, " Pupil Number Ten, Miss Wilder of 
 Boston." 
 
 As Daisy was the tardy one for whom the 
 waiting company stood, Miss Abigail gave the 
 order, " Be seated, young ladies." And with 
 military precision, the students obeyed, and 
 almost involuntarily Daisy found herself count- 
 ing, " One two three eat ! " 
 
 The same regularity betrayed itself in the fur- 
 nishings of the table as of the rooms above. At 
 each plate a glass of milk stood, the one so like 
 its neighbor that it was easy to conceive that a 
 dropper and not a pitcher was the measurement 
 107
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 for all. The bill of fare was a very simple one, 
 and Daisy ate sparingly, and, as never before, 
 sympathized with Oliver Twist in his request for 
 " more " of a different kind ! 
 
 It was a solemn meal, for all conversation was 
 forbidden; and the new pupils, like Daisy herself, 
 stood in awe of the Misses Bagley, while the 
 older ones knew too well the traditions of the 
 past to transgress. 
 
 Daisy felt an intuitive pity for the new pupil, 
 " Number Five," who received Miss Abigail's 
 admonition to " Count three between each mouth- 
 ful, Pupil Number Five, Miss Van Auken of 
 New York." 
 
 In short, the first meal at the Misses Bagley's 
 table had neither the " stalled ox " nor the 
 " herb " diet to commend itself to Daisy Wilder's 
 lonely heart. The only relief that came to this 
 unnatural restraint put upon her youth came 
 with the hour that followed the tea, when Daisy 
 congratulated herself that a little of her old self 
 was left her, and became at once a favorite with 
 her companions. 
 
 At the given signal of eight o'clock, the pupils 
 separated from each other, and Daisy sought the 
 companionship of her diary, which she had 
 108
 
 School-Days. 
 
 promised her mother she would keep. In it she 
 wrote, as she sighed, " Arrived in safety ; noth- 
 ing of note." 
 
 But was there not something to note ? The 
 misery of the light-hearted girl, whose loving 
 nature had been thus changed ? Pity her even 
 in her rebellion ; pity all whose hearts cry out 
 for sympathy, and, above all, pity those who 
 know not how to give it, and so lose the half of 
 life's real pleasure. 
 
 All night long, Daisy tossed in her sleep. An 
 indiscriminate procession of books were ever 
 following her in her dreams, while two long 
 gaunt fingers indexed every page. The morn- 
 ing dawned, and with it came anticipations of 
 the coming of some one who, she hoped, 
 would be to her not only a room-mate, but a 
 true confidant. 
 
 She busied herself in unpacking for it was 
 evident that the Misses Bagley had no authority 
 over the railroad officials, as Daisy's trunk had 
 but just arrived after a night's delay. One by 
 one, she hung her pretty dresses in the ward- 
 robe, which bore that familiar number " Ten " 
 upon its door. She arranged her bureau drawers 
 with great care. Carefully, almost reverently, 
 109
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 she replaced a pretty pink silk dress in her 
 trunk, closing the lid and locking such useless 
 finery out of sight. 
 
 A knock at the door ! Her room-mate ! 
 Daisy's face grew brilliant with her anticipa- 
 tions, so soon to be realized, as she responded to 
 Miss Lucindy's knock, and her introduction to 
 " Pupil Number Eleven, Miss Beulah Scilley 
 of " 
 
 Daisy did not wait for any further informa- 
 tion, but held out her hand in astonishment to 
 the one, of all others, she was unprepared 
 yes, even unwilling to meet ! 
 
 " Why, Miss Scilley, what a surprise this is 
 for me ! and why did you not tell me last sum- 
 mer we should meet here ? " said Daisy. 
 
 The young lady, thus addressed, was not in 
 the least disconcerted, but in a calm, convincing 
 manner said, "One likes to keep something for 
 one's own counsel ; and I chose, for reasons of 
 my own, to keep my coming a secret, Miss 
 Wilder." 
 
 " But how could you help telling me, Miss 
 Scilley 'i " said Daisy, " when I told you, that 
 day I met you at the Cliff, that I might come 
 here, for we had not then quite decided." 
 110
 
 School-Days. 
 
 Daisy's open nature could not readily under- 
 stand the more secretive one of her new room- 
 mate, for the latter, as is too often the case, had 
 the unwholesome trait which draws information 
 from others, but never gives in return. 
 
 " And how did you leave them all on the dear 
 little island ? and are the white sails all close 
 reefed, and the rowboats housed for the winter ? " 
 asked Daisy, with a yearning for news, sonic 
 would have said, but which to Daisy Wilder was 
 the longing to hear from those she loved and of 
 their happiness. 
 
 " Yes," replied Beulah, " there is less excite- 
 ment down there ; but we don't mind the quiet, 
 you know." 
 
 " No, I do not know," said Daisy, determined, 
 at least, not to be forced to believe anything 
 contrary to her will ; for had not her cousin 
 Harold Macy written her how lonesome it was, 
 now that the summer colony had left ? 
 
 " And Rosemary McBurnie ! Dear Rosemary ! 
 She is at home in New York by this time ? " 
 eagerly questioned Daisy. 
 
 " Yes, the McBurnies left town before I did," 
 replied Beulah Scilley. 
 
 The conversation became too hard work for 
 111
 
 'Twixt You and Me, 
 
 Daisy to continue longer, for Beulah maintained 
 her non-committal part, or rather, told as little 
 as she possibly could ; and Daisy returned to her 
 work of arranging and rearranging her worldly 
 effects, with a determination that she would keep 
 her secrets too if she ever had any worth 
 keeping ! for she was one whose heart was open 
 to all, whose life was an open book, even though 
 some of its pages were written in comedy. 
 
 With two such natures for companionship, 
 there could be but little harmony of spirit, and 
 poor Daisy felt her last hope of happiness gone, 
 with Beulah Scilley for a room-mate ; while the 
 latter, close shut within herself, had a content- 
 ment of mind that was her greatest solace, and 
 made her indifferent to all else, even to her 
 room-mate's craving for companionship. This, 
 however, the latter was fortunate in finding in 
 Emily Wingate, a Western pupil. 
 
 In her diary alone, did Daisy give free vent to 
 her thoughts, and freedom of speech, as she 
 wrote : - 
 
 "Friday the Fifteenth. Beulah Scilley is a 
 
 strange girl. I always thought so, and now I know 
 
 that she is. I don't understand her, I am willing 
 
 to confess ; and feel ashamed of myself when my 
 
 112
 
 School-Days. 
 
 suspicions lead me to think, ' Still waters run deep.' 
 I cannot help thinking that she must belong to the 
 family by the name of Heep. I do not and cannot 
 like her ! ! ! " 
 
 The three exclamation points seemed to add 
 an emphasis to Daisy's written words, quite 
 satisfactory to her, for she closed the book and 
 said, " Now, I '11 see how much of a prophet I am. 
 Miss Scilley, I can wait ! " 
 
 Another day she wrote : 
 
 " Tuesday the Fourth. Of course if there is any 
 mischief going on, I am always thought to be the 
 ringleader by the Misses Bagley. One thing cer- 
 tain : I shall always confess my wrongdoings, and 
 not leave suspicion to rest on an innocent girl. We 
 had a little midnight luncheon in our room, four of 
 us, that is, four, counting Beulah Scilley, but 
 she told Miss Lucindy that she had to be there, 
 because she was in bed, and could not sleep. Yes, 
 of course she was in bed ; but I desire to record 
 that she ate just as much oil on her sardines as 
 the rest of us ! But she looks so meek and hum- 
 ble, Miss Luciudy believes in her every time ! " 
 
 Thus went life at the " Misses Bagley's Fash- 
 ionable Boarding-School," where the laws of the 
 " Medes and Persians " prevailed ! 
 8 113 ^
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Daisy Wilder was the favorite of her com- 
 panions, if not of her teachers. Her honest, 
 ingenuous nature gave her an envied popularity. 
 Every girl every girl but one, at least was 
 ready to be her champion, if necessity demanded 
 it, which threatened at times ; for was she not, 
 as Mrs. McBurnie wisely said, " one to be guided 
 by love, not law " ? Not that her disobedience 
 of laws should be condoned, but one could wish 
 that, for a nature like Daisy's, a loving hand 
 might temper its discipline to such an over- 
 exuberance of spirits. 
 
 A diet of bread and water, and " solitary con- 
 finement," were better adapted for the criminal 
 than for young ladies who, like Daisy, deserved 
 correction ofttimes, but not the chastisement of 
 the nursery, or the punishment of the prison- 
 house. It was on one of these days of exile for 
 Daisy that the pupils were holding an indignation 
 meeting. 
 
 Listen to the proceedings of that hour. 
 
 The subdued voice of Mary Bumstead calls 
 the meeting " to come to order," while she thus 
 addresses the girls assembled in her room : 
 " Schoolmates, we are called together to redress 
 wrongs serious wrongs done to a beloved 
 114
 
 School-Days. 
 
 companion ; for why should Daisy Wilder be 
 sent to her room on bread and water, just be- 
 cause she was a connoisseur of coffee ? " 
 
 A titter went through the room ; and Daisy 
 Wilder became a martyr, to the girls assembled 
 in her defence. 
 
 Mary Bumstead continued, " Did not we 
 need a connoisseur of coffee, I ask you ? " 
 (Cries of " Yes, yes, long ago ! ") " And now, 
 just because Miss Wilder tied a package of a 
 new brand of Java and Mocha mixed, mind 
 you, the very best ! on the handle of Miss 
 Abigail's room-door, for that, must Miss 
 Wilder's only beverage for to-day be water ? 
 It 's a shame, a burning shame ! " (Cries of 
 " Shame ! shame ! " were heard from every 
 corner of the room.) 
 
 Miss Bumstead continued : " Why, Miss Abi- 
 gail ought to be thankful it was not chiccory, 
 like what is served to us every morning." 
 (Cries of " That 's so ! " interrupted the 
 speaker.) " Will some one make a motion 
 in favor of Miss Wilder's release ? " said Mary 
 Bumstead. 
 
 As one, the group of girls asked to be heard, 
 and the motion was " moved and seconded." 
 115
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " To ask Miss Abigail Bagley not only to 
 unloose the bars from prison cell Number Ten, 
 but, as well, to send at once a bowl of that 
 same mixed Java and Mocha to Miss Wilder, 
 the inmate of that cell, now spending ' one 
 day in solitary confinement.' " And the ayes 
 had it! 
 
 " And now," continued the presiding officer, 
 " let a committee be appointed from the floor 
 to present in due form this petition." 
 
 Just at this point, the swish-swish-swish of 
 Miss Abigail's bird's eye silk announced the 
 coming of that " august body." A knock at 
 the door ! Silence reigned for the moment, 
 which moment was given up to deciding who 
 should be the one to open the door ; and a 
 series of pantomimes indicated that Mary Bum- 
 stead, in whose room the meeting was being 
 held, should, as was her duty of hostess of 
 Room Number Three, respond to the knock, 
 and Miss Abigail entered. 
 
 With a searching look about the room, she 
 impressed upon her brain the name of every 
 girl present. " What does this mean, young 
 ladies ? " said the visitor. " Is this the way 
 you devote your hour to study, like this, in 
 116
 
 School-Days. 
 
 idle gossip ? Explain your position, young 
 ladies, I command you ! " 
 
 By another series of pantomimes and glances, 
 one to the other, Miss Bumstead was again 
 declared the one as best suited for spokes- 
 man of the hour. Awed at the responsibility 
 imposed upon her, but thinking that her love 
 for Daisy was some justification for the present 
 insubordination, she began her little speech. 
 Her voice trembling with half-mingled fright 
 and emotion, she addressed herself to Miss 
 Abigail, whose frigid manner only helped to 
 emphasize the sense of the meeting voiced by 
 the speaker. 
 
 " Miss Abigail," she said, " this meeting was 
 called in behalf of our beloved schoolmate, 
 Miss Wilder, now suffering the penalty of sol- 
 itary confinement in Room Number Ten." 
 
 Here Miss Abigail closed tighter her thin 
 lips, and stood as immovable as the Sphinx. 
 
 " We feel," continued Miss Bumstead, " that 
 the punishment is too heavy for her offence ; 
 and we ask also to be released from our share 
 of the punishment, that comes to us with the 
 thought of her loneliness, making our own 
 doubly hard to endure." 
 117
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 A new light seemed to shine in Miss Abigail's 
 cold gray eye. Was this a rebellion against 
 her better judgment ? or was it only a confession 
 of love from the girls for Daisy Wilder ? 
 
 Still no word escaped from the thin lips, 
 and Miss Bumstead continued her plea : " That 
 Miss Wilder committed the offence credited to 
 her, we must believe, for Miss Wilder has 
 already confessed to it ; but that she was not 
 the only transgressor, we also believe ; for how 
 did Miss Wilder procure the coffee ? She must 
 therefore have had an accomplice, if such you 
 wish to call the messenger who brought to her 
 the package found at your door. Who was that 
 messenger? Miss Wilder refuses to tell her 
 name, but says that the commission was exe- 
 cuted by another ; but should she not, whoever 
 she may be, share in the punishment already 
 inflicted upon Daisy Wilder, whom we love ? " 
 
 This argument seemed to appeal to Miss Abi- 
 gail's sense of justice ; while the fact that an- 
 other culprit deserved her masterly hand of 
 discipline turned her thoughts into a direction 
 tbat seemed to favor Daisy Wilder's chances for 
 pardon and release. 
 
 The girls themselves thought they saw a sig- 
 ns
 
 School-Days. 
 
 nificant nodding of the jute curls, and Miss 
 Bumstead went on: "Further, Miss Abigail, 
 we politely urge that a bowlful of that coffee 
 be carried to Miss Wilder by her room-mate, 
 Miss Beulah Scilley, who is not present at 
 this meeting, but, no doubt, is within earshot 
 of it ! " 
 
 This, of course, was meant as an arrow to 
 reach the ear of Miss Beulah Scilley, who, be it 
 said, had been standing just outside the door of 
 Room Number Three from the commencement 
 of the indignation meeting. 
 
 " Further," concluded Miss Bumstead, " we 
 would suggest that some of that same Java and 
 Mocha mixed be substituted to-morrow morning 
 for the chiccory served us at breakfast." 
 
 An embarrassing silence followed. The com- 
 pany of girls appeared as if they thought Miss 
 Bumstead had exceeded her authority, but to 
 the latter the justification of her suggestion 
 seemed to be in the application ; for many 
 times of late, committees of one, two, or three 
 had labored with the Misses Bagley to give their 
 pupils a better morning beverage, only to be 
 told that " chiccory was less harmful," although 
 the two streaming bowlfuls of coffee always 
 119
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 served to the sisters seemed to go to prove that 
 while they might be right in theory, in practice 
 they were all wrong. It had been this very 
 failure to bring about good results from fair 
 methods, that was responsible for the ignoble 
 deed that brought to Daisy Wilder her punish- 
 ment of " solitary confinement on bread and 
 water." 
 
 At the close of Miss Bumstead's words, Miss 
 Abigail gave her rebuke, saying, "Young ladies, 
 I am surprised at this meeting of open rebellion 
 to your teachers, and the rules of the school. 
 You may adjourn to your respective rooms until 
 I consult with Miss Lucindy." 
 
 Later, the swish-swish-swish of the bird's eye 
 silk was heard in the corridor above ; and a 
 knock at the door of Room Number Ten brought 
 Daisy to respond to it, and face to face with Miss 
 Abigail Bagley. The latter seated herself, unin- 
 vited, and, pointing to a chair beside her, inti- 
 mated to Daisy to do the same, which she did, 
 her face betraying the wonderment she felt as 
 to what might be the cause of this unexpected 
 visit. 
 
 " Miss Wilder," said Miss Abigail, " I have 
 just learned that another should be a party to 
 120
 
 School-Days. 
 
 your punishment, as she has already been one 
 in the offence that has brought you the humilia- 
 tion ; and I have come to say that if you will 
 give me the name of that person you shall, in 
 return, receive full pardon from my sister and 
 myself." 
 
 Miss Abigail waited for Daisy's reply. The 
 latter drew herself up to her full height, which 
 was not much at best, but in dignity she stood 
 far above her caller, to whom she replied, " Miss 
 Abigail, I thank you for your kindness, for I am 
 sure you intended it as such, but " 
 
 " But you are not going to accept ? " asked 
 Miss Abigail, anticipating the girl's refusal. 
 
 " No, Miss Abigail," continued Daisy. " I 
 must decline your proposal, as I have declined 
 many times to give the name you ask, to my 
 schoolmates. I am willing to bear this punish- 
 ment, for I know that I have done wrong, and 
 deserve it ; but if you were to extend my days 
 of confinement to months, leaving me alone with 
 my thoughts, I could not even then do as you 
 wish me ; and I beg that you will not think me 
 stubborn in my refusal." 
 
 " Then I am to understand, Miss Wilder," 
 said Miss Abigail as she arose to go, " that you 
 121
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 refuse, positively, to co-operate with me in pre- 
 serving order and punishing its offenders ?" 
 
 ki Yes, Miss Abigail," said Daisy, in her honest 
 way, " in the manner you suggest. I should de- 
 spise myself if I became a tale-bearer. I can only 
 take care of my own conscience, and that gives 
 me trouble enough. I know that I have done 
 wrong ; but, oh, Miss Abigail, I am not the same 
 as when I left home ! I am so unhappy ! Please, 
 please, forgive me, Miss Abigail ; and I promise 
 you I will try to do differently ! Won't you 
 have faith in me and forgive me ? " but Daisy, 
 as she looked into the stolid face of Miss Abigail, 
 began to fear that she must soon give up all hope 
 for pardon from that source. 
 
 Miss Abigail offered no reply, but still Daisy 
 continued her bit of special pleading, " But, 
 Miss Abigail, truly I did not at the time realize 
 my rudeness, as I know that 1 should have. I 
 am not attempting any excuses. I am only 
 acknowledging my offence, and asking you to 
 have confidence in my good resolutions for the 
 future. I am not deceitful, Miss Abigail, what- 
 ever else I may be, and please do not blame me 
 for every one's misdemeanors ; and you know, 
 I asked you and Miss Lucindy a great many 
 122
 
 School-Days. 
 
 times, some of them as a committee from the 
 students, to give us coffee and not chiccory for 
 breakfast, just like that you drink." 
 
 Yes, Miss Abigail remembered well those 
 special pleas, and had as persistently ignored 
 them ; for still, the discrimination had been 
 made between the real and the unreal, the 
 teacher and the taught, while the latter had 
 tried their utmost to follow the precept of Saint 
 Paul, " to eat what was put before them, and 
 ask no questions for conscience' sake," - - al- 
 though at times patience and conscience would 
 rebel at a " Squeers' diet." And this was the 
 outcome ! 
 
 Without a word of encouragement, Miss Abi- 
 gail left Daisy alone with her thoughts again; 
 but who shall say that the latter did not gain 
 the respect of Miss Abigail by her honesty in 
 firmly refusing, with scorn, the name and office 
 of a tale-bearer ? Surely there must have been 
 some happy change of heart, for Miss Abigail, 
 not long after her exit, sent the message to 
 Room Number Ten to " Tell Miss Wilder to 
 join her class in the recitation-room below." 
 
 That night Daisy wrote in her diary in large 
 letters : 
 
 123 >
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Tempted but Saved ! To-day I have spent alone 
 in my room ; but was I really alone ? with this 
 troublesome conscience of mine always telling me 
 of my wrongdoings, and what an unruly scholar I 
 am ? but, oh ! how I should have hated myself if I 
 had gained my freedom at whose expense ? 
 No, I will not even tell you, my silent, confidential 
 companion. It is not for me to be a keeper of 
 another's conscience. My own makes fuss enough 
 for me ! It is always whispering in my ear ; but 
 sometimes it is too late to save me. 
 
 " And all this for a poor little chiccory seed, 
 poor harmless little thing ! But that is the way, 
 very often, it is the trivial things of life that 
 sometimes make the most trouble. 
 
 " And Miss Abigail would not forgive me ! Does 
 she hope to be forgiven, I wonder ? But, then, I 
 pity her, and Miss Lucindy too, after all, for they are 
 not really to blame for having lived so many years 
 that they can't remember when they were young! " 
 
 It is to be feared that Daisy took a little sat- 
 isfaction in writing this latter truism, although 
 she might have recorded her resolution to try to 
 give her sympathy in the true spirit to the two 
 spinsters, whose hearts were already warming 
 to their rebellious subject, for her honesty and 
 her penitence. Did they not forgive as they 
 best knew how ? 
 
 124
 
 School-Days. 
 
 Before Daisy went to her little bed that night, 
 she selected from the vase of flowers which her 
 companions had sent to her room one, two 
 blossoms, and enclosed to Rosemary McBurnie 
 
 A RED ROSE AND A WHITE ROSE. 
 
 125
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Red Rose. 
 
 War. 
 White Rose. 
 
 Sadness. 
 
 Oh, the red rose is a warrior : 
 
 And the ichite rose is its bride. 
 And together, they fight the battle, 
 
 Yes, together, side by side. 
 
 In the battle of Life are conflicts 
 
 ' Twixt Right and the tempter Wrong ; 
 
 When the bravest of warriors falter, 
 And mourning follows the song. 
 
 'T is nobler to grieve for an error, 
 
 Than boldly defy the Right : 
 For a sin, confessed in sorrow, 
 
 Is half of a well-fought fight ! 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 126
 
 IV. 
 
 HOLIDAY PLEASUKES. 
 
 JAPONICA IMPATIENCE OF ABSENCE. 
 
 A ND in due time the two roses, with unspoken 
 * yet ever-speaking messages, fell at Rose- 
 mary's feet, as she unfolded the wrapper about 
 them. Stooping, she tenderly lifted them to 
 her lips, interpreting their message : " Poor dear 
 Daisy ! in trouble, but not in disgrace. In tears, 
 but not in blushes." And she quietly returned 
 the faded roses to their envelope. 
 
 Despite all evidence to the contrary, however, 
 Rosemary would not accept any other belief than 
 that which her loyal friendship prompted, and 
 refused to entertain any other idea than the one 
 which comforted her so much, to believe that 
 the war cloud which hovered over Daisy Wilder 
 and the latter's school-day life at Bagley Hall 
 was other than the shadow of an hour, which 
 would be dispelled by the hand of Justice before 
 many sunsets. Rosemary so expressed herself 
 to her mother, at the same time urging that 
 9 129
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Daisy be invited to visit them for the coming 
 holiday week ; and permission having been asked 
 of, and granted by, Mrs. Wilder in due form, 
 Daisy made her preparations for her coming 
 week of pleasure ; for, she thought, " it will be a 
 pleasure just to hear the voices of old friends, and 
 to know that I am trusted and understood." 
 
 Xor was she long in telling her room-mate of 
 her vacation plans. The latter received the news 
 in the same spirit of stolid indifference that had 
 been hers ever since her first coming to Bagley 
 Hall. But Daisy felt that her anticipated hap- 
 piness would make amends for all the disagree- 
 able things in her present life, even for the 
 sarcasm in Miss Abigail's parting injunction, " I 
 trust, Miss Wilder, that the New Year will bring 
 to you a change of heart at least." 
 
 And Daisy echoed the sentiment ! Again she 
 would be the light-hearted girl that she was but 
 a few short weeks before. And with this thought 
 she entered upon her holiday week with the 
 McBurnies hoping that its spirit of " peace and 
 good-will " would come to her as a benediction 
 upon her holiday life, and as a blessing to be 
 taken with her when she should again resume 
 her school duties at Bagley Hall. With such a 
 130
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 responsive helper as her waiting, willing heart, 
 it was no difficult matter to hope, to reason, 
 that 
 
 " The darkest day, live till To-morrow, 
 Will have passed away." 
 
 The reunion of the two friends could be none 
 other than it proved, one of helpfulness to 
 Daisy, and happiness to both : a happiness whose 
 only detraction lay in the thought that it was 
 but for seven short days ; but each day had its 
 joys, and Rosemary and Harold Macy vied with 
 each other to make those seven days seven jew- 
 elled ones in Daisy Wilder's vacation calendar. 
 
 Yes, Harold Macy had had his anticipations 
 of summer realized ! His one desire had been 
 to come to the city ; to be relieved from the tire- 
 some lullabies of the ocean. Those two ambi- 
 tions, which were but as one desire, had been 
 gratified ; but there lurks in his heart a long- 
 ing to tread those despised cobble-stones once 
 again ; for, as is often the case, our expectations 
 are sometimes more gratifying than the goal of 
 our anticipations. 
 
 Indeed, some nights after the lad has retired 
 to his room, that room where Contentment 
 131
 
 'Tvvixt You and Me. : 
 
 has not yet come, his heart has longed for the 
 lullabies of the ocean's song, and he sighs for 
 the home of his childhood ; but he aspires to be 
 a man, and men must not be boys, he tells 
 himself. Still, he has not as yet been trained 
 enough in the world's ways to forget that home 
 of his boyhood. 
 
 " Only a few months before I shall have a 
 vacation, too, Cousin Daisy," he said. 
 
 " And you will go where ? to the moun- 
 tains, I suppose : no waters there to make you 
 miserable," said Daisy, in irony. 
 
 " To the mountains ! " repeated the home- 
 sick lad : " not much, Cousin Daisy. Why, 
 there is "but one place to live in." 
 
 " But how do I know that you and I agree 
 in giving that first prize, Harold ? " asked his 
 cousin. 
 
 For reply, the latter made answer, " That one 
 place is Home ! Shall I meet you on the Cliff 
 next summer ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, I hope to be there," replied Daisy ; 
 then, in her usual bantering way, she said, " But 
 surely, Harold Macy, you are not going down 
 to that tiresome place." 
 
 " Oh, poke your fun at me, Cousin Daisy ; I 
 132
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 deserve it all. But I have changed my mind ; 
 1 can say with you to-day, ' That many a night 
 I go to bed, thinking I hear the waves beating 
 on the beach, plashing and dashing, and they 
 sing me off to sleep with their lullaby.' So we 
 three will meet there again, ' in thunder, 
 lightning, and in rain.' Is that so, Rosemary ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes," replied Rosemary ; " at high tide, 
 at low tide, with the wind, or without it. In- 
 deed, I am quite ready to go now, and to meet 
 you on that happy shore." 
 
