The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home

"And you can't cool it," appended Kit, with a melancholy shake of the head.

"If there was one face more," began Granny slowly.

Yes, just one was needed to complete the group.

The sun stole softly out of the window. The happy day was drawing to a close. Would life, too, draw to a close without her?

"Hark!" exclaimed Dot.

For the merry jingle of sleigh-bells ceased suddenly. Was it some unwelcome guest to break in upon the sanctity of their twilight hour?

A knock at the door. Charlie, being the nearest, opened it. A lady dressed in deep mourning, and a tall, fine-looking gentleman. She certainly had never seen either of them before.

The veil was raised. Oh, that face, with all its fairness and beauty; the golden hair, the lustrous eyes! They all knew then.

"O Granny, Granny!" and Florence was kneeling at her grandmother's feet, kissing the wasted hands, her sad, pathetic voice broken with sobs. "I had to come: I couldn't stay away. I've been selfish and ungrateful, and God has punished me sorely. And, when I turned to him in my sorrow, he brought before me all my neglect, my pride, my cruelty. O Granny! can it be forgiven?"

"There's nothing to forgive, child."

She kissed the sweet, wet face. At that moment she forgot every thing save that this darling had come back.

"Yes, there is so much, so much! You don't know. For, after I was married, I might have come. Edmund was tender and noble. This is my husband, Mr. Darol."

She rose as she uttered this, and made a gesture with her outstretched hand. Mr. Darol bowed.

"This is my dear grandmother Edmund; and these are my brothers and sisters. It is so long since I have seen any of you, that you seem strangers to me."

There was a peculiar silence in the room.

"Oh!" with a low, imploring cry, – "have you no welcome for me? Have I forfeited all regard, all remembrance?"

Hal came round to her side; but she was so stately and beautiful, that he felt almost awed.

"It is Hal, I know. Oh! take me back in your midst: for only yesterday I buried my little baby; and I know now the sense of loss that I entailed upon you."

They all crowded round her then. Not one had forgotten darling Flossy. Kisses and fond clasps. They were so glad to take her into their circle.

"This is Joe," she said, "and Kit, and Dot. O Charlie! to see you all once more! and to have you all alive! For I have been haunted with a terrible fear lest some of you might have fallen out of the old home-chain. Not a break, thank God!"

Then she brought them to her husband. Oh, how wild she had been when she fancied that she might be ashamed of them! – this group of brave, loving faces, full of the essential elements of nobility.

Ah, Florence, if you had known all their deeds of simple heroism!

Charlie helped her take off her wrappings. She had not changed greatly, except to grow older and more womanly.

"Granny has been ill!" she exclaimed in quick alarm.

"Yes, nearly all winter. But she is better now. O Flossy, I am so glad you came to-day!" and Hal's soft eyes swam in tears.

"It was Christmas. I could not help thinking of the dear old Christmas when we were all together. O Hal! if you could know all my shame and sorrow!"

"Joe," said Granny feebly, "will you take me back to bed? I'm tired again. I'm a poor old body at the best. Then you can come and sit round me."

"Shall I send the driver away?" asked Mr. Darol of Florence.

"Yes: I can't leave them to-night. You will not mind?" —

She glanced around as she uttered this, as if apologizing for the poor accommodations.

"No, I shall not mind," in a grave tone.

Granny was carried to bed again. Hal shook up the pillow, and straightened the spreads. Joe laid her in tenderly, saying, as he kissed her, —

"You have us all home again in the old shoe!"

The room was neat and orderly; poor, to be sure, but with a cheerful air. Hal brought in the flowers, and Kit some chairs, and they made quite a party.

"But think of the dishes!" whispered housewifely Dot. "And not a clean one for morning, we've used so many. But, oh! wasn't it elegant? And Florence is a real lady!"

"We had better slip out, and look after our household gods," Hal murmured in return.

Before they were fairly in the business, Charlie joined them.

"Let me help too," she said. "I don't hate to wash dishes quite as much as I used; and I am so happy to-night that I could do almost any thing!"

They were a practical exemplification of the old adage. Many hands did make light work. In a little while they had their house in order.

"But what a family!" exclaimed Dot. "Where are we to put them all?"

