However, we made up for it now by an outburst of indignation and resentment, especially violent on my part; whereupon, the sage Allie turned my own moral lecture, so lately delivered, upon myself, recalling my exhortations to the effect that we should be patient and forgiving with one so sorely afflicted as Matty Blair.

When we reached cousin Serena's, a little arnica and some French bonbons healed Daisy's wounds, both mental and physical; but when happiness and peace were once more restored, and she was seated upon Miss Craven's lap, with Allie beside her, and the box of chocolates between them, cousin Serena herself was discovered to be in a state of no small flutter and excitement.

"My dears," she said, "have you seen the 'Morning Bugle' of to-day?"

"No," I said, emphatically. "Father would not allow that paper to come into our house."

"Nor would my father," said Bessie.

"He says it is a scandalous sheet," I added. "He would not have it if there were not another newspaper in the city."

"Nor would I in my own house," said Miss Craven; "but," apologetically, "when one is in a boarding-house, my loves, you know one cannot control other people."

"I should think not," said Bessie. "It would be hard, indeed, if you were held responsible for the morals, or the literary tastes, of Mrs.

Dutton's other boarders."

"But you dearest of Serenas," I said, "you know you need not read the 'Morning Bugle' because some of the other people in the house take it.

O Serena, Serena," reproachfully, "I thought better things of you! That _you_ should allow your mind and morals to be poisoned in that way!"

"My dear Amy! My dear children!" exclaimed the dear, matter-of-fact old lady, who never knew when she was being teased, which made it all the more delightful to tease her. "My dear loves, you do not think I read that scandalous sheet! Why, this morning I should have said that nothing would induce me to touch it; but when Mrs. Dutton came up with the paper in her hand, and said, 'Is not this meant for your friends?'

what could I do? I had to take it, and read the paragraph; and, my dears, here it is. Oh, I have been so unhappy all day about it! What will your father and brother do? Mrs. Dutton let me cut this out, when she saw how I felt about it."

I took the sc.r.a.p of paper which she handed to me; and the blood rushed to my heart, as I read an item with the following heading:--

"A MADISON-SQUARE SENSATION."

It was a garbled and scurrilous account of the late little incident at our house, implying, indeed openly a.s.serting, that there had been a wholesale attempt at poisoning. Names were not given, not even the initials under which the reporters of such gossip often pretend to disguise publicity, and in a measure avoid responsibility; but, to the initiated, there could be no doubt that the paragraph referred to my unlucky cookery. Further particulars, it was said, would be given at a later date, although it was difficult to obtain information, as the parties concerned had endeavored to hush up the matter; and "money is a power in this community."

I turned faint and giddy as I read; while Bessie, who looked over my shoulder, burst into a tempest of indignant exclamation.

"Dear child! Don't turn so white, Amy, my dear; I am so sorry I showed it to you," cried Miss Craven, aghast at my alarm and agitation. "It is outrageous, scandalous; but it cannot hurt you: you see no names are given. But I shall never forgive myself, for I told Mrs. Dutton about the 'food for the G.o.ds'. She was interested, you know, when you were here with me learning to make it, and asked me how it turned out. But she is discretion itself; she would not say a word, nor let any one know--Oh! my dear child, what shall I do? What shall we all do?"

But the vivid imagination with which I was credited by my friends, and which not unseldom did cause me many a needless foreboding, was rampant now; and visions arose before me of disgrace to the family, if those dreadful newspaper people did, as they threatened, "give further particulars," and perhaps go to greater lengths, and even print my name in their horrible sheet. Should I ever be able to hold up my head again? I sat in dumb, terrified astonishment.

But here, Bessie, with her practical common sense, came to the front, and brought me back to reason.

"So that is the way you meant to make such a success of your 'food for the G.o.ds,' is it, you fraud?" she said, putting her hands on my shoulders, and playfully shaking me, "coming here and practising with cousin Serena, forsooth; and the rest of us experimenting with our first efforts. O Amy, Amy, I would not have believed it of you. And the G.o.ds themselves turned against you. Their mills did grind exceeding sure that time, and not so slowly, either; vengeance followed, swift and sure. You deserve this. Cheating play never prospers, Amy; and 'honesty is the best policy,' and all that."

