"Come on, then," said the guest, interpreting the silence to mean
consent; and taking the candle that Martha had set down, she darted up
the wide, old-fashioned staircase. At the first turn she paused.
"Where is my room, aunty?" she inquired, looking back at her hostess.
As she stood there on the great square landing, with one foot on the
stair above, and the candle held high above her head, she looked so white
and eerie, so like a small wraith, that Miss Priscilla could scarcely
believe she was real, and indulged in a vague hope that the vision would
disappear as suddenly as it had come.
But Martha felt that it was her turn now, and she said:
"Shall I make up the spare-chamber bed, ma'am?"
"Yes," said Miss Priscilla, catching gladly at a temporary solution of
the problem; "take her there, and put her to bed. I'll make no plans
until morning." And shutting her teeth together with a snap, Miss
Priscilla went to her room and was seen no more that night.
Miss Dorinda did likewise, and Martha said:
"Now, if you'll come with me, little miss, I'll try to make you
comfortable."
Ladybird, still holding her dog, followed Martha to the great spare
bed-chamber.
"Is this my room?" she said wonderingly, looking at the massive mahogany
furniture and old-fashioned decorations.
"It is for to-night, miss, whatever happens to-morrow."
"Oh, I like it," said the child, contentedly; "only, it seems so big. But
it's very pleasant, and when my things come, I can stack them all away in
these big bureaus and chests of drawers. But what a funny bed! It's like
a queen's bed. I'll play I'm a queen, and you be my lady in waiting, will
you, Martha?"
"Yes, miss," said the good-natured Martha, smiling at the strange little
girl, who had already won her heart. "And where's your bag, miss, with
your night-clothes?"
"Why, do you know, I forgot it and left it on the train. I came alone
from Boston, and when the man said 'All out for Plainville,' I just
jumped out and forgot everything. But you can lend me a nightie, can't
you? and to-morrow I think my boxes will come."
So Martha provided her new charge from her own wardrobe; and the child
laughed gleefully when, in a night-dress far too long for her, and a
ruffled night-cap tied under her chin, she found herself ready to climb
into the four-poster bed.
There was a wide dimity ruffle all around the top, and a dimity valance
below, and long dimity curtains all around. These were looped back at one
side with huge rosettes, and with Martha's assistance the little girl
stepped on a chair, and so up on the high feather bed. As she sank down
into it, and it nearly closed over her, she laughed merrily.
"It is like drowning in the sea," she said; "the billows are high on both
sides of me. Where's Cloppy, Martha?"
"Here he is, miss. Shall I put him in the cellar?"
"Cellar? No, indeed; put him at the foot of the bed, please; and I hope
he won't smother. Oh, how good these sheets smell! Why do they?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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