"Can't you afford yourself a little nap, auntie?" Elsie asked in return. "You mustn't make company of me; and, besides, I have a book that I can amuse myself with."
"You would be quite alone, child, for I see your father has gone in."
"I shall not mind that at all, auntie. Do go and lie down for at least a little while."
"Well, then, dear, I will just lie down on the sofa in the sitting room, and you must call me if any one comes."
"Aunt Wealthy couldn't have meant for a child like that, unless she comes on some important errand," thought Elsie, as, a few moments later, a little girl came slowly across the lawn and stepped upon the porch.
The child looked clean and decent, in a neat calico dress and gingham sun-bonnet. At sight of Elsie she stood still, and, gazing with open-mouthed curiosity, asked, "Be you the rich young lady that was coming to see Miss Wealthy from 'way down south?"
"I have come from the South to see Miss Stanhope. What do you wish?"
"Nothin', I just come over 'cause I wanted to."
"Will you take a seat?"
"Yes," taking possession of the low rocking chair Miss Stanhope had vacated.
"What's your name?" inquired Elsie.
"Lenwilla Ellawea Schilling," returned the child, straightening herself up with an air of importance; "mother made it herself."
"I should think so," replied Elsie, with a sparkle of fun in her eye. "And your mother is Mrs. Schilling, is she?"
"Yes, and pap, he's dead, and my brother's named Corbinus."
"What do they call you for short?"
"Willy, and him Binus."
"Where do you live?"
"Over yonder," nodding her head towards the opposite side of the street. "Mother's comin' over to see you some time. I guess I'll be going now." And away she went.
"What did that child want?" asked Miss Stanhope, coming out just in time to see the little maiden pass through the gate.
"Nothing but to look at and question me, I believe." Elsie answered, with an amused smile.
"Ah! she generally comes to borrow some little thing or other. They're the sort of folks that always have something they're out of. Mrs. Sixpence is a very odd sixpence indeed."
"I think the little girl said her last name was Schilling."
"Ah, yes, so it is: but I'm always forgetting their exact commercial value," and Aunt Wealthy laughed softly. "In fact, I've a very good forgetting of my own, and am more apt to get names wrong than right."
"Mrs. Schilling must have an odd taste for names," said Elsie.
"Yes, she's a manufacturer of them; and very proud of her success in that line."
Miss Stanhope was a great lover of flowers, very proud of hers, cultivated principally by her own hands. After tea she invited her nephew and niece to a stroll through her garden, while she exhibited her pets with a very excusable pride in their variety, beauty, and fragrance.
As they passed into the house again, Phillis was feeding the chickens in the back yard.
"You have quite a flock of poultry, aunt," remarked Mr. Dinsmore.
"Yes, I like to see them running about, and the eggs you lay yourself are so much better than any you can buy, and the chickens, too, have quite another taste. Phillis, what's the matter with that speckled hen?"
"Dunno, mistis; she's been crippled dat way all dis week."
"Well, well, I dare say it's the boys; one of them must have thrown a stone and hit her between her hind legs; they're great plagues. Poor thing! There, Albert, don't you dare to meddle with the fowls! Come away, Thomas. That cat and dog are nearly as bad and troublesome to the boys as the poultry."
Puss and the poodle followed their mistress into the house, where Albert lay down at her feet, while Thomas sprang into her lap, where he stood purring and rubbing his head against her arm.
"You seem to have a good many pets, auntie," Elsie remarked.
"Yes, I am fond of them. A childless old woman must have something to love. I've another that I'm fonder of than any of these though—my grand-nephew, Harry Duncan. He's away at school now; but I hope to show him to you one of these days."
"I should like to see him. Is he a relative of ours?" Elsie asked, turning to her father.
"No, he belongs to the other side of the house."
"How soft and fine this cat's fur is, aunt; he's quite handsome," remarked Elsie, venturing to stroke Thomas very gently.
"Yes, I raised him, and his mother before him. My sister Beulah was first husband's child of Harry's grandmother twice married, and my mother. Yes, I think a great deal of him, but was near losing him last winter. A fellow in our town—he's two years old now—wanted a buffalo robe for his sleigh, and undertook to make it out of cat-skins. He advertised that he'd give ten cents for every cat-skin the boys would bring him. You know the old saying that you can't have more of a cat than its skin, and hardly anybody's was safe after that; they went about catching all they could lay hands on, even borrowing people's pets and killing them."
Elsie turned to her father with a very perplexed look, puzzled to understand who it was that had married twice, and whether her aunt had stated Harry's age or that of the cat.
But at that instant steps and voices were heard upon the porch, and the door-bell rang.
"It's Lottie and her father," said Miss Stanhope, pushing Thomas from her lap. "Come in, friends, and don't stand for ceremony." For both doors stood wide open.
"Good-evening," said the young lady, coming forward, leaning upon the arm of a middle-aged gentleman. "Mr. Dinsmore, I have brought my father, Dr. King, to see you."
The gentlemen shook hands, the doctor observing, "I am happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Dinsmore. I brought my daughter along to introduce me, lest our good Aunt Wealthy here, in her want of appreciation of nobility and birth, should, as she sometimes does, give me a rank lower than my true one, making me to appear only a Prince, while I am really a King."
A general laugh followed this sally, Miss Stanhope insisting that that was a mistake she did not often make now. Then Elsie was introduced, and, all being seated again, Dr. King turned to his hostess with the laughing remark, "Well, Aunt Wealthy, by way of amends, I'll own up that my wife says that you're the better doctor of the two. That bran has done her a world of good."
"Bran?" said Mr. Dinsmore inquiringly.
"Yes, sir; Mrs. King was suffering from indigestion; Miss Stanhope advised her to try eating a tablespoonful or so of dry bran after her meals, and it has had an excellent effect."
"My father learnt it from an old sea-captain," said Miss Stanhope; "and it has helped a great many I've recommended it to. Some prefer to mix it with a little cream, or take a little water with it but the best plan's to take it dry if you can."
Chapter XII
When to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill.
—POPE'S "RAPE OF THE LOCK."
"What, Art, are you going out?"
"Yes."
"Do you know it's after ten?"
"Yes, you just mind your own business, Wal; learn your lessons, and go off to bed like a good boy when you get through. I'm old enough to take care of myself."
"Dear