Elsie's Friends at Woodburn

The twenty-fourth had been cold and stormy: a keen, biting wind blowing continuously, during the greater part of the day, bringing with it a heavy fall of sleet and snow.

The weather on Christmas Day was an improvement upon that—the wind being less boisterous and the snow-fall only an occasional light flurry, but the sun scarcely showed his face, and as evening drew on the moon shone but fitfully and through skurrying clouds; the ground was white with snow, but as it had drifted badly, the roads were not in condition for sleighing, and Max Raymond and Evelyn Leland made the journey from Woodburn to the Oaks in a close carriage.

Captain Raymond handed Evelyn in. Max took a seat by her side and gallantly tucked the robes about her feet, remarking that it was the coldest night of the season so far.

“Yes,” she said, “but I suppose we shall have still colder weather before the winter is over. This is nothing to some I have known in my old home at the north.”

“Oh no!” returned Max, “I remember it used to be very much colder where we lived when I was a little fellow.”

Eva smiled, thinking he was not nearly grown up yet.

“And hardly a breath of wind reaches us in this close carriage,” she said. “I shouldn’t care if the ride was to be twice as long.”

“No, nor I,” said Max. “But I dare say we’ll have a fine time after we get to the Oaks.”

“Yes; but I am so sorry your father thought best to decline the invitation for Lulu; I shall not enjoy myself half so well without her,” sighed Evelyn.

“I’m sorry too,” Max said: “for I know it was a great disappointment to her when papa told her she was not to go. I don’t know why he refused to let her, but I do know that he always has a good reason when he denies any of us a pleasure.”

Eva said, “Of course; I am quite sure he is the best and kindest of fathers,” and then they began talking of the approaching festivities at the Oaks, and those whom they expected to meet there.

“Do you know who are invited besides ourselves?” asked Max.

“I believe I do,” replied Evelyn. “There are to be two or three sets; little ones—Walter Travilla, and the eldest two of Aunt Rose Lacey’s children—as mates for little Horace and his sister, Rosie Travilla, Lora Howard and myself for Sydney and Maud; you and Ralph Conly, Art and Walter Howard for their brother’s companions, besides Bertram Shaw, a school-friend of the Dinsmore boys, who, for their sakes, has been asked to the Oaks to spend the holidays.”

“Eva,” queried Max, “Do you know exactly what relation Horace Chester Dinsmore and his brother and sisters are to the rest? they seem to call everybody cousin, so far as I’ve noticed; even Grandpa Dinsmore.”

“Yes; I was asking Aunt Elsie about them the other day,” replied Eva, “and she told me their father was own cousin to Grandpa Dinsmore; his father’s brother’s son; and when he died he left them to Grandpa Dinsmore’s care; made him their guardian, I mean, and as Uncle Horace and his wife were kindly willing to have them at the Oaks, they were invited to make it their home till they are grown up. It’s a lovely place, and I know they are very kindly treated, but I can’t help feeling sorry for them because both their parents are dead.”

“Nor I,” said Max, “for no matter how kind other folks may be to you, it isn’t like having your own father or mother. I’m ever so fond of Mamma Vi though,” he added with emphasis, “and just as glad as I can be that papa married her.”

“And that she married him,” put in Eva, laughingly. “I think it was a grand match on both sides; she is so sweet and lovely, and he in every way worthy of her.”

“My opinion, exactly,” laughed Max. “I am very proud of my father, Eva.”

“I don’t wonder; I am sure I should be in your place,” she said. “Ah see, we are just turning into the grounds! The ride has seemed very short to me. But it’s quite a little journey yet to the house. I admire this winding drive very much. It gives one quite a number of beautiful views, and it’s really obliging in the moon to come out just now from behind that cloud and show us how lovely every thing is looking. I think newly-fallen snow gives such a charming variety to a landscape.

“There’s witchery in the moonlight, too,” she went on, glancing out through the windows, now on this side, now on that. “I don’t wonder Grandma Elsie is so fond of this place where, as she says, she lived so happily with her father and Grandma Rose when she was a little girl, and until she was married.”

At that moment a turn in the road brought the front of the mansion into full view. Lights were gleaming from every window, seeming to promise a warm welcome and an abundance of good cheer, a promise whose fulfillment began presently as the carriage drew up before the door.

“You are the last, my dears, but none the less welcome,” Mrs. Dinsmore said, as she kissed Evelyn and shook hands with Max.

“Thank you, ma’am. I hope you have not kept your tea waiting for us,” returned Eva a little anxiously.

“Oh no, my dear, we had been told not to expect you to tea, so did not wait.”

“And Rosie Travilla has only just come,” said Maud, taking possession of Evelyn and hurrying her away to the room appropriated to their joint use during Eva’s stay.

“These rooms that used to be Cousin Elsie’s have been given up to our use for the present,” she said. “This was her bedroom; there is another adjoining it on that side, and her dressing-room on the other is turned into a bedroom for the time, so that we six girls are all close together, and have her boudoir for our own private little parlor, where we can be quite to ourselves whenever we wish. Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes, indeed!” returned Evelyn.

“Oh Rosie, so you got here before me!” as the latter came running in, followed by Sydney, and greeted her with a hug and kiss.

“Yes; a little. But where’s Lu?”

“The captain thought it best for her to stay at home, and she preferred to do so, since Gracie is so unwell as to need her nursing.”

“How nice and good of her!” cried Sydney; “but I’m ever so sorry not to have her with us, for I like her very much indeed.”

“I love her dearly,” said Evelyn. “I never saw a more warm-hearted, generous girl, and it’s just beautiful to see how she and Gracie love one another; their father and brother, too.”

“I really think the captain might have let Lu come, and I am very sorry for her disappointment,” said Rosie.

“She was disappointed at first,” said Evelyn, “but after Gracie took sick she wouldn’t have come if her father had given permission; she told me so, saying that she couldn’t enjoy herself at all, knowing her darling little sister was suffering without her there to comfort and amuse her.”

“Vi would have done that quite as well, I am sure,” remarked Rosie.

“And so we’re only five instead of six,” said Maud. “Well, we’ll each one of us just have to try to be all the more entertaining to the rest. Your dress and hair are all right, Eva, and let us hurry out to the parlor, where the others are: for they’ll be wanting us to take part in the games.”

The door opened as she spoke, and an attractive-looking little girl, about Evelyn’s age, looked in. It was Lora Howard, the youngest of the Pine Grove family.

“Come, girls,” she said, “we’re waiting for you. O Eva, how do you do?”

“What’s the game to be?” asked Rosie; “some sort of a romping one to please the little ones, I suppose.”

“Yes; either Pussy Wants a Corner, or Blindman’s Buff,” replied Lora, leading the way to the scene of festivity.