CHAPTER VIII

GOING VISITING

"Don't you want to tell me about your little friend?" Mrs. French said when she had put Hanny in the hammock, and hedged her about with silken cushions. She sat in a willow rocker that Hanny thought quite as fascinating as the hammock.

"Oh, yes," and Hanny smiled brightly, and, like a true biographer began at the beginning, the first time the children had seen Daisy, with her long golden curls and pallid face, like a snow-drift. And how Doctor Joe had been in the hospital when she had the operation performed.

"Poor little thing!" exclaimed Mrs. French. "And now there is something they can use that gives a blessed unconsciousness, and when you wake up the worst of the pain is over. I do not know how any one could endure such torture."

"Joe said she was very brave, though she fainted several times. And she's growing straight and tall, and her hair curls lovely again. I have always wished my hair curled naturally. It just twists a little at the ends, but won't make ringlets."

People in those days curled their hair a great deal; but they had to put it in papers. Patent curlers, like a great many other things, had not been invented. When you wanted to be very fine, you went to the hair-dresser's. The real society ladies had some one come to the house to "do" their hair; and sometimes it was very elaborate.

Mrs. French thought curly hair would not improve the little girl. There was something charming in her very simplicity, and her hair was like floss silk.

As she told about Daisy she detailed bits of neighbourhood life, and descriptions of the other children. Mrs. French heard about John Robert Charles and his mother.

"But she's so different now. She is not real strong any more; and then Charles is such a big boy, and goes out with his father. It's queer, but Jim and he are great friends, and Jim goes over there to study with Charles. Mrs. Reed did not use to like boys; and Jim is so full of fun and pranks, mother calls them, and he knows so many funny stories!

Mother tries very hard not to laugh at them; but she can't always help it."

The evening passed so quickly that it was bed-time before either of them realised it. Mrs. French took the large square pillows off the bed, and laid one of the silken spreads over the footboard. How beautiful and soft they were, with great flowers so natural it seemed as if you could pick them up! And the fragrance was so delicate and puzzling: one moment you thought it violets, then it suggested roses and lilies and the smell of newly cut grass.

Mrs. French kissed her, and said if she felt strange in the night to call her; but she was asleep in five minutes, and never woke until quite in the morning, it was so much more quiet than in First Street.

When she did sit up in the bed and glance around, she had a queer feeling that she was a part of a fairy story, like the white cat in her enchanted palace, waiting for the Prince, or perhaps Psyche, blown from the hill-top to her beautiful place of refuge, where she found and lost Love, and had to do many hard tasks before she could regain him.

She was quite sure, an hour or two later, that she _was_ in some enchanted realm. There were such queer things,--some beautiful, and some she thought very ugly, especially the grotesque idols.

"I couldn't believe a god like that had any power. And I am sure I couldn't worship him," Hanny said emphatically.

"They beat their gods sometimes and break them to pieces, and go off and get new ones. It seems very singular to us."

The little girl had been deeply interested in Judson, the missionary to Burmah. There had been a good deal of romance about his last marriage, to "Fanny Forester," who wrote tales and sketches and poems, and had made herself quite a name for brightness and gay humour, and then had surprised her friends by going to India as a missionary's wife. And she knew Bishop Heber's beautiful poem to his wife all by heart, and often sang "From Greenland's icy mountains." So she had a feeling that she did know something about India.

But Mrs. French had really been there, and spent two months at Bombay, and almost six months at Calcutta. There were so many gorgeous things,--silks, and bright stuffs with threads of gold, jackets all embroidery, and queer Eastern dresses, two made of pineapple cloth,--a sheer, beautiful fabric,--and one had delicate flowers embroidered in silk.

But the oddest of all, Hanny thought, was burning incense. Mrs. French had several curious incense bowls and jars. She lighted one, and in a little while the room was filled with an indescribable fragrance and a hazy purplish air.

"They burn incense in the Roman Catholic churches. Joe took us one Easter Sunday. It was very strange, I thought. And a little boy swung the--something--"

"Censer."

"Oh, yes, censer. And the singing was beautiful. But we couldn't understand the prayers; Joe said they were Latin. I suppose he could follow them."

"No doubt; I have attended some very grand services in churches abroad and in England."

The incense burned out presently, and they went downstairs to dinner.

Afterward, a niece and nephew, her brother's children, came. The girl was not quite twelve, but most a head taller than Hanny, who felt rather shy with her. The boy was older still, and his name was Harold, which suggested to Hanny the last of the Saxon kings. But he was very dark, and didn't look like a Saxon, she thought.

Mrs. French sent to the livery and ordered a carriage, and they all went to drive. Hanny was quite conversant with upper New York and Westchester County; but she had only been once to Brooklyn. It had quite a country aspect then; but there were beautiful drives, and Greenwood Cemetery had already some extremely handsome monuments.

There was something about Eva Bounett that suggested Lily Ludlow, and kept Hanny from liking her cordially. She laughed at so many things, made fun of them; and Hanny wondered if she was criticising her, and would laugh at her when she returned home.

Now and then, Mrs. French would remark, "Don't, Eva, that is not a nice thing to say." Still she was bright, and at times Hanny had to laugh.

She found so many Dickens' people along the streets; and really they did look like the pictures by Cruikshank. And one tall fierce old woman, with wisps of hair hanging about her neck, and an old torn shawl, who was brandishing her arms and talking wildly, she said was Meg Merrilies.

The children remained to tea, and Harold played and sang some very pretty songs afterward.

"But you ought to hear our sister Helen," declared Eva. "She sings in church, and sometimes at concerts; she's just magnificent. She's nineteen now. And Mary has a good voice; while I sing like a crow! Do you do any of the fine things,--draw or paint? I take music lessons; but I make my teacher's hour vexation of spirit, not vanity," and she gave a satisfied kind of laugh.

"I study music and French. I embroider and crochet--"

"I hate sewing; I'd like to be a man and a sea-captain. Uncle French is just magnificent; I hope he will take me to sea sometime; I'm not a bit sick; are you?"

"I have never been to sea," replied Hanny.

"Well, just a little ways; I've been down to the Fishing Banks; and it's awful rough. And last summer we were at Great South Bay, and went out in a yacht; and I learned to row. At all events, I mean to marry a sea-captain; and I'll just go with him every time."

One of the older brothers dropped in for the children. Eva was very effusive in her good-bye, and kissed Hanny, and said she must surely come to see her.

Hanny felt quite relieved when she was alone again with Mrs. French, who talked of Helen and Mary, and seemed to admire them very much. "But I don't know what they will do with Eva. My half-sister, Luella, was just such a noisy harum-scarum; but she had only boys to play with. Now, she is getting to be a nice lady-like girl."

Hanny recalled two visits in Hammersley Street when Luella had kept her in a fright all the time.

They went to church Sunday morning, and heard Helen Bounett sing. It was very fine and moving. Hanny wished Charles could hear her.

About mid-afternoon, as they were sitting on the front piazza, which was shady now, Hanny espied her two brothers. Why, Ben was quite as tall as Joe! He looked more like Stephen; but Joe was _very_ good-looking.

She flew down to meet them, and gave one hand to each brother.

"Oh," she cried joyfully, "I've had a lovely time! I've been to India and China; and I've had incense and ginger preserve, and some beautiful silks to take home, and a pineapple handkerchief, and a ginger-jar; and I haven't been a bit homesick."

Mrs. French was watching the eager little face that looked so pretty in its enthusiasm of love. Doctor Joe stooped and kissed her; Ben waited until he was up on the porch.

They were very cordially welcomed. Mrs. French said she was afraid a patient would come to hand at an inopportune moment.

"The city is desperately healthy," returned Joe, laughingly. "That's a young doctor's experience. When I am wrinkled and grey-haired, I shall probably tell a different story."

"What do you think I have?" turning to Hanny. "A letter from Mr. Jasper.

A steamer was just going out, so he sent a few lines."

He handed it to her while he resumed his conversation with Mrs. French.

Hanny devoured it with a thrill. A letter from across the ocean!