Meanwhile, the children were gazing from one to another of their elders, not knowing what to make of all this,--Allie uncertain whether or no she had better call upon her ever ready tears, Daisy bewildered, and at a loss to know upon whom to bestow her sympathy, cousin Serena or me; for I had not yet put my miserable imaginings into words, and my startled looks alone appealed to her; while Miss Craven was in a half-frantic state of excitement; and, as for Bessie, she had at first appeared furiously angry, and now, with a sudden change, was turning the whole thing into a laugh. What could it all be about? wondered these innocents.

"Oh," I gasped at last, "what shall we do? What will papa say? What will uncle Rutherford say? What will Edward say? What will----"

"Yes, my dear, what will Fred say?" Bessie completed my unfinished sentence, as I paused, overwhelmed. "They will each and every man of them settle this matter, to the anguish of that editor, if I know them, and without one word of trouble or publicity to you, or any one of the family. You dear goose, you, to make such a personal matter of it. Why not, Jim; why not still more, Mary Jane?"

"I must go home," I said, feeling a burning desire to find at once my natural protectors, and to place the matter in their hands; and go I would and did, cousin Serena accompanying me, with Bessie and the children. We paused by the way, to knock at Mrs. Dutton's door, and to ask her if she had called the attention of any of the other boarders to that shameful paragraph.

Mrs. Dutton, motherly, gentle, refined, a lady in birth, education, and manner, and with a warm corner in her heart for the girls, big and little, who ran in and out on their visits to Miss Craven, a.s.sured us that she had not done so; and, in answer to my anxious inquiries, said, also, that she had never mentioned the incident of the "food for the G.o.ds" to any one.

It is not necessary to state, that my mankind were incensed when they saw the objectionable paragraph, although they did make light before me of my terrors and apprehensions; and it remained a fact, that Edward went at once to a friend and brother lawyer, to request him to take steps to prevent any further annoyance or developments in the matter.

It so happened, said this gentleman, that he had a hold upon the editor of the "Morning Bugle," which that personage would be very sorry to have him use to his disadvantage; and he a.s.sured Edward that he would settle the affair in such a way that none of us need fear any future trouble or publicity.

How the thing had become known so as to afford matter for newspaper gossip, we could not tell, and did not much care to know; probably, through the talk of the servants, who had, of course, been acquainted with all the particulars of the unfortunate incident. Exaggeration, and a wilful desire to falsify a trifle to the discredit of those concerned had done the rest; but our lawyer friend's remedy proved effectual, and the "Morning Bugle" was silenced.

CHAPTER VI.

UNCLE RUTHERFORD'S PRIZE.

Uncle Rutherford, the most generous, the most benevolent, of men, had, nevertheless, the most exasperating way of carrying out his kindnesses.

He would suggest or hint at something delightful, and which just met the views or desires of his hearers, dwell upon it for a time, then, after leading one to the very height of expectation, would apparently put the matter entirely from his thoughts, and for days, weeks, or months, nothing further would be heard of it.

To urge its fulfilment, or to endeavor to discover what his intentions might be, was never productive of any good; on the contrary, his intimates believed that this still further deferred the wished-for result. Even aunt Emily, his much beloved and trusted wife, had learned to possess her soul in patience, when he was supposed to be revolving any thing of this nature in his mind.

The question of Jim's future had never been alluded to by him since that day last September, when it had been discussed at our seaside-home; and now it was nearly Christmas, and Milly was on tenter-hooks to know if there was any thing favorable in store for her _protege_. She knew better, as I have said, than to hurry matters, or to ask any questions.

That uncle Rutherford had not forgotten it, however, was evident from the way in which he watched, and apparently studied, the boy's ways and character; Jim all the while quite unconscious of such scrutiny.

"Milly," he said, on the evening of the day following that of the episode of the "Morning Bugle,"--"Milly, I see that boy Jim has a temper which needs some curbing."