 A look in the girl's face told of that readi- 
 ness, that sighing for rest on that happy shore 
 of Home ! Rosemary had studied with a zeal 
 for new honors, and they had been hers ; but, 
 alas ! her pale cheeks told the sacrifice, just 
 as her pale lips confessed her willingness to 
 rest. She longed for the breezes to bring to 
 her the bloom of restored health. She longed 
 for the pretty flower-garden. She longed for 
 Home. At present, however, her one desire 
 must be, as it was, to give pleasure to her 
 guest. She varied the programme daily, and was 
 always proud to introduce to her circle of 
 acquaintances, " Miss Wilder x>f Boston." 
 133
 
 'Twixt You and We. 
 
 An unusual pleasure was hers to announce 
 one clay : " Miss Yickard is in the parlor, 
 Daisy. She wishes to meet with you. Will 
 you come down ? She has brought us an invi- 
 tation to go to the Memory Club, which meets 
 to-morrow afternoon. Shall we accept ?" asked 
 Rosemary of her guest a day or two after the 
 hitter's arrival. 
 
 ' Why, certainly, Rosemary, accept, of course ; 
 that is, if it is agreeable to you. But what 
 is the Memory Club ? and what is it working 
 for, charity?" asked Daisy. 
 
 ' From what I have heard, I should say that 
 charity did not enter into its by-laws ; but I 
 must confess that I am interested to know 
 more about the Club, which is really town talk 
 in these days," replied Rosemary. 
 
 " Its name is very suggestive to me," replied 
 Daisy. " It carries me back to my earliest days 
 in the Grammar School, when I had to learn 
 a ' Memory Gem,' as it was called, and be put 
 on exhibition every time any visitor came to 
 the school, until I used to wish that poetry 
 and poets had died with the old Greeks ! Let 
 me see if I can remember the one over which 
 I almost lost my reason. Why, it cannot be that 
 134
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 I have forgotten it, for, oh, how I stumbled over 
 its words almost daily ! Let me see Ah, 
 here it is. 
 
 ' Life is a sheet of paper white, 
 Whereon each one of us may write 
 His word or two 
 
 And then comes Night ! ' 
 
 The teacher always wanted me to say 4 leaf ' 
 instead of * sheet,' hut as Mr. Lowell wrote it 
 in my autograph album ' sheet,' I felt that I 
 had the best authority for using the word, 
 and I always did ; and Miss Woodside always 
 corrected me. Of course I thought she was disa- 
 greeable, and I know that I was both disagree- 
 able and stubborn, too. I wonder if the Memory 
 Club is anything of the kind. An animated 
 game of Authors like ! or is it a funereal 
 affair with Hie Jacet for the Club motto ? " 
 asked Daisy, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, that I really do not know, Daisy," said 
 Rosemary. " We will have to find out all about 
 it from Miss Vickard. Come down to the parlor 
 and question her. Come, Daisy." And a few 
 moments later Daisy entered the parlor to be 
 presented in due form to " Miss Georgine 
 Vickard." 
 
 135
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 The conversation of the hour soon led up to 
 the desired subject of clubs, and Miss Yickard 
 said to Daisy, " I suppose you belong to a good 
 many clubs, .Miss Wilder. It is quite the fashion 
 in your town, I hear." 
 
 " Not one, Miss Yickard ! not even to a fash- 
 ionable sewing-circle," replied Daisy. " I may 
 be a curiosity in your eyes, but I must say that 
 I never knew that the fashion of clubs was a 
 fashion of Boston alone. It is all over the coun- 
 try and spreading like the whooping-cough ! " 
 
 " And you do not even belong to a whist 
 club?" asked Miss Yickard. "Why, it has 
 become a bit of local tradition that everybody 
 plays whist in Boston." 
 
 " You may make an exception then, Miss 
 Yickard, in my favor. But then, you know that 
 I am too young to have many interests beside 
 my books." 
 
 True, as Daisy said this, there did come to her 
 the faintest conviction that perhaps she was 
 giving a wrong impression to her caller, and 
 leading the latter to think that her interest in 
 books was the proverbial one credited to the 
 " town " of Boston, as Miss Yickard insisted 
 upon calling it. 
 
 136
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 " When I am older, perhaps I may belong to 
 as many clubs as a friend of mamma's, who is a 
 member of twenty-seven," said Daisy. 
 
 " Twenty-seven ! " repeated Miss Vickard in 
 astonishment. " Twenty-seven ! I did not sup- 
 pose that you had so many in the whole town." 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Daisy. " You know Boston 
 is a city now ! It was made so in eighteen 
 hundred and twenty-two." 
 
 That Miss Vickard accepted Daisy's mild 
 rebuke was evident ; for from that moment 
 Boston became to the former an incorporated 
 city. " Yes, yes, I forgot," said Miss Vickard, 
 apologetically ; and Daisy tried to be charitable, 
 and think that the former was guilty of a lapsus 
 linguce, rather than of an intentional offence to 
 Boston and its loyal champion. 
 
 " 1 have just been inviting Miss McBurnie and 
 you to attend with me the meeting of the Memory 
 Club to-morrow afternoon. It is to meet with 
 Miss Van Bibber." 
 
 " And what is the Memory Club, Miss Vick- 
 ard ? " interrupted Rosemary ; " and what do 
 you do at its meetings ? " 
 
 " Oh," replied her visitor, " our Club is very 
 exclusive, you know. It is really very difficult 
 137 * x
 
 'Tvvixt You and Me. 
 
 to enter it as a member." It was very evident 
 that to Miss Georgine Vickard admission into 
 the exclusive Memory Club was the one thing- 
 needful in life for happiness. 
 
 " But what do you do at your meetings ? " per- 
 sistently asked Daisy. " What is the object of 
 the Memory Club ? Is it charity ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," indifferently replied the visitor ; 
 " ours is purely a club for the pleasure of its 
 members. You see we have so many ' Charity 
 Clubs,' that we have not many of the very poor 
 in our city to look after." 
 
 Of this Daisy was not so easily convinced, and 
 felt there were yet " legions " to be found who 
 had only " the mansion not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens," for an inheritance ; 
 but she did not question the words of Miss 
 Vickard, and simply asked, as twice before, 
 "What is the object of your Club?" 
 
 " Its object ? " repeated Miss Vickard. " Why, 
 its very name tells you : for immortalizing the 
 memory of our forefathers and foremothers. 
 We have a Club Poet, who " 
 
 " Who writes the obituaries and epitaphs, I 
 suppose," said Daisy. 
 
 But Miss Vickard ignored the intrusive ques- 
 138
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 tion and continued, " Who writes poems and the 
 like for us ; and a Club Historian, who 
 
 " Oh, yes, I understand now," interrupted 
 Daisy ; " you are really a class in Ancient 
 History " 
 
 " Yes," promptly replied Miss Vickard ; " if 
 you choose to call us that ; and the more ancient 
 the information read before us the more desir- 
 able an acquisition is its author as a member " 
 
 " Which is not always the case, is it ? " said 
 Daisy. " Usually such a member of society is 
 considered an old bore. And whose forebear 
 is going to be embalmed to-morrow ?" 
 
 For the moment Miss Vickard hesitated, as 
 though debating if she should answer Daisy's 
 question ; but pride in the fashionable Club of 
 the day overruled her momentary indignation, 
 and she replied, " The President of the Club is 
 going to read a paper about her great-great- 
 great " 
 
 " There, there ! " exclaimed the irrepressible 
 Daisy, " she need not go any further back in her 
 family history to interest me. I just detest 
 antiques, whether as fossil remains or ceram- 
 ics ! and then in these days there are so many 
 reproductions and imitations ! New editions for 
 139 '
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 me, of everything ! I presume I am cut out for 
 ' a new woman.' But what about this multiplied 
 great and grand (for of course he or she must 
 be grand to have a descendant in your Club !) 
 father or mother of your President?" asked 
 Daisy. " We want to be prepared, you know, 
 to do homage " 
 
 " Oh, I do not just know," said Miss Vickard. 
 " He did something deserving ' honorable men- 
 tion ; ' but anyway, he had the yellow fever seven 
 times, I heard our President say." 
 
 " And yellow is such a trying color to the 
 complexion ! " said Daisy, substantiating the 
 truth of her confession to Rosemary, that it 
 would take more than three months of Bagley 
 Hall to crush out all her inborn mischief. " It 
 must rise again, Phrenix-like ! " she avowed. 
 
 To Miss Vickard, however, Daisy was a mis- 
 nomer, and she turned to Rosemary in despair, 
 saying, " Your friend, Miss Wilder, is positively 
 incorrigible, is she not, Miss McBurnie ?" 
 
 For reply, Rosemary's face took on the old- 
 time expression, which had, as always, the power 
 to check Daisy's hectoring, and the latter stopped 
 her teasing ; not, however, before the interest of 
 both had become excited in the Memory Club, 
 140
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 and Rosemary and Daisy accepted Miss Vick- 
 ard's invitation to be its guests on the morrow. 
 
 At the hour appointed Miss Vickard called 
 for the two girls, in all the splendor and ele- 
 gance of riches, as indicated in the gilt cockade 
 on the coachman's hat and the clanking of the 
 shining brass chains of the Vickard equipage. 
 
 On the way, Miss Vickard explained to her 
 guests that the Executive meeting preceded the 
 open one. " But then," she said " that will be 
 a short one, and soon over with. I am sorry 
 that I cannot invite you to it, but it is one 
 of Secret Session, and its doings are strictly 
 confidential ! " 
 
 As Miss Vickard made her explanation, one 
 might have supposed the affairs of a nation 
 were to be settled at the meeting of the Execu- 
 tive Board of the Memory Club, for nothing 
 short of some great international question could 
 have had so perceptibly the " Importance " as 
 indicated in Miss Vickard's tone and also in the 
 notices which called together the meeting of the 
 afternoon. 
 
 The music-room of the Van Bibber Mansion 
 was the one in which this important meeting 
 was to be held. Off in one corner a silk em-
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 broidered screen which bore on the one side 
 the figure of Peace bearing the symbolical olive- 
 branch ; and on the other, that of Mars in all 
 his glory and trappings of war was drawn 
 about, that the Executive might hold its Secret 
 Session. 
 
 Daisy and her companion could but note the 
 propriety in the arrangement of the piece of 
 handiwork ; for Peace smiled serenely upon 
 them, while Mars presided over the doings of 
 the Board ; and only the screen separated the 
 silent from the active members. For with Rose- 
 mary and Daisy sat a half-dozen or more other 
 guests, who had, like them, been invited for the 
 afternoon, and, like them, shut out from the 
 doings, but, alas ! not from the hearings, of the 
 Secret Session about to be held. 
 
 Three o'clock was the hour set for that hear- 
 ing ; but as the cuckoo clock in the Tan Bibber 
 hall sounded that warning call long before Rose- 
 mary and Daisy took their seats, evidently, too, 
 punctuality did not enter into the by-laws of the 
 Memory Club. " It was exactly half-past three 
 as the cuckoo flies," before a quorum was found 
 to have arrived, and the chattering of that quorum 
 could only be likened to a tree full of magpies. 
 142
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 Indeed, it was surprising that it could have been 
 counted at all, for the Babel of voices was such 
 as might easily have disturbed the best of 
 mathematicians ; but seven there were on the 
 one side of the screen in battle-array, with Mars 
 as their leader ; and ten, on the other, witli 
 Peace in their unwary hearts. And the Secret 
 Session was about to open in all its seeming im- 
 portance and formality. 
 
 In the absence of the President of the Club 
 (who, by the way, had sent word that she 
 " would come to the meeting at the close of 
 the Symphony and after she had been to the 
 dressmaker's "), Miss Morris, the First Vice- 
 President, took the chair, and prepared to open 
 the meeting. 
 
 Yes, she took the chair ! and again and again 
 she took it, as again and again she arose, fum- 
 bled about in secret and hidden places for the 
 pocket of her dress, which it had not ! Down 
 upon her very knees she went to search for 
 the gavel, which she had not, but which she 
 had forgotten to bring. " Oh, dear me ! " she 
 said, " I have no gavel. I forgot to bring it. 
 I shall have to use this." And she rapped upon 
 the inlaid table with a long, violet-colored box, 
 143
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 that was much more suggestive of Huyler's 
 cream peppermints than a symbol of order. 
 
 Up and down went the long narrow box ! Up 
 and down ! Down and up ! but the buzzing of 
 the human magpies still continued, for were 
 not the Treasurer and Secretary deciding the 
 all-important question, " which was the more 
 fashionable fur of the winter, chinchilla or black 
 marten ? " - and was not Madame Vigeaux 
 awaiting their decision ? 
 
 Finally, by a forcible rap with the box, which 
 robbed one of the Cupids inlaid in the beautiful 
 French table of his bow and arrow, and at the 
 same time betrayed a little more definitely the 
 contents of the box of confections, order was 
 gained at last, just as the echo of the Treasurer's 
 voice told that a decision had been reached with 
 the convincing words, " Well, I shall have chin- 
 chilla on the bottom of the skirt, anyway, and 
 a great big Medici collar on the jacket ! Chin- 
 chilla costs more, and of course it will not be so 
 common this winter." 
 
 So the momentous question having been de- 
 cided, everything looked favorable for the doings 
 of the Secret Session of the Executive Board, 
 whose members were assembled and waiting. 
 144
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 Just as the Chair was congratulating herself 
 that the frail gavel had accomplished its errand, 
 the excited voice of the Treasurer again inter- 
 rupted. It was evident that the chinchilla tailor- 
 made costume was her all-absorbing thought : 
 and for her, at least, reigned, for the time being, 
 supreme over " by-laws " and " amendments ! " 
 
 " Just wait," she said, " will you ? Wait a 
 minute ! until I see if I have brought the sample 
 of silk Madame Yigeaux gave me for the lining 
 of my jacket ! " 
 
 And the whole quorum paused, to become a 
 committee of investigation to search for the 
 Treasurer's sample, which, had older eyes been 
 theirs, would have needed a powerful magnify- 
 ing-glass to discover. 
 
 " Oh, yes, here it is ! here it is ! " said the 
 Treasurer, after fumbling about with a com- 
 mendable persistency worthy the woman of 
 Scripture, and she turned her coat-pockets 
 back into shape again, and with an " Excuse 
 me ! " to the waiting company, took her seat, 
 indicating her readiness to proceed with the 
 meeting. 
 
 With the call for " Order," the Chair then 
 announced that there was very important busi- 
 10 145
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 ness to be transacted ; " but," she said, u \ve 
 will first listen to the report of our Secretary." 
 
 And the Secretary arose. She was a tall, 
 handsome young lady, dressed in the extreme 
 of fashion, who gave the idea that Paris modes 
 absorbed so much of her time that the prosaic 
 duties of a secretaryship must suffer at her 
 hands, and suffer they did ! as was evident 
 from her confused manner when she arose to 
 respond to the Chair's bidding. 
 
 " Is my hat on straight ? " she asked of her 
 neighbor, in such an audible whisper, that a 
 chorus of voices replied to her question, 
 
 " Yes, it it all right ; quite straight. Does 
 the buckle go a little on the side ? That is 
 where it is now." 
 
 "Yes," replied the Secretary, putting her 
 daintily gloved hand to her head, to decide the 
 exact whereabouts of a certain brilliant buckle 
 upon " the latest from Madame Angot." 
 
 Then she adjusted her rimless eye-glasses ; 
 for, though young, her pretty eyes were obliged 
 to be regulated by such helpers. She opened 
 the book she held in her hand, looked, then 
 looked again, blushed, and blushed continu- 
 ally, stammered, and finally, after much embar- 
 146
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 rassment of manner, made the whole Executive 
 to feel the infection of her apparent nervousness. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " she said. " I must have 
 brought the wrong book. I thought it was my 
 Report Book, and instead of that, it is the story 
 I have been reading. I did not have time to 
 copy my report of the last meeting, and I thought 
 these loose papers were the notes of it, which I 
 put into my Record Book. Instead, they are my 
 French exercises, and the book is one that I 
 have been trying to finish." 
 
 " Oh, let us see it ! " cried a chorus of voices. 
 
 " Is it a good story ? " asked one and another. 
 
 And the book was passed around for inspec- 
 tion. It was one of the popular books of the 
 day, and the whole Board, even to the Chair, 
 resolved itself into a " Committee of Review " 
 of the story. 
 
 " Is it good ? " asked one. 
 
 " Oh, beautiful ! It is his best, I think, al- 
 though I am afraid that it is not coming out 
 just as I would choose. I do not like a story 
 one bit where the lovers separate and live on 
 in the misery of a ' might have been ; ' and 
 that is just what they are doing now. He is 
 trying hard to be sad, and she is just pining 
 147
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 away. That is the difference between them 
 now. But I think before long his misery will 
 be as true as hers," said the Secretary. 
 
 " Oh, but they come together all right ! She 
 does not die, but some marvellous cure comes 
 to her, and " replied one who had read the 
 book evidently, but was interrupted by the Sec- 
 retary, who said excitedly, 
 
 " There, please do not tell me how it ends. 
 I never like to be told how a story is coming 
 out. I like to plan it all out myself, and some- 
 times I think I could give the author a few 
 ideas. I ought to have been an author myself, 
 instead of a Secretary ; " and with a merry laugh 
 the delinquent Secretary took a certain satis- 
 faction in noting that one quarter of an hour 
 had already been absorbed in the criticism of 
 the story, and only three quarters of an hour 
 remained in which to transact the important 
 business referred to by the Chair, who, by this 
 time, attracted as well by the cuckoo's regular 
 call, gave another vigorous rap with the rem- 
 nant of the box of sweetmeats. 
 
 Just at the moment, however, two or three 
 tardy members of the Executive bustled in to 
 the meeting with the odor of violets, and the 
 148
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 invigorating freshness of the winter air about 
 them. " Oh, how do you do, Emily ? Good- 
 afternoon, Georgine," said one and another, 
 and, utterly oblivious to the duties of the hour, 
 addressing, too, the already-disturbed occupant 
 of the presiding chair. 
 
 " Why, good-afternoon, Katheryn. And why 
 did you not call for me ? 1 have been watching 
 for you for more than an hour. My new hat 
 came home to-day, and I wanted to show it to 
 you. Of course I could not wear it this after- 
 noon, for the dampness would take all the curl 
 out of the ostrich feathers. And it is just a 
 beauty ! You must see it." 
 
 Then of course it was the duty of the Chair 
 to unbend from her dignity, and explain that 
 she had been a little late herself, a truism no 
 one could deny, since, as has already been seen, 
 the meeting had been called a full half-hour 
 behind time. 
 
 Following this explanation, again came the 
 call from the Chair, " Order, order." But, 
 alas ! as she struck the box with uncommon 
 vigor, it yielded to the blow, and revealed its 
 hidden mysteries, and the cream peppermints 
 chased one another over the floor, while every 
 149
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 member of the Executive Board followed the 
 hunt, searching here, there, and everywhere, 
 with a zeal second only to that which they had 
 exercised in looking for Madame Vigeaux's in- 
 finitesimal sample. And now only the box- 
 cover remained ! and even that promised to 
 vanish into nothingness, under the persuasive 
 argument of the Chair in her efforts to re- 
 store, or rather, to preserve, order, and still 
 the important business was but a matter of 
 speculation. 
 
 To the Secretary, standing, in her humilia- 
 tion, the savory hunt for the sweetmeats had 
 been an interruption fully appreciated, for the 
 cuckoo had sung its warning note again, and 
 but a half-hour now remained ! Commanding 
 all the self-possession she had, the Secretary 
 informed the Chair, that although she had left 
 her notes behind her, she still had a good mem- 
 ory, and felt that she could remember the 
 most important part of the doings of the last 
 meeting. 
 
 The Chair, with the weight of that important 
 
 business on her youthful mind, expressed her 
 
 willingness to hear what the Secretary had to 
 
 say, and the latter stood, nervously smoothing 
 
 150
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 the fur of her jacket lapel, as if in admiration 
 of the pretty sable, but really calling up before 
 her confused mind the little she could, that had 
 occurred at the last meeting, a month previous. 
 
 She commenced by saying, " One thing 1 
 remember, Miss President : we voted to appoint 
 a Committee to plan some way to raise money 
 for " 
 
 She was just on the point of giving her first 
 piece of information, when the real President 
 of the Club, true to her word, arrived, and in 
 all the majesty of power a power which be- 
 trayed itself in her air of self-importance, as she 
 entered with an amount of dignity superior to 
 that maintained by any of the others present. 
 
 With a manner that seemed to say, " Make 
 room for me, everybody I will regulate now 
 the affairs of this meeting, in true parliamentary 
 manner," she addressed herself to her subordi- 
 nate, the Vice-President presiding, and said, to 
 the latter with, to be sure, a certain amount 
 of deference, behind which lurked a trace of her 
 own self-importance, " I will conduct this meet- 
 ing now. Give me the gavel, please." 
 
 Of course it was a most humiliating hour for 
 the retiring officer. Should she offer her su- 
 151
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 perior in office the remnants of the toy which 
 she had been using ? The idea was as prepos- 
 terous as was its use ! 
 
 In a very dignified manner, calculated to share 
 her unhidden humiliation of the hour with her 
 superior officer, the Vice-President addressed 
 herself to the latter, saying, " Miss President, 
 had you sent the gavel to this place of our 
 meeting, instead of to my father's private office, 
 I should now have it to offer to you. As it 
 is, you will have to invent one, just as I have 
 had to do." 
 
 And the Chair was declared vacant, with this 
 indisputable evidence of the President's trans- 
 gression of the conventional rules of etiquette, 
 and Gushing' s Manual ! Never deigning a reply, 
 however, Miss Alice Curtis took the chair va- 
 cated by Miss Katheryn Morris, and for the 
 moment it really seemed as if the meeting was 
 awed into a silence that did not care for gavel 
 - or cream peppermints ! 
 
 " And now," said the President, " we will 
 continue the regular business of the afternoon," 
 and the cuckoo sang its third note of warn- 
 ing! "The Secretary will please continue," said 
 the Chair. 
 
 152
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 Continue ! The words sounded farcical to all, 
 even to the waiting company on the other side 
 of the broidered screen ; and they had all they 
 could do to control their laughter, which for the 
 moment seemed to threaten a betrayal of their 
 knowledge of the doings of the Executive, then in 
 Secret Session. Continue ! To the Secretary, 
 standing, in her embarrassment, she wished the 
 words might have had a trace of the superlative, 
 and been interpreted into, Concluded ! 
 
 She stood. Was she waiting for another 
 timely interruption that would release her from 
 her misery ? Evidently the Chair, as now ap- 
 parent to her young eyes, was something else 
 than a piece of furniture of the San Domingo 
 family, with its foreign title of " Marqueterie." 
 
 An expression of awe and confusion over- 
 spread the face of the Secretary, which reflected 
 itself as well, in the faces of the Executive family- 
 waiting, as the President said with authority, 
 " Will the Secretary please be as quick as possi- 
 ble. We have very important business for the 
 afternoon, you know, unless " she hesitated 
 " unless it has already been considered. We 
 wait now for the Secretary to finish what she was 
 about to say when I entered. What was it ? " 
 153 -'
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 What was it ? Sure enough. What was it ? 
 thought every one. 
 
 The Secretary attempted her answer. " I 
 was just telling the Board, Miss President, 
 about the Committee that was appointed at the 
 last meeting to raise funds for " 
 
 Oh, timely interruption ! It came, with the 
 yelping and barking of Miss Van Bibber's little 
 French poodle, who had pushed his way through 
 the half-open door, and entered, in all his glory 
 of blue satin ribbon and family pedigree. 
 
 " Oh, you dear little fellow ! " " Come here, 
 you darling thing ! " " Oh, where did you get 
 him?" "But isn't he just a little beauty?" 
 " Do let me take him ! " were the exclamations 
 that were heard from one and all of the waiting 
 company. Yes, even the President herself un- 
 bent from her haughty dignity, and attempted 
 to secure the little French darling, who sniffed 
 and scented the room in search of his young 
 mistress. 
 
 Miss Van Bibber took him up in her lap, and 
 petted him, and for the moment Fido became 
 the hero of the hour ; but the heroine was she 
 in the guise of the embarrassed Secretary, to 
 whom the interruption was indeed a blessing ; 
 154
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 and she, too, lavished her affections upon the 
 dog, and kissed him for his sake and for her 
 own. 
 
 " Where did you get him from?" she asked 
 Miss Van Bibber. 
 
 " We sent abroad for him and bought him, 
 unsight, unseen ; but he is a thoroughbred," 
 said Miss Van Bibber, with the proverbial pride 
 of all lovers of dogs. 
 
 " And a pretty penny he cost you, I fancy," 
 said the Treasurer, who was a little more in 
 sympathy with the waiting Secretary than the 
 other members of the Board could possibly be ; 
 for was not her turn coining next ? And had 
 she not a deficiency to explain ? a deficiency of 
 five dollars in her account ; a deficiency that had 
 been occasioned by her careless handling of the 
 money entrusted to her ; for the missing Y was 
 already brightening the home of the little Italian 
 newsboy who found it at the street crossing. 
 
 Of course, then, the Treasurer, too, was inter- 
 ested in the song of the cuckoo, for the allotted 
 hour for the business meeting was fast slip- 
 ping away, and then would come the class in 
 " Ancient History," as Daisy facetiously termed 
 the doings of the fashionable Memory Club. 
 155
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Miss Van Bibber to the 
 Treasurer's question, " Fido cost us not a few 
 pennies. Indeed, more than we at first intended 
 to squander on the dear fellow ; but then he 
 was once owned by a live countess. The Count- 
 ess Blugot was once his mistress ; you know of 
 her, of course." 
 
 " Never heard of her. Was she a live count- 
 ess, born one, I mean, or only made one by 
 American dollars ? " asked the Treasurer. 
 
