Five Happy Weeks.

by Margaret E. Sangster.

CHAPTER I.

"GOOD-BY, MAMMA!"

"I don't see how I can do such a thing," said mamma, shading her eyes with a hand so white and thin that you could almost see through it.

"I never, never can go away, for five weeks, and leave these children; I should not have a moment's peace."

"But, my darling," said papa, "the doctor says it is the only thing that will restore your health. The children will be nicely taken care of, and I am sure they will be as good and obedient as possible while you are gone."

"You are going too, William; you seem to forget that. And we have never been away from them before. What if Edith or Mabel should be sick, or Johnnie should fall and break his arm, or--"

"Don't conjure up dreadful possibilities, Helen," said papa; "I'll tell you how we will manage it. This house shall be shut, and we'll take grandma and the children with us as far as Norfolk, and leave them there with your Aunt Maria, while we make our trip. And we will stop for them on our way home. What do you think of that plan?"

"Well," said mamma, with a faint smile, "I think I'll leave it to you.

It tires me to have to reason things out. Auntie would be kind to them, I know, and I should feel easier if this house were shut up altogether."

Mrs. Evans had been ailing all the long cold winter, and as Spring began to approach, she drooped more and more, until her husband and her friends feared she would die. Then Dr. Phelps advised a short journey to Florida and Mexico. He said she needed sea-air, and change, and flowers.

So it was settled that she should attempt it.

The children were having a frolic in the play-room while this talk had been going on. Johnnie and Mabel had been arranging a little basket of fruit for their mother, oranges, apples and grapes, and now they were disputing as to which should present it to her.

"I ought to, I'm the oldest," said Johnnie. "I'm the biggest and the strongest, and I will take it in to mamma myself."

"The bigger and the stronger ought to yield to the smaller and the weaker," said a sweet voice. The children looked round, and saw a little lady whom they all liked. She was Miss Simms, the dressmaker. Her face was as round as an apple, she had two bright black eyes, and when she laughed the dimples seemed to chase each other over her cheeks.

"I'm so glad you've come," said Mabel, running away from the fruit to put her two fat arms as far round Miss Simms as they would reach.

"I am glad, too; it's jolly," said Johnnie. "But I'd like to know why you think the bigger ought to give up to the littler. That's what I can't understand. In the history books they never do it. The strong always whip the weak."

"Well," said Miss Simms, "I'm not much of a scholar, and I've never read many history books, as you call them, Master Johnnie; but I've read my Bible, and I get my learning out of that. I'll tell you some of my verses, and you can see what you make of them.

"'Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.'

"'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.'

"'Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of G.o.d.'

"'All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them, for this is the law and the prophets.'

"There," finished Miss Simms, "if that is the law and the prophets, Johnnie, oughtn't you to give up to Mabel and Edith, once in a while?"

"I don't ask him to very often," said Edith.

"Well, I do!" said Mabel.

"Yes, Miss Simms, I believe I ought to, more'n I have," said Johnnie, quite earnestly. "I'm bound to be a gentleman; and a gentleman is always polite to the ladies. I've seen that with father and mother many a time.

So, Mabel, you take mamma her fruit;" and with that, Johnnie handed her the basket, and made a low bow.

Miss Simms seated herself in the window, took out her scissors and a great roll of patterns, and then said,

"Edith, dearie, will you ask your grandma or Aunt Catharine, if they know where the merino is for your new dresses?"

"Are we to have new dresses?" said Edith; "it's the first I've heard of it."

"Oh, children don't know everything in _this_ house," said Miss Simms, laughing. Grandma came bustling in with bundles nearly as big as herself.

"You had better measure Edie first, as she is on the spot; and then I'll help sew on her skirt, while you are cutting out for Mabel."

"I'm glad I'm not a girl," said Johnnie, "always having to bother with new frocks."

"Mrs. Evans is wise to go South now," said Miss Simms to grandma. "I've been hoping she would, it's far too bleak for her here."

Edith opened her blue eyes very wide, and then they filled with tears.

She hid her head in her grandma's bosom.

"Why, child, you little goose, it is to make your dear mother well. And you three small folks are going part way with her."

At this Edith's sudden tears dried up very quickly, and her face made itself into a question mark.

"You three children, and I myself, are going to see your Aunt Maria, in Virginia."

Johnnie began to turn somersaults to show his delight at the news. He ran off for further information, and came back saying, "I never heard anything so splendid in my life. We are to start a week from to-day Edith. Mamma's going South to get well, and we're going South too, to get acquainted with our Aunt Maria."

The children thought they must pack up their treasures at once; and as everybody was just then too busy to notice them very much, they made a remarkable collection. Edith brought out her Paris doll, and its wardrobe, her baby carriage hung with blue satin, and its pillows trimmed and ruffled with lace, her favorite books, and her best china tea-set.

"I could not travel in comfort without Miss Josephine," she said with much dignity, as she seated herself in the parlor, with her treasures around her. "I could not stir a step without her."

Mabel brought her Maltese kitten, and her Spitz dog, and tied a cherry ribbon round Fido's neck, and a blue one round Queenie's.

"Now I am ready to go!" she said.

As for Johnnie, he had so large a collection of must-haves, and can't-do-withouts, that he went to ask his father's advice. Mr. Evans came into the parlor, and laughed as he looked at his little girls, and their anxious faces.

"My dears," he said, "we are not to be off for a week yet, and when we start we cannot carry much baggage. The old Romans called baggage _impedimenta_, because it hindered them on their way; and that is just what it is, a hinderance. We must leave all our treasures at home."

"Even Queenie and Fido? They will break their hearts," said Mabel.

"Even Miss Josephine?" said Edith. "She will pale away and die without me!"

"If I could take my wheelbarrow and my box of tools, I would be satisfied," exclaimed Johnnie.

"Now, children," Mr. Evans explained, "you are going to see a good many new things; and if you leave your property at home, it will be safe, and will seem new and delightful when you get back. Fido and Queenie will go to Aunt Catharine's and pay a visit too."

"I don't believe the week will ever come to an end," sighed Edith, and she repeated the sigh a dozen times that busy week. But it did. Miss Simms cut and basted and fitted. Friends came to help. The furniture was covered. The house was securely fastened. At last they all went on board the Richmond steamer, on which they spent two very sea-sick nights and a day. After that it stopped at the Norfolk wharf. It lay there some hours, but before it started again, Aunt Maria came with a great roomy carriage, and took away the children. At the last moment grandma had decided not to go, so the brother and sisters felt rather forlorn when they went away with the strange auntie.