Elsie and Her Namesakes

CHAPTER XIV

It was a bright, cheerful party that gathered about the Viamede breakfast table the next morning.

"Southern air seems to agree finely with my young patient thus far," remarked Dr. Harold, looking smilingly at Ned, who was partaking of the good fare provided with an appetite such as he had not shown before since the beginning of his illness.

"Yes, uncle doctor, I'm hungry this morning, and everything tastes good," laughed Ned. "But Viamede victuals always were ever so nice."

"And home victuals poor and tasteless?" queried the lad's mother, feigning a look of grieved surprise.

"Oh, no, mamma; home victuals are good – very good – when one is well, so as to have a good appetite," returned Ned reassuringly.

"Very true, son," said his father; "and you used to show full appreciation of them. So mamma need not feel hurt that you so greatly enjoy your present fare."

"And p'raps his good appetite will make the little chap strong enough for a row on the bayou a bit arter gittin' done his breakfast," said a rough voice, seemingly coming from an open doorway into the outer hall.

"Now, who are you talking that way about me?" queried Ned, turning half way round in his chair in an effort to catch sight of the speaker.

"Who am I? Somebody that knows a thing or two 'bout boys an' what they can do, an' what they like; an' I guess you're not much different from other fellows o' your age an' sect. Be ye now?"

"No, I guess not," laughed Ned. "I don't belong to any sect, though. But I suppose you mean sex. I'm of the male kind."

"Oh, you are. Then I s'pose you're brave enough to venture a row on the bayou without fear o' bein' drowned?"

"Yes, indeed, with all these grown-up folks along to take care of me," laughed Ned. Then looking across the table at Mr. Lilburn, "Now that was just you talking, Cousin Ronald, wasn't it?"

"Why, Neddie boy, do you think that is the kind of English I speak?" queried Mr. Lilburn in a hurt tone, as if he felt insulted by such a suspicion in regard to his knowledge and use of the English tongue.

"No, Cousin Ronald, I didn't mean any harm; but haven't you different kinds of voices for different times and occasions?" returned Ned. "And weren't you kindly trying to make a bit of fun for me?"

"Ah, little chap, you seem to be good at guessing," laughed Mr. Lilburn; "a bit of a Yankee, aren't you?"

"No, sir; I'm a whole one," cried Ned, echoing the laugh. "But, papa," turning to his father, "can't we get in a boat and have a row on the bayou?"

"Well, Ned, I suppose that might be possible," was the smiling rejoinder. "Suppose we take a vote on the question. All in favor of the proposition say aye."

At that there was a simultaneous aye from the voice of each one at the table.

Then Grandma Elsie said, "I think it would be enjoyable, but probably the cousins may be coming in to make their party calls before we get back."

"I think not, mamma, if we start early and do not go too far," said Violet; "and we can leave word with the servants that our absence will be short, so that any one who comes will be encouraged to wait a bit."

"I should think they well might," smilingly added Mrs. Lilburn, "seeing what a delightful place they would have to wait in, and plenty of interesting reading matter at hand."

"Yes, I think we really might venture it," said Dr. Harold, "especially as the little jaunt will probably be for the health of all taking part in it."

So it was decided upon, and the plan carried out shortly after leaving the table.

Every one, especially the younger folk, seemed delighted with the idea and eager for the start. Ned was well wrapped up under the supervision of his mother and uncle, and seated in a part of the boat where there could not be any danger for him of even a slight wetting.

All found it a delightful trip, and returned refreshed and strengthened, the younger ones full of mirth and jollity.

It so happened that they were just in time to greet an arrival of cousins from Magnolia Hall and the Parsonage, presently followed by those from Torriswood. Cordial greetings were exchanged and an hour or two spent in pleasant intercourse, in which plans were laid for excursions here and there through the lovely surrounding country and entertainments at one and another of their homes.

"Don't wait for the coming of the rest of your party of relatives," said Dr. Percival. "We will look forward to the pleasure of having you all again, with that agreeable addition to the company."

"Thank you, Dick," returned Grandma Elsie with her own sweet smile, "we can hardly have more than would be agreeable of these lovely excursions or the delightful visits to the hospitable homes of our kith and kin in this region. And the oftener any or all of you visit us here at Viamede, the better."

"And please understand that we all echo in our hearts the sentiments just expressed by our mother," supplemented Violet in her sprightly way.

"Yes," laughed the captain; "I can vouch for the correctness of my wife's strange and strong assertion."

