Edwin Fuller - Sea-gift

The next day wore away and the guests began to arrive. Having nothing better to do, I stationed myself at the hall window to watch the carriages as they came up to our door, and their contents came out.

The first that arrived were the Cheyleighs, numbering Mr. Edward Cheyleigh and wife, a stylish old couple, who prided themselves on their family and position in society, and the two Misses Cheyleigh – ladies who had been in the market for some time, and as yet were unspoken. They were great sticklers for the usages of society, and dependent, in a great measure, on their social prestige and en regle manners for the attention they received. They were well aware of the fact, that while Mr. Cheyleigh had given balls and parties innumerable for their benefit, he had not yet given a wedding party, and to accomplish for him the privilege of giving one was and had been their constant aim, albeit its fervor was a little abated by its continued futility.

As they entered the hall, and found the hat and coat stands empty, Miss Ella, the younger, turned to her father, and with much petulance exclaimed:

“Now, pa, I hope you are satisfied; you would hurry us off, and now we are the very first. I declare it is really too bad.”

“Yes, it is,” chimes in Miss Gertrude, the elder, “and looks as if we were so dreadfully anxious to come.”

“Well, my daughters,” philosophises Mr. Cheyleigh, “somebody has to be the first, and we are fully ten minutes behind the time specified.”

“Ten minutes!” exclaimed both young ladies, between the pronunciation of the “ten” and the “minutes,” changing their faces from a frown to a smile, as mother, hearing their voices, appeared in the hall and welcomed them, taking the ladies off to the cloak room; while William, our servant, who had been leaning against the stair while their conversation was proceeding, recovered himself sufficiently to usher Mr. Cheyleigh into the parlor. Many others arrive and are passed in, until at length two young gentlemen approach, toss away their cigars, and stroll, as it were, up the steps, taking a long time to reach the door, and conversing in a low tone, which I could overhear.

“I wonder who is to be here to-day,” said the first, frowning as if in pain, as he buttoned his glove with an effort; “dinners with old folks are devilish bores.”

“I understand the two Misses Cheyleigh will be here, and that will be some relief,” replied the other, pulling down his wristband, so as to show the white.

“Yes, quite a relief to you. From your devotion down at Bentric’s last evening I should judge you were really in love with that long, languishing Gertrude.”

“Hush, Cassell, I vow you shan’t speak disrespectfully of her. I have a right to admire her, if she is a little oldish.”

“Success to you, Berton! here goes for an hour’s boredom with that little mincing, over vivacious Ella;” and he pulled the bell, muttering as he did so, “I say confound these small and select gatherings; a fellow is always put off with a fussy old maid, or a gassy old fogy, who’ll talk you into an anatomy in five minutes.”

“Any way,” whispered the other, as William opened the door, “old Smith keeps good wine and feeds well.”

They are followed in turn by others, till at last Dr. Mayland’s carriage drives up, and, to my great surprise and delight, I recognise the curly little head of Lulie through the window. I was too much piqued by her conduct of the day before to run out and meet her, but sprang at her from behind the door, as she entered, in a conciliatory kind of way, and we both lost our stiffness in a hearty laugh. Without waiting for more arrivals I hurried her off to the nursery.

“I thought you were not coming,” I began, as soon as we were fairly in, “but that you and that Frank somebody were to have a doll’s party.”

“Yes, but you see Frank and I fell out,” she replied quickly, “and I think he is ever so mean.”

“So do I,” I responded warmly, “don’t let’s have anything more to do with him; we can always have more fun by ourselves, can’t we?”

“Yes, we can; you are not mad because I said what I did yesterday, are you?”

“No, that I am not,” I replied, delighted at the turn things had taken; “but come, Lulie, let me show you what father gave me on my birthday.”

Sitting down together on the rug before the bright glowing fire, we took out of its box a little model of a house in separate pieces, and commenced to put it together. I sat and gazed at her, as she bent over the blocks, trying to make piece after piece fit; and she looked so beautiful, with one side of her face all red from the fire, and her clustering brown curls drooping so gracefully around it, that I could resist the inclination no longer, but leaned forward and kissed the glowing cheek.

“Oh stop!” she said, tossing her head without looking up; “you bother me so I can’t build the house at all.”

This was so much milder than I expected I tried another.

“Stop, I tell you,” she exclaimed, feigning to strike me with one of the blocks; “see, you’ve tumbled all the top of the house off.”

“I will stop,” I said, looking at her very earnestly, “if you will give me a kiss of your own accord.”

“Here, then,” she said, raising her head; and throwing back her curls she put up her rosy lips, and I kissed her. People say children know nothing about love, but there was a thrill of pleasure and a smack of romance in that kiss before the nursery fire, that none which have ever since touched my lips have possessed.

We amused ourselves in various ways till the servant brought in our dinner, spread the nursery table, and, as I gave Lulie my high chair, piled up books in another for me, to bring me up to a comfortable level with our meal, then left us to enjoy it. We chewed out praises, and smacked out lavish encomiums on the skill of the cook, as we eagerly applied ourselves to her dainties; and when Lulie had sipped the last trembling particle of blanc mange , and added the debris of the last grape to the goodly pile on her fruit plate, we got down, instead of rising, from our chairs, and went from the nursery to the dining room. The ladies had withdrawn some time since, and the gentlemen had almost finished their wine. The two young men, who had characterized dinners with old folks as devilish bores, had excused themselves, and gone back to the parlors.

Finding nothing to interest us in the dry, stale jokes or political fanfarronade of the dining room party, we ran off to the parlors, and took our station on each side of the door, to watch all within. The ladies were grouped round the fires or examining the pictures, while Mr. Cassell and Miss Ella, Mr. Berton and Miss Gertrude, were promenading slowly the whole length of the rooms. We thought this was a great sign of love, and watched them with great interest. As they approached our end of the room we could hear very well, but when their backs were turned their words were gradually lost; so that our ideas of the tenor of their conversation were somewhat disconnected. Mr. Berton, who seemed interested in what he was saying, and Miss Gertrude equally so, approached first.

“Yes, indeed,” he was saying, as they came into earshot, “we had a most charming time. The moonlight was as bright as day, and the Minnie scarcely rippled the water. The music, too, was better than usual, and we danced eight sets going down, besides the round dances. We missed you a great deal; everybody was inquiring for Miss Gertrude.”

“Ella told me what a delightful excursion it was,” replied Miss G., trying to pout bewitchingly, as if still vexed at her own absence. “I was so exceedingly unwell that ma would not hear to my going, and I had a real hard cry over it. When do we have another?”