Sea-gift

Being such an one, I was highly gratified when mother said to me one day:

“Johnnie, we are going to give a dinner party next week, and as you will be without company, you may go over and invite Lulie Mayland.”

“Oh! I’m so glad, I’m so glad,” I sung out; “and I mean to go over right now, and tell her to come.”

“No, no,” said mother, smiling, and taking me by the jacket button, “we have not sent out our cards yet. Wait till Monday, then you may go.”

I was disposed to whine at the delay, but she pinched my cheek as she got up from her chair, and said:

“No, you must do as I say, sir;” and left me, full of impatience for the advent of Monday. During the remainder of the week I exercised fully the child’s faculty of being ubiquitous at home. The kitchen, however, received the largest share of my attention. I was around every table, dipping in every dish, and in the cook’s way, to my fullest extent. If she turned around with a pan in her hand, it was sure to thump my head, and my anger thereat could only be appeased by letting me have a piece of dough to feel or a bowl to scrape. If eggs were to be beaten, I must try to froth them, till I was as full of foam as a half born Aphrodite; if flour was to be sifted, I was sure to get whitened; if spices were to be pounded I was certain to have my fingers mashed; and the burns I received, in trying to cook little dabs of cake, would have discouraged Mucius Scævola. Then my insatiate curiosity, and constant inquiries in regard to the numerous articles scattered around, would have worried out a less irascible nature than that of our cook; and by a final appeal to mother, and a command from headquarters, I would be forced to raise the siege, and retire from the field, with a jacket full of sugar and flour, sullenly licking my fingers in defiance.

Verily, children prove the old adage true: “Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.”

And yet how dear to us are their mischievous ways, and how blank and drear would childhood be without them! The sunshine of their presence is always brightest when flecked by little clouds of annoyance. And when your tenderest bud has been plucked by the Reaper, your heartstrings throb saddest o’er the toy that’s broken, and your tears fall in torrents o’er the little torn garment, while the clothes neatly folded pass unnoticed by.

Early Monday morning I hurried over to tell Lulie. As I entered her gate I discovered her at play, near a large rose bush, but was surprised and troubled to see a strange boy with her. I had somehow, in my own mind at least, assumed a kind of proprietorship over her, and the presence of any one else, in whom she could take any interest whatever, was excessively annoying. I managed to creep up quite near, without being discovered, and stood for some time watching them, and feeling, in my jealousy, an almost irresistible desire to try a stone on the strange head. They were busy arranging a doll house, which consisted of rows of dirt piled up like fortifications, with lumps of moss for chairs and sofas, and an array of dolls that seemed to have been taken from the hospital, so much were they maimed in their legs and arms.

The strange boy and Lulie seemed very intimate, and bent their heads together, and talked in delighted and animated accents; he suggesting, and she listening and adopting his suggestions. And then he had on such new clothes, such a jaunty cap, such a blue jacket with bright buttons, and such boots with heels! In him I recognized a formidable rival, and concluded to retreat and give up all thoughts of the invitation. As I endeavored to slip away unobserved, I overturned a little tea set that was placed to one side, awaiting the completion of the house. At the noise they both turned around and saw me, and Lulie’s face flushed a little as she exclaimed:

“There, now! see what you have done! turned over all my tea cups and broken I don’t know how many!”

I offered, with all earnestness, the child’s universal apology, “I didn’t go to do it,” but felt that it was not accepted, and that I, Lulie’s acknowledged sweetheart, was not welcome. But boys are not oversensitive, and as I knew that to retire then would only make matters worse, I swallowed my confusion and joined in their play. Lulie did not introduce me to her companion, but I soon learned that his name was Frank, and that he was fast supplanting me in her favor. All my suggestions in regard to the disposition and arrangement of the furniture were at once overruled and disregarded for what he thought best.

All her questions and remarks were addressed to him, and they both seemed oblivious of my presence, save when they wished me to perform some office for them. Then Frank, as she called him, had such an insolent way of staring at me, and walking around with his hands stuck contemptuously into his trousers’ pockets. And when we had completed the house, and were cleaning up, he raked away the earth with his boots, and made little ditches around the walls with his heels, and stamped the walks level; in short, made such a display of his morocco that I felt quite ashamed of my plain copper-tip shoes, and tried to hide them as much as possible by standing in the grass. After awhile it was proposed to get the doll’s dinner ready, and then I thought of my errand. Without a moment’s consideration for Frank’s feeling, I broke out with: “Oh! Lulie, I forgot; you must come to our house to-morrow; we are going to have a dinner, and have got lots of good things cooked. There won’t be any other girls there but you, and your pa and ma are coming, too. Won’t you come?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, tying an apron on a very red-faced doll, with china feet, wooden legs, and her hair rubbed off the back of her head; “I don’t want to go much, ‘cause me and Frank are going to have a doll wedding to-morrow. Frank, let me tell you” – breaking off suddenly, and putting the doll down with her face on the ground, and her wooden limbs very much exposed, she took Frank aside to whisper something to him. I inferred it was a proposal to invite me to their dinner, as he replied loud enough for me to hear:

“No, let’s have it all by ourselves.”