"And I," added Harold, "join with my brother physician in recommending for the health, as well as present enjoyment of us all, the taking of an unlimited number of these delightful excursions by land and water."

"Now let's follow that good prescription," laughed Elsie Dinsmore, and the other young people received the suggestion with clapping of hands and words of most decided approval.

A merry, enjoyable fortnight followed before the expected increase in their numbers, during which Cousin Ronald often entertained them with exhibitions of his skill as a ventriloquist. It did not mystify and puzzle them as it had done when they first made his acquaintance, but, nevertheless, was the exciting cause of much mirth and hilarity. Especially when there happened to be some neighbor present who was ignorant of the old gentleman's peculiar talent; and that often made the call of such casual acquaintances the more desirable and welcome. The relatives from Magnolia Hall, Torriswood and the Parsonage were often visitors at Viamede, sitting with its family on the veranda in the afternoons and evenings, and quite frequently callers, more or less intimate, would be there with them; and if Mr. Lilburn felt in the mood or was urged by one or more of the young folks of the family to try his skill, he would kindly do so.

Early one evening, when the gathering was larger than usual, Ned crept to Cousin Ronald's side and whispered in his ear an urgent request for a bit of the fun he alone could make. "Perhaps, sonny boy, if an idea comes to me," replied the old gentleman in the same low key. "Go back now to your mother and be quiet and easy for your health's sake."

Ned obeyed, and leaning on his mother's lap, with her arm around him, listened eagerly for he hardly knew exactly what.

Presently a voice was heard, seemingly coming from a clump of bushes not far away, "Ladies and gentlemen, young folks too, what good times you're having! While I'm but a poor fellow, wandering and homeless in a strange land, no roof to cover me, no bed to sleep in, and nothing to eat. Ah, woe's me! What can I do but lie down and die?"

"No, you needn't," called out Ned. "Go round to the kitchen and ask politely for something to eat, and you'll get it."

"I don't believe they'd give me a bite. I'm not a beggar, either, an' to take to that trade wad be worse nor dying an honest, upright, self-supporting man."

"Why, who is it, and what does he want?" queried one of Viamede's visitors in tones of surprise and disgust.

"Let's go down and see; give him some money, if he'll take it, to buy himself some supper and pay for a night's lodging," said another guest, jumping up and moving toward the veranda steps.

"Tell him we will give him something to eat – send it out there to him, if he wishes," said Grandma Elsie, speaking very soberly, though she felt pretty certain they would find no one there.

The lads hurried down to the bushes that seemed to hide the stranger, and Ned clapped his hands in ecstasy over the idea that they had been so easily and completely duped.

"They'll be greatly surprised and disappointed," said Elsie Dinsmore, "and it's almost too bad, for they seem very kind-hearted and ready to help one in distress."

The other young folks were laughing in an amused way.

"And it was just you, Cousin Ronald, wasn't it?" asked Elsie Raymond.

"Why, what a strange idea!" exclaimed the old gentleman. "I haven't been down there on the lawn for hours."

"But maybe your voice has," laughed Elsie.

"Oh, here they come to tell us about it," exclaimed Alie Leland, as the lads were seen hurrying back in a very excited way.

"There's nobody there!" cried one. "We searched all about and couldn't find a soul."

"No, indeed, we couldn't, and it's very mysterious, I think," added the other.

"Looks as if he'd run off before you got there," said Ned.

"He couldn't. There wasn't time," panted the foremost lad as they came up the steps of the veranda.

"Well, then, it's his own fault if he misses getting something to eat," said Ned, trying hard to keep from laughing.

"Strange how blind some folks are," remarked the same strange voice, seeming now close to the veranda, and followed by a profound sigh.

"Why, there he is again, and nearer than before!" cried one of the lads who had been trying to find him, and both peered eagerly over the railing; but to their evident astonishment, could see no one.

"Dear me, where in the world is he?" exclaimed again the boy who had first spoken. "His voice sounded even nearer than before and yet he's nowhere to be seen."

"Oh, let's look under the veranda," suggested the other. "Perhaps he may have crept in there."

"Oh, yes, if Mrs. Travilla is willing," returned his companion.

"I have no objection," she said pleasantly, and they proceeded to look, but soon announced that there was no one to be found there.

"And it certainly isn't worth your while to take such trouble to find so good for naught a scamp," returned Mr. Lilburn in his natural voice. "I wadna try it any more, lads."

"Ha, ha, ha. I knew you couldn't find me!" laughed the invisible speaker, the voice this time apparently coming from the roof of the veranda.

"Well," cried Ned, "how in the world did he get up there? What a famous climber he must be!"

