Amanda Douglas - A Little Girl in Old Washington

Georgetown had the advantage of more stability than Washington, and had grown up around home centers. Representatives came and went, often not considering it worth while to bring their families. Senators were still largely interested in the welfare of their own States, rather than that of the distant Capital. Thus it came to pass that Georgetown was really attractive and rapidly improving. Streets had a more finished look. Gardens were large and well kept, as there was no need of crowding.

The Carrington young men had seen the progress of advancement and yielded to it with a sense of foresight. The outlying land had been cut up into squares – some places sold, some rented. Roger had many excellent business traits. Enough was left for beauty and a boundary of fine forest trees on two sides, a third a prettily diversified space sloping down to the creek, the other commanding a fine view of the town.

"You ride, of course?" Roger had said the next morning after their arrival.

"What Virginia girl does not?" Jaqueline returned with a gay smile.

"It bids fair to be a pleasant, sunny day, mother. What is that despondent song you sing so much?

"'Many a bright and sunshiny morning

Turns dismal' —

and he paused —

"'Turns to be a dark and dismal day.'

"Well, don't sing it to-day, and I will come home early if I can get away, and take Miss Jaqueline out. Ralph, you might invite Patricia. We will go up the creek road. The birds are out in force already; the shore larks and the thrush are making melody that would rejoice the heart of Robin Hood."

"But – I have no habit," replied Jaqueline, her bright face shadowed with disappointment.

"Oh, mother can look you up something. We have attire that came over with my Lord de la Ware's ships. Why shouldn't we be as proud as of old Mayflower tables and cups and cloaks that the New Englanders dote on?"

"I can find something, I am sure," was the motherly reply.

"Come out and take a breath of this delicious air."

That was meant for Jaqueline, who followed the young man out on the porch, down the steps, and then they loitered through the garden walk. The old white-haired gardener was clearing up the garden beds.

"Mornin', massa and young missy," he said, with a touch of his hand to his head, that looked like a wig of crinkly wool.

Roger paused and gave some orders. Then he gathered a few wild violets and gave them to the girl with a graceful gesture.

His mother was watching. "If he only would come to care for someone!" she mused. He was a general admirer of the sex, as the young men of that day were wont to be. "And the Masons are a fine family. I would like nothing better."

How many times she had given anticipatory consent!

Jaqueline sent him off with a pretty smile that he forgot all about when Ajax whinnied and thrust his nose into his master's hand. He had been waiting the last fifteen minutes for the well-known voice.

"Fine old fellow!" his master said, with a caressing touch of the hand. "And now we must be off, or the colonel will be in a fume."

"I'll go up in the storeroom," began Mrs. Carrington, glancing the young girl over. "Mother, I do believe that green velvet jacket would fit Miss Jaqueline. You wouldn't believe that I was once quite as slim as you?" to the young girl.

"I'm sure you're not to be called stout now," said the madam, who despised a superabundance of flesh and yet hated leanness. She was a fine, perfectly proportioned woman, straight as an arrow, in spite of her more than seventy years.

"But it always was tight in the shoulders. You see, my dear, when things are ordered abroad there's not an inch to alter them with – and then I went in mourning. Would you like to come upstairs with me?"

Patricia had gone off to look at the guineas and peacocks who had stoutly insisted upon early broods. Madam had gone over to the open window with some fine needlework. Jaqueline followed her hostess up the broad stairway, through the spacious hall lighted by the cupola above, and into an ell where the main storeroom was snugly hidden.

What big old chests, with brass and iron clamps and binding and hinges! A row of deep drawers that held the best family linen and napery, some of it saved from destruction thirty years ago in the war that was already half forgotten. There was a sweet scent about the room, made by bunches of lavender, rosemary, and a sweet clover, much cultivated in gardens, and the fragrance of dried rose leaves.

"There have been so many things laid by. We hoped there would be girls to take them," and Mrs. Carrington gave a soft sigh. "What a merry household you must be! There are younger girls – "

"Yes, Varina, our own sister, and Annis, mother's little girl."

"I am much interested in your new mother. She seems a very kindly, amiable person. Back some distance she was connected with the Carringtons, you know."

"And she was our own mother's cousin. Oh, we are all in love with her, I assure you. And it is quite delightful for father to have someone to consider him first of all. It's funny what marriage does to a woman," and Jaqueline gave a light laugh. "I suppose we did try Aunt Catharine, but she used to nag at father until sometimes he would lose his temper. And now she is always quoting and admiring Mr. Conway, and runs around after him as if he was a child. I am sure father is much more delightful to live with, he is so merry and full of fun. Not but what Mr. Conway is a gentleman and kind of heart."

"But your aunt was no longer a young girl."

"And falling in love is a queer happening. Love is writ blind," and Jaqueline laughed daintily.

"The little girl of your mother's? – I was sorry not to see her. Is she like her mother?"

"She is a shy, dainty little thing, with a sweet temper and a kind of homesick way now and then, as if she longed to fly away somewhere with her mother. Of course we all like her, and father has taken her to his heart. Charles thinks her a nonesuch, since she is never weary of hearing him read aloud. And though Charles is the youngest, Varina has always been the baby, and I think she is jealous. It is very amusing at times."

"I am glad you get along so well together. It must be a great pleasure to your father to have a companion of his very own. And you girls will presently marry."

"I mean to have a good, merry time first. What a pity the winter is gone just as we have a new President! Congress will soon be adjourned, and Jane says Washington is dismal in the summer."

She opened a box, where the garment had lain many a year, being taken out at the annual cleaning, brushed carefully, and laid away again. It had a high collar and lapels worked with veritable gold thread that had not tarnished.

"Yes – many people do go away. The town has not improved as we all hoped it would. But there is an old adage that Rome was not built in a day. And we are a comparatively new country. Oh, here is the jacket!"

"Oh, how lovely!" cried Jaqueline.

"The buttons want rubbing up. We will take it to Betty, who can tell if it needs altering. I keep the sleeves stuffed out with cotton so it will not wrinkle or mat. A London tailor made it, yet it looks fresh as if it had just been sent over."

They found Betty, who was supervising some of the sewing girls. Most of the ordinary wearing clothes of the family and the servants' belongings were made in the house. There was fine mending and darning, and much drawn work done by some of the better-class house slaves.

Jaqueline tried on the pretty jacket, and there was not much alteration to be made in it. The young girl felt curiously gratified as she studied her slim figure in the mirror. She had never owned anything so fine, and certainly it was most becoming.

"Then, Betty, alter the band of my black cloth skirt. That is the best we can do just now."