 The word " only " did not, however, if in- 
 tended, disparage the Countess Blugot's claims 
 in Miss Van Bibber's eyes, apparently. She 
 replied, " Countess Blugot is of one of the oldest 
 regime in France ; but reverses came to her 
 family, and so she had to sell her horses and 
 dogs, and 
 
 " Now," interrupted the Treasurer, " now, 
 if she had been only an American, perhaps she 
 could have kept not only her horses and dogs, 
 but bought a castle for her count ! " 
 
 Just at this moment, the President, who had 
 been closely studying the clock, said, " I fear 
 that we shall have to wait until the next meet- 
 ing to hear the Secretary's report of the Com- 
 mittee appointed, for it is now the time to 
 156
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 adjourn and attend the open meeting, where 
 we are to listen to the papers which some of 
 our members have kindly prepared for us." 
 
 And the cuckoo sang again. Sang ? He let 
 loose his voice as if singing a Hallelujah Chorus ! 
 
 The Secretary breathed freer ! The Treas- 
 urer's pulse became normal again. Both con- 
 gratulated themselves that the ignorance of the 
 President as to what they had done (and had left 
 undone !) counted in their favor. And so the 
 important business was still an untold secret, as 
 were the reports of the Secretary and Treasurer, 
 for with the cuckoo's song the meeting was 
 declared, " Adjourned ! " 
 
 The screen was carefully folded up and the 
 open meeting was called to " Order." 
 
 Even Daisy stood ready for any change in the 
 programme, and seemed for the time to become 
 a convert to ceramics and antiquities. She lent 
 herself persistently to hear about this or that 
 hero, who, it is feared, were unknown except 
 in their family genealogies, whose respective 
 pages were illuminated by their names. But 
 even ancient history, despite Daisy's dislike for 
 books in the abstract, was an agreeable change, 
 in comparison with the burlesque of a Secret 
 157 >
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Session. But both came to an ending, and the 
 hour for departure was a still more welcome 
 change for both Rosemary and Daisy, who tired 
 of it all. 
 
 " And how did you like the memories of the 
 Memory Club ? " asked their hostess, as the trio 
 rolled along home in the Yickard equipage. 
 
 " Oh, quite well," said Daisy, reservedly. 
 
 " You should have been to the Secret Session, 
 though," said Miss Vickard. 
 . " But I was ! " replied Daisy. 
 
 " Oh, no, you are mistaken," said her hostess, 
 adding, " only the Board are ever allowed to be 
 present at that." 
 
 Daisy decided to accept amiably the correc- 
 tion, so long as the doings of the Secret Session 
 were still left to her as a revealed story, even 
 though a comic one, at that. 
 
 " Come, now, do let me propose your name at 
 the next meeting, Miss Wilder," urged Miss 
 Vickard. " We need a Boston member to bring 
 us wisdom." 
 
 And Daisy declined to dispute this, too, for 
 
 she quite agreed with her hostess that extra 
 
 wisdom was needed ; but she refused to be 
 
 cajoled or patronized into becoming a member 
 
 158
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 of the exclusive Memory Club, and in response 
 to her hostess's query, " Have you not some an- 
 cestor you are proud of, Miss Wilder? " she 
 replied, " Oh, ever so many ! and one in par- 
 ticular. He was in the fire brigade." 
 
 This seemed to put an end to all further im- 
 portunings ; for it was evident that Miss Vick- 
 ard's ideas of bravery were limited to that of 
 the battle-field ; and so the conversation upon 
 the subject was concluded with the end of the 
 homeward ride. 
 
 That night, at tea, the Memory Club fur- 
 nished an inexhaustible subject of conversation, 
 and Daisy was the one to introduce it, with a 
 mathematical problem which she proposed to 
 Mr. McBurnie, saying, " Mr. McBurnie, if I 
 confide a secret (a very important secret, of 
 course!) to seven persons, plus ten persons; and 
 each one of the seven, plus ten, confides it to 
 two others, as I do now to you and mine hostess, 
 how many will know my secret ? " 
 
 " Why, the whole world, of course," promptly 
 replied Mr. McBurnie. 
 
 " Right, sir," said Daisy. " But," said she, 
 " supposing that I never tell my secret at all, 
 what then?" 
 
 159 -'
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 And to this Mr. McBurnie replied as 
 promptly, " Well, you are either an uncom- 
 monly wise woman, or your secret is not worth 
 the name." 
 
 " Right again, sir," replied Daisy. " And 
 that is the case of the wonderful Memory Club. 
 They are uncommon young ladies, and they did 
 not have any secret to tell, and did not tell 
 it ! But then they excited our curiosity just 
 the same ; and their important business is still 
 theirs to transact ! " said Daisy. 
 
 " But who was that ancestor, Daisy, you had 
 in the fire brigade ? " asked Rosemary. 
 
 There was just a trace of justifiable pride in 
 Daisy's reply : " He was Major-General Daniel 
 Wilder, chief in command of the Ordnance De- 
 partment in the Civil War." 
 
 " And a very effectual fire brigade it was ! " 
 said her host. 
 
 Fortunately, there were other and pleasanter 
 memories of the holiday week, which only too 
 soon came to its end ; and as Daisy replaced her 
 things in her trunk, she did so with the regret 
 that life could not be one long holiday for her. 
 
 She expressed this thought to Rosemary, say- 
 ing, " If life were only full of holidays, I should 
 160
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 be a much more interesting member of society 
 than I am." 
 
 " Would the flowers in our little garden-boat 
 on the beach grow in more perfection if the sun 
 shone always on their unprotected heads, and 
 the rains never fell to quench their thirst ? " 
 asked Rosemary. 
 
 The application was a forcible one, and 
 Rosemary's question admitted of no argument ; 
 for had not Daisy often wished that the rains 
 would come to her garden family ? of winds 
 there was little need ; but the rain had been a 
 blessing so often denied the little garden by 
 the sea that Rosemary's philosophy silenced all 
 further rebellion by Daisy at her life of un- 
 happiness. 
 
 " And it will not be long," continued Rose- 
 mary, " before you and I, Daisy, will be tending 
 the flowers once again. If I should go before 
 you do, Sam Header and I will have the garden 
 all planted for your coming. What is your 
 choice of flowers ? " asked Rosemary. 
 
 " Forget-me-nots, pansies (white ones, only)," 
 replied Daisy. 
 
 " And poppies," suggested Rosemary. 
 
 " So be it, then," said Daisy. 
 11 161 >
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Poppies, white pansies, and forget-me-nots, 
 a national combination of red, white, and blue. 
 'Three cheers for the red, white, and blue!'' 
 sang Daisy. " Oh, such a relief as it was to 
 sing like that ! " said Daisy, " without being 
 told to report in the reception-room. And 1 
 must go back again," sighed she. 
 
 " Dear Daisy," said Rosemary, putting her 
 arm about her friend's waist, u I wish that you 
 did not feel so unhappy. Just try to do your 
 duty, and nothing can harm you, even though 
 the world seem against you, and think, always, 
 that the time will soon come when the forget- 
 me-nots and the pansies will be ours, and the 
 poppies will bring us rest and sleep." 
 
 Rest and sleep ! No other but Rosemary 
 McBurnie could speak such words ; but Daisy 
 had long ago said that Rosemary was unlike 
 any other ; and did she not speak the truth 
 when, as a little child, she had said that Rose- 
 mary " belonged in cloudland where the angels 
 live " ? 
 
 Rest and sleep ! the words conveyed to Daisy 
 
 only the rest from her tiresome labors and trials 
 
 of school-days, the rest that would come with 
 
 the summer days. To Rosemary, who shall say 
 
 162
 
 Holiday Pleasures. 
 
 what prompted the words, " Rest and Sleep " ? 
 For us, not to peer into the unrevealed future, 
 but wait patiently for its revelations. 
 
 So Daisy returned to Bagley Hall, with Rose- 
 mary McBurnie's comforting words echoing in 
 her ears : " Do your duty, and nothing can harm 
 you, even though the world seem against you ; " 
 and Rosemary treasured in her fragile hand 
 Daisy's flower given her in parting, which seemed 
 ever saying the message of 
 
 THE JAPONIC A. 
 
 163
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Japonica. 
 
 Impatience of Absence. 
 
 The days are laggards in their pace ; 
 
 The hours as days go by. 
 I wait, / watch, to see her face ; 
 
 And, seeing not, I sigh, 
 Oh, Time, release from thy embrace 
 
 Her, at whose court I bow : 
 And when thou bring'st us face to face, 
 
 Be laggard then as now ! 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 164
 
 UNJ UST-ACC US ATI ONS 
 
 MARJORAM BLUSHES
 
 V. 
 
 UNJUST ACCUSATIONS. 
 
 MARJORAM. BLUSHES. 
 
 A ND so the holiday week became a memory 
 -^*- of the past to Daisy, with Rosemary 
 McBurnie's sweetest smiles to shed their added 
 halo over the seven days of unalloyed happiness ; 
 unless it might be said that Daisy's anticipated 
 return to school was a shadow which, like a 
 spectre, seemed always intruding itself between 
 the present and the future. 
 
 But Daisy determined that her resolutions 
 should never be fated, as were those of so many. 
 She had resolved that Rosemary's gentle influ- 
 ence should be her guide through the rest of her 
 school year at Hillside. Neither Miss Abigail 
 nor Miss Lucindy should deter her ; and Beulah 
 Scilley should no longer bring out the worst 
 traits of her character. 
 
 With such thoughts as these, Daisy entered 
 the same dingy old conveyance which had 
 167
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 awaited her on her ' first journey to Hillside. 
 This time, however, she was proof against any 
 disturbing influence that might lie in waiting to 
 test her moral strength ; and even Miss Abigail's 
 frigid manner and equally frigid greeting failed 
 to affect her other than to wish that there might 
 yet come a sympathy between them, which could 
 prove of mutual help to them both. 
 
 " I trust that Miss Wilder has returned to 
 school with good resolutions for the New Year," 
 said Miss Abigail, as she made way for her pupil 
 in the carriage. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Abigail," said Daisy, never for an 
 instant betraying her recognition of the tinge of 
 sarcasm which emphasized Miss Bagley's words ; 
 and the latter added, 
 
 " And I trust also, Miss Wilder, that there 
 will be no repetitions of last term's escapades." 
 
 Before Daisy's eyes there flitted in rapid 
 succession all her so-called " escapades," for 
 which, alas ! she could find no excuses. Then a 
 voice like that of Rosemary McBurnie seemed 
 to speak through her conscience, " Do your 
 duty, and nothing can harm you, even though 
 the whole world seem against you." 
 
 As if looking for encouragement and help, she 
 168
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 replied, " Miss Abigail, I have left behind me 
 a good angel. Oh, such a sweet girl ! my dear 
 friend Rosemary McBurnie ; and I come back 
 to Bagley Hall to try to be like her. Of course 
 I never can be. I don't expect to be ; but if I 
 have her in my mind, I cannot help being better 
 than I am now. Please help me, Miss Abigail. 
 Just have a little more confidence in me, and I 
 promise you, you shall never regret it. Will 
 you please help me, Miss Abigail ? " 
 
 As Daisy asked the question, she actually had 
 the courage to place her hand within that other 
 gaunt one, with the long bony fingers, and 
 almost thought she felt a little tighter clasp 
 than the one she gave, a silent recognition of 
 her own. She looked pleadingly into the angular- 
 shaped face, in its frame of jute, and could it 
 be that the stern features relaxed, and the lips 
 struggled to give back a smile ? At least, Daisy 
 liked to think so ; for it must be said, a look 
 unknown until then overspread Miss Abigail's 
 face, a look of mingled pity and newborn 
 sympathy ; a belief in the young girl at her side, 
 which prompted the words, 
 
 " Miss Wilder, we will help each other." 
 And so was won Daisy's first victory ! But 
 169 ^
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 another foe was to be vanquished. The battle 
 might be long, but victory must come to her. 
 
 On her arrival at Bagley Hall, Daisy went 
 immediately to her room. With trembling hand 
 she knocked at the door, to learn if her room- 
 mate had taken possession before her. She had 
 studied long over her greeting to Beulah Scilley, 
 for she did not wish to betray, in word or man- 
 ner, a shadow of her old-time prejudice and 
 dislike. 
 
 As Beulah opened wide the door, Daisy put 
 out her hand, and said in her happiest manner, 
 " Here I am, Miss Scilley ! " 
 
 The latter replied, indifferently, " I was not 
 expecting you until to-morrow, Miss Wilder ; 
 but, of course, one day is the same as another." 
 
 If Daisy felt the disappointment conveyed in 
 the greeting, she did not betray it, but said with 
 a smile, " Oh, you see I could not stay away 
 from you any longer." 
 
 Xo response to this little bit of badinage from 
 Beulah Scilley ; and Daisy began to try to make 
 herself at home. True, the tea hour was the 
 same solemn affair as ever, and Daisy's sharp- 
 ened appetite yearned, not only for the deli- 
 cacies of the McBurnies' larder, but, as well, 
 170
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 for the merry conversation that " waited on 
 appetite." 
 
 The welcome which her companions gave to 
 Daisy in the social hour that followed was a 
 touch of sincerity that more than ever appealed 
 to her tender yearning heart, and was the one 
 pleasant memory of her re-entrance into the 
 " Misses Bagley's Fashionable Boarding-School." 
 
 And the next day found Daisy at her books 
 again. 
 
 She might be as obtuse as the angles she 
 dealt with, but she resolved it should not be 
 from lack of application ; and her struggles with 
 the " unknown " were commendable for her per- 
 sistency to become better acquainted with that 
 letter of the alphabet which, despite all her 
 efforts, threatened to remain not an " x" but a 
 daily cross to her. 
 
 With Beulah Scilley were her most disheart- 
 ening efforts ; for the former's persistent re- 
 fusal to meet her even halfway caused Daisy 
 many a heart-ache, and the consciousness that 
 to do one's " duty " was not as easy as some 
 would make her believe. There was ever that 
 same forbidding reserve to^ contend with, that 
 171
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 sccretiveness, that Daisy not only distrusted, 
 but could not sympathize with. In short, 
 Daisy's efforts to come in closer intimacy with 
 Beulah Scilley were always repulsed. Beulah 
 refused to be cajoled, in any way, into anything 
 which might lead to familiarity. And the days 
 went on, bringing little encouragement to Daisy, 
 with Beulah's continued indifference. 
 
 Occasionally, the air was full of girlish pranks, 
 persisted in by some of the pupils ; but Daisy 
 had resolyed that Welsh rarebits might be 
 served, but her dreams should not become 
 nightmares of indigestion and complicity. In- 
 deed, the Misses Bagley seemed to look to Daisy 
 with a respect, as never before. At times, it 
 almost appeared to Daisy that the two sisters 
 were her greatest helpers. 
 
 Only Beulah Scilley, as before said, remained 
 for Daisy's conquest. Yet Daisy had resolved 
 no patronizing manner on her part should ac- 
 complish it ; but conquest she had determined 
 upon. But how ? She had, she thought, tried 
 every honest suggestion, and still without the 
 desired result. She waited the coming. Was 
 it already on the way ? 
 
 As usual, it was her diary that became her 
 172
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 closest, because her most confidential friend. 
 In it, she wrote after a night of vigil and 
 anxiety : 
 
 "Two A. M. Beulah Scilley is asleep at last! 
 Poor girl ! I have been up with her all night. 
 She would not let me call the Misses Bagley, and 
 so I have bathed her head, and chafed her hands, 
 and at last she is asleep; but she looks so pale. 
 She seemed grateful for every little thing I did 
 for her. 
 
 " Once, I almost fancied she asked me to be her 
 friend ; for when her fever was running high, she 
 rambled in her delirium, and once, she grasped my 
 hand and said (I wonder if she knew what she was 
 saying ?), ' You won't leave me, Daisy ? Say that 
 you will stay by me, and never never leave me.' 
 And now she is sleeping, and I am going to sleep, 
 too. Good-night." 
 
 The morning found Beulah Scilley better, 
 but very weak, but, alas ! more silent than 
 ever, if possible; and the studies of the day 
 commenced. 
 
 In the recess hour that followed, there came a 
 messenger to Room Number Ten, with the word 
 that " Pupil Number Ten, Miss Wilder of Boston, 
 will please report in the reception-room, after the 
 recitations of the day are over." 
 173
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Again and again Daisy read the message. 
 Again and again she tried to read between the 
 lines, and finally decided that the Misses Bagley 
 wished a confidential talk with her upon school 
 matters ; for of late she had recognized the 
 happy change in their manner to her, a 
 change which had its birth with Daisy's con- 
 fidence with Miss Abigail, when the two rode 
 together from the station, after Daisy's return 
 from her holiday vacation. 
 
 So she decided upon the meaning of the note, 
 while the convictions of her conscience, speaking 
 through Rosemary's comforting words, gave her 
 additional courage for the meeting : " Do your 
 duty, and nothing can harm you, even though 
 the world seem against you." 
 
 To her illness of the night, Daisy credited 
 Beulah's silence, more marked even than usual. 
 She became solicitous for the latter's health, and 
 said, " I am so glad that you are better, Miss 
 Scilley ; for I am such a poor nurse, and you 
 seemed so sick. Why do you not let me ask 
 Miss Abigail to excuse you from recitations ; 
 you look pale yet. Shall I ? " asked Daisy, in 
 well-meant sympathy. 
 
 " No, no ! please do not, Miss Wilder ! Please 
 
 174
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 do not speak of my illness of last night to Miss 
 Bagley ! " replied Beulah, in a more excited 
 manner than was common to her. " It can be 
 of no use now ; it is all over," she continued, 
 " and I thank you for your care, but I do not 
 feel quite right anywhere ; " and a look on her 
 pale face seemed to give truth to the statement 
 that she was not quite right anywhere, either in 
 mind or body. No, something was evidently 
 disturbing the usual indifference of Miss Beulah 
 Scilley. 
 
 Later, Daisy left her alone, to respond to the 
 call of the morning, " to report in the reception- 
 room after the lessons of the day are over." 
 Her step was firm, as her conscience was light, 
 although she could not disguise the trace of 
 nervousness that was noticeable, as she entered 
 the little reception-room in response to the 
 " Come in ! " of Miss Lucindy ; but it was only 
 the nervousness of uncertainty over the object of 
 her visit. Smilingly, she entered ; totally unpre- 
 pared for the chill reception accorded her by the 
 Misses Bagley, who sat side by side in the 
 straight-backed chairs of their ancestors. 
 
 Daisy's words of greeting froze upon her lips, 
 at the icy reception given her by the two sisters, 
 175
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 and, automaton-like, she followed their bidding 
 to " Sit down, Miss Wilder." 
 
 The minute's silence which followed only 
 seemed to emphasize the suspense which Daisy 
 felt. Her youthful mind travelled back to her 
 home, to her mother and father. " Oh, if they 
 were only here ! " she thought. Then to Rose- 
 mary, who had never seemed wholly of this 
 world. With the presence of these three by her 
 side, she felt that she could face a world of 
 accusers ; for, as was intended by the Misses 
 Bagiey, their manner towards their pupil seemed 
 to say, " You are in disgrace ! " 
 
 Daisy was aroused from her reveries of home 
 by Miss Abigail, who, in that stern manner 
 once so familiar, propounded the question to 
 her pupil, " What were you doing last night, 
 Miss Wilder ? Give an account of yourself. 
 You did not have many hours of sleep, did 
 you ? " 
 
 Under other circumstances, Daisy would have 
 told of her night's vigil over Beulah Scilley ; but 
 as she recalled the excited manner in which the 
 latter had asked her to say nothing of her illness, 
 she felt she would respect her room-mate's wishes, 
 as far as she could, especially as her conscience, 
 176
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 in its voice of innocence, would plead for itself 
 and for her. 
 
 " No, Miss Abigail," replied she, in her honest 
 words, " I did not sleep very well." 
 
 " No, probably not," said Miss Abigail, as if 
 satisfied with her introductory examination. 
 " And perhaps you will be kind enough to tell 
 me what time you did retire," continued Miss 
 Abigail. " You know, I presume, that lights are 
 out at eight thirty." 
 
 Well, very well, Daisy remembered the day 
 she first learned that rule of Bagley Hall, and 
 her rebellious spirit of the hour. Where was 
 it now ? She could not feel even bitterly to- 
 wards her two judges, now sitting in judgment 
 over her innocent life ; and she replied to the 
 question, " Yes, Miss Abigail, I know the 
 rules ; and our lights were out at that time, 
 and lighted again afterwards." 
 
 "At what time did you say?" quizzingly 
 asked Miss Abigail. 
 
 " I really do not know, Miss Abigail ; but it 
 was after midnight, for I did not get to sleep 
 until nearly three o'clock this morning." 
 
 " Three o'clock ! " repeated the sisters, in 
 horror ; and Daisy, in her ignorance of what 
 12 177
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 was the cause of all the examination, answered 
 the questions put to her with the same brevity, 
 telling always the truth, and wishing that there 
 were no restrictions over the whole truth, yet 
 hardly knowing how much might not be in- 
 volved in her answers ; for was not Beulah 
 Scilley another witness of the night ? and 
 she had yet to feel a confidence in her room- 
 mate. 
 
 " Three o'clock, Miss Wilder, is rather a late 
 hour to prepare for a rising bell at six thirty/' 
 said Miss Lucindy, in a very sarcastic way. 
 " You must be very tired, from such a shoit 
 nap." 
 
 " I am, Miss Lucindy," quietly replied Daisy ; 
 " very tired ; but Miss Scilley was 
 
 Daisy was on the point of saying that Miss 
 Beulah Scilley had had no more sleep than she, 
 when Miss Lucindy interrupted, saying, " Miss 
 Scilley has already told us all." 
 
 To Daisy, the one thought intruded itself, 
 " What has Miss Scilley told ? " She felt, how- 
 ever, the barrier was in a measure taken away, 
 and with her freedom came her words, " Very 
 well, Miss Lucindy, if Miss Scilley has told you 
 of our night, I cannot tell you any more." 
 178
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Scilley has told us all, and that 
 she left you writing when she went to sleep," 
 said Miss Lucindy. 
 
 And was that the way that Beulah Scilley 
 had shown her gratitude towards Daisy, for the 
 latter's careful nursing ! " Surely," thought 
 Daisy, " she might have helped in my defence, 
 for of course if she has told all about the night 
 she has told of her sickness. Then why did she 
 ask me to say nothing about it ? " Daisy could 
 not understand, nor could she help wishing that 
 Beulah Scilley might have spared her all this 
 humiliation ; for humiliation it was, since it was 
 not in Daisy's power fully to explain herself. 
 With the thought that Beulah had told all, or 
 some of the all, Daisy answered boldly. "Yes, 
 Miss Scilley is right. She did leave me writing, 
 for I watched her off to sleep." 
 
 " Watched over Miss Scilley, did you say ? " 
 repeated Miss Lucindy, with a sneer, and Miss 
 Abigail interrupted to ask, " And who watched 
 over you, Miss Wilder ? " 
 
 " The same One who watched over you," 
 replied Daisy, reverently, as with a trembling 
 voice she added, " and He believes me." 
 
 " Come ! come ! " said Miss Abigail, impatient 
 179
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 to close the interview, " why do you not give 
 an account of your night's work, and confess ? " 
 
 Confess ! The word carried its accusation to 
 Daisy, and she sat as if stunned for the moment. 
 Confess ! Should she attempt her defence by 
 telling of her night's watching over Beulah 
 Scilley ? And why not ? for, if Beulah had, 
 as the Misses Bagley said, told all, she must 
 at least have had to tell something of her ill- 
 ness. So Daisy commenced an explanation, 
 prefacing her words with, " Miss Abigail, I have 
 very little to confess." 
 
 " Very little, indeed ! " interrupted the sisters. 
 " These night escapades may seem very little to 
 you, Miss Wilder, but we had commenced to 
 think better things of you." 
 
 A little voice whispered in Daisy's ear, " Do 
 your duty, and nothing can harm you, even 
 though the world seem against you." 
 
 She repeated the words, " Escapades ! esca- 
 pades ! " Then asked, " What escapades, Miss 
 Abigail ? " 
 
 But Miss Abigail persistently refused to be 
 influenced, even in the least, by Daisy's inno- 
 cent manner. Had her mind been poisoned by 
 another ? Had her heart's best thoughts been 
 180
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 turned aside into the old channel of distrust? 
 She said in a most sarcastic manner, " A very 
 innocent question to ask, Miss Wilder. Per- 
 haps the cook can give you a better answer 
 than we." 
 
 The plot seemed to grow more intricate than 
 ever in Daisy's disturbed thoughts ! Had she 
 never once engaged in those night foragings 
 in the cook's pantry, she would have been more 
 in the dark than ever. Commanding all her 
 resolution, she arose from her chair, as if to 
 leave the room, but was hardly able to control 
 the look of scorn that her lips betrayed. 
 
 Condemn her you who will ! but find some 
 charity in your heart for her, who, having 
 faced her accusers in humility and innocence, 
 could no longer control her indignation at being 
 made to suffer the indignity of distrust and 
 accusation. 
 
 Turning to the Misses Bagley, she said, as 
 her little, lithe frame shook with emotion, but 
 not passion, " Miss Abigail and Miss Lucindy, 
 you have no right to question me in this way. I 
 have told you I am innocent of any complicity 
 or duplicity, and you should respect my words, 
 as I have yours." 
 
 181
 
 'Tvvixt You and Me. 
 
 She was about to leave with these words, 
 when Miss Lucindy called her back, saying, 
 "Miss Wilder, your words would be more re- 
 spected by us, were there not contradictory 
 proofs of their truth. "Will you examine this, 
 Miss Wilder? "and Miss Lucindy passed into 
 Daisy's outstretched hands the latter' s lace- 
 trimmed handkerchief! and, as she looked at its 
 pretty design, she read in one corner her own 
 initials, " D. W." 
 
 " Unmistakable proof, Miss Wilder, is it 
 not ? " said Miss Lucindy, as she noted with 
 grim satisfaction Daisy's manifest astonishment. 
 " Unmistakable proof, Miss Wilder, is it not ? " 
 she repeated. " Found by the cook in her pan- 
 try this morning ; left, perhaps, by accident ; 
 perhaps as a bribe for the silence of the cook, 
 by the trespasser. Are you satisfied who that 
 trespasser was ? " 
 
 Daisy's quick brain offered some explanation, 
 but it was an explanation she was not justified, 
 as yet, in giving to her accusers. She could 
 wait. She replied, " Yes, Miss Lucindy, this is 
 mine." Xo more. 
 
