Beulah (Chapter 9, page 1 of 9)


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Chapter 9

"Do you wish her to commence school at once?"

"Not until her wardrobe has been replenished. I expect her clothes
to be selected and made just as Pauline's are. Will you attend to
this business, or shall I give directions to Harriet?"

"Certainly, Guy; I can easily arrange it. You intend to dress her
just as I do Pauline?"

"As nearly as possible. Next week I wish her to begin school with
Pauline, and Hansell will give her music lessons. Be so good as to
see about her clothes immediately."

Dr. Hartwell drew on his gloves and left the room. His sister
followed him to the door, where his buggy awaited him.

"Guy, did you determine about that little affair for Pauline? She
has so set her heart on it."

"Oh, do as you please, May; only I am--"

"Stop, Uncle Guy! Wait a minute. May I have a birthday party? May
I?" Almost out of breath, Pauline ran up the steps; her long hair
floating over her face, which exercise had flushed to crimson.

"You young tornado! Look how you have crushed that cluster of
heliotrope, rushing over the flower-beds as if there were no walks."
He pointed with the end of his whip to a drooping spray of purple
blossoms.

"Yes; but there are plenty more. I say, may I?--may I?" She eagerly
caught hold of his coat.

"How long before your birthday?"

"Just a week from to-day. Do, please, let me have a frolic!"

"Poor child! you look as if you needed some relaxation," said he,
looking down into her radiant face, with an expression of mock
compassion.

"Upon my word, Uncle Guy, it is awfully dull here. If it were not
for Charon and Mazeppa I should be moped to death. Do, pray, don't
look at me as if you were counting the hairs in my eyelashes. Come,
say yes: do, Uncle Guy."

"Take your hands off of my coat, and have as many parties as you
like, provided you keep to your own side of the house. Don't come
near my study with your Babel, and don't allow your company to
demolish my flowers. Mind, not a soul is to enter the greenhouse.
The parlors are at your service, but I will not have a regiment of
wildcats tearing up and down my greenhouse and flower garden; mind
that." He stepped into his buggy.

"Bravo! I have won my wager, and got the party too! Hugh Cluis bet
me a papier-mache writing-desk that you would not give me a party.
When I send his invitation I will write on the envelope 'the
writing-desk is also expected.' Hey, shadow, where did you creep
from?" She fixed her merry eyes on Beulah, who just then appeared on
the terrace. Dr. Hartwell leaned from the buggy, and looked
earnestly at the quiet little figure.

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