At that the mystified stranger boys hurried down the veranda steps again and some little distance down the path leading across the grounds from the front of the dwelling, turned there and stood looking up at the veranda's roof.

"Why, there's nothing and nobody there!" they exclaimed breathlessly as they hurried back again.

"It certainly is a most mysterious thing," panted one. "How a fellow could be so close by and then disappear so suddenly and completely I can't imagine."

"Well, well, lads, such a slippery ne'er-do-weel isna worth worrying about," said Mr. Lilburn. "And we needna trouble oursel's if he goes hungry."

"But I should be sorry indeed to have any of my guests do that," said Grandma Elsie as just at that moment servants appeared carrying silver salvers laden with fruit and cakes.

That seemed a welcome interruption to even the sorely puzzled stranger boys, and when that feasting was over the captain called for music, and his wife, going to the piano, played "Yankee Doodle" with variations, then "Star-Spangled Banner," in the singing of which all joined heartily. Just as the last strain died away the strange voice was heard again from the far end of the veranda.

"That's a grand old song. Just the kind for every American to sing, whether he's rich or poor."

"Oh, there he is again!" cried the stranger lads, springing to their feet and looking eagerly in the direction of the sounds.

"But just as invisible as ever," gasped one. "How on earth does he manage to disappear so quickly?"

At that there was a half-suppressed titter among the young folks of the house, while Mr. Lilburn said in his own natural tones, "Tut, tut, young fellows; I'd pay no attention to him. He isn't worth minding."

"No, indeed," said Dr. Harold, "he isn't, and wouldn't attempt to harm any one of us, even if he wanted to, as we are so many and he but one."

"No," said the voice, "I'm not worth minding, not at all dangerous, for I wouldn't hurt anybody if I wanted to, and wouldn't dare do it if I had sic a wicked inclination."

"Well, sir, it's very, very queer how you can be so plainly heard and not seen at all," remarked one of the puzzled young fellows. Then pulling out his watch, "But it's high time for me to go home now."

"For me, too," said his companion, and bidding good-night to their hostess and the company, they went away together.

"Good! They didn't find out anything," chuckled Ned when they were beyond hearing.

Then began plans for the next day's outing, and conjectures as to when they might look for the expected addition to this Viamede party from their more northern homes. That was brought about in a few days, and added pleasure to their picnics, excursions and family gatherings at Torriswood, Magnolia Hall, the Parsonage and Viamede itself.

CHAPTER XV

To Lucilla it seemed hard to part for some months, just after the wedding, from her darling sister Grace, from Elsie and Ned also, to say nothing of Harold and his lovely mother; and for the fortnight or more that elapsed before the other company left she clung very closely to her father and Max, not neglecting Violet either. But when they also were gone she gave herself more unreservedly to Eva and Baby Mary, enjoying them keenly through the day while business claimed Chester's attention, then him in the evenings and early mornings until he must hie away to his office in Uniontown.

During the time that elapsed between the departure of the first and second party of relatives and friends to the South there was an almost daily exchange of visits with the Oaks and Fairview families, those at Ion also, and it was a joy to know that they – the Ion people – were not to flit with the others, and that the Roseland and Beechwood friends had planned to remain at home through the winter also; and particularly that Drs. Arthur Conly and Herbert Travilla were evidently intending to do likewise, except as they travelled about the adjacent country in the practice of their profession. And the Ion family – Edward Travilla, his wife and children – having visited Viamede only the year before, were expecting to spend their winter at their own home; and Zoe, with kind-hearted concern for Evelyn and Lucilla, made frequent little visits to Sunnyside, which she urgently invited them to return; and they did so when there were no other more important calls upon their time and the weather was suitable for little Mary to be taken out; for to both mother and aunt she seemed too dear and precious to be left behind.

Then there was the pleasant task of the daily correspondence with their nearest and dearest of absent relatives and friends – Eva with her husband, father-in-law and Violet, Lucilla with her father, brother and sister. How delightful it was to get their letters. How eagerly they both watched for the coming of the daily mail.

Lucilla sadly missed her morning strolls with her father about the grounds; yet not so much as she might have done at another season of the year, for it was often too cold and stormy for such rambles even had he been there; and she would console herself with writing to him what she might have said with her tongue had he been there to listen to her loving, daughterly confidences and expressions of affection. And she could seek his wise counsels and receive them in his answering epistle. So she strove to be patient and content, rejoicing in the glad hope that the separation was to be for but a few short months.

