 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
The Last Night of Their Visit "The rarer daughter of a rare mother," -- Doane To the student, the City of New York is an inexhaustible treasure house. Not only has every inch of its soil been trodden by the discoverers, defenders and law makers of a land destined to be spoken of in all foreign countries as "your free America," but within its confines are to be found the best the old world has produced in stone, pottery, bronze, marble, glass, and oil and canvas. From an artistic standpoint, the city had been justly ridiculed as without grace of outline and harmony of design and color. The very principles on which the republic of America is founded are responsible for this. Every man is free to build as he chooses. Parcels of land are sometimes sold with so-called restrictive convenants, but these appertain to height and cost of the building thereon to be erected, not to uniformity of design and material, and so we find the pure order standing next to the composite; structures of brick, granite, marble and brown stone all in the same block, and the result is not pleasing. Where a woman is left free and independent of all ties, there comes a time in her life when she would sacrifice some of her freedom to be admired. This was true of Queen Elizabeth; it is true of the successful business woman today. The life of cities follow along individual lines. This being so, the time may yet come when "free America" will subordinate some of her love of liberty to love of art, and then we shall see marked improvement in our street symmetry and sky line. Pansy and Richard, accustomed to look on the handiwork of nature -- that bounteous mother who ever hastens to fill in every sharp angle and unsightly gap with her own verdant shrubbery -- did not fail to discover that something was wrong with the make-up of New York. They called it jagged and pied -- aisles of irregular brick and stone, and wished that a heavy storm would come that they might see how it would look under cover of snow. Stanley found it was the most unexpected things that pleased them most. One day he took them into City Hall Park and pointed out the wonders of the age -- the Woolworth Building, the subway, Brooklyn Bridge, and incidentally, things of lesser magnitude, including the statues of Benjamin Franklin, Horace Greeley and Nathan Hale, each of equally fine workmanship from a sculptor's standpoint. Franklin's benign countenance would attract the most hardened reprobate; Greeley's attentive attitude keeps you guessing as to what mighty thoughts transfix those noble features; the young spy, bound hand and foot with rope that all too soon found its way around his slender neck, is not so pleasing a sight, and yet, when they had walked to the motor car waiting for them on Chambers Street, Pansy hesitated, "Let's go back and look at Nathan Hale again," she said. Above the stupendous works of architecture and great feats of engineering, the pure patriotism of this young man stood out in sublimer grandeur, and these three young people went a second time to look reverently at the immobile features of him who could not know that the sacrifice so freely made on that September morning in 1776 would ring down the ages and that his name would be revered and honored so long as the republic would last. As a means of introduction, Pansy and Richard felt that their ten days in New York were worth more than ten weeks at school, and they were frank in saying so. Stanley was always tender and kind toward them and gave his entire time to their entertainment. Many invitations poured in upon him; he had but one answer to them all -- that he was engaged. He watched the growing intimacy between his mother and Pansy with a glimmer of hope, that prejudice might be wiped out in affection for so lovely a girl. Often when he wanted Pansy's company himself, he refrained from breaking in upon their tête-a-tête. He knew that his mother very much desired a union between himself and his cousin Alice Hewlett whose mother was her only sister. The large fortune left to them equally by their father would thus be merged in the family again. Alice was a little older than himself, but had many times let him know she preferred him to her numerous suitors. He had a cousinly affection for her, nothing more, and would rather have begun his business career without a dollar, as his father had done, than to have entered upon such an alliance. Alice was impulsive and could show considerable jealousy on slight provocation. After having seen Pansy in her youthfulness and simplicity, she had dismissed from her mind the fear Ned Patterson had unintentionally raised, that she might find in her a formidable rival, and regarded the visit of Pansy and Richard to the Winthrop home as only another of the philanthropies in which she knew her cousin could indulge. Whenever she had called at the house, she had found Pansy engaged with her aunt, and so far as Pansy would permit, had treated her as a pet, not as a rival. On the last night of Pansy and Richard's visit, Alice and her father and mother came to dine with the Winthrops, and soon after dinner was over and they were all seated in the grand parlor, Mr. Patterson was announced. He had but recently arrived from Baltimore where he had spent his vacation, and seemed not a little glad to be back at the Metropolis again. He was now a sophomore at college and had assumed a dignity hithertofore unknown, but was not less delighted to see the country boy and girl who, in dainty clothing, sat on a brocade sofa and quietly waited for his greeting when he should have finished with the others. After a gallant hand shake, he seated himself on the sofa and looked at them with eyes which frankly spoke his pleasure. They had rounded out since he saw them a year and a half before, and Pansy -- well, he could not imagine a fairer picture than she made sitting at ease beside her brother who still strongly resembled her, except that his features were growing masculine, where hers remained of the same fine mold that made it impossible for him ever to forget her face. "It's the best gift of the new year to see you again," he said, outwardly calm, but inwardly thrilling to find this bud had fulfilled every promise beyond his expectation. "We had spoken of you a number of times, but Stanley did not tell us you were to be here tonight," she answered. "I didn't write him, for fear you might vanish like mist." "Why, we would even have waited over a day to see you again," she said, smiling. "Can't I induce you to wait over a day now I'm here?" "I'm afraid you cannot, because we have been away so long now mother