CHAPTER VI.

DEAR DELIGHTS.

The prospect of her much-coveted trip, and a little flattery from one of her admiring friends, had so far restored Mellicent’s good-humor that by the next day she was all smiles, and Persis felt that she might follow her own plans without the marring element of envy.

When the time came for them to be starting away in opposite directions, the two sisters parted with the best sort of feeling. Mellicent was beaming. She had a pretty new travelling costume, and a trunk full of such dainty frocks as girls love; she was going to Narragansett, and she had nothing more to wish. Persis, too, felt very complacent. She was never very fond of display, but in her well-fitting blue serge, her sailor hat, neat gloves and shoes, she had an air of elegance which rather outdid Mellicent, who inclined towards showiness, and was often a trifle overdressed.

Persis, too, had not a desire beyond that which the summer promised to fulfil. Mrs. Brown and Annis, Mrs. Phillips and her two sons were her travelling companions. At Baltimore they were to be joined by Mrs. Dixon, her son Walter, and Connie Steuart, and at Washington Mrs. Wickes would welcome them, Captain Wickes being now stationed at this latter place.

“After all the scatterations, what fun for us all to be together again,” said Persis. “I wish Lisa and Richard were here. You see,” turning to Basil, “I am cultivating the habit of speaking of him as a sister should.”

“Where are the doves?” asked Connie. “Have they finished their wedding-journey?”

“Oh, yes; they are in Brooklyn now. Mamma and papa are going to see them soon. They are quite old married folks, and are talking of the most prosaic sorts of things. Won’t Aunt Esther have a big houseful to-night? It is what she most enjoys, however, and that roomy old place of hers over in Georgetown is just fine.”

Washington was looking its fairest, for the June roses still held their own, although it was the last of the month, and the many pretty houses with their green and flowery accompaniments seemed a very agreeable sight after the staring rows of hideous little brick houses which filled the Monumental City.

“How I do wish Baltimore could add more grace to her other virtues,” Mrs. Dixon said, looking around. “I love the city so dearly, and yet I never saw a place where brick walls so crowded one, even to the very outskirts. So much open country in every direction and scarce a bit of green before the houses to relieve the eye. Philadelphia does much better with her western section and her many pretty suburban places, and New York does not show more monotony in her rows of brown-stone fronts. However, I suppose we cannot have everything. We surely have a great deal.”

“Indeed, you have,” Mrs. Phillips agreed, heartily; “but I, too, have often wondered why there is such an unpleasant sameness in the streets of Baltimore, and why the houses, if they must be nearly all alike, are not at least set back so that a variety in gardens might relieve the lines of red brick. But here we are.”

In a pleasant old-timey house surrounded by a garden they found Mrs. Wickes expecting them. “The neighbors will think you have suddenly opened a boarding-house,” were Persis’s first words. “These boys insist upon going to a hotel, Aunt Esther.”

“They’ll do nothing of the kind,” declared Mrs. Wickes, extending a cordial hand to her friends. “Come in, every one of you. I have had your rooms all prepared, and there’s not a sign of a reason why any one should leave me—unless he prefers to,” she added, with a bright glance at the three young men.

This was quite enough, and not another word was said about going to a hotel.

“Now, what is your plan of operation?” Mrs. Dixon asked. “We hear, Esther, that you have laid out a delightful trip for us, and so we rely entirely on your generalship.”

“The trip I had planned awaits your endorsement, of course,” Mrs. Wickes returned. “I will give you it in outline, if you choose to consider yourselves ‘personally conducted’ by me. I thought we would start by taking the steamer down the Potomac to Norfolk, see that quaint old place, and then go to Virginia Beach for a few days; returning, take the boat up the James River to Richmond, then cut across the country to the Natural Bridge. There we can settle ourselves and take driving trips to the many different springs within comfortable distance. After we have wearied of that we can make our way home by way of Shenandoah Valley, stopping at Luray if we choose, and will, I think, have made a very pleasant circuit.”

“Fine!” exclaimed every one.

“Just where I’ve always longed to go,” announced Persis.

“Nothing could be jollier,” the boys declared.

“But how about that sight of the Great Falls of the Potomac? Does that come in on the trip?” asked Porter.

“Great Falls of the Potomac?” echoed Mrs. Phillips. “I never even heard of them.”