 There she stood, convicted, for the moment, by 
 circumstantial proof, and how to work out her 
 182
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 salvation seemed a problem. Apparently, the 
 " world was against her now," if ever, and 
 had she not done her duty ? She almost falt- 
 ered in her belief of justice ; but again that 
 voice, that little voice, and again she took 
 courage. 
 
 " Then you still refuse to confess, Miss 
 Wilder?" said Miss Lucindy, as if deter- 
 mined to receive an answer favorable to con- 
 viction. 
 
 " I refuse positively to confess to that of 
 which I know nothing," replied Daisy, in a 
 strong voice. " May I be excused now, please ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " In a few moments, Miss Wilder, after we 
 have told you of our great disappointment in 
 you," said Miss Abigail. " We had hoped for 
 better things from you. Indeed, both my sister 
 and myself had come to look upon you with 
 pride and growing affection 
 
 " Affection ! Could affection so soon give 
 way to distrust ? " thought Daisy ; but her heart 
 softened to her accusers, for she thought that 
 she saw Miss Abigail thrust quickly her hand- 
 kerchief into her pocket, while the sun, striking 
 on her face, left Daisy in doubt whether or no 
 183
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 a teardrop glistened upon the wrinkled face of 
 her preceptress. 
 
 Daisy chose to give Miss Abigail the benefit 
 of the doubt, even though the latter's words 
 were no proof of the affection she had once 
 maintained for her pupil. Miss Abigail said, in 
 the same stern voice, without a trace of emo- 
 tion, " Your resignation will be accepted, Miss 
 Wilder, at any time during the day you may 
 choose to tender it ; but we feel it our duty to 
 make of you a public example." 
 
 To Daisy the first part of the verdict seemed 
 a little concession. She was not to be turned 
 away ; but she was to ask to be turned away. 
 The difference was only a mild distinction, to 
 be sure, but she liked to think that perhaps the 
 Misses Bagley's so-called affection had " tem- 
 pered the wind to the shorn lamb." But a 
 public example ! A public example ! Surely hu- 
 miliation upon humiliation seemed to threaten 
 Daisy's innocence ; and she had hard work to 
 govern her resolutions, even though the still 
 small voice in her ear seemed ever calling, " Do 
 your duty, and nothing can harm you, even 
 though the world seem against you." 
 
 She hurried from the room. Her eyes were 
 184
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 blinded in their veil of tears, and not even the 
 loving embraces of her companions, who stood 
 waiting along the corridors and up the stairs, in 
 curious interest as to the issue of the hour, 
 could bring peace to her troubled mind. 
 
 " It was good to be alone," she felt ; alone 
 with her thoughts, even though those thoughts 
 brought despair, but not disgrace. She thought 
 of her home, where her loving parents waited 
 for her with open arms. Then, again, she saw 
 in fancy Rosemary McBurnie's sweet face, and 
 heard her saying those words of comfort, " Do 
 your duty, and nothing can harm you, even 
 though the world seem against you." 
 
 Had she not tried to steel herself to the world's 
 unkindness and suspicion ? Must she always be 
 misunderstood, except by the few ? Was not the 
 world against her to-day ? Thus she reasoned 
 with her troubled heart. She tossed and tossed 
 upon her little bed, and at last sobbed herself to 
 sleep, tired out, and weary from crying. 
 
 How long she lay sleeping she did not know, 
 but the moon was playing " peep boo " with the 
 clouds, as if threatening rain, when she awoke. 
 But hark ! Hark ! was it the coming storm 
 outside, and the sighing of the tall pine-trees 
 185
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 bending to the winds, or was it a human sigh ? 
 a sob ? 
 
 Daisy sat up in her bed, and listened. Again 
 it came, and still again, until in her nervousness 
 she could bear it no longer. She called in a 
 whisper, " Miss Scilley ! Beulah Scilley ! " 
 
 No answer to her call ! Putting her hand over 
 the little bed at her side, she ventured to take 
 that of her room-mate, saying in another hoarse 
 whisper, " Miss Scilley, is that you crying ? " 
 Again no answer. Still Daisy felt it was un- 
 mistakably Beulah Scilley who was crying, so, 
 patting the latter gently, she tried to offer the 
 comfort that her own bruised heart called for. 
 " Don't cry, Miss Scilley," she said, with great 
 tenderness of voice. " Don't cry. Is it because 
 I am going away you are crying ? " she asked. 
 
 But no answer came in response to her ques- 
 tion, and Daisy continued her conversation with 
 her silent listener, reasoning as her own heart 
 dictated. " Only think," she said, " how much 
 worse it might be ! I might be guilty of what 
 they accuse me, and deserve all this." 
 
 Still no answer from the bed at her side, 
 although Daisy fancied she heard a smothered 
 sob. " Yes," continued she, " it is better that I 
 186
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 should suffer for another, rather than that an- 
 other should suffer for me." 
 
 Still no answer. The darkness of the room 
 was lighted only by the fitful moon, and Daisy 
 could not see if her companion had, like her- 
 self once before, sobbed herself to sleep. 
 
 Daisy arose, and, by the light of the little 
 candle on her toilette table, continued her con- 
 versation with that other, her confidential friend, 
 whose pages were always open to the secrets of 
 her heart. By the light of the dimly burning 
 candle she wrote in her diary : 
 
 " Why is it, I wonder, that in the midst of my 
 sorrow I feel so light-hearted ? Something tells 
 me that after this storm passes over, the sun will 
 shine for me, yes, for me. 
 
 " And yet why do I think so ? when to-morrow, 
 you and I together, little silent friend, you and 
 I, little book, will start for home and friends. 
 
 "Friends! there, that reminds me of my good 
 friend Eosemary McBurnie, and my promise to 
 send her always a messenger to tell if I am happy 
 or miserable. Why, I am neither happy nor mis- 
 erable, although I am in disgrace." 
 
 So, stealthily creeping to the table, she took 
 from between the leaves of the book where she 
 187
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 had pressed it, on that happy summer day, and 
 folded, in an envelope addressed to her dear 
 friend Rosemary, the dried spray and the dead 
 blossom of the 
 
 188
 
 Unjust Accusations. 
 
 Marjoram. 
 Blushes. 
 
 Upon my knee she sits enthroned, 
 My little Margaret. 
 Ah, well-a-day, my little Queen ! 
 
 My merry Margaret. 
 Her voice is blissful melody : 
 Her lips like budding rose ; 
 And on her cheeks, sweet Innocence, 
 The only blush she knows. 
 Ah, well-a-day ! 
 
 My Margaret. 
 
 O Time, deal gently with my love, 
 My little Margaret. ' 
 Alack-a-day ! if sorrow change 
 
 My merry Margaret. 
 If Sin bring discord to her song, 
 
 Or blush of Shame should spread 
 Its hated breath upon her cheek, 
 I would that she were dead ! 
 Alack-a-day ! 
 
 My Margaret. 
 
 To Him I do commend thee ! 
 His Love will sure defend thee ; 
 His child He will confess thee. 
 And so I pray, " God bless thee ! " 
 My merry little Margaret. 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 189
 
 VI. 
 
 EXONERATED. 
 
 LILY OP THE VALLEY. RETURN OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 WHEN Daisy awoke the next morning from 
 her disturbed slumbers of the night, a 
 cold rain, like sleet, was beating unmercifully 
 against the windows. Long icicles hung from 
 the trees outside, and everything seemed in keep- 
 ing with Daisy's loneliness of heart. 
 
 Beulah Scilley had risen before her, and 
 Daisy tried in every way to catch a stealthy 
 look at the former's face, to see if she could 
 discover any tell-tale trace of the night's tears. 
 She fancied, as she saw Beulah reflected in the 
 mirror, that the latter's eyes looked swollen 
 from weeping, then satisfied herself, by another 
 stolen glance, that it was only fancy, and re- 
 turned to her first thought of the night, that 
 the sighing she had heard was but the soughing 
 of the wind, and that she had held her conversa- 
 tion with an imaginary listener, and that her 
 words of comfort had been misplaced. 
 13 193
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " How hard it did rain last night ! " she said 
 to her room-mate. " Did you hear the trees 
 blowing ? " she asked. 
 
 u Yes," replied Bculah Scilley. " It looked 
 like a storm when I came to bed, but you were 
 asleep then." 
 
 " But I woke up later, and thought that I 
 heard some one crying," said Daisy. " It must 
 have been either the pines, or that old willow- 
 tree down by the pond, swaying and bending 
 to the wind ; for, oh, how it blew ! I thought 
 at first it was you crying ; but you never cry, 
 do you, Miss Scilley ? " asked Daisy, and added, 
 " at least, I never saw you crying." Which was 
 quite true. For if it had been Beulah Scilley 
 who had so disturbed Daisy's night, the dark- 
 ness had so hid her that the latter did not, in 
 very truth, see her. 
 
 " I never saw you cry," repeated Daisy, as if 
 wishing to be satisfied about the night's dis- 
 turbance. 
 
 " Xo," replied Beulah Scilley ; " I do not cry 
 very often, and when I do, I do not intend to cry 
 in public. Neither do I cry for trifles. Tears 
 do not always indicate the worst suffering, for 
 sometimes those who never cry suffer the most." 
 194
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 Daisy Wilder, as she studied closely the face 
 of her room-mate, when she said these words, 
 could only feel that the latter spoke from per- 
 sonal experience. 
 
 " Well, I like a real good cry myself, when 
 anything troubles me," said Daisy. " Some- 
 how tears are a great relief. Now, last night, 
 I cried myself to sleep, and I feel better this 
 morning for it ; but I sha'n't shed another tear 
 for myself," she added, as if with a hidden 
 meaning in her determination. " Not for a 
 while, anyway, not while I am here, at least ; 
 but then, that will not be long, for you know, I 
 suppose, that I am going away in disgrace to- 
 morrow, Miss Scilley." 
 
 " Yes," replied the latter ; " Miss Abigail told 
 me that you were to leave us soon. But I 
 shall not stay long after you, Miss Wilder; 
 and I wish that I had never come ! " Saying 
 this, Beulah Scilley gave the open drawer before 
 her a sudden push, that made the little old- 
 fashioned mirror above it tremble. 
 
 " Oh, you will feel very differently, Miss 
 Scilley, when I am gone. I never was the right 
 one for your room-mate. We are so different 
 in every way," said Daisy. 
 195
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Inwardly, be it said, Daisy Wilder could not 
 help feeling a bit of satisfaction, at the marked 
 difference between herself and her room-mate ; 
 but the latter' s quick reply astonished Daisy : 
 " No, Miss Wilder, I do not think I was ever 
 fitted to come in close companionship with any 
 one. I was always very peculiar." 
 
 In the few weeks at the " Misses Bagley's 
 Fashionable Boarding-School," Daisy had never 
 before heard her room-mate talk so plainly to 
 any one. She became amazed at even this little 
 confidence displayed by her companion, and was 
 at a loss to explain the sudden change in the 
 latter. " Perhaps she, too, has been misunder- 
 stood through life," thought the sympathetic 
 Daisy ; " and I am as guilty as any one, for, 
 I must confess, Beulah Scilley has always been 
 a queer riddle to me." 
 
 " Well," said Daisy, " we are all peculiar 
 in our way, I suppose. Now, when I was a 
 little girl, mother was always afraid to let 
 me go visiting much alone, because she said I 
 told everything I knew ; and you, Miss Scilley, 
 are just the opposite, so the average is right. 
 We were both born that way, and cannot help 
 ourselves." 
 
 196
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 " No," interrupted Beulah Scilley ; " I was 
 not born this way ! I was born with a frank, 
 open nature like yours. But after iny mother 
 died (I never knew anything about my father, 
 and know less now), my aunt took me to bring 
 up, and my cousins were always making trouble 
 for me, repeating things which I never said, 
 and for which I was often wrongfully punished ; 
 until I determined I would not say anything, 
 in other words, I would just live to myself. So 
 it was, that my whole nature became changed, 
 and now it is too late too late!" and the 
 despair of Beulah's words was manifest in her 
 face. 
 
 To Daisy, the change in Beulah Scilley, now 
 so apparent, was painful rather than pleasing. It 
 was like a crushing blow that fells the tall pine- 
 tree of the forest, while the little saplings, in 
 their sheltered homes, withstand the elements. 
 To her, Beulah Scilley, with all her mysterious 
 traits, was as the pine-tree in its pride ; and now, 
 some storm, some unknown conflict of the heart, 
 seemed waging and breaking the proud spirit, 
 that until now had defied everything. 
 
 Daisy's pity was awakened ; forgetting all dif- 
 ferences, forgetting all blinding suspicions, her 
 197
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 tender heart was moved to pity, and going to 
 Beulah Scilley's side, she said, " 1 am sorry, Miss 
 Scilley, that you have not told me all this before, 
 for I might have helped you. "We might have 
 helped each other and enjoyed each other so 
 much so much ! hut I shall go away with the 
 feeling that I know you hetter now, for even this 
 little bit of confidence that you have given me," 
 said Daisy. 
 
 ' Oh, but you don't know me ! you don't know 
 me ! " persistently cried Beulah Scilley, almost 
 in a frenzy of excitement. 
 
 " "Well," said Daisy Wilder, trying to soothe the 
 hysterical girl, u at least, I know enough, Beulah, 
 to understand you better ; " and Daisy trembled 
 at her familiarity, for thus calling Miss Scilley, 
 for the first time, by her Christian name ; but 
 the latter did not resent it, and Daisy even 
 began to think that her conquest was on its 
 way to ultimate victory. 
 
 " But," said Beulah Scilley, " you do not un- 
 derstand me, and never will, until " 
 
 " Until you open your heart wide to me," in- 
 terrupted Daisy. 
 
 " But I cannot ! oh, I cannot ! " cried Beulah, 
 "for you will hate me when you see me as I 
 198
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 am ! " and the tone of her voice implied how 
 hard was the battle, how hard the conflict in the 
 girl's heart. 
 
 " No, no," said Daisy. " I shall not hate you, 
 I promise you. Never, Beulah." And Beulah, 
 as she looked inquiringly into Daisy's face, 
 as if for confirmation of the latter's words, 
 repeated interrogatively, " Never ? " with an 
 expressed doubt as to the possibility of being 
 loved by any one, and, above all, by Daisy 
 Wilder. 
 
 During the conversation, not a tear had been 
 shed by Beulah, but the wearied look in her eyes 
 indicated the storm-tossed soul within, and was 
 convincing proof of her words, " sometimes 
 those who never cry suffer the most." 
 
 Daisy regretted the intrusion of the breakfast- 
 bell, just at the important moment when she 
 began to feel that Beulah Scilley was leading up 
 to some greater confidence, to test her professed 
 faith and love. But death alone was the one only 
 condition to break through the immutable laws 
 of Bagley Hall ! and the call to breakfast was 
 not one to be ignored, this solemn call to a 
 still more solemn hour ; for all the meals had a 
 solemnity and a silence. And the two girls 
 199
 
 'Tvvixt You and Me. 
 
 descended to the dining-room, the one with 
 the sweetness of innocence about her, the other 
 with an indescribable something, known only to 
 herself, to distract her peace of mind and destroy 
 her appetite. 
 
 With a strong, firm step, Daisy passed Miss 
 Abigail, who, as usual, stood monitor at the 
 dining-room door. Daisy felt her cheeks red- 
 den as she bade Miss Abigail and the rest 
 " Good-morning." 
 
 Beulah Scilley, taking advantage of the situa- 
 tion, stole quietly away to her corner of the 
 table, without even the customary nod of recog- 
 nition to any one. It was Daisy Wilder who 
 became the cynosure of all eyes, her compan- 
 ions desiring to show by kindlier smiles than 
 ever before, even, their sympathy and love for 
 their schoolmate, since the news of Daisy's en- 
 forced leave had now reached their knowledge. 
 
 The Misses Bagley looked in vain for any 
 signs of contrition from Daisy Wilder ; for none 
 were visible upon the latter's honest face. 
 
 So is it that innocence brings with it a strength 
 
 that guilt fails to command, the strength that 
 
 comes with a clear conscience. And the little 
 
 voice still whispered its helpful message, "Do 
 
 200
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 your duty, and nothing can harm you, even 
 though the world seem against you." 
 
 Somehow, the breakfast seemed interminably 
 long to Daisy, and she could not help but note 
 the improvement in the coffee ; for the whole 
 family were served, from the one silver urn, to 
 coffee, not chiccory, as heretofore. 
 
 The breakfast over, Daisy went to her room 
 to prepare for the going away of to-morrow. She 
 was now no longer a pupil of the " Misses Bag- 
 ley's Fashionable Boarding-School." She had 
 only one command left to heed, and that was to 
 " Come to Recitation Room A " at a later hour. 
 She craved another conversation with Beulah 
 Scilley, but knew how impossible it would be, 
 since every hour was one of recitation until she 
 should meet her in the room below ; for was 
 she not to submit to a greater humiliation ? 
 What, she knew not ! 
 
 Daisy unlocked her trunk, and stood looking 
 into it, as if looking into Pandora's magic box, 
 as if trying to make it responsible for all the 
 " Troubles " which had come to her with that 
 first opening of it, when she had hidden away 
 the pretty pink silk as being unsuitable to the 
 hour and place ; but while she stood in reverie, 
 201
 
 T\vixt You and Me. 
 
 Hope came to her, even as to Pandora in her 
 tribulation and disturbed peace of mind. Some 
 good angel seemed ever whispering of that which 
 would reinstate her ; and that voice spoke to 
 her, as to Pandora and Epimetheus in their 
 troubles, and bade her hope. To her, the voice 
 spoke those same words of comfort, " Do your 
 dutv, and nothing can harm vou. even though the 
 
 7 O O 
 
 world seem against you." 
 
 As Daisy laid trinket after trinket and box 
 after box in the depths of her trunk, a new 
 strength came to her, and she worked diligently, 
 her thoughts ever turning, now, to her home, 
 anon, to Rosemary McBurnie ; while the fear of 
 wounding the hearts of those she loved was a 
 greater grief than any perplexity of the present 
 hour to her. But was she not innocent ? And 
 they would believe her ! With that knowledge 
 came strength to bear, strength to suffer. 
 
 A messenger at the door reminded Daisy that 
 the hour had come for her appearance in " Reci- 
 tation Room A." For what ? she dared not 
 question even of her own innocent heart. True, 
 that threat of a " public example " had not as 
 yet been carried out, and she felt that the coming 
 hour was to be the last chapter in her story of 
 202
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 humiliation. She bestowed unusual care upon 
 her hair, and with an uncommonly bright ribbon 
 at her throat she obeyed the summons. 
 
 She entered the room, and took in at a glance 
 the sombre dresses of her schoolmates, although 
 a little bunch of flowers worn by each girl seemed 
 to scatter its fragrance, and speak to her its 
 message of love and confidence. She was, as 
 ever, strong in her conviction of right ; strong, 
 as ever, in the companionship of her innocence. 
 What had she to fear? The world might, as 
 now, seem against her ; hers to be brave ! And 
 she faced her accusers, the Misses Bagley, with 
 a firmness and innocence of look and manner, 
 that seemed, she thought, for the moment to 
 disarm them both. 
 
 Miss Lucindy picked vigorously at her rusty 
 mitts, and Miss Abigail twisted nervously her 
 jute curls. Calmly, yet not in defiance, Daisy 
 Wilder stood to hear her accusers. It was Miss 
 Abigail who first addressed the pupils, drawing 
 a significant lesson from this hour of Daisy's 
 undeserved humiliation. She told of the uses of 
 discipline, of the punishment of transgressors of 
 law and order ; more especially, of that punish- 
 ment that must be inflicted upon those who 
 203
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 defied the discipline and laws of Bagley Hall, 
 a discipline and laws that must be maintained 
 for the success and good reputation of the 
 school. 
 
 Then Miss Lucindy gave her share of admoni- 
 tion, addressing her words more particularly to 
 Daisy Wilder herself, who stood by, not cast 
 down, either in look or heart. She could have 
 wished it otherwise ; that those whom she loved, 
 and loved her so well, might have been spared 
 all this anxiety for her, their schoolmate. This 
 seemed to be Daisy's regret of the hour as she 
 listened. 
 
 " And now, Miss Wilder," said Miss Lucindy, 
 in closing her remarks, " what have you to say 
 in your own defence ? It is not yet too late." 
 
 Miss Lucindy waited for Daisy's answer, which 
 the latter gave promptly, and in a firm voice, 
 " Miss Lucindy, I have nothing to say that 
 would please either you or Miss Abigail." 
 
 " You hear, young ladies," said Miss Lucindy, 
 turning to the pupils, " you hear that Miss 
 Wilder stands convicted by her own lips ; " and 
 as Miss Lucindy said the words, a look of satis- 
 faction overspread her wrinkled face, which, it 
 must be said, had until now worn just a shadow, 
 204
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 expressing the doubt in her mind of Daisy 
 Wilder's guilt. 
 
 Indeed, if the truth were told, both Miss 
 Abigail and Miss Lucindy had been hoping that 
 some other tribunal than the one over which 
 they presided would settle the question of Daisy 
 Wilder's innocence, and the guilt of the unknown 
 transgressor of the rules of Bagley Hall. 
 
 " Miss Wilder has confessed, you see," con- 
 tinued Miss Lucindy. 
 
 " I have confessed to nothing, Miss Lucindy ! " 
 interrupted Daisy, in a determined, though still 
 respectful manner. 
 
 " Then will you be kind enough, Miss Wilder, 
 to explain your words : that you can say noth- 
 ing that we, my sister and myself, would be 
 pleased to hear," said Miss Lucindy. 
 
 " I meant just this, Miss Lucindy," said Daisy : 
 " that you think me guilty of everything of 
 which you accuse me, and I could never make 
 you believe anything else." 
 
 " And do you still mean to say, Miss Wilder," 
 said Miss Lucindy, " that you are not the 
 offender ? " 
 
 " I do, Miss Lucindy," replied Daisy. 
 
 " Can you tell us, then, who was the offender, 
 205
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Miss Wilder ? Or have you any suspicions of an- 
 other to help establish your own innocence ? " 
 inquired Miss Lucindy ; and Daisy Wilder 
 replied, 
 
 " Xo, Miss Lucindy, 1 do not know who was 
 the offender ; and if I have any suspicions, they 
 could be nothing but suspicions, and I have no 
 right to clear my own name from disgrace by 
 bringing shame upon another's." 
 
 The quiet way in which Daisy said these 
 words took from them the charge of open rebuke 
 to her elders ; but it set them to thinking, as 
 never before, and made them more charitably 
 disposed towards the helpless young girl stand- 
 ing before them. Could it have been possible to 
 have revoked Daisy Wilder's sentence of expul- 
 sion, without humiliation on their part, it is to 
 be feared that the Misses Bagley would have 
 done so. 
 
 Again, Miss Lucindy called attention to the 
 damaging fact, the " circumstantial proof," 
 as she called it, to the little piece of lace 
 finery, which, it must be allowed, was the one 
 only bit of evidence against Daisy Wilder's com- 
 plicity, if nothing else, in the night's escapade of 
 which she alone stood accused. 
 206
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 Daisy attempted no strong argument against 
 this evidence, and injury to her case, except to 
 say, " I cannot explain more than I have, 
 Miss Lucindy. I repeat that I am innocent of 
 this whole charge against me;" and Daisy's 
 voice resounded from one corner of the recita- 
 tion-room to the other. Innocence, determina- 
 tion, and indignation all in the words : " I am 
 innocent of this whole charge against me." 
 
 Over in the farthest corner of the room sat 
 one in whose face were the marks of the conflict 
 that had been going on in her heart ; and as 
 Daisy uttered the words, " I am innocent ! " a 
 voice, strong even in its feebleness of emotion, 
 cried out emphatically, 
 
 " Yes, she is innocent ! It is I who am 
 guilty ! " 
 
 Teachers and pupils followed the voice to 
 the farthest corner ; and a look of surprise 
 betrayed itself upon all their faces, as the self- 
 accused Beulah Scilley stood up to face her 
 audience ! It was the Misses Bagley who seemed 
 to be the most surprised, as it was Daisy Wilder 
 who appeared the least so. 
 
 To the former, Beulah Scilley had been the 
 one of all others whose conduct had seemed 
 207
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 to them unimpeachable. To the latter, young 
 as she was, there had always been that indefin- 
 able something which had poisoned her youth- 
 ful mind with suspicion and prejudice ; but 
 no\v, as Beulah Scilley stood before her, in her 
 helplessness, Daisy felt a sympathy for her com- 
 panion which had its birth with the little con- 
 fidential talk above stairs in the early morning. 
 The night of tears was all explained now; but 
 the humiliation of Beulah Scilley was not the 
 explanation Daisy would have chosen. 
 
 A solemn hush followed Beulah Scilley 's con- 
 fession, a moment of embarrassment to all 
 except her ; for, with her confession, the burden 
 at her heart was removed, and the proud girl's 
 whole nature was convulsed, and she gave vent 
 to an outburst of tears and sobs pitiful to listen 
 to. Daisy begged that she might lead her com- 
 panion away to the peace of their quiet room. 
 But, no, Beulah had one more word to say be- 
 fore she should accept of Daisy's gentle kind- 
 nesses. 
 
 She had not intended, she said, that any one 
 should suffer for her misdeed when she com- 
 mitted it. The little lace-trimmed handkerchief 
 was not left behind her as a decoy. That was 
 208
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 purely an accident. She had been tracing its 
 letters (Daisy Wilder having lent it to her for 
 that purpose), and it must have fallen from her 
 belt when she trespassed upon the cook's do- 
 mains ; for, " I was so hungry ! " said Beulah, 
 in such a pathetic tone that all the girls sym- 
 pathized with Beulah's physical state of hunger, 
 even if they could not at once forgive the latter 
 for bringing upon their beloved schoolmate, 
 Daisy Wilder, so much trouble ; but, following 
 Daisy's example, each girl vied with the other 
 to express a new confidence in the self-accused 
 Beulah, and judgment was suspended for the 
 time being. 
 
