But the crowning glory of the supper was a dish of scarlet strawberries, which looked as if they had been drinking dew-drops and sunshine till they had caught all the richness and sweetness of summer.
"O, ma!" whispered Grace, "I'm beginning to feel so happy! I only wish my father was here."
After tea, grandpa took Horace and Grace on each knee, large as they were, and sang some delightful evening hymns with what was left of his once fine voice. He looked so peaceful and happy, that his daughters were reminded of the Bible verse, "Children's children are the crown of old men."
"I think now," said Mrs. Clifford, coming back from putting the baby to sleep, "it's high time my boy and girl were saying, 'Good-night, and pleasant dreams.'"
"Aunt Madge is going up stairs with us; aren't you, auntie?"
"Yes, Horace; your other auntie wouldn't do, I suppose," said Louise.
"That makes me think of the way this same Horace used to treat me when he was two years old. '_Her_ can't put me to bed,' he would say; 'her's too _little_.'"
"I remember," said Margaret, "how he dreaded cold water. When his mother called him to be washed, and said, 'Ma doesn't want a little dirty boy,'
he would look up in her face, and say, 'Does mamma want 'ittle _cold_ boy?'"
The happy children kissed everybody good-night, and followed their aunt Madge up stairs. Now, there was a certain small room, whose one window opened upon the piazza, and it was called "the green chamber." It contained a cunning little bedstead, a wee bureau, a dressing-table, and washing-stand, all pea-green. It was a room which seemed to have been made and furnished on purpose for a child, and it had been promised to Grace in every letter aunt Madge had written to her for a year.
Horace had thought but little about the room till to-night, when his aunt led Grace into it, and he followed. It seemed so fresh and sweet in "the green chamber," and on the dressing-table there was a vase of flowers.
Aunt Madge bade the children look out of the window at a bird's nest, which was snuggled into one corner of the piazza-roof, so high up that nobody could reach it without a very tall ladder.
"Now," said aunt Madge, "the very first thing Grace hears in the morning will probably be bird-music."
Grace clapped her hands.
"And where am _I_ going to sleep?" said Horace, who had been listening, and looking on in silence. His aunt had forgotten that he was sometimes jealous; but she could not help knowing it now, for a very disagreeable expression looked out at his eyes, and drew down the corners of his mouth.
"Why, Horace dear, we have to put you in one of the back chambers, just as we did when you were here before; but you know it's a nice clean room, with white curtains, and you can look out of the window at the garden."
"But it's over the kitchen!"
"There, Horace," said Grace, "I'd be ashamed! You don't act like a little gentleman! What would pa say?"
"Why couldn't I have the big front chamber?" said the little boy, shuffling his feet, and looking down at his shoes.
"Because," said aunt Madge, smiling, "that is for your mother and the baby."
"But if I could have this little cunning room, I'd go a flyin'. Grace ain't company any more than me."
Aunt Madge remembered Horace's hit-or-miss way of using things, and thought of the elephant that once walked into a china shop.
Grace laughed aloud.
"Why, Horace Clifford, you'd make the room look like everything; you know you would! O, auntie, you ought to see how he musses up my cabinet!
I have to hide the key; I do _so_!"
Horace took the room which was given him, but he left his sister without his usual good-night kiss, and when he repeated his prayer, I am afraid he was thinking all the while about the green chamber.
The next morning the children had intended to go into the garden bright and early. Grace loved flowers, and when she was a mere baby, just able to toddle into the meadow, she would clip off the heads of buttercups and primroses, hugging and kissing them like friends.
Horace, too, had some fancy for flowers, especially flaring ones, like sunflowers and hollyhocks. Dandelions were nice when the stems would curl without bothering, and poppies were worth while for little girls, he thought, because, after they are gone to seed, you can make them into pretty good teapots.
He wanted to go out in the garden now for humming-birds, and to see if the dirt-colored toad was still living in his "nest," in one of the flower-beds.
But the first thing the children heard in the morning was the pattering of rain or the roof. No going out to-day. Grace was too tired to care much. Horace felt cross; but remembering how many messages his grandmother had sent to her "good little grandson," and how often aunt Madge had written about "dear little Horace, the nephew she was so proud of," he felt ashamed to go down stairs scowling. If his good-morning smile was so thin that you could see a frown through it, still it was better than no smile at all.
The breakfast was very nice, and Horace would have enjoyed the hot griddle-cakes and maple sirup, only his aunt Louise, a handsome young lady of sixteen, watched him more than he thought was quite polite, saying every now and then,--
"Isn't he the image of his father? Just such a nose, just such a mouth!
He eats fast, too; that is characteristic!"
Horace did not know what "characteristic" meant, but thought it must be something bad, for with a child's quick eye he could see that his pretty aunt was inclined to laugh at him. In fact, he had quite an odd way of talking, and his whole appearance was amusing to Miss Louise, who was a very lively young lady.
"Horace, you were telling me last night about Mr. Lazelle: what did you say was the color of his coat?"
"I said it was _blueberry_ color," replied Horace, who could see, almost without looking up, that aunt Louise was smiling at aunt Madge.
"He is a _musicianer_ too, I think you said, and his hair _crimps_. Dear me, what a funny man!"
Horace was silent, and made up his mind that he should be careful another time what he said before aunt Louise.
Soon after breakfast he and Pincher went "up-attic" to see what they could find, while Grace followed her grandmother and aunties from parlor to kitchen, and from kitchen to pantry. She looked pale and tired, but was so happy that she sang every now and then at the top of her voice, forgetting that little Katie was having a nap.
Pretty soon Horace came down stairs with an old, rusty gun much taller than himself. Mrs. Clifford was shocked at first, but smiled the next moment, as she remembered what an innocent thing it was, past its "prime" before she was of Horace's age.
The little boy playfully pointed the gun towards Grace, who screamed with fright, and ran away as fast as she could.
"I don't care," cried she, coming back, a little ashamed at being laughed at; "how did _I_ know it wasn't loaded? Do you think 'twould look well for a little girl _not_ to be afraid of a gun?"
This speech amused everybody, particularly Horace, who was glad to have Grace say a foolish thing once in a while. It raised his self-esteem somehow; and, more than that, he liked to remember her little slips of the tongue, and tease her about them.
It was not long before he had seen all there was to be seen in the house, and wanted to "_do_ something." As for reading, that was usually too stupid for Horace. Grace kindly offered to play checkers with him; but she understood the game so much better than he did, that she won at every trial.
This was more than he could bear with patience; and, whenever he saw that she was gaining upon him, he wanted to "turn it into a _give-game_."
"But that isn't fair, Horace."
"Well, ma, just you see how mean Grace is! There, she wants me to jump that man yonder, so she'll take two of mine, and go right in the king-row!"
"But, Horace," said Grace, gently, "what do I play for if I don't try to beat?"
"There now," cried he, "chase my men up to the king-row, so I can't crown 'em, do!"
"Just what I'm doing," replied Grace, coolly.
"Well, I should think you'd better take 'em all, and be done with it!
Before I'd be so mean as to set _traps_!"