“No, I suppose not,” replied Mrs. Wickes. “If they were in Europe all the guide-books would mention them as one of the wonderful sights of the continent, or if they were even in the region of our Yankee neighbors, they would not be left unsung. But they are certainly worth seeing. However, they do not lie on the route of our journey, but are only fourteen miles above us here on the river, and we can drive there any day when we get back, if you can wait, Porter. I am short one hand, and my household arrangements are not quite so complete as they will be later.”

“And we pounced down upon you in this way!” exclaimed Mrs. Phillips.

“That does not make the slightest difference. It is only that my butler can more easily be pressed into doing duty as one of our coachmen a little later. I always prefer to have him drive a second carriage instead of depending upon a strange man. Pardon my discussing my domestic affairs, but you are all such old friends, and I wanted Porter to know why I postpone the expedition. I think I must tell you, however, of the absurd trick my house-maid had played upon her, and which accounts for her absence. She came to me in great distress yesterday, saying, ‘Mis’ Wickes, I got word that my sister’s ve’y low, ma’am, an’ I is ’bleedged to go home fo’ a few days.’ I knew refusal meant simply that Eliza would take French leave, so I gave her the permission. This morning my cook told me that it was all a scheme to get Eliza home; that her mother wanted her, and had bidden her sister to go lie down in the cellar. ‘Aun’ Philly say Rosy kyarnt be much lower’n dat,’ said Sophy, ‘an’ she ain’t tellin’ no lie to ‘Liza, for Rosy sutt’nly are ve’y low.’ ‘Why didn’t you tell Eliza before she went?’ I asked. ‘I aint heerd it mahse’f twel to-day,’ Sophy said. ‘’Liza tol’ me dis mawnin’.’ ‘You saw Eliza this morning. Why didn’t she come back to her work when she found out the trick?’ ‘’Liza say you done tell her she kin stay away a few days,’ was the reply. Such are the ideas of service which prevail about here among the colored people.”

They all laughed, and the company broke up into little groups, the elder ladies finding comfortable chairs in one corner of the wide porch, where they could drink in sweet odors of roses and honeysuckle, and the young folks flocking together.

Persis and Annis had long been devoted friends. There was a little jealousy in Persis’s composition, and she liked to have Annis all to herself. She had for a little time suspected that Annis liked Basil more than she cared to suppose, but this idea had vanished altogether, and she was learning to conquer the impulse which led her to be exacting, and was trying to see that real love would cause her to desire her friend’s happiness at any cost. More and more was Persis learning this. So when Annis said she should enjoy a little walk, Persis saw her wander off with Basil, and turned to join the others. “You come too,” said Basil; but Persis shook her head, for Annis did not second the invitation. Walter and Porter were both given over to fun, and in a few moments Connie and Persis were laughing at their nonsense, and were surprised when Basil and Annis returned, so short a time had they been away.

“Come, Persis,” said Basil; “Annis and I are no help to each other. I want you to tell me about such a fine old place up beyond here.”

“Oh, I know where you mean. It is the old Tudor place, of course.” Persis arose and joined Basil. “Aren’t you coming, too?” she asked Annis, who lingered.

“No, I have seen it. I’ll stay.” And Persis took her turn.

“It is a beautiful old place,” she agreed with Basil. “It was built about the time that Mount Vernon was.”

“I should like to own just such a spot. When are we going to start on our trip, Persis? I want to see something of Washington. There have been some good buildings put up since I was here.”

“Yes; and we ought to go to Mount Vernon. Annis has never been there, but we can do all that when we get back. I think Aunt Esther would rather we’d start on our longer trip first, and I, for one, should like to consider her convenience.”

“You are given to considering the convenience of every one, aren’t you, Persis?”

“I? No, I don’t believe I do always. I’m very likely to look to my own. Isn’t this a contradictory old town: decayed elegance, tumble-down poverty, pretentious newness, and solid comfort all combined, one next door to the other, as like as not. See, Basil! I know you’ll like that place.”

“Yes, I do. That’s another thing: you always know just what I’m going to like.”

“It seems to me that you’re very appreciative of my good qualities this evening.”

“I have always been, I think; and since we are together again after so long a separation, they strike me more forcibly than ever. Tell me, Persis, what about Mr. Dan?”

“What about him? Why, I don’t know. What should there be about him?”

“I didn’t know but that he was to be everlastingly about you?”

“Oh, Basil, don’t you, like so many others, get that notion. I never have had, and never will have, any but a real good, comfortable, all-around feeling of comradeship for Mr. Dan.”