is impatient for our return." "I don't blame her any, so I'll have to console myself by seeing you off on the train tomorrow." "It is surely no small favor to 'speed the parting guest.' '' "Twould be a greater pleasure to 'welcome the coming'.'' "We both seem able to recall our Pope. Do you still recall the long discussion we had under the willow tree when you were in Maine?" "Yes, and now I see Alice Hewlett coming to inveigle me to dance, I wish this sofa were the willow tree, and New York and everything in it were a thousand miles away." Ned's drollery provoked another smile. "You'd need an Esquimaux's clothing to sit under it now, for it's freezing time at Little Farm and the ground is as white as snow can make it." After some good natured banter, Ned finally went off with Alice, and a lively evening followed with instrumental music, dancing, and singing. Sometimes Stanley sat at the piano, sometimes Julia, Alice or Ned. "Your friends from Maine don't seem to be musically inclined," said Alice to Stanley when the four had amused themselves for sometime. "They're musically inclined enough," he answered. "I'm just keeping a number in reserve for father when he and Uncle Schuyler shall have finished their conversation. Alice, used to having her own way in most everything, did not lose a moment in commanding the attention of her father and uncle. Ned went to request Pansy and Richard's presence at the piano. They stood up before the little audience like two well-trained school children, and a half amused smile played over their lips as they took a hasty glance at one another. Stanley struck a few bars on the piano unfamiliar to any one present, and at the right moment, these untrained voices sang in pleasing unison the words of a song that absence from their native state had inspired them to compose. MAINE We sing of a land near Arcadie's line, Where best grown apples, corn and pine, With stores of wealth in quarry and mine, 'Tis the beautiful State of Maine. Maine, Maine where the states begin, Maine, Maine with merit to win, Maine, Maine ever fair within, We hail thee, beautiful Maine. Land of mountains, hills and dales, Land of streams and wooded vales, Land where beauty never fails, From Canada to the sea. Chorus. King of the world in winter prime, Queen of the states in summer time, Lifting your head with grace sublime Where the Atlantic billows roll. Chorus. Come from the south or come from the west, Come from shores where you've been blest, You'll soon say the place you love the best Is the beautiful State of Maine. Chorus. They had hardly regained their seats, when Mr. Winthrop's tall figure came striding across the parlor to shake them by the hand. "Stanley told me you had a surprise for me," he said, seating himself on the sofa, "and I thought it must be another pie. It was a splendid surprise, and that song set me up like a tonic." "Stanley composed the music, so you must give him some of the credit, too," said Pansy. "How did you come to think of it?" "Why, one day Richard and I both got to thinking about home very hard, and so we sat down and wrote these verses, and Stanley composed an air for them, and played it on the piano for us, and we have kept it as a sort of going away present to you." "I certainly thank you. I am sorry you have to leave us, and hope you have enjoyed yourselves so much that you will want to come again." "Yes, we have enjoyed ourselves. Sometimes I would like to have heard mother call 'Time to get up! or to hear Ruth say sort of tender like, 'What are you cogitating, Pansy?' but it has been a wonderful visit, and Richard and I thank you for it." Pansy lifted her blue eyes to his -- those eyes that often haunted him, because he could never tell whether they most resembled those of Ruth Alden or Richard Bradford. For a moment he was carried back a quarter of a century to fields where daisies and buttercups grew amid the tall grasses, and he watched a young girl pass along the highway. She was fair and he thought her the cleverest girl in the world. His eyes suddenly returned from their long look into the past. Yes, more fair and more clever was the daughter beside him, and now his own boy had set his affections on this bud from the same family tree. God help him if anything ever came between them! The butler threw open the doors into the dining room, and as Mr. Winthrop left them to escort Mrs. Hewlett there for refreshments, Ned, with the same intention, came for Pansy, but she quietly whispered, "Ned you take Julia. I like to see you make her laugh. Richard and I will follow behind the rest of you." So it happened they were the last to be seated in the dining-room, and soon thereafter Mr. Winthrop arose with his glass and proposed that "We drink to the safe return of our friends from Maine." While the others all stood up and heartily responded, Pansy and Richard sat very still, pondering what ought to be done under the circumstances. "Richard, I guess you'd better make a speech -- something about Maine and New York," whispered Pansy. When the others were seated again, Richard stood up like one confident of his procedure: "Ladies and Gentlemen: "It is four hundred miles from New York to Paris, Maine, and you've made Pansy and I feel as if your good wishes would stretch all that distance, and I want to tell you, that our good wishes for you will stretch all the way back. And not only that, but the wires won't be reported down even if a blizzard does strike them from the northeast. Lots of things interfere with friendship, but when you've ate and drank and slept in the same house, and loved the same dog just as if it were your own, that ought to cement things better than glue, and I just want to say, if any of you people ever want any potatoes or turnips or apples, or anything Pansy and I've got, you are going to get them, and you won't have to ask twice for them either." Richard sat down and Pansy looked at him with proud approval, as the applause which followed evidenced the approval of the other persons present. That night Stanley and Ned carried Richard up stairs on their shoulders, and instead of the usual good night, "Bradford! Bradford! Bradford!" rang down the stairway as if the dignified house of Winthrop had been turned into a college dormitory. "I'm just too happy to express it, to think we've had such a good time and to think we're going home tomorrow, Frieda," said Pansy, when she was being put to bed. "You can keep my blue hair ribbon to remember me by, and when spring comes, I am going to send you some maple sugar." The next morning, under the careful supervision of Dent, they left on their return trip to Paris. Click Here for Chapter 38 |