"Dear Jerry! Why do they call you "Hamlet?""
"Oh! just some idiot started it,--you can"t tell how these things start.
One comfort is,--I called him the "Grave-digger," and it will stick to him through college, for he looks it to the life. And the joke of it,--I don"t know whether it"s safe to tell you the joke of it, Hilda."
"Try and see!"
"Well, the real joke of it is that his father is an undertaker, and I never knew it.
"But I haven"t finished about the courses!" he added, hastily, seeing Hilda look serious. "I am taking French, and Ferguson German. We have delightful conversations every evening, I speaking my language, and he his. You shall have a specimen when you see us togeth--Hullo! What"s that?"
Mrs. Grahame uttered a slight cry, and rose hastily to her feet.
"I--I don"t know," she said. "I thought--I surely did see a face looking in at the window. Hark!"
They listened, and heard a rustling in the great linden-tree outside.
Then something gleamed white at the window,--a face, beyond all doubt.
"Ferguson!" said Gerald. "If I don"t give it to him for startling you, Mrs. Grahame; he shall be flayed, I a.s.sure you! Set your mind at rest on that point! Flayed an inch at a time!"
"May I come in?" asked Phil"s voice, as he swayed back and forth on the linden branch.
""Begging for a dole of crumbs, Little Robin Redbreast comes!""
"Quick!" said Hildegarde, as she threw up the window once more. "When will you boys learn to move and act like reasonable mortals? How are you, Phil? I am delighted to see you!"
Phil wriggled his length swiftly into the room, and closed the sash with a single quick movement. Then, after shaking hands warmly with his two friends, he fixed a withering glance on his brother.
"How about that box?" he asked.
"Now may Julius Caesar promote you to a captaincy in the Skidmore Guards!" replied Gerald, with great sweetness. "I clean forgot the box, sweet chuck! And I just threatening to flay you! Didst open it with thine own fairy paws, beloved?"
"I didst, beloved! And I intend to do the same by thy head, at a convenient season. He promised to be back in ten minutes," Phil added, turning to Mrs. Grahame, "to open a box for the Mater. I was putting up bookcases the while. It"s frightful, the way books multiply in our family. I"ve put them up all along all the up-stairs pa.s.sages now, and it gives us a little breathing-s.p.a.ce, but not enough."
"That is a good idea!" said Mrs. Grahame. "We must remember that, Hilda; though, indeed, there is still plenty of s.p.a.ce in these rooms."
"I wish there were in ours," said Phil. "The disadvantage of the pa.s.sage bookcase is, that the whole family stops and reads as it goes along, and we seldom get anywhere. Which reminds me! I"m afraid I must go back, Mrs. Grahame, and take this wretched object with me. It is nearly ten o"clock, and my Obadiah should have been tucked up in his little nest some time ago."
"Your Obadiah will inquire into the condition of _your_ little nest before he sleeps!" said Gerald, threateningly.
"But remember that the Mater said the next time we sc.r.a.pped a bedstead to pieces, we must sleep in the pieces. Come along, Child of Doom!"
And with many hearty greetings, and promises to meet the next day, the friends separated, the boys saying good-night, and clattering off down the stairs like a regiment of horse.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHRISTMASING.
THE next day seemed to be largely spent in running to and fro between the two houses. Kitty and w.i.l.l.y were at Braeside before breakfast, eager to embrace their dear Mrs. Grahame and Hilda, and full of wonderful tales of school and play. Then, as soon as Hildegarde had finished breakfast, she must go back with them to greet Mrs. Merryweather, and tell her how delighted she was at their coming, and hear a more detailed account of the girls" movements. Mrs. Merryweather was sitting at her desk, with a pile of papers before her, and books heaped as high as her head on every side.
"My dear," she said, after greeting Hildegarde most affectionately, "I am just looking for the girls" letter. It came this morning, and I put it somewhere,--in quite a safe place, as I knew the boys would want to see it, and then I meant to send it on to your father,--I mean to their father, of course. Here it--oh, no! that is an old one! Now, this is really unfortunate, for I was to send something to Gertrude, and I cannot remember what it was. Dear me! I am really too--would you mind saying over a few things, Hildegarde, that she would be likely to want?