Now, "a temper" was uncle Rutherford's _bete noir_, albeit his own was not of the most placid type, and that it was liable to be roused to what he called "just indignation," on that which to others appeared small provocation. The flash was always momentary, but it was severe while it lasted; and it had ever been a cross and a stumbling-block to him, spite of the polite name by which he called its manifestations. It was probably the recollection of the trouble it had brought to him, and of the struggles which even now it cost him, an elderly man, which made him so intolerant of its existence in others, especially the young. It is not necessary for the reader to quote the oft-repeated proverb about dwellers in gla.s.s houses, for uncle Rutherford was perfectly conscious of the exceeding fragility of his own panes; and his only wish was to warn and help those who were cursed with a fiery, impetuous spirit like his own.

That Jim was a victim to this, no one could deny, and Milly did not attempt to dispute it now; she merely a.s.sented meekly, and acknowledged that Thomas and Bill were constantly rescuing him from street-fights, and other escapades of that nature. And there were times when, in some of his rages with his fellow-servants, the raised tones of his furious voice had penetrated to the upper regions, and called for interference from the higher powers; but these occasions were becoming more and more rare. His devotion and loyalty to Milly and the other members of the family who had befriended him were not infrequently the occasion of these outbursts; for, at the smallest real or fancied injury or slight to any one among us, he was up in arms, and his tongue and his fists were only too ready to avenge us. He was very impatient, too, of any allusion by others to his own origin, or to the state of degradation from which Milly had rescued him and Bill, although he would discuss it more or less freely with her, and with his boon companion and chum.

"What has Jim been doing now, uncle?" asked Milly; her hopes for the advancement of the boy through uncle Rutherford's means falling, as she wondered if he were noticing only to find out the flaws in a by no means faultless character.

"Just that; been in a street-fight, or what would have proved a street-fight, if I had not come upon the scene just in time to call him to his senses, and to order him into the house instanter," said our uncle; "and, from what I could learn, he attacked a boy much larger than himself, on very small provocation,--merely, that the boy disputed his claim to the name of Livingstone, by which it appears he chooses to dub himself."

"He does not know his own name," said Milly, apologetically.

"That is no reason that he should call himself by yours," rejoined uncle Rutherford.

"It is something of the old feeling of feudal times, or that which used to make our Southern slaves adopt the surnames of their masters, I think," said Edward. "Jim thinks that 'them as belongs to Livingstones ought to be called Livingstone.'"

"Captain Yorke proposed to him to take his," said I, "but Jim declined, on the ground that Yorke was not so nice a name as Livingstone for the 'President of these States.' He has it in his heart, too, to confer honor upon our family name by the reflected glories of the position to which he aspires."

"The boy's spirit of grat.i.tude and appreciation, at least, are worthy of all credit," said aunt Emily.

"And, whatever he may owe to Milly and the family, he has already repaid the debt with interest," said mother; her thoughts, doubtless, recurring to Jim's heroic rescue of the youngling of her flock--her baby Daisy--from a frightful death; to say nothing of his st.u.r.dy fidelity to the welfare of our household and property under circ.u.mstances of great temptation and fear during the last summer.

"I had thought," said uncle Rutherford, slowly, and Milly's face lighted up; was it coming at last? "I had thought, if you judged well of it," turning to mother, "of having him go to the public grammar-school for this year, and there to test his capabilities, not only in the way of learning, but even more in his power and desire to control this temper of his. If he gives satisfaction, and proves himself worthy of it, let him continue at school until he is fitted for it, when I will give him a scholarship which I own in the School of Mines. At present it is filled, but will fall vacant about the time that Jim will be ready to take it. There is another boy on whom I have my eye, who has the same bent for a calling that Jim has, and whom I wish to befriend and help; but he, too, has faults which I hope to see him correct,--faults in some respects more serious than Jim's,--and the prize will lie between these two. Whoever proves himself most worthy and capable, the most steady, reliable, and best master of himself, shall take the scholarship. But, if Jim goes regularly to school, he will, of course, have to resign, in a great measure, his duties as a household servant. Are you willing to have him do this? For I do not wish or intend to inconvenience you. What is your opinion of the whole matter?"

"Ask Milly," said mother, "she is the arbitress of his fate."

And uncle Rutherford looked to that young damsel.

"What say you, Milly?"