Lulie seemed to assent, and as I had become rather incensed at the whole proceedings, I turned off without another word, and went home. Children suffer as keenly, if not as long, in their little loves and jealousies as older people; and I was as unhappy during the remainder of the day as was Octavia while Anthony was in Egypt. Many were the castles I had built in the air, in all of which Lulie reigned as queen. My favorite dream was to imagine her and myself wrecked, and playing Robinson Crusoe on some desert island. I had loved to think how we would sit together by the beach and watch the frightened billows fleeing to the shore, or stroll through shadowy forests in search of fruits; and how I would defend her from the wolves and bears, and how tender and confiding she would be when she had no one but me to look to. And then, at night, how cosy and snug we would be in our cave, which would be always warmed and lighted by some means. And when the savages came how we would shut the great stone door, and be safe and secure. But I had now found in the sand, not the naked foot print Robinson saw, but a boot track, which conjured up more fears and suspicions than Defoe ever conceived; for it told of the presence of a cannibal for my heart.

The next day wore away and the guests began to arrive. Having nothing better to do, I stationed myself at the hall window to watch the carriages as they came up to our door, and their contents came out.

The first that arrived were the Cheyleighs, numbering Mr. Edward Cheyleigh and wife, a stylish old couple, who prided themselves on their family and position in society, and the two Misses Cheyleigh – ladies who had been in the market for some time, and as yet were unspoken. They were great sticklers for the usages of society, and dependent, in a great measure, on their social prestige and en regle manners for the attention they received. They were well aware of the fact, that while Mr. Cheyleigh had given balls and parties innumerable for their benefit, he had not yet given a wedding party, and to accomplish for him the privilege of giving one was and had been their constant aim, albeit its fervor was a little abated by its continued futility.

As they entered the hall, and found the hat and coat stands empty, Miss Ella, the younger, turned to her father, and with much petulance exclaimed:

“Now, pa, I hope you are satisfied; you would hurry us off, and now we are the very first. I declare it is really too bad.”

“Yes, it is,” chimes in Miss Gertrude, the elder, “and looks as if we were so dreadfully anxious to come.”

“Well, my daughters,” philosophises Mr. Cheyleigh, “somebody has to be the first, and we are fully ten minutes behind the time specified.”

“Ten minutes!” exclaimed both young ladies, between the pronunciation of the “ten” and the “minutes,” changing their faces from a frown to a smile, as mother, hearing their voices, appeared in the hall and welcomed them, taking the ladies off to the cloak room; while William, our servant, who had been leaning against the stair while their conversation was proceeding, recovered himself sufficiently to usher Mr. Cheyleigh into the parlor. Many others arrive and are passed in, until at length two young gentlemen approach, toss away their cigars, and stroll, as it were, up the steps, taking a long time to reach the door, and conversing in a low tone, which I could overhear.

“I wonder who is to be here to-day,” said the first, frowning as if in pain, as he buttoned his glove with an effort; “dinners with old folks are devilish bores.”

“I understand the two Misses Cheyleigh will be here, and that will be some relief,” replied the other, pulling down his wristband, so as to show the white.

“Yes, quite a relief to you. From your devotion down at Bentric’s last evening I should judge you were really in love with that long, languishing Gertrude.”

“Hush, Cassell, I vow you shan’t speak disrespectfully of her. I have a right to admire her, if she is a little oldish.”

“Success to you, Berton! here goes for an hour’s boredom with that little mincing, over vivacious Ella;” and he pulled the bell, muttering as he did so, “I say confound these small and select gatherings; a fellow is always put off with a fussy old maid, or a gassy old fogy, who’ll talk you into an anatomy in five minutes.”

“Any way,” whispered the other, as William opened the door, “old Smith keeps good wine and feeds well.”