Perhaps it will come back to me; and I can keep on looking all the while, not to lose time."
Much amused, Hildegarde began to suggest,--"Boots, hat, m.u.f.f, handkerchiefs, gloves,"--but at each article named Mrs. Merryweather shook her head, and sighed as she sorted papers.
"No, dear, no! Thank you just as much; but it was none of those. This only shows, dear Hildegarde, the dreadful misfortune of being unmethodical. I have no manner of doubt that I have wasted at least ten good years of life in looking for things. My sister-in-law, now, could find a needle in a top bureau drawer at midnight, without a moment"s hesitation. It is a gift! I trust you cultivate--now, you see, I may spend half the morning hunting for this letter, when I might--what amuses you, my dear?"
For Hildegarde"s eyes were dancing, and her whole face eloquent of fun.
"Dear Mrs. Merryweather,--I know you will excuse me,--but is not that the letter, pinned to your dress? It looks like Gertrude"s handwriting."
Mrs. Merryweather looked down, and gave a sigh of relief.
"My child, your coming in was providential, nothing less. Of course, I remember now, I pinned it there for fear I should do--what I thought I had done. Well, well! and it is a Roman sash that the child wants,--I am sure I should never have thought of that. Ah, dear! I do miss my girls, Hildegarde. You see, they inherit from their father a sense of order,--in a measure,--and they help me a great deal. Are my gla.s.ses on my forehead, dear? Whereas Gerald and Phil are rather like me, I am afraid. I wonder if Gerald has found his waistcoat yet? He is wearing--ah, there he is now! Gerald, you are really an object for a circus, my son."
[Ill.u.s.tration: ""CONSIDER THE BEAUTY OF YOUR OFFSPRING.""]
Gerald looked down thoughtfully at himself. He was attired in white corduroy knickerbockers, an ancient swallow-tail coat so large that it hung in folds upon him, and a red velvet waistcoat reaching to his knee.
"I hesitated about coming in," he said. "Hildegarde is so susceptible, I fear the impression I shall make upon her tender heart. The lily is painted, the fine gold is gilded. Hilda, confess that I am the dream of your existence."
"What does it mean?" asked Hildegarde, laughing.
"Trunks not come yet; not mine, at least. Upset a bath-tub over my only suit this morning,--lo, the result! Wouldst not that I were ever habited thus, mirific Mammy? Consider the beauty of your offspring."
He seated himself on his mother"s desk, drawing the folds of the dress-coat about him, and beamed upon her.
"If you would send him away, dear Mrs. Merryweather," said Hildegarde, "I should be so glad to help you a little with the papers and books. I have a whole hour to spare,--do let me help!"
"My dear, I should be only too thankful," said Mrs. Merryweather.
"Jerry, go away, and find something to do! You might unpack the blankets, like a dear."
But Gerald declared that a wet blanket was the only one with which he had any concern after this cruel treatment, and retired weeping bitterly, wiping his eyes with a long coat-tail.
Hildegarde devoted the morning to helping her friends, and when she went home at noon the rooms wore a very different aspect. The books were all off the chairs and on the tables, or in the bookcases.
"Not that it makes any permanent difference," said Mrs. Merryweather, plaintively. "They _will_ put books on the chairs, Hildegarde. It is against the rules,--but it is their nature. I made a rhyme about it once:
""The book is on the chair, And the hat is on the stair, And the boots are anywhere, Children mine!""
Hildegarde especially enjoyed helping to arrange the girls" room, tacking up the curtains, and putting fresh flowers (from the Roseholme greenhouse) in the vases. To-morrow she would see those dear girls, and then who so happy as she!
And to-morrow came, and with it Bell and Gertrude, escorted by their father. All the Merryweathers were now here, except Roger. The question was on Hildegarde"s lips several times, "When will he come?" but somehow she waited a little each time, and the moment pa.s.sed, till she heard Mr.
Merryweather say: