第63章 HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.(5)

"My poor child," said a sweet-faced woman, reaching out a kind arm, while the children seized hold of Caryl at every available point, between them dragging her and her charge into shelter, "don't be troubled. Drive just as fast as you can, Thomas, to No. 27, you know," she commanded hurriedly.

Then the first thing Caryl did was to turn upon Viny and unhook the precious brooch as a low sob came from her white lips. "If it had been lost!"

A soft hand stole under the little brown cloak to clasp her own; but Madam Grant said never a word. She knew what the young girl's heart was too full for speech; that the mother's brooch would speak more tenderly than ever she could, of forgiveness to the little ignorant black girl.

The children were all eyes at Viny and her costume, but they said never a word while she howled on steadily, only ejaculating in an occasional gust, "O Miss Sylvy--Miss Sylvy!"

Caryl, white as a sheet, rushed out of the carriage and into the old lodging house the instant the horses paused by the broken gate. Maum Patty was singing in the little kitchen the refrain she never indulged in except in her most complacent moods.

Flinging wide the door, Caryl panted out, "Oh, what is it! Tell me at once!"

"Lawks!" exclaimed Maum Patty, startled from her peaceful enjoyment, and turning so suddenly in the old calico-covered chair that she sent her spectacles spinning into the middle of the floor. "Massy, how yer look! Tain't wurth it--don't! He hain't spile't it; I stopped him," she added exultingly.

"Stopped what?" echoed Caryl in bewildered distress. "Oh, do tell me! Is'nt Aunt Sylvia sick? Tell me, Maum Patty," she pleaded. And she grasped the old woman's arm in an agony of suspense.

"Massy, no!" declared Maum Patty in her most cheery tones, "she's ben a-laughin' fit to kill herself, an' I don't wonder, for the little rascal looked as cunnin' as an imp. But I stopped him I stopped him!" she added triumphantly.

Caryl had no strength to ask further, nor to stir. The reaction was too great, and she leaned up against the door for support.

"He shuck it, an' shuck it," said the old woman, laughing immoderately. "Laws, how he shuck it--dat Jip did--yer aunt's beyeutiful cap with the new puppel ribbons! Ye see it tumbled off; I dunno wedder she sneezed, or wot she did, but anyway, it tumbled off on de flo', and dat little pison scamp jumped up from his rug an' cotched it, an' she a-callin' an'a-callin, fit ver die--I'll snake dat Viny w'en I gets her.--Lawks, but I couldn't help it! I laughed till I cried to see dat dog carry on.

Luckily I run up just when I did to pay my 'specs to de Missis, for--I stopped him, I stopped him," she brought herself up to declare, wiping her eyes.

"Viny," said Caryl, in her little room, an hour after, when everything had been confessed and forgiven; when the delightful story had all come out, how they were really and truly to move that very afternoon; how Madam Grant had paid the rent in advance for the sunny rooms in the little cottage, and they were just driving around to surprise Aunt Sylvia when they witnessed Viny's escapade; how the carriage was to come before very long to take dear Aunt Sylvia to her longed-for refuge; how the price of the lessons was to go for new furniture; how everything for the rest of their lives was to be cheery, winsome, and bright to the very last degree--when it was all finished, Caryl looked kindly down into the sorry little black face--"Yes, Viny," she said with the happiest little laugh, "I shall have to forgive you, for it's the last naughty thing that you will ever do in the old home."