They are followed in turn by others, till at last Dr. Mayland’s carriage drives up, and, to my great surprise and delight, I recognise the curly little head of Lulie through the window. I was too much piqued by her conduct of the day before to run out and meet her, but sprang at her from behind the door, as she entered, in a conciliatory kind of way, and we both lost our stiffness in a hearty laugh. Without waiting for more arrivals I hurried her off to the nursery.

“I thought you were not coming,” I began, as soon as we were fairly in, “but that you and that Frank somebody were to have a doll’s party.”

“Yes, but you see Frank and I fell out,” she replied quickly, “and I think he is ever so mean.”

“So do I,” I responded warmly, “don’t let’s have anything more to do with him; we can always have more fun by ourselves, can’t we?”

“Yes, we can; you are not mad because I said what I did yesterday, are you?”

“No, that I am not,” I replied, delighted at the turn things had taken; “but come, Lulie, let me show you what father gave me on my birthday.”

Sitting down together on the rug before the bright glowing fire, we took out of its box a little model of a house in separate pieces, and commenced to put it together. I sat and gazed at her, as she bent over the blocks, trying to make piece after piece fit; and she looked so beautiful, with one side of her face all red from the fire, and her clustering brown curls drooping so gracefully around it, that I could resist the inclination no longer, but leaned forward and kissed the glowing cheek.

“Oh stop!” she said, tossing her head without looking up; “you bother me so I can’t build the house at all.”

This was so much milder than I expected I tried another.

“Stop, I tell you,” she exclaimed, feigning to strike me with one of the blocks; “see, you’ve tumbled all the top of the house off.”

“I will stop,” I said, looking at her very earnestly, “if you will give me a kiss of your own accord.”

“Here, then,” she said, raising her head; and throwing back her curls she put up her rosy lips, and I kissed her. People say children know nothing about love, but there was a thrill of pleasure and a smack of romance in that kiss before the nursery fire, that none which have ever since touched my lips have possessed.

We amused ourselves in various ways till the servant brought in our dinner, spread the nursery table, and, as I gave Lulie my high chair, piled up books in another for me, to bring me up to a comfortable level with our meal, then left us to enjoy it. We chewed out praises, and smacked out lavish encomiums on the skill of the cook, as we eagerly applied ourselves to her dainties; and when Lulie had sipped the last trembling particle of blanc mange, and added the debris of the last grape to the goodly pile on her fruit plate, we got down, instead of rising, from our chairs, and went from the nursery to the dining room. The ladies had withdrawn some time since, and the gentlemen had almost finished their wine. The two young men, who had characterized dinners with old folks as devilish bores, had excused themselves, and gone back to the parlors.

Finding nothing to interest us in the dry, stale jokes or political fanfarronade of the dining room party, we ran off to the parlors, and took our station on each side of the door, to watch all within. The ladies were grouped round the fires or examining the pictures, while Mr. Cassell and Miss Ella, Mr. Berton and Miss Gertrude, were promenading slowly the whole length of the rooms. We thought this was a great sign of love, and watched them with great interest. As they approached our end of the room we could hear very well, but when their backs were turned their words were gradually lost; so that our ideas of the tenor of their conversation were somewhat disconnected. Mr. Berton, who seemed interested in what he was saying, and Miss Gertrude equally so, approached first.

“Yes, indeed,” he was saying, as they came into earshot, “we had a most charming time. The moonlight was as bright as day, and the Minnie scarcely rippled the water. The music, too, was better than usual, and we danced eight sets going down, besides the round dances. We missed you a great deal; everybody was inquiring for Miss Gertrude.”

“Ella told me what a delightful excursion it was,” replied Miss G., trying to pout bewitchingly, as if still vexed at her own absence. “I was so exceedingly unwell that ma would not hear to my going, and I had a real hard cry over it. When do we have another?”

“I am afraid not before another moon. We are talking, however, of getting up a picnic for the Sound next – .” They passed down the room, and out of hearing, as Cassell and Miss Ella came up, she all smiles, he all languor.

“You say they are from the western part of the State?” he inquired, with a drawl, as if he only pursued the subject because he was too lazy to find another.

“Yes,” replied Miss Ella, with nervous vivacity, “from Charlotte, I think. They are quite an addition to our society, are they not?”

“Quite!” laconicised Cassell, as if he had done all for the subject that could be required of him.

“And then,” she continued, “they are connected with the Cartoneaus of South Carolina, who, you know, are some of the first people in the State. Mr. Paning brought a letter of introduction to pa from Judge Francis Cartoneau. He and ma called, of course, and were much pleased, though Mrs. Paning, ma thought, was a little stiff.”

