Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
“You see, Em, I thought it would be appropriate to the house and season
to have an old-fashioned dance. Aunt has quantities of ancient finery
stowed away, for great-grandfather Basset was a fine old gentleman and
his family lived in state. Take your choice of the crimson, blue or
silver-gray damask. Ruth is to wear the worked muslin and quilted white
satin skirt, with that coquettish hat.”
“Being dark, I’ll take the red and trim it up with this fine lace. You
must wear the blue and primrose, with the distracting high-heeled shoes.
Have you any suits for the men?” asked Emily, throwing herself at once
into the all-absorbing matter of costume.
“A claret velvet coat and vest, silk stockings, cocked hat and snuff-box
for Randal. Nothing large enough for Saul, so he must wear his uniform.
Won’t Aunt Plumy be superb in this plum-colored satin and immense cap?”
A delightful morning was spent in adapting the faded finery of the past
to the blooming beauty of the present, and time and tongues flew till
the toot of a horn called them down to dinner.
The girls were amazed to see Randal come whistling up the road with his
trousers tucked into his boots, blue mittens on his hands, and an
unusual amount of energy in his whole figure, as he drove the oxen,
while Saul laughed at his vain attempts to guide the bewildered beasts.
“It’s immense! The view from the hill is well worth seeing, for the snow
glorifies the landscape and reminds one of Switzerland. I’m going to
make a sketch of it this afternoon; better come and enjoy the delicious
freshness, young ladies.”
Randal was eating with such an appetite that he did not see the glances
the girls exchanged as they promised to go.
“Bring home some more winter-green, I want things to be real nice, and
we haven’t enough for the kitchen,” said Ruth, dimpling with girlish
delight as she imagined herself dancing under the green garlands in her
grandmother’s wedding gown.
It was very lovely on the hill, for far as the eye could reach lay the
wintry landscape sparkling with the brief beauty of sunshine on virgin
snow. Pines sighed overhead, hardy birds flitted to and fro, and in all
the trodden spots rose the little spires of evergreen ready for its
Christmas duty. Deeper in the wood sounded the measured ring of axes,
the crash of falling trees, while the red shirts of the men added color
to the scene, and a fresh wind brought the aromatic breath of newly
cloven hemlock and pine.
“How beautiful it is! I never knew before what winter woods were like.
Did you, Sophie?” asked Emily, sitting on a stump to enjoy the novel
pleasure at her ease.
“I’ve found out lately; Saul lets me come as often as I like, and this
fine air seems to make a new creature of me,” answered Sophie, looking
about her with sparkling eyes, as if this was a kingdom where she
reigned supreme.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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