"I've been thinking. Florence and her husband can have my room, and we will make a bed for Kit and Joe in the flower-room. They won't mind it, I guess."

"Dot can sleep with Granny, and I can curl up in any corner for to-night," said Charlie.

"Hal never had a wink of sleep last night. We talked and sang Christmas hymns, and Granny thought that she would not live."

Charlie gave a sad sigh.

"You are angels, both of you," she answered. "And when Mr. Darol comes, – oh! isn't it funny that Florence's husband should have the same name? I wonder" —

Charlie was off into a brown study.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "isn't it odd? Florence's name is Darol, and there is my Mr. Darol. Why, I do believe they look something alike, – Flossie's husband, I mean."

To which rather incoherent statement no one was able to reply.

"Perhaps we had better put my room in order," suggested Hal, returning to the prose of housekeeping.

Dot found some clean sheets and pillow-cases. Charlie followed them, and assisted a little. The bed was freshly made, a clean napkin spread over the worn washstand, towels as white as snow, and every thing neat, if not elegant.

"Though, of course, it will look very common to Flossy," said Dot with a sigh. "I feel almost afraid of her, she is so grand."

"But she isn't a bit better than we are," returned Charlie stoutly. "I think Hal is really the noblest of the lot, and the most unfortunate. But I told Mr. Darol all about the green-house, Hal!"

Hal colored. Charlie was a warm and courageous champion.

Then they went down stairs. Florence still sat at the head of Granny's bed, and had been crying. Hal remembered his hard thoughts of Flossy the night before with a pang of regret; for, though they had been poor and burdened with cares, death had not come nigh them, but had taken Florence's first-born in the midst of her wealth and ease.

Charlie went round to them. "Florence," she began a little timidly, "do you live in New York?"

"Yes."

"I've been there since the last of August."

"You?" returned Florence in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Studying at the School of Design."

"Why, Charlie! how could you get there?"

"It was very strange. I almost wonder now if it really did happen to me. You see, I worked in the mill, and saved up some money; and then I went to New York. You remember Mrs. Wilcox, don't you? I've been boarding there. And, while I was trying to find out what I must do, I met a Mr. Paul Darol, who is a perfect prince" —

"O Florence! we have heard all this story," interrupted Mr. Darol. "It is the little girl for whom Uncle Paul sold the designs. She wanted some money to take home, you know. He never mentioned the name."

"Then he is your uncle," said Charlie, quite overwhelmed at her success.

"Yes; and you are a brave girl, a genius too. Florence, I'm proud enough of this little sister. Why didn't Uncle Paul think, – but you don't look a bit alike."

And this was Charlie! Here were the brothers and sisters of whom she had felt secretly ashamed! Joe, the dear, noble fellow; Hal, tender and devoted; heroic Charlie; ambitious Kit; and fond little Dot. Oh! instead, she was the one for whom they needed to blush, – her own selfish, unworthy soul, that had stood aloof the past year, when she might have come to their assistance. How it humbled her! She even shrank away from her husband's eyes.

"I think Granny is growing weary," Hal said presently, glancing at the pallid cheek. "She has had a great deal of excitement to-day; and now, if you will come up stairs and look at my flowers, we can let her have a little rest."

They all agreed to the proposal.

So Hal gave her a composing draught; and, though Joe was fain to stay, Granny sent him away with the others. They had all been so good, that she, surely, must not be selfish; and, truth to tell, a little quiet would not come amiss.

For, happy dream! she had lived to see them all come back. What more could she ask? That she might recover her health, and feast on their smiles and joyousness; and she prayed humbly to God that it might be so, in his great mercy.

CHAPTER XX

WHEREIN THE OLD SHOE BECOMES CROWDED

They trooped up the narrow stairs. Why, the old loom-room looked like a palace! Hal had made some very pretty brackets out of pine, and stained them; and they were ranged round the wall, upholding a pot of flowers or trailing vines, and two or three little plaster casts. Here were some bookshelves, the table surmounted by a very passable writing-desk, Hal's construction also. But the flowers were a marvel.

"Hal's dream was a green-house," exclaimed Florence. "But I don't see how you found time for it all" —

"It has been profit as well as pleasure," said Hal with a little pride. "Last winter I sold a quantity of flowers, and, in the spring, bedding-plants and garden vegetables."