Lulie and I were immensely interested in this conversation, and eagerly listened for its further development.

Mr. Cassell paused awhile, as if to debate whether his system could stand a continuance of the conversation, then, with a resigned arch of his eyebrows to himself, asked:

“Do they intend to reside here?”

“Oh yes, they have bought Mr. Huxley’s place, and are having it fitted up in magnificent style. When they move in I understand they intend giving a grand ball!”

Mr. Cassell paused again, then taking a flower from his lappel, bit it savagely, and asked:

“Have they any daughters?” as if it was the last question she might expect from him.

“No, they have only one child – a little boy – named Frank, after his uncle, Judge Cartoneau.”

Cassell did not appear at all interested in the name of the little boy, but I was intensely so, and leaned in the door to hear more, but, unfortunately, they had passed down the room out of hearing, while Miss Gertrude and her beau came again into audience. They were still on the subject of the excursion, and Mr. Berton was verging towards the sentimental, while Miss Gertrude was encouraging him with all the art she could command.

“I’ll vow I didn’t, Miss Gerty; I sat apart almost the whole night, thinking of you.”

“Why, Mr. Berton! Ella told me you were perfectly devoted to Miss Withers.”

“Withers, indeed! she’s perfectly horrid; but did you think enough of me to inquire what I did?”

“Of course, I – ” Her remarks were broken off, as far as we were concerned, by the entrance of the gentlemen from the dining room. We tried to dodge, and get away, but two of them caught us, and holding us by the ears, asked our names – which question seems to be, with most people, a test of a child’s intelligence. To answer it was a task I dreaded more than Hercules did the Augean stables. My name, short as it was, seemed to stretch into a length equal to the King of Siam’s whenever I had to pronounce it; and I have often blessed the man who invented cards. There being no escape now, we drawled out, respectively, “John Smith” and “Lulie Mayland,” and were released, one of our captors remarking as we scampered off:

“Smith, you and Mayland ought to raise them up for each other. They will make a fine match one of these days.”

I fully forgave him for asking my name, and earnestly wished he might be a prophet.

Glad to get away, Lulie and I ran out into the back yard, and played till ‘twas very dark, when one of the servants came to call us in. We found all the guests gone but Dr. and Mrs. Mayland, who were just entering their carriage. I bade Lulie a hasty good-bye, and turned back into the house, feeling a joyous flutter about the heart, as if a humming bird were enclosed in it and was struggling to escape. Mother met me in the hall, and said:

“John, it is so late you need not get your lesson to-night, but, as you are perhaps sleepy, you can go into the nursery, and I will come in and hear you say your prayers.”

Though I was a good stout boy, mother could not get out of the old habit of seeing me to bed, and hearing me repeat my prayers aloud.

I entered the nursery, but instead of undressing, sat down by the fire, and began —

“Fancy unto fancy linking.”

Again I was on the desert island, but the boot track had disappeared, and our snug grotto received the addition of a grate, a rug, and a house model. The savages came, and smacked their bloody lips through the bars of our cave, and yelled with eager desire to reach us, but I cared not. I was happy as long as those curls were drooping over the blocks, and I was stealing kisses from the rosy architect.

Mother came in, and broke my reverie. I got up, undressed, and kneeled down by her side. Laying my cheek on her knee, I commenced “Our father” with my tongue, while my mind was still in the grotto with Lulie. I had not repeated half, when a ferocious savage tore loose a bar, and was squeezing himself through the aperture, while I stood on the defensive, with one of the Corinthian columns of our little house for a weapon, ready to strike down the invaders. So vivid was the picture that even my tongue forgot its office, and with the broken prayer upon my lips I lay gazing into the glowing coals. Mother’s hands touched my head as she said gently:

“My child, what are you thinking of? Remember, you are praying to the great God, who will not hear you unless you ask in earnest. If you were asking your father for something you wished very much would you not think of what you were saying?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, meekly, at length recalled from my vision.

“And do you not want God to take care of father and mother, and yourself, to-night?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then ask him as you ought.” And with that soft hand upon my head all earthly visions vanished, and I repeated the oft-said prayer, with all of childhood’s earnestness, and its simple, trusting faith.

I rose, got in the bed, received mother’s good-night kiss, and, as I closed my eyes, Queen Mab’s grey gnat coachman drove his atomic team across my nose, and Lulie, models, savages, Cassell, Miss Gertrude, and crestfallen Prank Paning, all danced before me, and danced me to sleep.