"Why, mamma dear, I wouldn't do such a dreadful thing. But Miss Trewman's brother wasn't a thing that didn't concern her, was he?"
Fenie, outside the door, wiped her eyes and wrung her hands as Trif replied:
"That depends upon what you said about him."
"Why, I only said he didn't come here no more, and I was awful sorry, 'cause he promised me a doll, and I've been waitin' for it awful hard. And it wasn't wrong, was it, to say that Aunt Fee was awful sorry too, and cried a whole lot about it? You know the Trewman girls like Aunt Fee, ever so much."
There was a pronounced rustle in the hall, and Trif and Trixy hurried out just in time to see a sobbing girl hurrying up the stair. They followed her, but Fenie dashed into her own room, slammed the door, and shot the bolt with much unnecessary noise. She paid no attention to many knocks and gentle calls by her sister, so finally Trif sat down upon the top stair, placed her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, and looked so unhappy that Trixy cuddled to her side and kissed and caressed her. The child got no response, but a sad look which was so reproachful and prolonged that Trixy herself burst into tears and exclaimed:
"Oh, dear! I wish I hadn't ever come down from heaven, or done anythin', or anythin', or anythin'."
CHAPTER IV.
IN CHARGE OF EACH OTHER.
HARRY TREWMAN and his sister were invited to dine with the Highwoods, although Fenie declared that after what had been said to them, neither of them would think for an instant of coming. For herself, she was sure that she couldn't and wouldn't face them for all the world, and that she never wanted to see either of them again. Should they accept the invitation, Fenie declared that she would excuse herself with the sick headache, which she certainly would have on the occasion.
When, however, the Trewmans did decline, on the plea of a previous engagement, Fenie was so inconsistent as to declare that she was the most miserable person alive, and that she wished she was dead.
Then every one in the house, from the master down to the single servant, became wretched, for Fenie had always been a cheerful creature, romping with Trixy as if she herself was not more than seven years old, singing merrily throughout the day, and working harder than any hireling when there was work to be done.
Trif talked sensibly to the girl; Phil joked with her, but Trixy remained almost as silent as a mute, and looked as if she were laboring under a heavy load of remorse and contrition. Even her father's boisterous play, of which she was as fond as if she were a boy, was treated as if it was far too good for her, and as if she had no right to enjoy it. Then Phil began to worry.
"Trif," said he, "you must reason that child out of her remorse, or you'll have an invalid on your hands."
"I hope and pray that I may not, for I already have one invalid. I'm seriously frightened about Fenie. The only fault I've ever had to find with her was that she never would take things seriously, no matter how important they were, but now—oh, it seems as if all the seriousness of the Wardlow blood was concentrated in her, and all on account of the innocent blundering of that darling child. I know the affair is shattering her health, and sometimes I fear it is injuring her reason."
"Nonsense! Give her a change of some kind, and she'll recover quickly. At present she doesn't love that fellow, although I suppose she thinks she does—girls as young as she are very likely to mistake mere interest in a man for something more serious. Take her, and Trixy, on a little trip somewhere—run down to Florida and back. This is just the season for such a trip."
"Philip Highwood! You talk as if we were made of money. We haven't a fortune."
"But we have, my dear; we have two fortunes. Fenie is one and Trixy is the other, and I don't intend to lose either, if I can help it."
"A trip to Florida may cost all we've saved."
"What does that matter, if it saves Fenie and Trixy for us? "
Phil had his way in the end, for the good and sufficient reason that he and Trif loved each other so well that it took but a few moments' talk to make the way of one the way of both, no matter who devised it. The Florida trip cost Phil some pangs, for he had intended to start a country home in the spring—a modest one, but everything costs money in this practical world of ours. He did not look forward with pleasure, either, to being separated from his wife and child for a fortnight or more, for they had seldom been apart more than a single day; nevertheless, he kept all these things to himself, although he did much thinking about them.
As to the travelers, Trif assured Fenie, in entire honesty, that Phil was dreadfully troubled about Trixy's health, upon which Fenie made haste to show that she really could think of more than one thing at a time.
Trixy was informed, with equal care, but far more detail, that her Aunt Fee was quite ill, but that not a word was to be said about it in any circumstances, even to Aunt Fee herself.
"I know all about it," said the child, her eyes filling with tears, "and I was the dreadful little girl that made her sick. I thought lots about it, and prayed lots about it, and cried whole pillows-ful about it, but it hasn't done any good."
"Now is the time to do a lot of good, dear; you can mend your ways by trying to help mend Aunt Fee."
So it was arranged that Trixy should regard herself as her Aunt Fee's one special nurse during the Southern trip, and that Trif should be physician, to be consulted whenever necessary, although the best medicine, for the invalid, Trif declared, would be some of Trixy's chat and play.
"The best medicine she could have would be a long look at Harry Trewman's face," added Phil, as the child left the room. "If she——"
"I just came back, mamma," said Trixy, returning suddenly, "to tell papa that if Miss Trewman brings around them—I mean those—half a dozen dolls, that he'll express 'em to me, won't he? 'Cause I've told all my other dolls about it, and they look disappointeder and disappointeder every mornin' when they wake up. And papa'll send me any letters that come for me, won't he?" Then Trixy danced away again, while her father remarked:
"If that child's imagination keeps in growth with her body, there'll be a woman novelist in the family in the course of time."
Trif and Trixy and Fenie started for Florida by easy stages, Phil having told his wife that two or three stops could be made at places where a sorrowful girl of temperament naturally lively might have her thoughts diverted in spite of any determination to the contrary.
The first stop was at Old Point Comfort, which most young women who have been there prefer to call Fortress Monroe, for the largest fort in the United States is there, and within it are always thirty or forty officers, who, whether young or old, make delightful company of themselves, during their brief moments off duty, for all charming women at the enormous hotel which, with the fort, contains almost the entire population of Old Point Comfort. For the rest, there is little there but water and air—but such water and air! At one side of the fort is the James River, several miles wide, at the other side is Chesapeake Bay, so wide that one cannot see the other shore, while in front Hampton Roads extends ten miles away, to the outskirts of the ancient and picturesque city of Norfolk.
Fenie conscientiously intended to be unhappy, no matter where she might be, no matter how much attention she might give to Trixy. Besides, the party arrived at the Point about sunrise in early April, when scarcely any one was stirring, and the outside of a great hotel is not an inspiriting object to contemplate when there is no human being visible to relieve it.
Trixy, however, had not determined to be anything dreadful, so she was no sooner ashore and feeling the gentle sea breeze upon her cheeks and in her lungs, than she began running to and fro on the beach in front of the hotel,