"Oh!" returned Florence, choking back the sobs, "do you remember one summer day, long, long ago, when we all told over what we would like to have happen to us? And it has all come about."

"Even to my fiddle," said Kit.

"And my running away," appended Charlie with great satisfaction.

Hal brought in some chairs.

"We're going to sit in the corner on the floor," said Charlie; and the three younger ones ranged themselves in a small group.

Florence and her husband walked round to view the flowers, guided by Joe.

"You appear to have wonderful success," remarked Mr. Darol. "These tuberoses are very fine."

"They were frosted about ten days ago, and have hardly recovered. That is, I lost most of my blossoms."

"Oh, what a pity!"

"And all our Christmas money," said Dot softly.

"No matter," returned Charlie. "You can have all of mine. I meant every penny of it for Granny."

"And now I want to hear what you have been doing all these years. I know it was my own act that shut me out of your joys and sorrows; but if you will take me back" – and the voice was choked with tears.

Hal pressed the soft hand.

"You will find Edmund a brother to you all," she went on. "It is my shame, that after my marriage, knowing that I could come any time, I hesitated to take the step."

"It is a poor old house," exclaimed Hal tremulously.

"But holds more love and heroism than many grander mansions," Mr. Darol said in his deep, manly tone. "Florence is right: I should like to be a brother to you all. I honored Charlie before I fancied that I should ever have a dearer claim."

"And I've been a sort of black sheep," returned Charlie frankly. "Hal and Joe are the heroes in this family."

"It is so wonderful to have Joe safe!"

"And to think how sad we were last night," Dot began. "We did not expect any one to help us keep Christmas but Kit."

"O Dot! tell me all about it," said Charlie eagerly. "I do like to hear it so. And how Joe came home."

Dot was a little shy at first; but presently she commenced at Hal's losing the school, Granny's sickness, Joe's shipwreck, the trouble and sorrow that followed in succession, the misfortune of the flowers, and then she came to the night when Granny wanted to die and go to heaven. Only last night; but oh, how far off it appeared! She told it very simply, but with such unconscious pathos that they were all crying softly Florence leaned her head on her husband's shoulder, hiding her face.

"And I never knew a word of it!" exclaimed Charlie with the quiver of tears in her voice. "I didn't want to tell you about my going, for fear you'd worry over me, or, if I should be disappointed, you would feel it all the more keenly. But I never thought any thing sad could happen to you."

"I should like to hear the first part of Charlie's adventures," said Mr. Darol. "How did she come to know that she had a genius?"

"She used to be punished enough in school for drawing comical faces," answered Joe. "Little did Mr. Fielder think that you would make an artist!"

"But I planned then to run away and live in the woods. I believe I once took you off, Kit."

"Yes; and we were threatened with the jail, weren't we, because we made a fire. But how you did talk, Charlie! You were always splendid on the fighting side."

"I was made to go right straight ahead," said Charlie. "And, if I had been afraid, I should never have done any thing."

"And we want to hear how you did it," pursued Mr. Darol.

So Charlie related her trials and perplexities, her fruitless journeys, and her vain endeavors, until she met Mr. Paul Darol, who seemed to understand just what she wanted.

"I don't see how you had the courage," Florence remarked. "And if I'd only known you were there, Charlie!"

Charlie shrugged her shoulders. Now that the fight had been made, and terminated successfully, she was rather glad to have gone into it single-handed: not from any vanity, but a kind of sturdy independence that had always characterized Charlie Kenneth.

And then they rambled farther back, to the time of Hal's sad accident. Perhaps the most truly noble thing about them was their fearlessness and honesty. They were not ashamed of the poverty and struggle: there was no petty deceit or small shams to cover the truth.

Ah, what heroic lives they had all been, in a simple way! For it is not only in great matters that men and women must fight: it is the truth and endurance and perseverance which they bring into every-day events that moulds character. Not a poor, false, or useless soul among them, unless it was hers, Florence thought.

Hal stole down a time or two to see Granny, who had fallen into a peaceful sleep. And presently the old clock struck ten. Dot and Kit were nodding.

"I am going to put you in our old room," Hal said to Florence. "It is the best I can do."

"No: let me sit up and watch with Granny."