“Humph!”

“Don’t be humphing at me. It is true. Cross my heart.”

Basil walked along, absently striking at a little stick with the switch he carried. “I’m glad I asked,” he said presently.

“I am, too. I’ve been thinking for some time that you were carrying about with you some such idea. Here we are at the top of the hill. I wish it were light enough for us to see the beautiful view of the river from the college grounds. We could walk over that way, but I’m afraid it is too dark. Shall we go back?”

“As you say.”

“I think it hardly seems quite fair to leave the others very long, and it is scarce light enough to see any more architecture to-night. Basil, we will see some ideal old places in Virginia. You’ll just love them.”

“Yes, I expect to. I think we are going to have a fine time for the next few weeks, don’t you?”

“Don’t I?” There was a ring of utter gladness in Persis’s voice. “It is an Elysian dream, Basil.”

“Seems pretty much that way to me. I could ask nothing better than just such a trip in just such company.”

Persis flashed him an answering smile. “What a bright face she has, and how pretty she looks to-night!” thought Basil.

Annis seemed very quiet that evening, Persis thought, and after a while the latter managed to get close to her friend and slip an arm around her. “Tired, Annis?” she whispered.

“A little.”

“We won’t sit up late. I hope Aunt Esther has put us in a room together.”

“Very likely she has arranged to have me room with mamma.”

“And put Connie with me? I’d so much rather it would be you, dear. I’m going to ask.”

A little later Persis followed her aunt into the house, and upon coming out again she nodded to Annis. “It’s all right,” she told her. “There are nine of us; the three boys bunk in one big room together, Connie is to have a cot in the little dressing-room off Mrs. Dixon’s room, Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Brown each has a room to herself, and we go shares. Aunt Esther always does just the right thing.”

“These are fine large rooms, aren’t they?” Annis observed, when they had reached their quarters.

“Yes, it is a nice, old-fashioned, roomy house, and I like it. Don’t you remember, Annis, how we discussed the old and the new when you were looking for a house? Doesn’t that seem ages ago?”

“It does, indeed. I don’t believe I was ever so happy.”

“Why, dearie, aren’t you happy now?” Persis put her arms around the slender figure, and looked down anxiously with eyes full of love.

Annis gave a little sigh. “Yes, I am sometimes, and I could be under some circumstances, but as one grows up there are so many unexpected experiences coming to one. It scares me sometimes to look ahead.”

“Well, there is only pleasure to look forward to just now. Don’t you think so?”

“Oh, yes, I do, indeed.”

“Then don’t get vaporish, dear little cuzzy-wuzzy. It’s a beautiful world. We ought to, we must, be happy.” Persis could see no possibility of any other condition on this night.

But Annis did not respond as her cousin felt that she ought, and after they were in bed Persis turned the matter over in her mind as she lay quietly by Annis’s side. Then she said, suddenly, “Annis, did you see any one in Europe that you liked immensely, more than—more than you ever did?”

Annis was silent for a moment, then she said, hesitatingly, “Yes, I did.” And having confessed this much, nothing further could be had from her that night.

Persis, however, in silent sympathy, slipped an arm over and felt for Annis’s hand, which she held closely till both were asleep.

“Six young persons start on a trip with four chaperons, how many does each one have? That is a question in mental arithmetic which will take all our spare time while we are away to solve.” Persis gave utterance to this as they were seating themselves on the deck of the steamer, the boys having brought them chairs, placing them where they could be the most comfortable.

“Nonsense,” replied Mrs. Wickes. “It is easy enough to solve that. Each takes her proper charge. Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Dixon, and I take a girl apiece, leaving the boys to their respective mothers.”

“That gives my mother more than her share,” Walter put in. “I should say that the fairest plan would be to leave me out. I don’t mind; I always was ready to give up to others. Or else each chaperon could give two-thirds of her time to each one, and the remaining one-third of the time we could go scot free.”

“Either would be much more to your liking, I’ve no doubt; but you will have to walk a chalk line, I tell you, sir,” returned his mother.

As Walter did precisely as he pleased, and managed to convince his mother that whatever he did was all right, this was an idle threat, and amused every one.