"And," she would say to herself, "how much better off I am than poor, dear Eva, my husband coming home every night, while hers is to be gone for weeks or months."

Eva sorely missed her absent husband, but the darling baby daughter was a great joy and comfort.

So passed January, February and March, and with the coming in of April Eva and Lucilla rejoiced in the thought that in a few weeks the dear ones now at Viamede would be returning to their more northern homes, as were the Ion folks, the kith and kin, or those left in charge, at the Oaks, Fairview, Beechwood, Roselands, the Laurels and Riverside.

Dr. Arthur Conly and his Marian, strongly attached to each other, and almost idolizing their baby boy, were an ideally happy pair, and Roselands had grown even more lovely than it was in earlier days. As they were about to leave the breakfast table one fair April morning a ring from the telephone bell summoned the doctor to make a prompt call at Sunnyside.

He replied that he would be there as soon as possible, which would be in a few minutes, his gig being already at the door. Turning about, he found his wife close at his side.

"I must set off at once for Sunnyside," he said; "Lucilla is ill. Will you go along?"

"Yes, indeed. She has been such a dear, kind friend to me that I love her as if she were my own sister. And we can safely trust our darling Ronald for an hour or two to the care of his nurse."

"With perfect safety. She is his devoted slave," laughed the doctor.

So the two set off at once on their errand of mercy and loving kindness.

They found Chester at home, Dr. Herbert Travilla already there, Lucilla in bed, suffering but patient, Zoe from Ion and Ella from Beechwood already there to do what they could for her, and Eva passing in and out, anxious to do all in her power, yet not willing to neglect Baby Mary.

An hour or two later a baby boy was gently laid down by Lucilla's side.

"Your son, dearest," Chester said in rapturous tones; "the little Levis Raymond we have been hoping for."

"Oh, how glad I am!" she cried. "My father's first grandson, and bearing his name. Baby dear, you shall be your mother's Ray of Sunshine. Oh, how I want to show you to my father, your grandfather."

"There, love," Chester said, giving her a kiss of ardent affection, "that will do; don't talk any more now, lest you wear yourself out."

"That is good advice, Cousin Lu, and I hope you will follow it," said Dr. Conly. "You must take care of yourself now for the sake of your husband and son."

"I will," she answered; "but, oh, Chester, send father word as soon as you can."

"Dearest," he said with a happy laugh, "I have already done so. Before leaving us he charged me not to delay a moment to let him know if you were taken ill; to send word promptly, and I have obeyed."

"And he will soon be here to see this, his first grandson! I am so glad I could give him one," she exclaimed in tones of delight.

"As I am," responded Chester. "But, love, don't talk any more just now, but try for a nap such as the tiny newcomer seems to be taking."

"I will, if only to please and satisfy you, my dear husband," she returned with a happy little laugh, and almost instantly passed into the land of dreams, while Chester softly withdrew from the room, leaving her in the charge of a skilful, trustworthy nurse.

He found Eva with her baby and Marian and the doctors on the front veranda.

"You are looking very happy, Chester," laughed Dr. Herbert; "almost as if you had fallen into a fortune since I came here this morning."

"Pretty much as I feel," returned Chester, his countenance telling more of joy and thankfulness than his tongue. "Lu has fallen into a comfortable sleep," he went on. "The little newcomer seems to be as welcome to her as to me."

"And I think my wife and I can fully appreciate her and your joy over him," said Dr. Conly, exchanging an affectionate, smiling glance with his Marian.

"The 'phone has already carried the news to all our relatives in this neighborhood and brought pleased and congratulatory replies," said Herbert; "and you 'phoned her father, did you not, Chester?"

"Yes," replied Chester; "and there, no doubt, comes his response," he added, as the ringing of his telephone bell was heard at that moment, "so now we may learn how he feels about it," and he hastened to the instrument, the others following, all eager to learn what the message from the absent dear ones might be.

The captain's own breathed of thankfulness and ardent parental love for his dear daughter, who, he hoped, would soon be well and strong. He was glad to have a grandson, and appreciated the naming of the child for him.

"A most kind, affectionate message," remarked Chester, with a sigh of satisfaction as he turned from the instrument to Eva and the others. "Lu will be pleased when I tell her what her father says. How she does love and cling to him! I am glad, indeed, that we may hope to see him and all the party here again in a few weeks."

"So am I," said Dr. Conly; "and in the meantime we will do our best to bring Lu safely on to her usual robust health and strength."

"And to have her son in like flourishing condition," added Dr. Herbert with genial look and smile directed to the father of the little lad.