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

"Vy, I d.i.n.ks I prings mine Shakey to town and hangs him on to Sheneral Shmicdt and makes a brinting-office out of him."

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

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

to school all your life, and you don't know de vay to makes a fence yet.'"

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

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

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

"Now, Aunt Wealthy," said Annis, "what can we do to make this wonderful day pa.s.s most happily to you?"

"Whatever will be most enjoyable to my guests," was the smiling reply.

"An old body like me can ask nothing better than to sit and look on and listen."

"Ah, but we would have you talk, too, auntie, when you don't find it wearisome!"

"What are you going to do with all your new treasures, Aunt Wealthy?"

asked Edward; "don't you want your pictures hung and a place found for each vase and other household ornament?"

"Certainly," she said, with a pleased look, "and this is the very time, while I have you all here to give your opinions and advice."

"And help," added Edward, "if you will accept it. As I am tall and strong, I volunteer to hang the pictures after the place for each has been duly considered and decided upon."

His offer was promptly accepted, and the work entered upon in a spirit of fun and frolic, which made it enjoyable to all.

Whatever the others decided upon met with Miss Stanhope's approval; she watched their proceedings with keen interest, and was greatly delighted with the effect of their labors.

"My dears," she said, "you have made my house so beautiful! and whenever I look at these lovely things my thoughts will be full of the dear givers. I shall not be here long, but while I stay my happiness will be the greater because of your kindness,"

"And the remembrance of these words of yours, dear aunt, will add to ours," said Mr. Keith, with feeling.

"But old as you are, Aunt Wealthy," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, "it is quite possible that some of us may reach home before you. It matters little, however, as we are all travelling the same road to the same happy country, being children of one Father, servants of the same blessed Master."

"And He shall choose all our changes for us," she said, "calling each one home at such time as He sees best. Ah, it is sweet to leave all our interests in His dear hands, and have Him choose our inheritance for us!"

There was a pause in the conversation, while Miss Stanhope seemed lost in thought. Then Mrs. Keith remarked:

"You look weary, dear Aunt Wealthy; will you not lie down and rest for a little?"

"Yes," she said, "I shall take it as the privilege of age, leaving you all to entertain yourselves and each other for a time."

At that Mr. Dinsmore hastened to give her his arm and support her to her bedroom, his wife and Mrs. Keith following to see her comfortably established upon a couch, where they left her to take her rest.

The others scattered in various directions, as inclination dictated.

Elsie and Annis sought the grounds, and, taking possession of a rustic seat beneath a spreading tree, had a long, quiet talk, recalling incidents of other days, and exchanging mutual confidences.

"What changes we have pa.s.sed through since our first acquaintance !"

exclaimed Annis. "What careless, happy children we were then!"

"And what happy women we are now!" added Elsie, with a joyous smile.

"Yes; and you a grandmother! I hardly know how to believe it! You seem wonderfully young for that."

"Do I?" laughed Elsie. "I acknowledge that I feel young--that I have never yet been able to reason myself into feeling old."

"Don't try; keep young as long as ever you can," was Annis's advice.

"It is what you seem to be doing," said Elsie, sportively, and with an admiring look at her cousin. "Dear Annis, may I ask why it is you have never married? It must certainly have been your own fault."

"Really, I hardly know what reply to make to that last remark," returned Annis, in her sprightly way. "But I have not the slightest objection to answering your question. I will tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' I have had friends and admirers among the members of the other s.e.x, but have never yet seen the man for love of whom I could for a moment think of leaving father and mother."

"How fortunate for them!" Elsie said, with earnest sincerity. "I know they must esteem it a great blessing that they have been able to keep one dear daughter in the old home."

"And I esteem myself blest indeed in having had my dear father and mother spared to me all these years," Annis said, with feeling. "What a privilege it is, Elsie, to be permitted to smooth, some of the roughnesses from their pathway now in their declining years; to make life even a trifle easier and happier than it might otherwise be to them--the dear parents who so tenderly watched over me in infancy and youth! I know you can appreciate it--you who love your father so devotedly.

"But Cousin Horace is still a comparatively young man, hale and hearty, and to all appearance likely to live many years, while my parents are aged and infirm, and I cannot hope to keep them long." Her voice was husky with emotion as she concluded.

"Dear Annis," Elsie said, pressing tenderly the hand she held in hers, "you are never to lose them. They may be called home before you, but the separation will be short and the reunion for eternity--an eternity of unspeakable joy, unclouded bliss at the right hand of Him whom you all love better than you love each other."

"That is true," Annis responded, struggling with her tears, "and there is very great comfort in the thought; yet one cannot help dreading the parting, and feeling that death is a thing to be feared for one's dear ones and one's self. Death is a terrible thing, Elsie."

"Not half so much so to me as it once was, dear cousin," Elsie said, in a tenderly sympathizing tone. "I have thought much lately on that sweet text, 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints;'

and that other, 'He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied,' and the contemplation has shown me so much of the love of Jesus for the souls He has bought with His own precious blood and the joyful reception He gives them, as one by one they are gathered home, that it seems to me the death of a Christian should hardly bring sorrow to any heart. Oh, it has comforted me much in my separation from the dear husband of my youth, and made me at times look almost eagerly forward to the day when my dear Lord shall call me home and I shall see His face!"

"O Elsie," cried Annis, "I trust that day may be far distant, for many hearts would be like to break at parting with you! But there is consolation for the bereaved in the thoughts you suggest; and I shall try to cherish them and forget the gloom of the grave and the dread, for myself and for those I love, of the parting."

They were silent for a moment; then Elsie said, as if struck by a sudden thought, "Annis, why should not you and your father and mother go home with us and spend the fall and winter at Ion and Viamede?"

"I cannot think of anything more delightful!" exclaimed Annis, her face lighting up with pleasure; "and I believe it would be for their health to escape the winter in our severer climate, for they are both subject to colds and rheumatism at that season."

"Then you will persuade them?"

"If I can, Elsie. How kind in you to give the invitation!"

"Not at all, Annis; for in so doing I seek my own gratification as well as theirs and yours," Elsie answered, with earnest sincerity. "We purpose going from here to Ion, and from there to Viamede, perhaps two months later, to spend the remainder of the winter. And you and your father and mother will find plenty of room and a warm welcome in both places."

"I know it, Elsie," Annis said; "I know you would not say so if it were not entirely true, and I feel certain of a great deal of enjoyment in your loved society, if father and mother accept your kind invitation."

While these two conversed together thus in the grounds, a grand banquet was in course of preparation in Miss Stanhope's house, under the supervision of our old friends, May and Lottie. To it Elsie and Annis were presently summoned, in common with the other guests.

When the feasting was concluded, and all were again gathered in the parlors, Elsie renewed her invitation already made to Annis, this time addressing herself to Mr. and Mrs. Keith.

They heard it with evident pleasure, and after some consideration accepted.