MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha

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СКАЧАТЬ and how tastefully she dresses; everything is rich and beautiful, yet so simply elegant; what magnificent lace she wears, and what jewelry; yet not a bit too much of either."

      "And she knows all about harmony of colors, and what suits her style; though I believe she would look well in anything."

      There was a communicating gate between Dr. King's grounds and Miss Stanhope's, and Elsie gained her aunt's house by crossing the two gardens. As she stepped upon the porch, she saw Mr. Egerton standing before the door.

      "Good-evening, Miss Dinsmore," he said, bowing and smiling. "I was just about to ring; but I presume that is not necessary now."

      "No, not at all. Walk into the parlor, and help yourself to a seat. And if you will please excuse me I shall be there in a moment."

      "I came to ask if I might have the pleasure of escorting you to the party," he said laughingly, as she returned from giving Chloe her directions, and asking if her aunt needed any assistance.

      "Thank you; but you are taking unnecessary trouble," she answered gayly, "since it is only across the street, and there are four of us to keep each other company."

      "The Misses King are going with you?"

      "Yes; they are not quite ready yet; but it is surely too early to think of going?"

      "A little; but Mrs. Schilling is anxious to see you as soon as possible; particularly as she understands there is no hope of keeping you after ten o'clock. Do you really always observe such early hours?"

      "As a rule, yes. I believe the medical authorities agree that it is the way to retain one's youth and health."

      "And beauty," he added, with an admiring glance at her blooming face.

      * * * * *

      "I do believe we shall be almost the first; very unfashionably early," remarked Nettie King, as their little party crossed the street.

      "We are not the first, I have seen several go in," rejoined Aunt Wealthy, as Mr. Egerton held open the gate for them to pass in.

      Mrs. Schilling in gay attire, streamers flying, cheeks glowing, and eyes beaming with delight, met them at the door, and invited them to enter.

      "Oh, ladies, good-evening. How do you all do? I'm powerful glad you came so early. Walk right into the parlor."

      She ushered them in as she spoke. Four or five young misses were standing about the centre-table, looking at prints, magazines, and photographs, while Lenwilla Ellawea, arrayed in her Sunday best, had ensconced herself in a large cushioned rocking-chair; she was leaning lazily back in it, and stretching out her feet in a way to show her shoes and stockings to full advantage. Mrs. Schilling had singular taste in dress. The child wore a Swiss muslin over a red flannel skirt, and her lower limbs were encased in black stockings and blue shoes.

      "Daughter Lenwilla Ellawea, subside that chair!" exclaimed the mother, with a wave of her hand. "You should know better than to take the best seat, when ladies are standing. Miss Stanhope, do me the honor to take that chair. I assure you, you will find it most commodious. Take a seat on the sofy, Miss Dinsmore, and—ah, that is right, Mr. Egerton, you know how to attend to the ladies."

      Greetings and introductions were exchanged; an uncomfortable pause followed, then a young lady, with a magazine open on the table before her, broke the silence by remarking: "What sweet verses these are!"

      "Yes," said Mrs. Schilling, looking over her shoulder, "I quite agree in that sentiment. Indeed, she's my favorite author."

      "Who?" asked Mr. Egerton.

      "Anon."

      "Ah! does she write much for that periodical?" he asked, with assumed gravity.

      "Oh, yes, she has a piece in nearly every number; sometimes two of 'em."

      "That's my pap, that is," said Lenwilla Ellawea, addressing a second young lady, who was slowly turning the leaves of a photograph album.

      "Is it?"

      "Yes, and we've got two or three other picters of him."

      "Photographs, Lenwilla Ellawea," corrected her mother. "Yes, we've got several. Miss Stanhope, do you know there's a sculpture in town? and what do you think? He wants to make a basque relief out o' one o' them photographs of my 'Lijah. But I don't know as I'll let him. Would you?"

      A smile trembled about the corners of Elsie's lips, and she carefully avoided the glance of Lottie's eyes, which she knew were dancing with fun, while there was a half-suppressed titter from the girls at the table.

      "I really can't say I understand exactly what it is," said Aunt Wealthy dubiously.

      "What sort of looking creature is a sculpture, Mrs. Schilling?" asked Mr. Egerton.

      "Excuse me; there's some more company coming," she answered, hurrying from the room.

      "My good landlady is really quite an amusing person," he observed in an aside to Elsie, near to whom he had seated himself.

      She made no response. The newly-arrived guests were being ushered in, and there were fresh greetings and introductions to be gone through with. Then conversation became quite brisk, and after a little, it seeming to be understood that all invited, or expected, were present some one proposed playing games. They tried several of the quieter kind, then Lottie King proposed "Stage-coach."

      "Lot likes that because she's a regular romp," said her sister.

      "And because she tells the story so well; she's just splendid at it!" cried two or three voices. "Will you take that part if we agree to play it?"

      "Yes, if no one else wants it."

      "No danger of that. We'll play it. Miss Dinsmore, will you take part?"

      "Thank you; I never heard of the game before, and should not know what to do."

      "Oh, it's easy to understand. Each player—except the story-teller—takes the name of some part of the stage-coach, or something connected with it;—one is the wheels, another the window, another the whip, another the horses, driver, and so on, and so on. After all are named and seated—leaving one of their number out, and no vacancy in the circle—the one left out stands in the centre, and begins a story, in which he or she introduces the names chosen by the others as often as possible. Each must be on the qui vive, and the instant his name is pronounced, jump up, turn round once and sit down again. If he neglects to do so, he has to pay a forfeit. If the word stage-coach is pronounced, all spring up and change seats; the story-teller securing one, if he can and leaving some one else to try his hand at that."

      Lottie acquitted herself well; Mr. Egerton followed, doing even better; then Aunt Wealthy was the one left out, and with her crooked sentences and backward or opposite rendering of names caused shouts of merriment. The selling of the forfeits which followed was no less mirth-provoking. Then the refreshments were brought in; first, several kinds of cake—the sponge and the farmers' fruit-cake, made after Miss Stanhope's prescription, as Mrs. Schilling informed her guests, and one or two other sorts. Elsie declined them all, saying that she never ate anything in the evening.

      "Oh, now that's too bad, Miss Dinsmore! do take a little bit of something," urged her hostess; "I shall feel СКАЧАТЬ