 Alone with Daisy, Beulah opened her aching 
 heart anew to her ; and as the door of " Room 
 Number Ten " closed against all intruders, the 
 latter said, " Oh, I have so wanted to tell you 
 everything, Daisy, but I could not ! I knew 
 yon must hate me, and I have hated myself. 
 Although I am so miserable now, I am happier, 
 far happier, than I have been for weeks. And 
 you won't quite hate me, Daisy ? You will love 
 me just a little, just a little, Daisy ? " urged 
 Beulah. " I might have been different if I had 
 been better understood and never come here ! " 
 u 209
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 And Daisy ! Did she not know full well 
 what that one word meant ? Understood ! She 
 had entered the "Misses Bagley's Fashionable 
 Boarding-School " a merry-hearted girl, but 
 suspicion and ill-meted discipline had made 
 another person of her, and she longed for the 
 time when honest fun could be tolerated, and 
 not frowned upon as something to be deplored. 
 
 And that time was coming ! Even now its 
 promise was heralded, for the Misses Bagley 
 had been given new light, and already were led 
 to examine themselves by the dawning of love 
 and charity, which crept into their hearts with 
 the lesson of the hour. Carefully they ex- 
 amined their mode of discipline, their laws of 
 compulsory obedience, and promised a refor- 
 mation, in which obedience should be tempered 
 with better judgment. 
 
 And the victory was Daisy Wilder's ! She it 
 was who had vanquished every enemy to her 
 happiness at Bagley Hall. And the little voice 
 in her ear seemed still saying, by way of en- 
 couragement in the future and in justification 
 of the past, " Do your duty, and nothing can 
 harm you, even though the world seem against 
 you." 
 
 210
 
 Exonerated. 
 
 Before night, the Angel of Peace spread its 
 wings over Bagley Hall, bringing forgiveness 
 for Beulah Scilley, and from out Daisy Wilder's 
 " Pandora box " came Hope for future happiness 
 with the reconciliation that came to all. The 
 struggle had been a hard one for Daisy, but 
 she could bid defiance to it now, with the re- 
 turn of sunshine, the return of happiness; and 
 she hastened to cheer the heart of her friend, 
 Rosemary McBurnie, by sending to her a fra- 
 grant spray of the 
 
 LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 211
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Lily of the Valley. 
 
 Return of Happiness. 
 
 Oh, my life was full of Sorrow, 
 
 Yesterday ! 
 Long 1 pleaded that the Morrow 
 
 Bring To-day '. 
 
 Brinr/ the sunshine of the Morrow ; 
 So I bade adieu to Sorrow, 
 
 Yesterday. 
 
 For the sunshine ivith the Morrow. 
 
 Came To-day ! 
 Banished Care, and banished Sorrow, 
 
 Yesterday ! 
 
 Joy bells, ringing in the Morrow : 
 Told the going out of Sorroic, 
 Yesterday .' 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 212
 
 VII. 
 
 AT THE MEECY OF THE SEA. 
 
 SWEET PEA. DEPARTURE. 
 
 MEANTIME, the little island which had been 
 to Rosemary and Daisy a summer home 
 since earliest childhood, still opened its harbor 
 of refuge to shelter and protect the unlucky 
 crafts that did not heed the warning call of the 
 bell buoy off the Bar, or the revolving light in 
 the light-house top ; but the winter thus far had 
 been one of peace and freedom from disaster, for 
 only a heavily laden coal barge had accepted of 
 the hospitality thus offered. 
 
 To be sure, anxiety and prayers for its safety 
 had for a brief hour disturbed the hearts of 
 those on shore, as they watched the black object 
 battling with the elements ; but when it dropped 
 anchor in the harbor of safety, excitement was 
 over, and the island relapsed into its quietude, 
 where " wars " never came, and where " rumors 
 of wars " only reached when the mail came in, 
 which of late had lost a little of its accustomed 
 215
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 regularity, for the old " Farmer's Almanac " had 
 rightly said, " About now, cold, with harsh, va- 
 riable weather, and high winds." 
 
 So news from the " continent " became infre- 
 quent, and life on the island was a singularly 
 quiet one, rarely disturbed in its peace except 
 as now and then, with the " passing away " of one 
 or another of its octogenarians, which was al- 
 ways commented upon as " a happy change " by 
 those who were left to testify to the virtues 
 and the usefulness of the long life ended in 
 glory. 
 
 In some way, news of Beulah Scilley's humil- 
 iation had reached the island (it was even 
 said, however, that Beulah herself had furnished 
 the account), although Daisy Wilder's name had 
 never been mentioned in connection with the 
 story that reached Beulah's home. The account, 
 as received, was viewed in every light, and much 
 justice was done all, by the honest criticism of 
 the islanders, whose loyalty bound them together 
 in clannish union. 
 
 Said Mrs. Tobey, " an old inhabitant," " Well, 
 
 the poor thing never had any mothering, and 
 
 the Lord knows, Mrs. Barney's hands and heart 
 
 were full without her;" and the former's hus- 
 
 216
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 band, an old superannuated captain who lived 
 always in a past over which Neptune reigned 
 supreme, replied, " Yes, wife, that girl Beulah 
 was jest a leetle bit too much o' ballast, there ! " 
 Which was all quite true. 
 
 But to return. Life in the winter on the 
 island was quite in contrast to that when the 
 summer visitors came, with the rumbling of 
 baggage-wagons, and a love in their hearts 
 for the natural beauties and advantages of their 
 summer home. The occupations of the islanders 
 themselves changed, too, with the seasons. 
 
 At the first sign of winter, old Sam Barnard 
 (whose years even had never given to him other 
 than that of the nickname " Breezy Barnard," 
 because of his vivacity a mild name to give his 
 weakness ! which, however, Father Time had 
 in no small measure crushed out of the old man's 
 nature), would retire to his boat-house on the 
 wharf, and with trembling fingers mend his 
 time-worn fishing-nets, that they might be ready 
 for another season ; and later the old man would 
 bring out his pets, his twin rowboats, the 
 " Swan " and the " Cygnet," to receive their 
 new coat of paint, that they might be launched 
 upon the waters and do their share in enter- 
 217
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 taining and, too, in increasing Sam's weekly 
 revenue. 
 
 The engine, whose speed had so disturbed 
 Mrs. Valentine, was seemingly tired out and 
 resting, as were Mrs. Valentine's nerves. 
 Mild jollifications, such as family teas and the 
 like harmless amusements, were indulged in, as 
 if to reunite the bond of relationship which the 
 summer life had separated, but not severed. 
 One hostelry kept open its doors to catch the 
 stray traveller who lingered longer than his 
 companions, that he might hear the roar of old 
 Ocean ; and old Ocean, true to its birthright, 
 roared just now as never before. 
 
 The weather-wise old captains sat in conclave 
 over a storm that was brewing, as indicated by 
 the signals of one wiser than they, booked in 
 storm and tempest lore. 
 
 And it came at last! came, with all its 
 fury of white-capped waves, that beat against 
 the sea wall on the south side of the island, 
 till the high bluff seemed to grow weaker with 
 every tempest, with every storm. 
 
 The wind and the snow had their little game 
 of battledoor and shuttlecock ; and the night 
 closed in ! just as the night closed in upon 
 218
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 the " Leviathan " in those other days, which 
 recalled themselves anew to the sorrowful heart 
 of the Widow Valentine with every such storm 
 as the present one. 
 
 Again she looked out on the night ! 
 
 Again she prayed the prayer that God would 
 care for " those who go down to the sea in 
 ships ! " And many hearts responded to her 
 cry, for the fury of that storm was one that 
 must ever remain imprinted in the memory of 
 the oldest inhabitants of the little island. 
 
 Again Mrs. Valentine and her daughter 
 Phoebe sat together, each trying to shut from 
 her own knowledge, and that of the other, the 
 wildness of the storm outside, by an attempt at 
 conversation. It was the night following a visit 
 from Beulah Scilley's aunt, Mrs. Barney, when 
 the latter had taken her neighbors, the Valen- 
 tines, into her confidence, and said, 
 
 " Beulah always was a singular child. 1 never 
 could find that girl's heart, when she was young, 
 and I never have since. My sister, when she 
 died (poor thing!), put Beulah in my care until 
 her father should come back to claim her ; but 
 Richard Scilley will never quit his roving life of 
 a sailor long enough to land on this island to 
 219
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 put in his claim. Ho was a good-for-naught 
 always, yes, even when Susan J. married 
 him. But 1 meant the girl should have an 
 education, at any rate, and how I have scrimped 
 and scrimped to send her to that fashionable 
 boarding-school ! And now, just see ! " 
 
 And as Mrs. Barney finished the story of 
 Beulah's short life, she seemed to look as she 
 felt, that the latter had disgraced herself and 
 everybody belonging to her. It was to be de- 
 plored, that with the story of Beulah's disgrace 
 there could not have come that other of her new 
 life at Bagley Hall, and that helpful friendship 
 with Daisy Wilder. 
 
 No, Mrs. Barney never had found the way 
 to Beulah's heart. Indeed, it may almost be 
 doubted if she ever had the time to do so. She 
 had had her own little brood to guard and look 
 after, and Beulah Scilley had been to her only 
 another care ; but she had tried to do her duty 
 by the girl as well as she knew how ; yet, as 
 Captain Tobey had wisely said, " Beulah Scilley 
 had been an unneeded bit o' ballast." It had 
 remained, then, as has been seen, for Daisy 
 Wilder to become the successful explorer of 
 that organ of Beulah Scilley's anatomy. 
 220
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 " Who was Beulah's father ? " asked Phoebe 
 Valentine of her mother, as the two sat to- 
 gether the night of the storm. " Mrs. Barney 
 does not seem to have any too much love for 
 her brother-in-law. Who was he?" 
 
 " Oh, some off-islander, I believe," replied 
 Mrs. Valentine, intimating in her tone that, as 
 Richard Scilley was an o^f-i slander, the islanders 
 were not to be held responsible for any of his 
 shortcomings. 
 
 " And was he ever a sea captain ? " again 
 inquired Phoebe, with a desire, let it be said, 
 to engage her mother in conversation, and so 
 make her oblivious to the sound of the storm 
 outside, rather than in any real interest which 
 she had in the fortunes and fate of Richard 
 Scilley. 
 
 " Oh, no," replied her mother ; " I doubt if 
 Richard Scilley ever aspired to so high a place 
 in the world as that. Although, as Mrs. Barney 
 says, he has always been a good-for-naught, yet 
 I am disposed to agree with Captain Coleman, 
 who met him out in Australia, and think with 
 him, Scilley was a ' misfortunate.' He has 
 always led a roving life, sometimes that of 
 a landsman, but oftener, I think, that of a 
 221
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 sailor (although I believe he has been a Jonah 
 on every ship he sailed with ! ) ; but nothing has 
 now been heard from him for many, many 
 years." 
 
 " And his wife, what of her, mother ? " inter- 
 rupted Phoebe. 
 
 " Well, between you and me," replied her 
 mother, " I never thought Susan J. just the 
 right balance-wheel for him. But she is dead 
 and gone, poor thing ! and perhaps he is, too, 
 as to that. I do not like to be uncharitable, but 
 I must say, though, that I think, from what I 
 have heard of him, he was always too light- 
 headed to go to the bottom of the sea : he 
 would float in any storm. But there ! it is all 
 hearsay with me. He started for the Austra- 
 lian gold fields full of visions ; but Captain 
 Coleman says everything went wrong with him 
 from the outset, and finally, when the news 
 came of his wife's Susan J.'s death, he 
 lost heart entirely. Such unfortunates need our 
 sympathy as well as censure. I never saw the 
 man in my life, but they tell me that Beulah 
 favors her mother in looks. Peculiar girl ! but 
 I cannot say what has made her so, inheri- 
 tance or education." 
 
 OO9
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 So Phoebe Valentine did not pursue further 
 her investigations of Richard Scilley, " the 
 raisfortunate," and soon she and her mother 
 retired to their rooms for the night, Mrs. Val- 
 entine with an ominous feeling that such a 
 storm must bring disaster. 
 
 And disaster came ! 
 
 At midnight, the discordant sounds of the 
 town-crier's signal-horn announced to the 
 sleepers in all its horror, " Wreck on the south 
 side of the island ! " To many, as to the 
 Widow Valentine, it brought sad memories ; 
 for to the latter it came with that anniversary 
 of an hour which had for almost half a century 
 been her " reckoning day." 
 
 All was excitement in the usually quiet town, 
 for was it not the time when 
 
 " Men must work ; 
 And women must weep ; 
 
 And the harbor bar lies moaning " ? 
 
 Stout hearts responded to the cry of alarm, and 
 brawny hands were outstretched to aid in the 
 work of rescue, already begun by that valiant 
 company of men who, through the dark watches 
 of the night, become in reality their " brother's 
 keeper," as they patrol the long beach and defy 
 223
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the elements, ever ready to respond to " Ship 
 ahoy ! " with the life-line and manly courage 
 and bravery ! 
 
 It was a vivid picture, that scene of disaster! 
 
 The long, unbroken stretch of beach, strewn 
 with wreckage, which the storm-tossed ocean 
 was ever bringing to the feet of the excited 
 crowd on shore ! 
 
 The high bluff, shaking and quivering under 
 the strain, as if threatening dissolution from its 
 parent, Mother Earth ! 
 
 Lanterns, up and down the shore at intervals, 
 only served to add to the gloom of the darkness 
 and threatening death ! 
 
 The voices of the men seemed as whispers to 
 the hoarse roars of the mighty ocean, tossing 
 and Becthirig in its anger ! 
 
 Off in the stormy waters, outlined against a 
 background of darkness and despair, was the 
 ship that cried for succor ! Her tall masts bend 
 to the ruthless fury of the gale, and their fall 
 sounds like a prolonged cry of misery, which, 
 when the roll shall be called, will be echoed in 
 the brave hearts of the crew, when it will be 
 known that some of their companions have been 
 swept away in the darkness ! 
 224
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 Every man on shore knew the peril that 
 threatened that sailor family, as through the 
 fitful flashes of the distress signals could be 
 seen the struggle the sailors were making for 
 life ! 
 
 Lifeboats were useless in such a wild night, 
 but hands were ever ready and outstretched to 
 man them, if need be ! The one thought was, 
 rescue, in the minds of all, whether clinging 
 with benumbed hands to the rigging, or stand- 
 ing eagerly anxious to succor their brothers in 
 peril ! 
 
 " The life-line ! The life-line ! " was the cry ; 
 and as the life-line sped through the dark night 
 of warning, eyes peered into the darkness, wait- 
 ing, watching, for the issue. Alas ! it has 
 failed on its errand ! And another, and another, 
 follows the flash of the howitzer, and the prayers 
 of those who send them ! 
 
 At last ! At last ! God be praised ! The 
 hoarse, prolonged cry from those on shore finds 
 a response from the grateful hearts of those in 
 jeopardy at sea, although the lips falter in their 
 weakness, as the benumbed hands grasp the 
 life-line that will bring with it prolonged misery 
 to some, but help to others, who can still fight 
 15 225
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the raging of the sea and the battle for life ! 
 The moments seem interminable to the waiting, 
 anxious crowd, whose hands tremble with eager 
 expectancy, as the life-line starts on its return 
 mission, with its weight of benumbed humanity ! 
 
 By the dim light of the lanterns, the pale 
 faces of the sailors are visible in their mute 
 appeal for help. To some it has come too late, 
 for it is found some lips are stilled forever, 
 and the crowd bend in reverence, to Him, the 
 Saviour of Souls, the Conqueror ! The work of 
 the resuscitation of the rest is now the demand 
 of the hour ; and the weary eyelids open, and 
 the feeble lips try their very utmost to speak 
 the thankfulness of the heart, while the dawn- 
 ing daylight reveals the havoc of the night ! 
 
 Such was the wreck of the " Meteor," on that 
 winter's night. 
 
 It was a slow, almost disheartening experience 
 for the brave survivors of that night of terror, 
 in their efforts to recover from its exposures ; 
 and as, one by one, the sailors bade " adieu " to 
 their benefactors, the links in memory's chain 
 became sundered, and the former started out 
 again in their life upon the waters, while the 
 226
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 latter comprehended anew the story of the Good 
 Samaritan ; but the wreck of the ill-fated ship 
 remained beaten about by the waves, a monu- 
 ment to those of its crew who gave up their lives 
 on that night, and slept in Eternity's waters. 
 
 Amongst the temporary homes offered the 
 few survivors of that storm, none opened wider 
 its door than that of the Widow Valentine, who, 
 with her daughter Phcebe, stood ready in such 
 an hour of emergency to interpret, in its most 
 sacred meaning, the Golden Rule. With the 
 aid of an old woman, who in her younger days 
 had been a most efficient nurse and still had a 
 liking for the profession, Mrs. Valentine and 
 Phrebe watched with loving care over the sailor 
 committed to their keeping, although his case 
 did not respond satisfactorily to the nursing be- 
 stowed upon him, for convalescence was slow. 
 
 Little could be learned of the sick man, even 
 from his shipmates, save that the latter had 
 once looked upon him as a weak-minded man, 
 who seemed always to be living in a life of 
 regret. It was to one of these sailors that Mrs. 
 Valentine turned for some further knowledge of 
 him whose helplessness appealed to her tender 
 motherly heart. 
 
 227
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 "What do I know of him, ma'am ? is it you 
 ask ? Nothing," said the man thus addressed. 
 
 " What ! not even his name ? " asked Mrs. 
 Valentine. " Then, pray, how did you address 
 him ? " 
 
 " Oh, ay, ay, ma'am ; we had a name for him, 
 and you can call him the same if you like. This 
 is the way of it ; " and the shipwrecked sailor, 
 to whom the Fates had been kind, and restored 
 to his old-time self, commenced to explain the 
 circumstances that led to the naming of the 
 unknown. 
 
 " We had put into port off the coast of Africa, 
 and one day the captain came back to the ship 
 with this man in tow. (You see we were one 
 hand short, for the Swede, Carl Olson, God 
 rest his soul ! had, a little while before, entered 
 Davy Jones' locker.) Well, as I was a-saying, 
 the new hand came aboard with the captain, and 
 of course we all wanted to be friendly with him, 
 but we never had been told what his name was. 
 So, one day, I made bold to ask him. 
 
 " Says I, ' Who are you, shipmate ? ' 
 
 " ' I am a sinner,' says he. 
 
 " ' Then we belong to the one family,' says L 
 
 " Well, ma'am, that was all that we could get 
 2-28
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 from him, although all the crew lent a hand at 
 trying to find out; but all the answer any of us 
 got was, ' I am a sinner.' 
 
 " He did n't have very much to say to us. 
 Silent, like, all the time. Leastwise, he seemed 
 to be talking to himself for a good part ; and 
 when we boys would tease him, he always took 
 our teasing good-natured enough ; but he was 
 always a-talking about her ! Some sweet- 
 heart, we supposed, for he was always a-saying, 
 ' Poor girl ! where is she now ? oh, if I had n't 
 left her ! I must find her ! ' 
 
 " He seemed to the rest of us weak-minded, 
 like ; and yet there were days, ma'am, when he 
 was as wise as the next one. Of course he was 
 lovesick, or love-silly, whichever you please to 
 call it ; and finally he got to be known as ' Silly 
 Sinner.' Oh, but he was sharp, though, I can 
 tell you. He had his choice of names. Some- 
 how, he did n't mind being called a ' Sinner,' but 
 to be called k Silly ' was quite another thing. 
 You should have seen him the day Steve John- 
 son called him ' Silly.' Why, his eyes looked 
 fire and brimstone, and he just faced Steve and 
 doubled up his fists to him, and said, ' No, not 
 that ! Don't you call me that, ever, man ! ' And 
 229
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 no one aboard that ship dared ever afterwards 
 to call him ' Silly ' again, though we all thought 
 he was a bit weak-minded : and until that day 
 we always called him harmless. 
 
 " No, ma'am, he did n't seem to mind it one 
 bit if we called him ' Sinner,' and so he always 
 went by the name of ' that Sinner ' aboard ship 
 for the rest of the voyage, until we anchored, 
 here in this harbor, at least. So now you have 
 it, all the name we know of, ma'am." 
 
 And this was all the satisfaction and infor- 
 mation that Mrs. Valentine could gain of her 
 patient. She did not look favorably upon his 
 ship's name ; and after a conversation with 
 Phcebe, they both determined upon the favorite 
 one given by the islanders to all who had no 
 claims upon the island, and occasionally, be it 
 said, bestowed upon those who felt, as did Rose- 
 mary McBurnie and Daisy Wilder, the name ill- 
 fitted. 
 
 Yes, " Stranger," he must be called, and 
 " Stranger " he would have to remain until the 
 dulled senses should resume their work, and the 
 wheels of Memory revolve more understandinglv 
 about a Past which seemed so veiled in obscurity 
 and forgetf ulness ; for everything seemed blotted 
 230
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 from his mind, except that one night when he 
 had clung to life with a tenacity ill-proportioned 
 to his strength, and his Past dated only from that 
 night of anxious vigil. Everything else seemed 
 a blank to him. The physician held out only 
 one hope, which was that as the shock had 
 brought the climax, so perhaps it might be a 
 return of reason would come with some other 
 sudden emotion, that should open wide the 
 doors of the Past, with the joy of a Present in 
 the anticipations of a Future ! 
 
 But the " Stranger " would sit for hours peer- 
 ing through his latticed blinds, and watching the 
 ocean about him. He positively refused to have 
 his blinds opened wide, sometimes giving as 
 an excuse that the light was painful to his eyes, 
 but oftener expressing his fear that some one 
 would see him ; for he had a dislike to company, 
 and avoided everybody but those who ministered 
 so tenderly to him. And the Widow Valentine 
 and her helpers never faltered in their care, the 
 widow strengthened ever with the thought, " I 
 am doing, as I would to God others might have 
 done for him." Once she tried to test the 
 " Stranger's " strength, but, alas ! with a result 
 that only emphasized his weakness. 
 231
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " How did you like a seafaring life, Stranger ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Don't know much about it. Only lived 
 through one night of it," he replied. 
 
 Alas ! the one night he had lived through was 
 his only memory, and pity 't was, that one, too, 
 could not have been buried in forgetf illness 
 with those others of his life. Once only did 
 the man manifest the least return to reason, 
 and himself. That came when Nurse Dobson 
 stood by, rubbing and bathing his poor hands, 
 that still bore the marks of the battle for 
 life. Her attention was attracted to the picture 
 of a young child tattooed into the Stranger's 
 wrist. 
 
 "What a pretty little girl, Stranger!" said 
 Nurse Dobson, as she divided her thoughts, 
 between the face that smiled out from its strange 
 framing, and reflections over the barbarous cus- 
 tom which had so successfully, if not artistically, 
 accomplished its delineation. 
 
 The man looked down at the image imprinted 
 thus indelibly into his flesh, and for the first time 
 a smile seemed to overspread his wan face. He 
 made a feeble effort to raise to his lips the almost 
 lifeless arm (for it still bore the signs of the con- 
 232
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 flict with Jack Frost) , as if to kiss the picture 
 upon it. 
 
 " Who is she, Stranger ? " asked Nurse Dob- 
 son. " Ah ! some little sweetheart, I guess. 
 Is it so ? " And as she put the questions to 
 her patient, she hoped, almost beyond hope, that 
 the picture might prove a mirror to reflect 
 the Stranger's past, and to unloose his silent 
 tongue. 
 
 But the vacant stare was resumed, and the 
 conversation was dropped ; and the Stranger 
 returned to his old life of silence. 
 
 And the winter merged into spring. 
 
 The moors again spread their carpet of prom- 
 ised loveliness. 
 
 The white fleet in the harbor unfurled their 
 sails as if waiting for their absent crews. 
 
 " The sound of the hammer was again heard 
 in the land," in preparation ; for Summer was 
 the expected guest of To-morrow, a To- 
 morrow that others beside the islanders antici- 
 pated. 
 
 Off in her city home Rosemary McBurnie was 
 counting the days that must pass before she 
 should turn her face that face now so pale 
 233
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 towards her summer home, there to welcome 
 the breezes, that she hoped would be an elixir to 
 bring again her lost strength. Already the 
 annual message had been sent to Sam Meader, 
 to loosen from its moorings the garden boat, 
 and anchor it in its old-time harbor between the 
 cottages on the beach. 
 
 " Mamma," said Rosemary, as the prepara- 
 tions for departure were drawing near comple- 
 tion, " mamma, I am hoping so much from this 
 summer. What will it bring, I wonder ? " 
 
 In the motber's heart the question was re- 
 peated, "What will it bring?" 
 
 Oh, wondering waiting hearts ! " Take no 
 thought for the morrow," but learn the lesson 
 of the lilies, and watch the sparrows in their 
 fall. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Rosemary, " that we shall 
 have to wait weeks, perhaps, for the Wilders ; 
 but then it is so much easier to wait for a 
 friend than to say, ' Good-bye.' I think I will 
 send Daisy a message to let her know that we 
 are soon going to our island Paradise." 
 
 The two girls, in their great fondness for 
 their summer home, were so accustomed to 
 speak in such exaggerated terms of it, that 
 234
 
 At the Mercy of the Sea. 
 
 the only thought which suggested itself to the 
 mother's heart was that their island home 
 might bring happiness and convalescence to 
 Rosemary, and be indeed an earthly Paradise, 
 in its fulfilment of hoped-for blessings to 
 both ; and so, buoyed up by such thoughts, 
 Mrs. McBurnie willingly lent herself to a uni- 
 son of sympathy to send a messenger to Daisy 
 Wilder ; and that messenger was a floral spray 
 with the blush of promise upon the fragrant 
 blossoms of the 
 
 SWEET PEA. 
 
 235
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Sweet Pea. 
 Departure. 
 
 Farewell '. 
 I am going : 
 There, to wait the coming of your feet. 
 
 I am going : 
 But without tliee life could ne'er be sweet. 
 
 Happy day. 
 That day of meeting ! 
 