Annis and Porter had never been on the best of terms, at least they were not congenial, and consequently Persis usually felt that she must not couple them together, and often allowed herself to be paired off with Porter when another arrangement would have suited her better. Since her questioning of Annis she had felt a new jealousy for her cousin, and wondered more than once who it could be who had won her heart. Once she asked Basil, “Did you see any one specially attentive to Annis while she was abroad?”

Basil considered for a moment. “No-o, I can’t say that I did. I believe there were two or three fellows who hung around the party, but I never noticed any one specially gone on her. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wondered.”

“Harvey Dana used to be with us more than any one; but then you know I was only with the crowd a comparatively short time, and there might have been all sorts of goings on which I didn’t see.”

“True,” agreed Persis. “Well, whoever does fall in love with Annis will get a treasure.”

“Yes, she’s a mighty nice girl. Hasn’t quite as much go as you have, Persis.”

“But she is a dear, and is twice as sweet-tempered as I am,” interrupted Persis, eagerly; “and she is as true as steel.”

“No one contradicts you, you fierce little body. You always amuse me, Perse, when you bristle up that way, like a hen when a hawk is after her chickens.”

“Do I bristle up? Well, I can’t help it, I love my friends so hard, Basil. Love isn’t worth anything unless it is given unstintedly, it seems to me. I believe I care more for my friends than they do for me.”

Basil gave her a slow side glance. “Exceptions prove the rule,” he said, enigmatically. They were leaning over the side of the boat watching the light dancing on the waves. The stars were out, and the night was still and calm. Neither seemed to be in a very talkative mood, but yet Persis felt strangely peaceful and happy. Anything, everything worth living for seemed possible, and yet, and yet, ambition was slowly fading away at the approach of another mysterious presence.

She gave a long sigh just as Porter sauntered up and said, “What are you two mooning about off here? You’re as silent as two clams.”

“It is so delightfully serene under this sky,” Persis replied.

“And I disturb the serenity. I’ll go back.”

“No.” She laid a detaining hand on his arm. “We’ll all go together in a moment. What are they all doing?”

“Oh, the chaperons are reminiscing. And Walt and Connie are chaffing and frivoling, as ‘’tis their nature to.’”

“Why don’t you frivol likewise?”

“I can’t go off by myself and poke my own ribs and cackle, can I?”

“No, you poor, neglected creature, you can’t. We’ll all have to hang together. Come.”

Just such little situations were all that marred the trip. Connie and Walter seemed daily to show a more decided preference for each other’s society, so the other four young people were apt to make up a party to drive or walk together.

Of all places, Persis declared herself the most entirely pleased with the Natural Bridge. “It is the most satisfying place I ever saw,” she declared. “It does not disappoint one a bit. It’s just as big and just as wonderful as I imagined it would be.”

They had arrived late in the afternoon, and Persis could hardly wait to see the great arch. Basil had quietly made a few inquiries, and gravely piloted her down a piece of road quite near the hotel.

“Is it far?” asked she.

“No; quite near.”

“Which direction shall I look?”

“Come here.” Basil stepped to the side of the road on which they were walking and held aside the bushes. “I want to show you something, Perse,” he said. “Give me your hand. There, look over.”

“Oh!” cried she, in amazement; “we’re on it! Oh, Basil, why didn’t you tell me? I never dreamed of it. Isn’t it strange? Why, it looks just like any old road till you look over.”

“That’s just what it does. I wanted to surprise you, Persis.”

“Well, you succeeded. Can we go down under it?”

“Yes, we will after supper. I believe there is a special party here, which gives a definite occasion for lighting it up, and we’ll have a fine show.”

True enough, it was weirdly and bewilderingly grand, and thrilled them to look up from below at the huge chasm with its noble span.

“That is what I call a bridge of size,” remarked Walter to Connie.

She laughed, and Porter groaned. “Even here we have to listen to such things from you, Walter.”

“I feel as if I were in a queer sort of a dream,” Persis whispered. “As we came down that dim woodsy path lighted by torches, I was more and more assured that I was living in a fairy story. Oh, see, they are sending off fire-works! How mysterious it makes everything seem! Oh, I’d like to stay here always.”

“Wait till the daylight comes. You may be disenchanted,” her aunt suggested.

But Persis was not disappointed even then, and from the moment that she sprang out of bed to see the mists rolling from the peaks about her, till the sun dipped behind them that evening, she was in a state of exaltation that surprised most of the others. “It has been such a reverential day,” she said to Basil that night.

He nodded. Basil always understood.

[Illustration: '[Fleuron]’]