"That is not at all necessary. Last night she was nervous. I fancy she was haunted by a dim impression of impending change, and thought it must mean death. Instead, it was the dearest of joys."

"O Hal! I don't feel worthy to come among you. Not simply because I chose to go away, to have luxury and ease and idleness, while you were in want and sorrow; for in those old days I thought only of myself. But, a few months after I was married, Mrs. Osgood died, and I was quite free to choose. Don't shrink away from me Hal, though the cowardice has in it so much of vile ingratitude. I had not the courage to be true to my secret longings. She had filled my weak soul with her beliefs; and I persuaded myself that my debt to her was greater than that to my own kindred."

"O Florence, hush! let it all go, since you have come back," pleaded unselfish Hal.

"And then my precious baby came. Hardly four months ago. He had your tender eyes, Hal; and they used to reproach me daily. But I made a hundred excuses and delays. And then God took him, to let me feel what a wrench the soul endures when its cherished ones are removed. All these years I have been like one dead to you, without the sweet comfort of those who know their treasures are safe in heaven. When we came back from his grave yesterday, I told Edmund my deeper shame and anguish, my disloyalty to those who had the first claim. And if any of you had been dead, if I could never have won Granny's forgiveness, ah, how heavy my burden would have proved!"

"But we all consented to your going," Hal said, longing to comfort her.

"Because you knew how weak and foolish I was, with my sinfully ambitious longings. And oh, if my husband had been less noble!"

"You shall not so blame yourself on this blessed Christmas night. Is there not to be peace on earth, and tenderness and good will for all? And it seems as if you never could have come back at a more precious moment."

Hal, foolish boy, cried a little in her arms. It was so sweet to have her here.

After a while the children were all disposed of. Hal apologized to Joe for the rather close and fragrant quarters.

"Don't worry, old comrade. When you've slept on a whale's backbone, or a couple of inches of tarred rope, you take any thing cheerfully, from a hammock to a bed of eider down."

Kit cuddled in his arms. Dear old Joe was the best and bravest of heroes to him.

Hal threw himself on the lounge, covered with shawls and overcoats, for the bedclothes were insufficient to go around. He laughed softly to himself. Such a houseful as this the "Old Shoe" had never known before. What was poverty and trouble now? A kind of ghostly phantom, that vanished when one came near it. Why, he had never felt so rich in all his life!

Granny was none the worse the next morning for her excitement. Dot bathed her face, combed out the tiny silver curls, and put on a fresh wrapper. Charlie helped get breakfast, though she was not as deft-handed as Dot. The two tables were set again; and, when they brought Granny out, she was more than proud of her family.

That seemed to be a gala-day for all Madison. When the news was once started, it spread like wild-fire. Joe Kenneth wasn't drowned after all, but had come back safe, a great, tall, handsome fellow. Florence had returned with her fine-looking husband; and wild, queer Charlie had actually been transformed into the family beauty.

"There never was a finer set of children in Madison," said Mr. Terry, clearing his voice of a little huskiness. "And to think they're Joe Kenneth's poor orphans! I tell you what! Granny Kenneth has been one woman out of a thousand. Didn't everybody say she had better let the youngsters go to the poor-house. And now they're a credit to the town. Think of Joe being praised in the papers as he was! That went to my heart, – his giving up a chance for life to some one else. He's a brave fellow, and handsome as a picture. There isn't a girl but would jump at the chance of marrying him. He will be a captain before he is five years older, mark my words."

Dr. Meade was brimful of joy also. He kissed Charlie, and laughed at her for running away, and was much astonished to find how fortunate she had been But Joe was everybody's idol.

"I think some of you ought to be spared," exclaimed the good doctor. "I don't see where you were all stowed last night. I have two or three rooms at your service; and, indeed, am quite willing to take you all in. But, anyhow, Kit and Joe might come for lodgings."

"We put them in the flower-room," said Charlie.

"Which accounts for their blooming appearance, I suppose;" and the doctor pinched Charlie's ear.

Between themselves, they had endless talks. It seemed as if all the stories would never get told. And, strangely enough, they came to pity poor Flossy, who, among them all, had the only lasting sorrow.

Charlie took to Mr. Darol at once; and before the day ended they were all fast friends.