 Though To-day, 
 My word of greeting 
 Is, Farewell ! 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 236
 
 VIII. 
 
 BAGLEY HALL. 
 
 ANEMONE. EXPECTATION. 
 
 \ T the " Misses Bagley's Fashionable Board- 
 IA. ing-School " all is confusion and prepara- 
 tion. The school year is about to close. Adieus 
 will soon be spoken, and the separations to fol- 
 low will be to some of the pupils a separation 
 over which uncertainty will breathe its benedic- 
 tion. For across the continent is a long, long 
 journey, and it is doubtful how many may in the 
 future take it, since to some, home is bounded by 
 the broad Atlantic ; while to others, the Pacific 
 coast is their " Golden Gate " to home and 
 happiness ! 
 
 And such changes as the few short months 
 have wrought ! So is it that influence, whether 
 for good or bad, can mould our lives and lay 
 claim to our inclinations. 
 
 Daisy Wilder is again looking into her " Pan- 
 dora box ; " and as she lifts from its hiding-place 
 the dainty pink silk dress, her mind reverts 
 239
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 to that day of her coining to Bag-ley Hall. Only 
 a few short months ago, and yet how different 
 is everything now ! Teachers and pupils are 
 no longer living in separate worlds, but bound 
 together by a bond -of sympathy that draws 
 the veil of oblivion over the shortcomings of 
 both, which but yesterday stared in their magni- 
 fied magnitude, and were as stumbling-blocks 
 in the way of happiness and harmony. Even 
 Miss Abigail's jute head-dress becomes to 
 the imaginative a halo about her wrinkled face, 
 transfigured by the forgiving light of mutual 
 love ! 
 
 Miss Lucindy's time-worn mitts may still con- 
 ceal homely bits of God's workmanship, but the 
 impressions of sympathetic hands give them 
 a new beauty in the clasp of good- will. 
 
 And the friendship between Daisy Wilder and 
 Beulah Scilley is an awakening that has brought 
 with it a mutual helpful influence, and many 
 happy hours, for the two girls have become 
 almost inseparable since that day of Daisy 
 Wilder's justification, which, alas ! brought with 
 it the accusation of Beulah Scilley ; but has not 
 much " good come out of Nazareth " ? with the 
 return of the latter's birthright, an open 
 240
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 nature, and a confidence given to others which 
 calls out a like confidence from those about 
 her. 
 
 The two girls are still room-mates in " Room 
 Number Ten ;" for Daisy, to whom the choice of 
 a change had been given, insisted that Beulah, 
 and Beulah only, must be her chosen companion, 
 and the close of the school year finds them living 
 over in retrospect the days of the past with their 
 attendant crosses and pleasures of life. 
 
 Beulah, it is, who has become the sapling to be 
 protected and to be advised, while Daisy Wilder 
 is become as the pine-tree, full of strength, full 
 of that strength of character which makes her a 
 leader and an adviser to her schoolmates. 
 
 " Well," said Daisy, as she packed away her 
 books (it is to be feared, with a certain amount 
 of satisfaction which she could not disguise), 
 * well, I have really done better than I thought 
 1 should when I first entered this little room, 
 and became piece of merchandise ' Number Ten/ 
 I know the Greek alphabet by heart, and as for 
 Algebra well, I 'm not half bad in it ! for I 
 can keep my current expenses, and account for 
 every cent, even to those I spend for pickles and 
 chocolates." 
 
 16 241
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Yes, and your conduct mark is ' Exemplary 
 A,' " interrupted Beulah. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know, ' Exemplary A,' as my 
 report reads ; but I do not feel myself just 
 entitled to such honors," replied Daisy, who 
 could not quite forget those days of Welsh rare- 
 bit and indigestion. 
 
 " Be sure that Miss Abigail would never have 
 given you that high mark if she had not thought 
 you deserved it. I do not doubt but that she has 
 been working for weeks over those minus and 
 plus signs on your record page ; and behold the 
 result ! " said Beulah. 
 
 " Yes, I know Miss Abigail has of late grown 
 very forgiving," replied Daisy. 
 
 " And do you know who it is she holds respon- 
 sible for the marked change in her in every 
 one at Bagley Hall ? " asked Beulah. 
 
 " Oh, yes," gayly replied Daisy. " I know of 
 one whom she holds responsible for one thing at 
 least, one happy change, that happy change 
 from chiccory to coffee." And Daisy's words 
 were interpreted by her merry laugh and tell-tale 
 look, which, however, soon followed with a more 
 penitent one, as she said to her companion, " I 
 know that I did very wrong at that time, although 
 242
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 I really did not mean to ; but I forgive myself 
 by thinking that out of evil has come good, 
 for it was the best quality. You know that ! " 
 And Daisy recalled her temptation. 
 
 " It is you, Daisy, that Miss Abigail holds 
 responsible for the peaceful atmosphere of 
 Bagley Hall," said Beulah. " She told me so 
 herself." 
 
 " I ? " asked Daisy, in an inquiring but doubt- 
 ing tone. " I ? Why, what have I done, or 
 rather, what have n't I done ? No, Beulah, if 
 anything that 1 have or have not done has 
 brought about good results, it is Rosemary 
 McBurnie, and not I, who is the saint of Bagley 
 Hall. Dear Rosemary McBurnie ! It is her 
 strength and her influence that have helped me 
 to help you, if I ever have. And now she has 
 gone where I hope the sea breezes will bring back 
 the color to her cheeks. Mother wrote me that 
 she was going, and I judged, from the message 
 Rosemary last sent me, that she had started. 
 She must get well ! for a summer without her 
 will be like a summer without the roses ; but 
 then," added Daisy, " I always said Rosemary, 
 even as a little girl, was not of this earth, but 
 that she ' belonged in cloudland where the angels 
 243
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 live.' Ho\v I wish I were going right to our 
 summer home now, to be with Rosemary and 
 you, Beulah ; for you will be there soon, won't 
 you? Oh, dear, how can I wait four weeks! 
 but I must, I suppose. Just kiss all the cobble- 
 stones for me, won't you ? Yes, I will even send 
 my blessing to that treacherous one that cost me 
 so much patience and a doctor's bill ! I ought 
 to have sent tbe bill to the town to settle, father 
 said, but we contributed it to the ' Committee,' 
 hoping thev would find a wav to be more sen- 
 
 1 o f ^ 
 
 crous in repairs on highways. But kiss them 
 all, Beulah, the cobble-stones, not the Com- 
 mittee. I mean." 
 
 u Come, come," said Beulah ; " we must pack 
 faster and not talk so much ; so that we may be 
 ready for the invitation which reads, ' The Misses 
 Bagley. At home, from four till six.' " 
 
 " Think of it, an afternoon tea at Bagley 
 Hall ! " said Daisy. " Come, you little unknown 
 blessing ! " and she shook out the folds of the 
 pretty 'dress that had never as yet fulfilled its 
 mission. "How much pleasanter, Beulah," she 
 continued, " an afternoon tea will be than dis- 
 cussing the possible virtues of Bacon and Shake- 
 speare on such a hot day as this ! Who cares 
 244
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 who wrote which, so long as Romeo and Juliet 
 still sit on the balcony, and he tries to decide 
 whether she wears a Trefousse or a Foster lac- 
 ing ! and she, meanwhile, is choosing between 
 a homceopathic pellet or an allopathic dose ? 
 Who cares ? I don't, that is certain." 
 
 " Oh, and how glad I am that we have not to 
 hear about that model boy Casabianca on the 
 burning ship (only now they pretend to say he 
 never did it !) and be all harrowed up, and go 
 with Mark Antony to Caesar's funeral. No, I 
 thank you, Miss Daisy Wilder, if you please, 
 prefers a five o'clock tea to any of those horrors. 
 Come, Caesar and Mark Antony ! Peace to your 
 ashes, Caesar ! Good-bye ! " said Daisy, as she 
 hid her Shakespeare in the bottom of her trunk. 
 
 From this it will be seen that Daisy has not 
 as yet acquired a reverence for her books, even 
 though her interest in them may have been 
 somewhat awakened. 
 
 " And as for you," continued Daisy, in merry 
 humor, as she opened her portfolio of sketches, 
 " you will not tell any secrets, will you ? No, 
 you will keep all my struggles with you strictly 
 confidential." 
 
 Then turning, she addressed herself again to 
 245
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Beulah, opening as she did so, to the life study 
 of a horse, which had cost her hours of practice, 
 and discouragement. " Now look at him, and 
 tell me what you think, Beulah, of my chances 
 at being 1 ' skyed ' at the next Salon. See him, 
 what a noble animal ! 
 
 ' A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! ' 
 
 Tell me, Beulah, does he look of the family of 
 Rosa Bonheur's stock farm, or of Nancy Hanks 
 or the ' Condemned ' ? " 
 
 A merry laugh followed Daisy's estimate of 
 her artistic talents ; and as she buried deep in 
 her trunk, beside her Shakespeare, the portfolio, 
 she said with a forced sigh, " Ah, me ! I shall 
 never be a Greek scholar ; I shall never be a 
 mathematician ; and out of the mouth of that 
 very horse speaks the verdict that I shall never 
 be an artist ! Oh, dear ! what am I destined for, 
 I wonder ? " 
 
 " You are destined to be a true friend to those 
 who deserve your friendship," said Beulah, " and 
 that is a virtue not given to many. But what 
 is that book, Daisy ?" asked Beulah, as she 
 pointed to a book which was lying upon the 
 floor. 
 
 246
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 " Oh, that," said Daisy, " is my diary, of 
 which, with the cook's kind permission, I am 
 going to make a bonfire, with all my old letters 
 for kindling." 
 
 " What ! " ejaculated Beulah, in astonishment, 
 " you are not going to burn up your best friend, 
 as you used to call it, Daisy ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Daisy, " but that was 
 before I knew a better to confide in ; " and 
 Daisy's loving glance reached the tender heart 
 of that " better friend " by her side. 
 
 " But why do you burn it up ? " persistently 
 asked Beulah, who had learned to regard the 
 little book as sacred to Memory's Past. 
 
 " Oh, there are reasons for my burning it, 
 Beulah, that I do not care to tell. Cannot you 
 trust me, Beulah ? " said Daisy. 
 
 "Trust you!" replied Beulah, with animation. 
 " Who cannot trust Daisy Wilder does not know 
 the full meaning of that little word, ' trust.' 
 But I know why you are going to destroy your 
 diary. Oh, you need not fear to let it tell its 
 tales. I know that 1 deserved every word of 
 condemnation it speaks. Oh, no, I never read 
 them, Daisy, believe me, I never read them ! 
 for somehow, despite everything, I was never 
 247
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 brave enough to talk with such a truthful friend, 
 and I always respected its rights of secrecy." 
 
 No persuasive powers could, however, deter 
 Daisy from her resolution to " cremate her old 
 friend," as she termed the destruction of the 
 little book. 
 
 " JBeulah dear, I must/' she said, " in justice 
 to you and myself;" and later, Daisy's confi- 
 dential friend lay, a handful of ashes, upon the 
 smouldering bonfire below stairs. 
 
 " Who is invited, Daisy, to the five o'clock ?" 
 asked Beulah, as the two girls surveyed their 
 labors of the day. 
 
 " First, you and I, Beulah," replied Daisy, and 
 she commenced to count upon her fingers, as 
 she enumerated the guests. " Excuse me, Beu- 
 lah; but I just mention the most important ones, 
 first, because, you see, without us the tea can- 
 not go on, for we are to pour it, you know ! 
 Then, next in importance come the pupils in 
 general of Bagley Hall ; for if there were not 
 any pupils, there would not be any class day ; 
 and if there were not any class day, there would 
 not be any afternoon tea. That is an axiom not 
 to be disputed by any one, present, or to be pres- 
 ent, I fancy. Then, next invited, are all the old 
 248
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 families about Hillside, contemporaries of the 
 Misses Bagley. Does that sound exciting to 
 you ? But and here marks the progress of eti- 
 quette, and the football team next invited are 
 the members of that same football team, who 
 came up yesterday for a scrimmage (what else 
 can you call it ?) on Simpkins' Field. Yes, they 
 are all coming, all that are left of them, at 
 least ! Signed, sealed, and approved by Deacon 
 Simpkins, whose guests they have been over 
 night." 
 
 " But how do Miss Abigail or Miss Lucindy 
 know these young students ? " asked Beulah. 
 
 " Oh, but they do not know them ! " said Daisy ; 
 " but in these days that is only a trifle. Some- 
 body comes to town. Somebody knows that 
 Somebody has come to town ; and Somebody else 
 says to Mr. Somebody, who has come to town, 
 ' Come and visit me, Mr. Somebody, on such a 
 day.' And Mr. Somebody goes, as invited by 
 Mr. Somebody ; and there you have it ! although 
 sometimes Mr. Somebody may be only a Mr. 
 Nobody ! 
 
 " But there ! I really ought not to do such in- 
 justice to Miss Abigail or Miss Lucindy Bagley, 
 for it really does happen that they know the 
 249
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 parents of some of the college boys ; and, anyway, 
 of course they are all well connected. Query : I 
 wonder if it is with a fourteen or a twenty carat 
 gold chain. It makes quite a difference in these 
 days. But think of it. Beulah, boys in Bagley 
 Hall! What shall we do with them?" asked 
 Daisy. 
 
 " Why, entertain them, of course, I suppose," 
 said Beulah, as if resigned to the inevitable. 
 " But how did it happen, Daisy," she asked, 
 " that the Misses Bagley dared to bring such 
 tinder as college boys to Bagley Hall ? " 
 
 "Not as sparks, you may be sure, Beulah," 
 and the two girls laughed heartily at Daisy's 
 well-timed joke. " Miss Abigail told Mary 
 Bumstead that she thought it a part of a girl's 
 education to be able to converse understandingly 
 and gracefully ; and that she felt it to be an 
 ordained law that boys and girls should often 
 meet on the common ground of friendship ; and 
 I agree with her ! " said Daisy, with a laugh. 
 
 " You do not think, surely, that Bagley Hall 
 is in danger of becoming a mixed school, do 
 you ?" asked Beulah. 
 
 " Can't tell," said Daisy. " There is great 
 room for improvement, yes, even at Bagley 
 250
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 Hall. But, come closer, Beulah, and let me 
 whisper in your ear something a little bird told 
 me the other day ; " and as Beulah leaned to 
 listen, Daisy assumed a very knowing look, but 
 whispered a part only of what the " little bird " 
 had told her, and closed her confidence with, 
 " you just wait and see, Beulah ! " 
 
 " And if you prove a true prophet, Daisy," 
 said Beulah, " I suppose that you will be as 
 ready with your, ' I told you so ! " 
 
 " Oh, you may be sure I will ; and that time 
 is not far off, either, although it has been long, 
 long, on the way," said Daisy. " But, come, we 
 must be dressed soon to take our places at the 
 tea-urn, and to entertain those boys, you know." 
 
 " I know no more how to entertain and talk 
 with those ' boys,' as you call them (young gen- 
 tlemen, I suppose they call themselves), Daisy, 
 than I know how to read Sanscrit," said Beulah. 
 
 " Well," replied her companion, " you are a 
 good Greek scholar, and Greek is not far off 
 from Sanscrit, to me, anyway; and as for 
 entertainment, why, all you need to talk about 
 is the football game, and ask how many they 
 left dead on the field ; or if the ambulance corps 
 had enough court-plaster and bandages to supply 
 251
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the demand ? You see," continued Daisy, " the 
 true secret of conversation is to choose imder- 
 standingiy a topic adapted not only to the 
 brains of your hearers, but, as well, one that 
 will appeal to their hearts. Don't talk over 
 their heads, and don't talk beyond their hearts. 
 For instance, Beulah, you might talk with me 
 all day about acute or obtuse angles, and 
 apply the rule to my style of walking. I 
 should still turn my toes in, just as I have 
 always done, simply because neither my mind 
 nor feet ! were on those angles. But how 
 line you do look ! " said Daisy, as she surveyed 
 Beulah, dressed for the coming five o'clock. 
 
 And a pretty sight it was, later, to look 
 through the rooms of Bagley Hall, all aglow 
 with lights and flowers and the freshness of 
 youthful beauty and innocence. At two prettily 
 decorated tea-tables sat Daisy Wilder and Beu- 
 lah Scilley, the former adding a grace to the 
 pink silk dress, and the latter in a white muslin, 
 whose simplicity was well suited to the latter's 
 girlish face. If Beulah Scilley manifested a 
 little of her old-time reserve, it was only because 
 she had not as yet gained the full ease of man- 
 ner she was by degrees acquiring. 
 252
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 And the college boys ! Although an element 
 before unknown in a Bagley Hall education, 
 they proved the wisdom of Miss Abigail's 
 words, " that boys and girls should meet oftencr 
 upon the common ground of friendship." 
 
 Yes, Miss Abigail had become more generous 
 of late in her ideas, evidently. Perhaps it was 
 that she had but just learned that the other 
 sex was not one of grim ogres, as she had been 
 led to think ; and perhaps the little God of 
 Love was responsible for Miss Abigail's change 
 (and exchange !) of heart, for although Cupid 
 wore upon his head Deacon Simpkins' iridescent 
 wig, he had made with his bow and arrow a 
 true shot into the target of Miss Abigail's heart 
 at last! And at the public announcement 
 of the latter's complete surrender of Bagley 
 Hall, with all its " rights and privileges," 
 to her sister, Miss Luciridy, Daisy Wilder 
 leaned towards Beulah Scilley, and repeated 
 her prophetic words, " I told you so ! " and 
 Deacon Simpkins' and Miss Abigail Bagley's 
 close attention to each other was a positive 
 proof of what " the little bird " had brought to 
 Daisy's ear. 
 
 253
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 So closed the year at Bagley Hall. Has it 
 been all in vain, even though Greek and mathe- 
 matics have not found ready pupils ? Has it 
 been all in vain, this year of a greater knowledge 
 of human nature ? Who better to answer the 
 question than Miss Lucindy herself, who, as she 
 clasps Daisy's hand in parting adieus, says fer- 
 vently, " Good-bye, Miss Wilder. You have 
 helped me more than you, perhaps, are aware, 
 and more much more than I can ever tell 
 you ! We are never too old to learn, and never 
 too young to teach ; for ' out of the mouths of 
 babes ' has before now come wisdom." 
 
 And Daisy and Beulah said their good-byes 
 to Bagley Hall, and bore each other company 
 on their journey homeward as far as Boston, 
 where the latter was to spend the night with 
 the former, then to continue her journey the 
 following day to her own home! 
 
 Home ! how different the meaning conveyed 
 to the two girls in that one little word ! To 
 Daisy, it was the very essence of all the fra- 
 grance of life. To Beulah, it was a revelation 
 to be, rather than a joy of the present. 
 
 " Oh," she said, as the train went on its way, 
 " I am truly grateful, Daisy, for the care which 
 251
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 auntie has given me for so many years. Do 
 not misunderstand me, but I cannot help feeling 
 a loneliness of late ; a loneliness, I suppose, 
 that has come with others' happiness, when I 
 have seen all the girls looking forward to join- 
 ing their parents, a loneliness of heart, Daisy, 
 that you cannot understand, for you have father 
 and mother waiting for you ; and I, well, you 
 know all I would say." 
 
 Well, full well Daisy knew how lonely, indeed, 
 
 must be the life of her young friend by her side, 
 
 - without a father's love, without mother, and, 
 
 in short, without a home in its most sacred 
 
 meaning. 
 
 " Beulah," said Daisy, in parting at the 
 train, the next day, " you will go to see Rose- 
 mary before many days, will you not, and take 
 her a trunk full of messages ? But I have 
 a favor to ask of you. Please do not refer 
 to that unhappy time. All that Rose- 
 mary knows, is that in some way I was in 
 disgrace, and that in some other way justice 
 was done me ; but how, or by whom, or indeed 
 what the disgrace was, she has never known ; 
 and I do not wish her to know. Promise 
 me, Beulah, and give me your hand in con- 
 255
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 fidence, and good-bye, and your lips to seal our 
 contract." 
 
 Such was the final parting between the two 
 friends, and each resumed their old life in their 
 separate homes. Nor was it long before Beu- 
 lah executed Daisy's commission, and conveyed 
 to Rosemary McBurnie the former's trunkful 
 of messages. She found the latter busy over 
 her flower-garden ; and as Rosemary's delicate 
 hands bent towards her a white rose to scent its 
 fragrance, Beulah, as she watched, could not 
 refrain from the thought, " Like a white rose 
 she lives for others' good. Will she fade like 
 the flowers, 1 wonder ? " 
 
 It was after one of these frequent visits to 
 the McBurnies' cottage that Beulah Scilley was 
 returning to her aunt's. She walked along in 
 pleasant reverie, for the time was nearing for 
 Daisy's coming to her summer home; and 
 to Beulah it meant a ray of sunshine in her 
 life of shadow. She neared her home, and 
 was about to open the garden gate, when she 
 thought she heard her name called. She lin- 
 gered, with her hands on the iron latch, turned, 
 but saw no one. Again, she fancied she heard 
 the voice, calling this time in a hoarse whis- 
 256
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 per, but in a whisper that still attracted her 
 attention. 
 
 " Who called me ? Was it you, Miss Phoebe ? " 
 she asked, as she saw Phoebe Valentine on her 
 steps across the way. 
 
 " No, not I, Beulah ; but I thought, too, that I 
 heard some one speak your name," said Phoebe. 
 
 " It was auntie, probably," said Beulah, as 
 she closed the gate behind her and entered the 
 house, to find no one at home ! and BO her 
 question remained unanswered, " Who called 
 me ? " 
 
 In her dreams that night, Beulah saw strange 
 faces, and awoke with a start, at the sound of 
 her name repeated in a whisper, as before, 
 " Beulah ! " 
 
 " It was only a dream," she said, as she laid 
 her head upon her pillow again, " only a 
 dream, an ugly nightmare," she repeated. 
 
 But dreams are ofttimes the awakening of 
 our senses; and God grant that Beulah's 
 dream may lead her out of her nightmare of 
 loneliness ! 
 
 At his window lattice across the way, the 
 " Stranger " still sat in his weakness ; and what 
 of his dream ? Will there ever come to him an 
 
 17 257
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 awakening of his senses, those senses now so 
 dulled and feeble ? Ever vigilant, Nurse Dob- 
 son still watches over the shipwrecked sailor, 
 looking always for the one chance of hope held 
 out by the doctor. Of late, the Stranger has 
 seemed beyond the fulfilment of that hope. Is 
 it that " the darkest hour is just before the 
 dawning"? God grant it may be so! 
 
 It was a surprise to good Xurse Dobson to 
 find one day the big chair in which the 
 " Stranger " had been accustomed to spend his 
 long, weary days moved across the room. Xo 
 more could he be prevailed upon to look over 
 the water, but insisted on peering through the 
 lattice, that shut him out from the street, but 
 which could not shut from him the street, with 
 its pretty cottages. 
 
 " You are getting smart, Stranger," said 
 Xurse Dobson, when she first discovered the 
 change. " Changed your bearings ? Pray, how- 
 did you get that great chair moored over there ? 
 Was it done while I was down to breakfast ? 
 Oh, ho ! " she said, " ' When the cat is away the 
 mice will play,' no matter how old they are. 
 But, tell me, how could you move it with your 
 strength ? You must be getting stronger." 
 258
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 The Stranger intimated that his feet had 
 helped, as well as his feeble hands, in the ac- 
 complishment of what looked to good Nurse 
 Dobsou a herculean feat. 
 
 " And so you have tired of the harbor, have 
 you ? " asked she. " You will never find a 
 prettier one this side of the heavenly harbor of 
 rest, and it is so much cooler that side of the 
 room." 
 
 But no persuasion could change the sick 
 man's choice, and to argue with him would only 
 be to excite him ; so there he sat, watching, 
 ever watching, ever peering through the lat- 
 tice. Watching for what ? The dawn of return- 
 ing Memory ; the key of Love that would unlock 
 the closed door of his Past, all ready and wait- 
 ing for a hand to liberate him. 
 
 Beulah had been confined to the house by 
 days of indisposition ever since that one which 
 followed her night of dreams. " Auntie," she 
 said, " I think I will go over and make a call 
 upon Mrs. Valentine, if you can spare me. 
 Down here there is a code of etiquette unknown 
 anywhere else. It has neither rhyme nor reason 
 in it, and really plays havoc with the regulations 
 of good society elsewhere. You must call, rather 
 259
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 than be called upon, when you come to town. I 
 would not encourage it, even to-day, if I could 
 go anywhere else, but I need a change sadly, and 
 you will appreciate me more if I leave you for a 
 while ; so I will run over and tell Mrs. Valentine 
 and Phoebe that I came to town a month 
 ago ! Good-bye." 
 
 As Beulah left the house, her aunt was obliged 
 to acknowledge the loneliness the girl left behind 
 her, and Mrs. Barney soliloquized, " Somehow, 
 Beulah is different to what she was before she 
 went away. Another year at boarding-school, 
 and she won't have her equal on this island. If 
 Richard Scilley could only see her now ! How 
 glad I am she does not favor him in looks ! No, 
 she is her mother's very self over again, for she 
 is growing to look every day more and more like 
 poor Susan J. She really is getting to be quite 
 a handsome young lady." 
 
 Thus did Mrs. Barney soliloquize, as she 
 watched with pride her niece, Beulah Scitley, 
 cross the street to the home of the Valentines. 
 
 " So glad to see you, Beulah," said Phrebe 
 Valentine, as she answered the knock at the 
 door. 
 
 " We just needed you to cheer us up. Come 
 260
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 in and chat, and then sing to us, will you? 
 Mother was saying only yesterday that she did 
 wish she could hear you sing again." 
 
 Of course there was much to talk about, 
 school and its interests, the long winter, that 
 had brought the shipwreck to the island, Daisy's 
 coming, and the summer pleasures in antici- 
 pation. 
 
 " And now please sing us a song or two, won't 
 you, Beulah ?" asked Phrebe Valentine. "You 
 will have quite an audience to-day, gallery and 
 orchestra chairs full ; for Nurse Dobson says 
 that Stranger upstairs has been asking for music 
 for some days." 
 
