Half-A-Dozen Housekeepers

ing it to the strong pine-trees in front, for greater safety. It snowed at six o’clock, it hailed at seven, rained at eight, stopped at nine, and presently began to go through the

n’t look like it. It’s too stormy to go anywhere, or for anybody to come to us, so we shall have to try violently in every possible way to amuse ou

r roguish, rosy face. In ten minutes she returned breathless from a race across the garden, and a vain attempt to keep her umbrella right side out.

guessable surprise for you; you never will think, and anyway I can’t wait to tell, so here it is:

comically irreverent imitation of Mis

“I should like to see the inside of that old house.

ely old-fashioned dishes and pictures. All the rooms are locked, but I’ll try and melt Miss Miranda’s heart, and get her to show us some of her relics. Scarcely anything has been changed in all these years, except that they have bought a cooking-stove. Miss Jane hates new-fangled things, and is really ashamed of the stove, I think; as to having a sewing-machine, or an egg-beater, or a carp

bright hollyhocks, gay marigolds, royal flower-de-luce,—all respectable, old-fashioned posies, into whose hearts the humming-birds loved to thrust their dainty beaks and steal their sweetness. Then there were beds paved round with white clam-shells, where were growing trembling little bride’s-tears, bachelor’s-b

e naked apple-boughs, and rifts of snow lay over the sleeping seed-souls of the hollyhocks and mar

urrounded by the Sawyer family photographs—husbands and wives always taken in affectionate attitudes, that their relations might never be misunderstood. In a corner stood the mahogany “what-not” with its bead watch-cases, shells, and glass globes covering worsted-work flowers, together with more family pictures, daguerreotypes in black cases

d the parlor and the curiosities in the diningroom cupboard with awe-struck faces, though their sobriety was almo

quilted in wonderful patterns. There was the “wild-goose chase,” the “log cabin,” the “rocky mountain,” the “Irish plaid,” and a “charm quilt,” in twelve hundred pieces, no two of which were alike. The windows in the best chamber had white cotton curtains with elaborate fringes; the looking-glass was long and

astonish a modern artist. Burns and His Mary were seated on a bank belonging to a landscape certainly not Scottish; His Mary, with a pink tarlatan dress on, tucked to the waist; while a brook was seemingly purling over Burns’ coat-tails spread out behind him on the bank. It was this peculiar detail which aroused Jo’s mirth, as well it might, so that she could not trust herself

own to chat over their tatting and crochet work,

ehaving so beautifully all the afternoon; but Robbie Burns was the last straw that broke the camel’s ba

wn her chair in so doing, “I’m going to beard the lion in his den, and s

itchen door stealthily, and Jo asked in her sweetest tones

dn’t know where things are, and wouldn’t be any good. The Porter girl may

recious household gods. As it was, by dint of extreme care, she managed to get the plum sauce on the table, and to set the chairs around it, without any serious disaster. To be sure, in cutting the dried beef, she notched a memorand

best pink “chany” set had been unearthed, and there were besides other old dishes of great magnificence. Quaint British lustre pit

e as a snow-ball; a golden, dried-pumpkin pie, baked in a deep yellow plate; the brownest and plummiest and indigestible-est of all plummy cakes, with doughnuts and sugar gingerbread besides. This array of good things being taken in with rapid and rabid glances, the girls exchanged involuntary looks of deligh

go, unable to hear any longer the quiet, proper, suppressed atmosphere that pervaded the house. While they had been admiring the quaint, old-fashioned relics and busy devouring the appetizing New England goodies, they were quite at ease, but an hour or two of conversation had exhausted the

neighbor, and I wanted to act right by Isabel when her Ma was away, but of all the crazy, ‘stiv

per,” said Miss Jane; “I never

ngs left her meat hash, that’ll sour before we can warm it over again, and et and et fruit cake till I was afraid s

ndle, and after locking up the house securely, the two spinsters we

from above, and the deep “slush” beneath, waded over i

ckering blaze cast soft shadows on the walls, and touched the marbles on the brackets with rosy tints; the canary-birds were fast asleep with their heads hidden under their wings, and the dog and cat were snoozing peacefully togethe

ned into zoological gardens! Then we could keep house here this week, the next week, and eternally, taking tea with Miss Miranda whenever she asked us to come. What a good sup

s than fiery martyrdom to cook for you girls, when you are so ungrateful. Your special semina

very thoughtless in me to arouse your anger until after the next meal. Any impertinence of o

, who had a very hearty appetite, but never called attention to it. “When you have done with your nonsense, I have something to propose for our final ‘good time.’ We have only four

offer you the coal hod for a platform; it won’t tip

ning when we made a comic pantomime of ‘Young Lochin

recollection. “We girls took all

rse? The boys are so clever and bright about anything of the k

ncle Harry’s large hall would be just the p

ride, Bell, the ‘fair Ellen!’ you will do it better than anybody. Jo will make up into the funniest old lady for a mother, and the rest of us can be t

ve to be the ‘craven bridegroom,’ who los

at the church, and does it beautifully. Phil Howard, Royal Lawrence, and Harry will be bridemen. We

for the elopement scene, Scottish dresses, and all sorts of toggery to b

k on private theatricals, Scottish history, manners, and costumes in this house, and U

. “If time must be saved, of course, it must come out of the cooking! Ho

ey humor your unnatural appetites! Out of kindness, we propose to low

used to it,” retorted Lilia, as she lighted the bedroom candles. “Come, dears, do cover the fire; it wa

ee stood in the garden, grand, dark, and fearless; the quiet part of the river had been turned by King Winter into an icy mirror; but over the dam a hundred yards below, the

f the picture hushed them into quietness. One minute passed and then another, while the spell was working, till at length Bell impulsively bent her brown head, and s

Edith and Patty,

in,” sighed Jo; “it

son’s ‘St. Agnes’ Eve,’ of the white, white picture she looked out upon from her convent window the night she was lifted to the golden d

ite robes ar

a

r shinin

e taper’s e

er arge

y soul befo

it befo

e earthly

pe to be!”