"I think yours is a most remarkable family," he said to Florence. "There is not one of the children but what you might be proud of anywhere."

"I am so glad you can love them!" and the grateful tears were in her eyes.

"And, when we return home, it seems as if we ought to take Charlie. There she will have just the position she needs."

"O Edmund! I don't deserve that you should be so good to me. I was longing to ask it. But I have been so weak and foolish!"

"My darling, that is past. I will say now, that my only misgiving about you has been the apparent forgetfulness of old family ties. But I knew you were young when you left your home, and that Mrs. Osgood insisted upon this course; besides, I never could tell how worthy they were of fond remembrance."

"And did not dream that I could be so basely ungrateful!" she answered in deepest shame. "I abhor myself: I have forfeited your respect."

"Hush, dear! Let it all be buried in our child's grave. Perhaps his death was the one needful lesson. And now that we have found them all, we must try to make amends."

Florence sobbed her deep regret, nestling closely to his heart.

"Your brother Hal interests me so much! It seems that he will always feel the result of his accident in some degree, on account of a strained tendon. He has such a passionate love for flowers, and the utmost skill in their care and culture. But he ought to have a wider field for operations."

"Oh!" she said, "if we could help him. Charlie has worked her way so energetically, that she only needs counsel and guidance. Kit and Dot are still so young!"

"I don't wonder Uncle Paul was attracted. There is something very bright and winsome about Charlie. I had to laugh at her naïve confession of being a black sheep."

"She used to be so boyish and boisterous! not half as gentle as dear Hal."

"But it seems to be toned down to a very becoming piquancy;" and he smiled.

"How very odd that she should have met your uncle!" Florence said musingly. "How surprised he will be!"

Dr. Meade came over again that evening, and insisted upon the boys accepting his hospitality; so Joe and Kit were packed into the sleigh, and treated sumptuously.

Granny continued to improve, and could sit up for quite a while. She enjoyed having them all around her so much! It was like the old time, when the gay voices made the house glad.

And so the days passed, busy, and absolutely merry.

Charlie and Florence helped cook, and Joe insisted upon showing how he could wash dishes. On Sunday they all went to church except Dot, – Granny would have it so.

On Monday Mr. Darol came. Charlie had given him very explicit directions, but she was hardly expecting him so soon. Sitting by the window she saw him coming down the street in a thoughtful manner, as if he were noting the landmarks.

"O Mr. Darol!" and she sprang to the door, nearly overturning Dot.

"Yes: you see I have been as good as my word. How bright you look! So there was nothing amiss at home?"

"Indeed there was! but, in spite of it, we have all been so happy! For everybody came home at Christmas, even Joe, whom they thought drowned. This is my little sister Dot. And oh, this is my brother Hal!"

Mr. Darol clasped the hand of one, and gave the other a friendly pat on the soft golden hair.

"I dare say Charlie has told you all about me: if she has not she is a naughty girl. Why" —

For in the adjoining room sat Florence, close to Granny's chair. No wonder he was amazed.

"That's Florence, and you've seen her before. And Mr. Edmund Darol is here," went on Charlie in a graciously explanatory manner.

"They are my brothers and sisters," said Florence with a scarlet flush.

He looked at her in deep perplexity.

"Mrs. Osgood adopted Florence," Charlie interposed again. "It was all her fault; for she would not allow the relation to be kept up, and" —

"This is your grandmother?" he interrupted almost sharply, feeling unconsciously bitter against Florence.

"This is dear Granny."

He took the wrinkled hand, not much larger than a child's, for all it had labored so long and faithfully.

"Mrs. Kenneth," he said, "I am proud to make your acquaintance. One such child as Charlie would be glory enough."

Charlie fairly danced with delight to see Granny so honored in her old days. And as for the poor woman, she was prouder than a queen.

"You've been so good to her!" she murmured tremulously, nodding her head at Charlie.

"She is a brave girl, even if she did run away. I have used my best efforts to make her sorry for it."

"But oh! Mr. Darol, the work was all undone as soon as I came home. For when I found them sick, and full of trouble, it seemed so good to be able to take care of myself, that I think running away the most fortunate step of my whole life."

"I am afraid that we shall never bring you to a proper state of penitence;" and he laughed.