 " Is he crazy ? " asked Beulah, with a fear 
 expressed in her pretty face, which emphasized 
 the terror in the tone of her voice. 
 
 " No, indeed ! " said Mrs. Valentine. " He is 
 only a poor feeble man, and his memory has 
 failed him ; but the doctor says he will come 
 out all right yet, and that he already sees a 
 marked improvement in him the past week. 
 He is a very patient man. Come, sing to him, 
 and to us all." 
 
 " What shall it be ? " asked Beulah, as she 
 seated herself at the piano. 
 261
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " Oh, anything, Beulah," replied her hostess. 
 " I always liked that ' Lullaby Song ; ' it seemed 
 so well suited to your voice." 
 
 Running her fingers carelessly over the piano 
 keys, as if to recall the music, Beulah sang 
 in a voice sweet and low the song called 
 for : 
 
 " Sleep and rest, sleep and rest ; 
 
 Father will come to thee soon. 
 Rest, rest, on mother's breast ; 
 
 Father will come to thee soon. 
 Father will come to his babe in the nest ; 
 Silver sails all out of the West, 
 
 Under the silver moon." 
 
 For Beulah, the words had an association.' 
 she knew not of; and yet, as she sang them, 
 they appealed to her as never before, and her 
 voice manifested her emotion. She was too 
 young to remember her mother's voice, as once 
 it lulled her baby off to sleep, singing the same 
 sweet words : 
 
 " Father will come to his babe in the nest ; 
 Silver sails all out of the West, 
 Under the silver moon." 
 
 But, alas ! " Father " never came to the young 
 
 wife and mother, waiting and watching in her 
 
 262
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 lonely home for the absent lover, and the " sil- 
 ver moon " hid itself behind the clouds, and 
 hope died out with the mother's life. 
 
 The hush that followed Beulah's singing was 
 a silent appreciation of it, and was broken by 
 a feeble attempt at applause from above stairs, 
 by the Stranger, who had listened intently to 
 the song. 
 
 Soon Nurse Dobson appeared in the doorway 
 to say that the Stranger insisted upon seeing 
 the youthful singer. " Would she please come 
 up?" 
 
 " I never have seen him so interested before 
 in anything ! " said the old nurse, " never since 
 I have had the care of him. You should have 
 seen him when you were singing. Why, I 
 almost thought that he joined in the chorus, 
 and he sat so thoughtful like, too." 
 
 Of what was the " Stranger " thinking as 
 he listened ? Of that other " voice singing in 
 Paradise " ? 
 
 Beulah needed no urging to visit the Stranger 
 in his room. " He may be some one's father," 
 she said to herself ; and, like the Widow Valen- 
 tine's, her tender heart prompted the words, 
 " I will do as I would another might have done 
 263
 
 Twixt You and M'e. 
 
 for him ! " and she followed Nurse Dobson 
 up the stairs, Mrs. Valentine and Phoebe close 
 behind. 
 
 Daring his long illness, the Stranger had 
 never before asked to see any caller at the 
 Valentine house ; yet this young girl had sung 
 her way into the sick man's heart. The charms 
 of music were too well known to dispute their 
 power ; and every member of that family wel- 
 comed the hour that had awakened such an 
 interest in their patient. But was it the 
 music ? Might it not be the singer ? 
 
 " Come in, my child," said the " Stranger " to 
 Beulah, as she stood waiting upon the threshold 
 of his room. " Come in, and sing it again to 
 me. I had a babe in the nest once, a long, 
 long time ago. I dreamed of her the other 
 night, as I slept in my chair by that window." 
 And the Stranger pointed towards the harbor 
 view. " But she could n't walk over the water, 
 if she should come ; so now I am watching for 
 her to come this other way, and perhaps she 
 will some day come to her poor father." The 
 hope expressed in the man's tone was as pathetic 
 as his words. "I can wait I can wait a 
 little longer," said he. 
 
 264
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 Beulah sat, as requested, on a low footstool at 
 the Stranger's feet, and sang again : 
 
 " Father will come to his babe in the nest ; 
 Silver sails all out of the West, 
 Under the silver moon." 
 
 She sang without any accompaniment, but none 
 was needed in such an audience-room. It would 
 have detracted from the words and the inspira- 
 tion of such an hour. 
 
 Low at the Stranger's feet, the singer sat. 
 With each word that she uttered, she seemed to 
 pour out her very soul, and the Stranger's heart 
 beat responsive to the song. He looked into 
 Beulah's young face, as if he would trace in it a 
 likeness to some one whom he had once known. 
 
 "Thank you so much," he said to Beulah, 
 when the song was finished. 
 
 " Yes, we all thank Beulah," said Phoebe Val- 
 entine, speaking the gratitude of the company. 
 
 As she spoke the singer's name, the Stranger 
 turned quickly, waited a moment, then said 
 slowly, " What name did you say ? " 
 
 " Beulah. This is Miss Beulah Scilley," re- 
 plied Phcebe. 
 
 " Wait wait," said the Stranger, raising his 
 hand to his head and brushing away the hair 
 265
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 from his forehead, as if he would clear the con- 
 fusion from his weary brain. Then he repeated 
 in measured accents, " Beu-lah Scil-ley. Beu-lah 
 Scil-ley " 
 
 The man's whole frame trembled with emo- 
 tion as he repeated for the second time the 
 words, the name so dear to him ! Then, lean- 
 ing over to Beulah, who still sat at his feet, the 
 Stranger placed his hand tenderly upon her 
 head and smoothed her glossy hair. 
 
 Again he looked into Beulah's eyes ! Again 
 he took between his feeble hands the young face 
 before him ! Then, leaning nearer to her, he put 
 his face closer to the rosy cheeks of the girl, and 
 sobbed, " My child! my child ! Yes yes 
 ' Father will come to thee soon.' " 
 
 and the Stranger's tears fell as a benediction 
 upon Beulah's young life and an outlet for his 
 own long pent-up memory. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he kept repeating again and 
 again : 
 
 " ' Father will come to thee soon.' 
 
 Your father is here, Beulah. Look up. Look 
 up, my child." 
 
 The sudden emotion long waited for had come, 
 266
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 too ! No voice but the happy father's broke the 
 silence, although others' tears fell in mingled 
 gratitude for that hour, the hour that held so 
 much of promise in its keeping. 
 
 For the time the Stranger seemed simple as a 
 child. Now, he stroked again and again the 
 girl's head, that lay in his lap. Anon, he lifted 
 her hands, those hands that had never since 
 babyhood known a father's loving clasp, pat- 
 ting them continually with nervous endearment. 
 Then, as his tears fell and glistened in Beulah's 
 pretty hair, he would sing in his feeble way, 
 which sounded much like a happy mother croon- 
 ing to the infant in her arms : 
 
 " ' Father will come to thee soon. 
 Sleep and rest, sleep and rest.' 
 
 My child! my child!" 
 
 In the man's eyes already shone the new light 
 of returning memory ; on the way, but not as 
 yet fully come to its promised fulfilment. 
 
 And Beulah ? It had all come to her as by 
 heavenly intuition. Her father was bending 
 over her. That was happiness enough for the 
 present. No more for her the loneliness of the 
 past ! She could wait with him, as she now 
 267
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 waited, to reciprocate the love thus poured out 
 to her. For the present all was expressed in 
 those words so new to her, " My father ! " 
 
 And the setting sun went down over the 
 waters. The twilight shadows drew about them 
 its veil, and the little harbor became to the two 
 a harbor of heavenly rest and peace, in truth ; 
 and the sails of the white fleet of fishing-boats 
 rounding the Point, one by one, shone in the 
 light of the " silver moon " like the " silver 
 sails " of the song. And " Father " still sat in 
 close communion with his new-found fledgling, 
 while the music of the waves sung a lullaby to 
 them both : 
 
 " Sleep and rest, sleep and rest." 
 
 Such was the coming of Richard Scilley to 
 Beulah, his " babe in the nest ; " and with that 
 return came happiness to him and to all who 
 had watched so tenderly over him, because the 
 closed gate of restoration to health was already 
 open upon its hinges, and soon the physician's 
 prophecy would be fulfilled. To Beulah, a new- 
 life had dawned, and she joined the watchers, 
 waiting ; but had she not waited for this hour 
 since earliest childhood ? 
 268
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 It was Beulah's aunt alone who could not 
 accept the coming of Richard Scilley in the true 
 spirit of gratitude and " all for the best." It 
 was difficult for her to think of him as any- 
 thing but the " good-for-naught " she thought 
 him once ; and would he not in time take from 
 her the companionship of the gentle girl whom 
 she had but just come to love and know, whose 
 heart, though late, she had at last found ? 
 
 " I could forgive Richard Scilley for coming 
 to life again ! but he is a ' man born to (make) 
 trouble as the sparks fly upward,' " said Mrs. 
 Barney, when she learned the identity of the 
 Stranger. 
 
 So, naturally, it was to Daisy Wilder and 
 Rosemary McBurnie that Beulah turned for 
 loving sympathy ; and it was not long before 
 she went the way her heart led. The next day 
 after her new-found joy had come to her, she 
 called at the McBurnies' cottage on the beach, to 
 ask them to share in her happiness. Rosemary 
 sat on the piazza, looking out over the water, as 
 if in expectation. Beulah came near. Her face 
 was aglow with the happiness at her heart and 
 the joyous news she had in anticipation to tell. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Beulah," said Rosemary, as 
 269
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the latter drew near. " I am waiting for my 
 ship to coine in, you see, for each day of late I 
 have been expecting Daisy ; but you look as if 
 your ship had already come in. You look very 
 happy this afternoon, Beulah." 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Rosemary. Do I look happy ? 
 If I do, it is because I am so very, very happy, 
 for my ship has come in," said Beulah. 
 
 " Did it come around the Point, or by the way 
 of the South Shore ? " asked Rosemary, gayly. 
 " It must have come at the South Side, for I 
 have watched the Point almost all day, almost 
 all the week, in fact." 
 
 " Yes," said Beulah, as Rosemary's jest re- 
 called the shipwreck of the winter, that had 
 brought her father to the island ; " my ship 
 came by the way of the South Shore, as you say, 
 and it had a very stormy passage, too ! " 
 
 " And," interrupted Rosemary, " did it bring 
 you all the riches you expected, Beulah ? " 
 
 " Yes, all, and more too ! " said Beulah, in 
 reply. " It brought me the most precious gem 
 I own; it brought me my father, Rose- 
 mary ! " and Beulah told the story of her happi- 
 ness, to which Rosemary listened eagerly and 
 gave her loving congratulations. 
 270
 
 Bagley Hall. 
 
 first I would wait until Daisy came, and tell you 
 both together," said Beulah, as she closed her 
 story ; " but I could not, Rosemary. I had to 
 come to you to-day. It was too good a story to 
 keep from you longer. When is Daisy coming, 
 soon ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so, although I have been look- 
 ing for her ever since she sent me her last 
 message, a dear little 
 
 "ANEMONE." 
 
 271
 
 Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Anemone. 
 
 Expectation. 
 
 One joy there is all joys above, 
 
 One joy that all may own ; 
 E'en disappointment cannot mar 
 
 The joy in Expectation ! 
 
 O'er weary days it cast its light; 
 
 Through darkest night it shone ; 
 Nor storm, nor tempest-cloud, can dim 
 
 The joy in Expectation ! 
 
 Faith is the motto of its choice, 
 
 Till life itself be done ; 
 And Hope the radiance that gilds 
 The joy in Expectation ! 
 
 weary ones, who sit within 
 
 The shadows, one by one ; 
 Look up ! and learn that greatest joy, 
 
 The joy in Expectation ! 
 
 Grace Le Baron.
 
 To the Mm; 
 
 Poppy jSfeep
 
 A 3 
 
 IX. 
 
 TO THE MUSIC OF THE WAVES. 
 
 POPPY. SLEEP. 
 
 ND the little anemone, that brought the 
 message of her anticipated coming from 
 Daisy, brought, as well, with the breath of the 
 little windflower, a like share of expected joys 
 to Rosemary McBurnie. She had, as she told 
 Bculah Scilley, sat a constant watcher all day, 
 although she knew that but two boats, in any 
 event, could bring to her the friend whom she 
 most wished to see, and but one of them would 
 be her " ship to come in." 
 
 The dip of the oars of the little rowboats in 
 the harbor was music to her ears. The flapping 
 of the sails of the white fleet beyond in the 
 waters brought to her happy recollections. In 
 the breezes that fanned her pale cheeks Rose- 
 mary hoped for new strength. Thus she sat, as 
 she had for many days, nursing the hope that 
 the summer would bring to her the anticipated 
 / 275
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 happiness and health in the sweet companionship 
 of Daisy Wilder. 
 
 She had waited (oh, so patiently! ) through the 
 long winter months for this hour, for the " ship " 
 that should bring to her the rosy cheeks of 
 health, with that regret at her heart that 
 regret common to so many : that her ambition 
 and strength were so ill attuned ; for she had 
 sacrificed much of the latter in her ambitious 
 desire to graduate with honors from her school. 
 But of what avail were honors now, with her 
 tell-tale face speaking, as words never can, of 
 the sacrifice of youthful strength ? Still she 
 hoped, and watched, and expected, and the boat 
 rounded the Point, and its whistle seemed to 
 speak its special message : for the messenger to 
 come to her was Daisy Wilder, a messenger 
 of love. 
 
 The latter had Keen up and dressed with the 
 sun, although the noon hour was the time set for 
 the departure of the family ; but Daisy, though 
 a young lady of " sweet sixteen," that age which 
 poetic natnres love to associate with all that is 
 sweet in life, was still only a little child in 
 many things. With her distaste for books 
 the " works of man," as she termed them, came 
 276
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 that stronger love, as before said, for those 
 others of God's supreme handiwork ; and her 
 attested love for flowers and for the roar of the 
 ocean was divided with her affection for her 
 quartette of pets. She had given orders that she 
 might be called early ; " for," said she to her 
 maid Charlotte, " I must attend to my stock 
 farm, my zoo ! before we go." 
 
 So Dick, the canary, who was proverbial for 
 always singing at the wrong time, was given his 
 breakfast of tiny cereals. Dandy, the Boston 
 terrier, accepted his morning meal with the cus- 
 tomary bow of thanks, and sharpened his 
 incisors on the toothsome bones of past riches. 
 Tom, the house cat, satisfied himself with his 
 saucer of bread and milk, since to dissect Dick, 
 the canary, seemed quite out of the question. 
 And Polly ! well, Polly's " cracker " was like 
 her voice, an every-day affair, although the 
 former relish seemed inadequate to satisfy 
 Polly's appetite, judging from her ever-constant 
 cry of " Polly wants a cracker." She varied 
 it, however, with another, when, borne by the 
 cook's deft and steady hand, her cage was 
 taken aboard the train. And Polly's new cry 
 of " Going away ! Glad of it I " although but 
 277
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the chattering of a poll parrot, echoed the senti- 
 ments of the whole family. 
 
 And Daisy and her zoo were on the way. 
 
 Happy prospects came to all the family, in 
 the pleasant thoughts of another anchoring in 
 the little harbor of rest, and the fancied greet- 
 ing that awaited them at their island home. 
 
 o 
 
 And fair gales led them there, as the boat which 
 rewarded Rosemary's waiting eyes rounded the 
 Point. 
 
 And so the summer life, ever old, but ever 
 new, was resumed ; and the summer friend- 
 ship, strengthened by Beulah Scilley's love, 
 became " a threefold cord." Will it be easily 
 broken ? 
 
 To Daisy, the news of the latter's happiness 
 came as a surprise, but as a joy as well; for 
 Beulah's loneliness of heart and life had often 
 appealed to Daisy, who could no more " live 
 without love," she always affirmed, than she 
 could " live without bread and butter ! " 
 
 " And so he was not as much of a stranger, 
 after all, as his name would indicate," said 
 Daisy, after she had heard Beulah's romantic 
 story. " It only goes to prove just what I told 
 Cousin Harold a year ago : it is a senseless 
 273
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 name, without any meaning down here, where 
 everybody has a claim ! Shall you go back to 
 Bagley Hall ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " I fear not, Daisy," replied Beulah. " Father 
 will need me. What do you hear from the 
 Misses Bagley, Daisy ? " she asked. 
 
 " I suppose you received a piece of Miss Abi- 
 gail's wedding cake," said Daisy. " I did too ; 
 and I had a most terrible nightmare all night. 
 I was foolish enough to put it under my pillow ; 
 I do not really know what for. ' They ' told me 
 to, and so I did as ' they ' said, of course. Girls 
 always have a foolish age, just as Captain 
 Hussey told us last summer. It was good cake, 
 though, for I ate a piece ; and I think perhaps 
 that was the real cause of my nightmare. 
 Evidently Miss Lucindy has a new cook ; for 
 old Bridget's cake never could do any one 
 any harm, unless in repentance for having 
 ventured to explore its mysteries ; " and Daisy 
 laughed. Unfortunate words of reminder they 
 proved to Beulah, and to Rosemary. 
 
 " Oh, tell me, Daisy," said Rosemary, " tell 
 
 me all about that time last winter, marked in 
 
 my memory by that faded spray of marjoram. 
 
 Tell me about it, please, now, that it is all in 
 
 279
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 the past, and you came out with such flying 
 colors, as I have since heard." 
 
 Daisy looked at Beulah, as if she were saying 
 in rebuke, " You have broken faith with me." 
 
 Rosemary interpreted Daisy's look, and said, 
 to disarm the latter's suspicion, " Beulah will 
 not tell me a word about it. She says that 
 she cannot, because she is under bonds to 
 you, Daisy. Come, either break those bonds or 
 tell me the story yourself, for I want to hear 
 it, and judge for myself if justice was done 
 you." 
 
 It was an embarrassing moment to both Daisy 
 and Beulah. To Daisy, because of her one 
 desire to protect her friend, Beulah Scilley. 
 To Beulah, because of her one desire to break 
 her promise to Daisy, a desire that had been 
 hers ever since she gave that promise ; a desire 
 to take Rosemary into confidence, and tell of 
 Daisy Wilder's many kindnesses to one who felt 
 herself unworthy of them. 
 
 " May I tell Rosemary ? " said Beulah. " Do 
 say tha't I may, Daisy," she urged. 
 
 And after much urging Beulah gained Daisy's 
 permission to tell the story of her own humilia- 
 tion, although Daisy's restrictions were upon her 
 280
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 with the injunction, whispered in Beulah's ear, 
 " Remember, we travel incognito." 
 
 " And what name shall I give to the other 
 girl?" asked Beulah. about to commence her 
 story. 
 
 " Oh," replied Daisy, " call her ' Pupil Number 
 Eleven.' She ought to be proud of that name ! " 
 
 Pupil Number Eleven ! How much that re- 
 called to the two girls ! l There had been a time 
 when the name was not an honor to be proud of, 
 but a disgrace to be forgotten, as it had already 
 been forgiven. So with the mention of the 
 name of " Pupil Number Eleven " came a whole 
 tide of memories, memories of Bagley Hall, 
 where discord once reigned, but where happi- 
 ness conquered at last. 
 
 Beulah commenced her story, with Daisy Wil- 
 der as a watchful monitor over her words, and 
 Rosemary McBurnie as an interested critic. 
 
 " You see," said Beulah, as she went on with 
 the story, " everybody loved Daisy ; and Pupil 
 Number Eleven never knew what it was to be 
 loved by any one." 
 
 " Poor girl ! " interrupted Rosemary, and 
 Beulah could only repeat, " Poor girl ! " 
 
 " Oh, but she brought the whole School to her 
 281
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 feet before the year closed." said Daisy ; " and 
 it was worth all the unhappiness I suffered to 
 know that girl as I do no\v ! " 
 
 And Beulah continued her story, often recall- 
 ing herself from the danger of breaking her 
 bond of secrecy, and betraying the identity of 
 li Pupil Number Eleven." As she told of that 
 night of tears she said, " Those tears meant 
 much to that poor girl, for she was never before 
 known to cry.'' 
 
 " Yes ; but those tears became tears of joy 
 later," said Daisy, trying to throw over the past 
 a glamour to palliate its sad memories. 
 
 In minute detail, Beulah told the story which 
 even Rosemary's naturally forgiving nature 
 found difficult to tolerate in full. 
 
 "Did she have any shame in her at all?" 
 asked Rosemary, as Beulah told that part of the 
 story where Daisy was brought before her jury. 
 
 " Just wait and sec," replied Daisy, who was 
 really looking forward for the peace of mind that 
 would come to her with the close of the story. 
 
 Still again, Rosemary questioned, " But where 
 did the girl get Daisy's lace handkerchief ?" 
 
 " Why, Daisy herself loaned it ! " quickly 
 replied Beulah. 
 
 282
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 " And never told ? " asked Rosemary. 
 
 " No. Never told a word, because because 
 she did not want to hurt " She was just on 
 the point of using, by accident, the pronoun 
 " me," but quickly recovered herself, and said, 
 ' Dear kind-hearted Daisy ! because she would 
 not so she told Miss Abigail tarnish an- 
 other's name by suspicion." 
 
 " How could you be so foolish, Daisy ? " said 
 Rosemary, whose sympathies were more and 
 more with her friend with every detail of the 
 story. " She deserved it all, Daisy." 
 
 Instantly Beulah, with an emotion in her 
 voice, replied to Rosemary's question, " Yes," 
 said she ; " she Pupil Number Eleven de- 
 served everything that came to her, except 
 except the love of her schoolmates. She will 
 never be worthy of that ! " 
 
 " I say that she was deserving of every friend 
 that she made," replied Daisy, in a most con- 
 vincing manner, " every one, Beulah Scilley !" 
 
 " But how could you be so forgiving and 
 brave, Daisy ? " asked Rosemary. 
 
 " Why, because you told me to be," replied 
 Daisy. 
 
 " I ? " asked Rosemary, in unfeigned surprise, 
 283 - X
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 " I ? Why, I knew nothing about all this, 
 Daisy." 
 
 " That may be ; but did you not tell me, 
 Rosemary, that I must do my duty, and defy 
 the world ? And was it my duty to injure the 
 good name of another by placing it perhaps in 
 a wrong light, since suspicion does not always 
 bring its proof of guilt ? Has not many an 
 innocent person suffered because bound by a 
 chain of circumstances that were against him 
 in seeming; and how was I to know wlio really 
 dropped my bit of finery in the place where it 
 was found ? " 
 
 " Quite right, my friend Daisy ; and, looking 
 at it in sober earnest, it was better that you 
 should suffer, while you had the consciousness of 
 having done your duty ; for nothing could as 
 nothing did harm you. But how could that girl 
 
 oh, how could she>! sit there and hear you, 
 Daisy, maintain your innocence, and be dumb!" 
 
 " She could not ! She could not ! " said Beulah, 
 with vehemence. " She suffered and suffered 
 till she could stand it no longer ! I know just 
 how she felt ! " said Beulah, in closing her story. 
 And did not Beulah Scilley know, as no one else, 
 the misery and contrition of that hour ? 
 284
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 As Beulah finished the story, Rosemary said, 
 turning to Daisy, " And you are quite sure you 
 forgave her, Daisy "9" 
 
 " Quite sure, Rosemary ; as sure as I am 
 tli at I love her to-day." 
 
 " And you, Rosemary, what would you have 
 done ? " asked Beulah. 
 
 " Oh, I should have tried to forgive the girl, 
 just as Daisy did." 
 
 " And do you think you could have loved her 
 as Daisy does ? " asked Beulah. 
 
 " It would depend much upoji the girl herself, 
 I suppose," said Rosemary. " If it had been 
 Daisy or you, why, I could love either of you 
 under any circumstances." 
 
 " Could you ? " asked Beulah, almost hesitat- 
 ing with fear, at a possible loss of Rosemary's 
 gentle friendship. " Under any circumstances, 
 Rosemary ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, under any and every circumstance ! " 
 replied Rosemary, with loyalty shining out from 
 her pitying eyes. " But who was Pupil Number 
 Eleven, Daisy," asked Rosemary, not quite satis- 
 fied with half of the story. " Let ine know, 
 that I can forgive her, as you did." 
 
 Daisy refused to divulge the name over which 
 285
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 she had become guardian ; but Beulah was not 
 to be restrained. 
 
 " I can keep my promise no longer, Daisy ! 
 You must release me ! " said Beulah, in an 
 excited manner. Turning to Rosemary, she said, 
 " It is I, Rosemary, who needs your forgiveness. 
 Can you give it to me now that you know all ? " 
 
 If Rosemary felt surprise at the denouement of 
 the story, she was wise in her control ; and taking 
 Beulah's hand in her own frail grasp, she kissed 
 the latter with affection, saying, " There, Beulah, 
 let that be my seal of forgiveness for my share 
 in Daisy's sorrow, and love for you, dear friend. 
 Forgive me, Beulah, rather, for seeking to know 
 what was not intended for my ears." 
 
 " Oh, but it was, Rosemary ! I could not be 
 quite happy until I told you ; and now now 
 what more have I to ask for, with your forgive- 
 ness and all my other blessings ! " 
 
 "Friendship that cannot stand a test like 
 that without faltering is unworthy the name," 
 said Rosemary. 
 
 And the threefold cord became stronger than 
 ever, although one thread was in the frail keep- 
 ing of Rosemary McBurnie's delicate hand. 
 
 280
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 And the summer months went by, June, 
 with its coronation of roses, July, with the 
 reign of the Dog-star over its closing days. 
 
 And again August returns to complete the 
 circle of the twelvemonth which has elapsed 
 since first Rosemary McBurnie and Daisy Wilder 
 spoke to each other in the language of the 
 flowers, with the bloom of the blue forget-me- 
 not and the simplicity of the white pansy and 
 the red poppy still nods upon its stem. 
 
 The circle of friendship is, too, well rounded 
 out with the closing days of summer, for with 
 them, Harold Macy has returned to enjoy his 
 vacation holidays at his island home, and to 
 breathe the soothing influence of the hallowed 
 atmosphere, reconciled now to any lullaby that 
 old Ocean may whisper in his ears. Beulah 
 Scilley's friendship augments the happiness of 
 Rosemary and Daisy, and the trio has become 
 a quartette, although one ever-constant voice 
 of discord disturbs the harmony of song. 
 
 The peaceful calm of Sunday is proverbial in 
 that island town. 
 
 The little rowboats are beached. 
 
 The white fleet is anchored in the harbor; 
 
 287
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 and the ocean, even, appears subdued, as it laps 
 their sides with a musical rhythm that seems to 
 say, like the song, 
 
 " Sleep and rest, sleep and rest." 
 
 The church bells ring out their call, and 
 "islanders" and u off-islanders " meet, for the 
 one day of the week, no more as " strangers," 
 but as friends under the one roof-tree of the 
 village church. 
 
 And the clouds tell of the going down of the 
 sun. 
 
 Under the little marquee, which has been 
 erected on the beach for the comfort of the 
 invalid, Rosemary and her trusted friends sing, 
 as the bells ring out the music of " Jerusalem 
 the Golden." 
 
 The bells cease, and the song ends. 
 
 " Sing on, all of you," said Rosemary, as her 
 voice dropped out of the choir. " Sing on, and I 
 will go off to sleep. Here," she said, as she 
 gave to each a flower, " obey my messenger, 
 and sing me to sleep." 
 
 And the trio sang. 
 
 Tbe sun sank to its rest. 
 
 The watcher in the belfry cried, " All 's well." 
 
 Over the waters came the echo of the song. 
 288
 
 To the Music of the Waves. 
 
 Slowly sinks the sun to its rest, 
 Good-night, good-night, 
 As a bird in its downy nest, 
 
 Good-night, good-night, 
 Closes its weary eyes, 
 Slowly the daylight dies 
 
 In the West. 
 Good-night, good-night. 
 
 And Rosemary slept. The sweet music soothed 
 the sleeper off to Dreamland. 
 
 The gentle breezes brought to her healing in 
 their wings, and blissful sleep. 
 
 For such was the message of 
 
 THE POPPY. 
 
 19 289
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 Poppy. 
 
 Sleep. 
 
 Rock-a-bye, 
 
 Lu/l-a-bye, Ifush-a-bye. 
 For so runs the song that the poppy sings, 
 
 And the little lady sleeps. 
 
 The angel.t spread >n'</e their sheltering icings; 
 And the breath of Henren siceet healing brings, 
 The while God his vigil keeps. 
 A nd the little lady sleeps. 
 For so runs the song that the poppy sings, 
 Jiock-a-bye, 
 
 Lull-a-byc., 
 
 Hush-a-bye. 
 
 Grace Le Baron. 
 
 290
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 SWEET MEMORIES. 
 
 White lilies in her hand she bore, 
 So beautiful ! ne'er seen before. 
 
 Ah me, so fair ! so bright 1 
 As if, unto their own sweet grace, 
 Her purity had lent its trace, 
 
 To make them spotless white. 
 
 IT is a day in the golden month of September. 
 One of those days in which Summer seems 
 to make an heroic effort to assert herself once 
 again before she must surrender to the harvest 
 moon. The white caps on the water have spent 
 themselves for a while, and the ocean is as 
 placid as a millpond, ever and anon coquetting 
 with the sun's rays, that dance over it in pleasant 
 frolic. The brisk northwest winds that have 
 reigned for the past few days are subdued, and 
 an atmosphere prevails which has in it the 
 balminess of a midsummer day. 
 
 A general holiday air pervades the scene 
 about the cottages on the beach. Still smiles 
 291
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 the garden-boat in all its brilliancy of salvia and 
 marigold, but within the hospitable home of the 
 McBurnies the perfume of the lily speaks its 
 more fitting message of the day. Out from the 
 windows come the mingled voices of song, and 
 above all is the song of the hour, the song 
 of thanksgiving. The written messages which 
 have heralded this hour have been commented 
 upon by their recipients as having some hidden 
 meaning, and impatient curiosity has kept the 
 islanders on the qui vive for many days. 
 
 The invitation which bore the signature of 
 Mrs. Cornelia McBurnie simply read, " Come 
 and ' rejoice with those who rejoice,' on Satur- 
 day afternoon next." Simple words they were, 
 but were they not the outburst of more than 
 one grateful heart ? 
 
 As Beulah read hers, she said, " Father, I 
 shall hope for a good day for you on Saturday 
 next, so that I may be spared from your side to 
 join in the congratulations to Rosemary on her 
 coming birthday." And when the day came, 
 Beulah went her way, and was among the first 
 arrivals at the McBurnies' cottage. 
 
 Rosemary, standing in the open hallway, 
 where the golden sunlight shone through the 
 292
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 window upon her, looked more than ever as if 
 " belonging to cloudland where the angels live." 
 The folds of her simple white muslin dress 
 enveloped her, and the lilies in her hands 
 seemed a most fitting symbol of her life. 
 
 For like the perfume of the lilies has been 
 the fragrant influence of that life. 
 
 We have seen its evidence in the happy, 
 merry-hearted girl, Daisy Wilder. 
 
 It has spoken its helpful message in the life 
 of Beulah Scilley. 
 
 Even in the far-away home of the Bagleys at 
 Hillside has its fragrance bloomed in the perfec- 
 tion of harmony of thought and deed. 
 
 Yes, even the invalid, Richard Scilley, has 
 felt its benefit and its cheer, awakening in him, 
 with that love for his " bird in the nest," a 
 strong desire to prove his sincerity by noble 
 purpose, when life shall open anew to him. 
 
 It is a happy hour for the assembled company, 
 who have, like Beulah, come to respond to the 
 invitation " to rejoice with those who rejoice ; " 
 for not only does the day signalize another 
 birthday for Rosemary, but, as well, her prom- 
 ised return to health. Her convalescence has 
 been so slow during the summer months that it 
 293
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 is not until now that faint hearts have become 
 strong in their faith in her ultimate recovery, 
 and the ne\v year for her augurs one of promise. 
 
 Beulah Scilley leads the thanksgiving song, 
 and the full chorus take up the refrain, " Re- 
 joice ! Rejoice ! " 
 
 The song is finished ; but its sentiment is 
 everywhere apparent. 
 
 Beulah leads the way to the hall once again, 
 to satisfy herself, by another word with Rose- 
 mary, before she returns to her father's side. 
 An envelope is thrust into Beulah's outstretched 
 hands, just as she is bidding her friend " good- 
 bye," with the request that she read its con- 
 tents aloud. Her hands tremble as she breaks 
 the seal ; and in surprise she scans the contents 
 of the document enclosed. She makes an at- 
 tempt to read aloud, but it is only an attempt. 
 The words are long, but their meaning is plain 
 to the reader. She stammers, falters, and 
 reads no more ! 
 
 Daisy Wilder is quickly by Beulah's side, and 
 helps her bravely over the embarrassment of 
 the hour. Legal words and phrases do not 
 appall Daisy in the least. Technical terms do 
 not deter her, and the assembled company are 
 294
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 witnesses to the fact that the cottage on the 
 beach, " owned by Mrs. Cornelia McBurnie, is 
 deeded as a thank-offering to Miss Beulah 
 Scilley." 
 
 Applause at such a time seems almost an 
 intrusion, and Mrs. McBurnie breaks the embar- 
 rassing silence, saying, " Take it, Beulah, and 
 all its belongings, and be to your father as 
 devoted a daughter as Rosemary has ever been 
 to me." 
 
 And Rosemary adds, in her own inimitable 
 way, " Will you let me be your tenant for a 
 month longer, Beulah ? " 
 
 So closes the day of thanksgiving, with a 
 message and a memory - 
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 And still another year finds a new mistress 
 presiding over the cottage on the beach ; and 
 Phoebe Valentine, as she sees her foster-daugh- 
 ter, Beulah Scilley. leave for Bagley Hall once 
 again, with her chosen companions, Rosemary 
 McBurnie and Daisy Wilder by her side, bids 
 them all " God speed," and watches the boat 
 round the Point ; while the sailboats in the har- 
 295
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 bor give a chorus of salutes to the outgoing 
 steamer, in which the gem of the white fleet 
 leads, as she follows in the steamer's wake. 
 
 Her white sails are filled to catch the breeze ! 
 Her pennant flies from her masthead ! Her 
 bow cuts the water ! and at her stern is the 
 significant lettering, " My Valentine." At her 
 helm sits her happy skipper, Richard Scilley, 
 with one hand grasping the tiller and the other 
 holding to his lips a large conch-shell, the 
 signal-horn of his little craft, from whose melo- 
 dious depths he sends his parting salute to his 
 daughter Beulah and her trusted friends, to 
 which other hearts respond as lips repeat, 
 
 'Twixt You and Me. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 296
 
 NEW BOOKS 
 
 FOR BOYS AND FOR GIRLS 
 
 WANOLASSET 
 
 THE-LITTLE-OXE-WIIO-LAUGHS 
 
 BY MISS A. G. PLYMPTON 
 Author of " Dear Daughter Dorothy" etc. 
 
 \2>no. Cloth. With illustrations by the author. $1.25 
 
 A story of colonial life in New England during King Philip's War, 
 and of the captivity of a little Medfield maid, to whom, on account of her 
 brave spirit and sunny temper, the Indians gave the name of " Wanolasset " 
 meaning " The-little-one-who-laughs.' 1 Much historical information is 
 cleverly interwoven with the story, which is one of absorbing interest. The 
 author has invested her youthful characters with much of that same sweet- 
 ness which characterizes " Dear Daughter Dorothy," the heroine of one of 
 her earlier books, and their varying fortunes will be eagerly followed. 
 New England Magazine. 
 
 I
 
 NAN IN THE CITY 
 
 OR, XAN'S WINTER WITH THE GIRLS 
 A sequel to " Nun at Camp Chicopee " 
 
 BY MYRA SAWYER HAMLIN 
 
 \6>fio. Cloth. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 
 
 .25 
 
 All the girls will like Xan, and so will the boys, for she is altogether 
 a charming creature. And what is quite as important to the mothers and 
 fathers, it will do their children good to become acquainted with her. 
 Bookseller, Newsdealer, and Stationer. 
 
 She is a womanly girl, and we have met her like outside of story books. 
 A wonderfully healthy, thoroughly womanly maiden, standing at the point 
 in her life where childhood and womanhood meet, one follows with interest 
 the account of her first winter at school in a great city, where she made 
 new friends and found some old ones. Boston Advertiser.
 
 BELLE 
 
 A New Book by the author of " Miss Toosey's Mission" 
 
 i6mo. Cloth. I Iht sir cited. $1.00 
 4
 
 THE 
 
 LITTLE RED SCHOOLHOUSE 
 
 BY EVELYN RAYMOND 
 
 Author of" The Little Lady of the Horse" "Among 
 the Lindens" etc. 
 
 I2mo. Cloth. Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. $1.50 
 
 As the title indicates, the country school is the feature of the book 
 which has suggested much of its plot, and the author has woven a delight- 
 ful narrative, sensible and practical, and at the same time interesting and 
 uplifting, which will be welcomed by the young people. Congrega- 
 tionalist.
 
 AMONG THE LINDENS 
 
 BY EVELYN RAYMOND 
 
 Author of. " The Little Lady of the Horse" " A Cafie May 
 
 Diamflit-/." " The Mushroom Cave" " The 
 
 LittU Red Schoolkonse" etc. 
 
 \2.mo. Cloth. Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. $1.50 
 
 The scene of Evelyn Raymond's new story is partly in New York and 
 partly in the country " among the lindens." A poor family is assisted by 
 a wealthy friend in the best possible way, ^e helps them to help them- 
 selves. The youngest boy is the life of the story, something of an amus- 
 ing and exceedingly lively nature happening to him every day of his life. 
 The children of the story have faults, but strive to correct them, and have 
 healthy and noble ideals of life and character. There is an exceptionally 
 pleasant, homelike atmosphere about the book. 
 
 6
 
 TEDDY, HER BOOK 
 
 A STORY OF SWEET SIXTEEN 
 BY ANNA CHAPIN RAY 
 
 A very bright and spirited book for girls and boys. Its scenes are laid 
 chiefly in a New England town and at Smith College. It is believed that 
 " Teddy " (Theodora) and her brothers and sisters and boy friends will be 
 favorites. 
 
 \2wo. Cloth. Illustrated by Vesper L. George. $1.50 
 7
 
 TEN LITTLE COMEDIES 
 
 TALES OF THE TROUBLES OF TEN LITTLE GIRLS 
 WHOSE TEARS WERE TURNED INTO SMILES 
 
 BY GERTRUDE SMITH 
 
 \2rno. Cloth. With ten full-page illustrations by 
 Ethelred B. Barry. #1.25 
 
 Naturalness and genuine sympathy for children give Miss Gertrude 
 Smith's stories charm of character. Few students of child nature have 
 come closer to the hearts of the little ones. Boston Herald. 
 
 Just such stories as children love and ought to have. Boston Beacon. 
 
 We like the book because it is natural, easy, pleasing, leaves no heart- 
 burnings or anxieties. Kansas City Journal.
 
 MISS BELLADONNA 
 
 A CHILD OF TO-DAY 
 BY CAROLINE TICKNOR 
 
 Author of "A Hypocritical Romance, and Other Stories." 
 
 12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated by L.J. Bridgman. $1.50 
 
 The little folk owe Miss Ticknor a debt for giving them so fresh and 
 charming a companion as " Miss Belladonna." The author has very 
 cleverly caught the child's point of view, and the book is written with a 
 seemingly unconscious touch of humor that ought to win it many readers. 
 Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 
 
 I think it is the jolliest book I have seen in many a day. Life from 
 the child's point of view is not often given. I don't wonder that every one 
 likes it. The author is in luck to have hit upon such a bright and original 
 scheme Louise Chandler Monlton. 
 
 Since the davs of Miss Ferrier and Miss Edgeworth, fiction lias known 
 no spoiled child to compare with Miss Belladonna. The Times, New 
 York.
 
 Bright, Lively, and Enjoyable 
 
 Jolly Good Times' Series 
 
 By Mary P. Wells Smith 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES; or, CHILD LIFE 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT SCHOOL; 
 NOT so JOLLY. 
 
 THE BROWNS. 
 
 THEIR CANOE TRIP. 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT 
 HACKMATACK. 
 
 MORE GOOD TIMES AT 
 HACKMATACK. 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES TO- 
 DAY. 
 
 A JOLLY GOOD SUMMER. 
 
 With Illustrations, square 
 12 wo, cloth, gilt, $1.25 per -vol- 
 ume. The set of eight i olumes. 
 uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, 
 in a box, $10.00. 
 
 ON A 
 
 also, 
 
 FARM. 
 SOME TIMES 
 
 Of these stories the Boston " Transcript " says : " Few series of juve- 
 nile books appeal more strongly to children than the 'Jolly Good Times' 
 Series, written by Mary P. Wells Smith. The naturalness of the sto- 
 ries, their brightness, their truth to boy and girl life and character, and 
 the skill with which the author manages incident and dialogue, have 
 given them deserved popularity." 
 
 It is Mrs. Smith's happy ability to take the incidents of child-life, 
 such a life as any child of bright mind and sweet character, blessed with 
 the surroundings of a good home, might have, and to record them with 
 such faithfulness to the child's character, and yet with such charm in the 
 narrative, as to make them engagingly interesting to other children. 
 Gazette and Courier, Greenfield, Mass.
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES ; or, CHILD LIFE ON A FARM. With 
 Illustrations by Addie Ledyard. Square i2mo. $1.25. 
 
 "Jolly Good Times " not only deserves its title, but the further praise 
 of being pronounced a jolly good book. The Kendall children and their 
 neighbors and playmates live in the Connecticut valley, not far from 
 Deerfield. . . . The result is a charming local picture, quite worth the 
 attention of English boys and girls, as showing what New England life 
 is in a respectable farmer's family, plain folks who do their own work, 
 but entirely free from the low-comic variety of Yankee talk and manners 
 too often considered essential to the success of a New England story. 
 The Nation, New York. 
 
 A very pretty picture of the life of country children. It is a charming 
 little story, too, for boys and girls who live in cities, and know nothing 
 about what fine times their country cousins have. The country children, 
 too, will recognize the picture as their own on many a page of the book. 
 
 St. Louis Republican. 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT SCHOOL; also, SOME TIMES 
 NOT so JOLLY. With Illustrations by Addie Ledyard. 
 Square i2mo. $1.25. 
 
 " P. Thorne " is a pseudonym pleasantly associated in the minds of 
 the readers of the " Register " with many bright and earnest contribu- 
 tions to its columns. " Jolly Good Times at School" is a sequel to her 
 former venture. . . . Pleasing pictures it gives us of the school and 
 child life of New England as it existed twenty-five years ago, and as it 
 still exists in the more secluded and rural districts. . . . Interwoven here 
 and there in the narrative are charming descriptions of the natural 
 beauties and characteristic scenes of New England, the "cold snap," 
 the first snow-storm, the exciting " coast down the mountain," the Indian 
 stories. Christian Register, Boston. 
 
 It is a thoroughly New England book. The school it tells of is a New 
 England country school ; and its girls and boys are New England young- 
 sters, full-blooded Yankees. It is a healthy book, morally and every 
 other way, as well as a piquant and interesting one. Detroit Post. 
 
 THE BROWNS. Illustrated. Square i2mo. $1.25. 
 
 The "Jolly Good Times" are two of the best juveniles in American 
 literature. The author now adds a third, equally fresh and delightful. 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 There is a fine, fresh flavor of country life in what she writes, the 
 air of fields and woods, the light of brooks, and the song of birds; and 
 her characters, particularly her children, are thoroughly real and human. 
 
 R. H. STODDARD, in A'ew York Mail and Express. 
 
 For naturalness, jollity, good sense, and high moral tone, not many 
 books surpass " The Browns," by Mary P. W. Smith. Congregationalist, 
 Boston.
 
 THEIR CANOE TRIP. Illustrated. Square i2mo. $1.25. 
 
 Mrs. Mary P. W. Smith has made a delightful book out of this canoe 
 trip, taken by two Boston boys on six New England rivers, which lead 
 them from Francestown, N. H., down to their home. Pittsburgh Bulletin. 
 
 " Their Canoe Trip " is a charming story, and the most interesting 
 feature is that it is really true. Two Roxbury boys actually made the 
 trip in 1875, and the book is dedicated to them. They have had a suc- 
 cessful trip, and have learned lessons in manliness, endurance, and the 
 power of overcoming unforeseen difficulties which will last as long as 
 they live. Mrs. Smith makes a delightful story out of their adventures 
 by the way, which cannot help interesting youthful readers, it is so full of 
 incident, so natural and vivacious. Providence Journal. 
 
 No better book for a bright, healthy boy's reading has been published 
 this year. Boston Transcript. 
 
 An uncommonly lively and agreeable story. New York Tribune. 
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK. Illustrated. 
 
 Square 121110. $1.25. 
 
 A bit of real literature. It is a story of the child-life of New England 
 sixty years ago, and it has all the vividness of actual experience. There 
 surely is no small reader, boy or girl, who can withstand the charm of 
 this recital of the country fun of grandpa's childhood, and no grandpa 
 who, taking a surreptitious peep at the book, will put it down until he 
 has turned the last leaf. Every Christmas sees a swarm of new books 
 for children, not many of which deserve to live ; but this little volume 
 ought to be preserved as a permanent addition to the chronicles of New 
 England life. New York Tribune. 
 
 A capital children's story. It is full of spirit and fun, graphic in de- 
 scription, sensible and improving without any formality, and, in a word, 
 just what young people enjoy, and what wise parents give them to enjoy. 
 Congrtgationalist, Boston. 
 
 A charming picture of the old stage-coach days and the life in the 
 staid country minister's family. The boys and girls who read this inter- 
 esting book will get a good idea of the simple life when their fathers and 
 mothers were young. Christian Register, Boston. 
 
 MORE GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK. Illustrated. 
 
 Square i2tno. $1.25. 
 
 A thoroughly charming and enjoyable book. Spring cleaning, soap- 
 making, Fast Day, sugaring in the woods, making hay, and other rural 
 sports and labors, are told of with the most delicious freshness and vivid- 
 ness. To children of a larger growth this book will be a perpetual 
 reminder of their own far-off youth and childhood. NOAH BROOKS, 
 in The Book-Buyer. 
 
 Readers of " Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack " will be delighted to 
 continue the story of childhood life long ago in that delightful hill town 
 of western Massachusetts. Providence Journal.
 
 " Here 's some cup cakes I baked a purpose for you." 
 
 Front " MORE GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK."
 
 JOLLY GOOD TIMES TO-DAY. Illustrated by Jessie 
 McDermott. Square 12 mo. $1.25. 
 
 It is brimming from cover to cover with Healthy, hearty child's com- 
 panionship and wholesomely jolly times. It is the story of children 
 whose lives are put in pleasant places, where the modern possessions of 
 our day contribute freely to 
 the general happiness; where 
 the comradeship of elders 
 gives no undue sense of par- 
 
 ental authority, but, rather, 
 a friendly sharing of mutual 
 guiding; where liberal in- 
 stincts and thoughtful liv- 
 ing create an atmosphere of 
 growth and of personal privi- 
 lege wherein young lives may 
 unconsciously expand to a 
 noble future. Unity. 
 
 Allow me to express, un- 
 asked, the zest and satisfac- 
 tion with which I have read 
 your new children's book, 
 "Jolly Good Times; or, 
 Child Life on a Farm." . . . 
 I am delighted that while 
 our novelists are apt to ig- 
 nore the joyous country life 
 of New England, or to treat 
 it as something bare and bar- 
 ren, it should still be painted 
 in its true colors for children. From a letter !>v T. W. HIGGINSON. 
 
 " Jolly Good Times " not only deserves its title, but the further praise 
 of being pronounced a jolly good book. The Nation. 
 
 A JOLLY GOOD SUMMER. Illustrated. Square i2mo. 
 
 $1.25. 
 
 It is a story of real American children to-day, bright, cheerful, and 
 enthusiastic, and it will warm little hearts and strengthen little minds in 
 whatever homes on this broad continent it is read. New Orleans States. 
 
 This story goes through an entire school vacation, not omitting the 
 Fourth of July, the long and exciting journey from Cincinnati to Plym- 
 outh, where the Strongs spend some happy weeks of outdoor sport, all 
 told in a lively, merry style that makes good reading. Mrs. Smith's 
 children are real little girls and boys, with a great interest in their plays 
 and each other, their dogs and cats and chickens, of the good "old- 
 fashioned " sort, neither precocious nor slangy. Springfield Republican.
 
 ITbe J^OUIIQ puritans Series 
 
 By Mary P. Wells Smith 
 
 Author of " The Jolly Good Times " Series 
 
 THE YOUNG PURITANS OF OLD HADLEY. 
 
 THE YOUNG PURITANS IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 
 
 \brno, Cloth, Illustrated, each, $1.25. Two volumes, uniform, 
 
 in a box', $2.50. 
 In preparation: "THE YOUNG PURITANS IN CAPTIVITY." 
 
 Mrs. Smith deserves very hearty commendation for the admirable 
 pictures of Puritan life which are drawn with a skilful hand in this book. 
 She has chosen a representative Puiitan village as the scene, and the 
 period of very early settlement of western Massachusetts for her story, a 
 village which retains many of its early features to this day. Mrs. Smith 
 knows the people of whom she writes thoroughly, and holds them in 
 high and loving esteem. Even the most prejudiced reader can hardly 
 close this book without seeing in these genuine Puritan people a phase of 
 human life at once fine in its courage, its endurance of terrible hardships, 
 and not unbeautiful in its childlike acceptance of God's dealings and its 
 daily hunger and thirst after righteousness. The Churchman. 
 
 THE YOUNG PURITANS OF OLD HADLEY. i6mo. 
 Cloth. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 A capital colonial story. Congregationalist, Boston. 
 
 She catches the very spirit of Puritan life. Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 The work has historic value as well as unique interest. LILIAN 
 WHITING, in Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 An excellent book for school libraries. Literary A T /nvs, New York. 
 
 The adventures of the boys while hunting, the trapping of wolves and 
 panthers, which infested the forests in those early days, the encounters 
 with the Indians, friendly and otherwise, are incidents which make up a 
 book which will fascinate all younjj readers. Siirt Francisco Bulletin. 
 
 The author has studied her subject carefully; and the pictures of this 
 life, extinct, yet still blood of our blood and bone of our bone, have 
 unusual interest. Chicago Dial. 
 
 Mrs. Smith has proven that she can write as simple and natural a 
 story of child-life when the scene is laid two hundred and fifty years ago 
 as when she chooses to describe country life in the New England of the 
 present century. Christian Register. 
 
 6
 
 FROM "THE YOUNG PURITANS OF OLD HADLEY.' 
 
 But when she came downstairs, there sat the Indians toastiiu 
 themselves before the warm fire."
 
 V 
 
 THE YOUNG PURITANS IN KING PHILIP'S WAR. 
 i6mo. Cloth. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 This is the second volume in "The Young Puritans Series." 
 The author has made a very careful study of the colonial life and 
 history of the time. Like the first volume of the series, her attempt 
 to depict the life of Puritan children for young people is closely 
 based on historical facts. These volumes should be read carefully 
 and studied by the children of to-day, recounting, as they do, the 
 hardships endured by their forefathers and foremothers in the set- 
 tlement of this country, as well as their devotion, high aims, and 
 religious zeal. The third volume of the series will be devoted to 
 "The Young Puritans in Captivity." 
 
 "This story," says the author, "continues the adventures of 
 'The Young Puritans of Old Hadley,' its object being to make real 
 to young readers the incidents connected with King Philip's War 
 in the Connecticut Valley. It is impossible to study the history 
 of this period without strong impressions of its romance and 
 picturesqueness. 
 
 "In these days of war it may be of interest to see how war was 
 conducted by our forefathers, in times when not only were there 
 no railroads, no telegraphs, no rifles, but also no bridges, no roads 
 save Indian footpaths through the all-iurrounding wilderness; in 
 fact, all of what are regarded essentials in modern warfare were 
 lacking. But then, as now, hearts beat high with heroism, and 
 brave youths were prompt to do, to dare, to die if need be, for home 
 and country." 
 
 For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
 the Publishers, 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 
 
 254 Washington Street, Boston.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 068 298 9