Kate’s Choice

“W ELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HER?”

“I think she’s a perfect dear and not a bit stuck up with all her money.”

“A real little lady and ever so pretty.”

“She kissed me lots, and she doesn’t tell me to run away, so I love her.”

The group of brothers and sisters standing round the fire laughed as little May finished the chorus of praise with these crowning virtues.

Tall Kent had asked the question and seemed satisfied with the general approval of the new cousin who had just arrived from England to live with them.

They had often heard of Kate and rather prided themselves on the fact that she lived in a fine house, was very rich, and sent them charming presents. Now pity was added to the pride, for Kate was an orphan, and all her money could not buy back the parents she had lost.

They had watched impatiently for her arrival, had welcomed her cordially, and after a day spent in trying to make her feel at home, they were comparing notes in the twilight, while Kate was having a quiet talk with Mamma.

“I hope she will choose to live with us. You know she can go to any of the uncles she likes best,” said Kent.

“We are nearer her age than any of the other cousins, and Papa is the oldest uncle, so I guess she will,” added Milly, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the house.

“She said she liked America,” said quiet Frank.

“Wonder if she will give us a lot of her money?” put in practical Fred, who was always in debt.

“Stop that!” commanded Kent. “Mind now, if you ever ask her for a penny, I’ll shake you out of your jacket.”

“Hush! She’s coming,” cried Milly, and a dead silence followed the lively chatter.

A fresh-faced, bright-eyed girl of fifteen came in quietly, glanced at the group on the rug, and paused as if uncertain whether she was wanted.

“Come on!” said Fred, encouragingly.

“Would I be in the way?” she asked.

“Oh, dear, no! We were only talking,” answered Milly, drawing her cousin nearer with an arm about her waist.

“It sounded like something pleasant,” said Kate, not exactly knowing what to say.

“We were talking about you,” began Little May. A poke from Frank made her stop to ask, “What’s that for? We were talking about Kate, and we all said we liked her, so it’s no matter if I tell.”

“You are very kind,” said Kate looking so pleased that the children forgave May’s awkward frankness.

“Yes, and we hoped you’d like us and stay with us,” added Kent, in the lofty and polite manner that he thought became a young man of his stature.

“I am going to live with all the uncles in turn, and then decide,” Kate answered. “Papa wished it.” The words made her lips tremble slightly, for her father was the only parent she could remember and had been unusually dear to her for that reason.

“Can you play billiards?” asked Fred, who had a horror of seeing girls cry.

“Yes, and I will be glad to teach you.”

“You had a pony carriage at your house, didn’t you?” added Frank, eager to hear more.

“At Grandma’s—I had no other home, you know,” answered Kate.

“What will you buy first with your money?” asked May, who seemed determined to ask improper questions.

“I’d buy a grandma if I could,” and Kate both smiled and sighed.

“How funny!” said May. “We have a grandma who lives ever so far away in the country. We don’t think of her much.”

“You do?” said Kate, who turned quickly, looking full of interest.

“Yes! Papa’s mother is very old,” added Milly. “Papa writes to her sometimes, and Mamma sends her things every Christmas. We don’t know much about her, for we’ve only seen her once, a great long time ago. But we do care for her.”

“Perhaps I shall go and see her,” said Kate with a smile. “I can’t get on without a grandmother. Tell me all you know about her. Is she a dear lady?”

“We only know this. She is lame and lives in the old house where Papa grew up. She has a maid named Dolly, and—that’s all I can tell you about her,” said Molly looking a little vexed that she could say no more of the subject that seemed to interest her cousin so much.

Kate looked surprised, but said nothing and stood looking at the fire as if turning the matter over in her mind and trying to answer the question she was too polite to ask—how could they have a grandmother and know so little about her?

At that moment, the tea bell rang, and the flock ran laughing downstairs. Kate said no more to her cousins, but she remembered the conversation and laid a plan in her resolute little mind.

According to her father’s wish, Kate was to live for a while with the families of each of her four uncles before she decided with which she would make her home. All were anxious to have her, one because of her money, another because her great-grandfather had been a lord, a third hoped to secure her hand for the son of a close friend, while the fourth and best family loved her for herself alone.

They were worthy people, as the world goes—busy, ambitious, and prosperous; and every one, old and young, was fond of bright, pretty, generous Kate. Each family was anxious to keep her, a little jealous of the rest, and very eager to know which she would choose.

But Kate surprised them all by saying decidedly when the time came, “I would like to meet my grandma before I choose. Perhaps I should have visited her first, as she is the oldest. I believe Papa would have wished it so. At any rate, I feel I must pay her tribute before I settle anywhere.”

Some of the young cousins laughed at the idea and her old-fashioned, respectful way of putting it. It was a strong contrast to their free and easy American speech. The uncles were also surprised, but they agreed to humor her whim.

Uncle George, the eldest said softly, “I should have remembered that poor Anna was mother’s only daughter. Naturally, she would love to see the girl. But dear, I must warn you, it will be desperately dull. Just two old women and a quiet, country town. No fun, no company. You won’t want to stay long, I can assure you.”

“I shall not mind the dullness for the chance to meet my grandmother,” Kate replied. “Perhaps the sight of me will please her, for many say I look like my mamma.”

Something in the earnest, young face reminded Uncle George of the sister he had almost forgotten and recalled his own youth so pleasantly that he said, with a caress of the curly head beside him, “I believe it would. In fact, I’m sure of it. Now that you say it, I have a mind to go with you and ‘pay tribute’ to my mother as you have so sweetly put it.”

“Oh my, but I would like to surprise her and have her all to myself for a little while. Would you mind if I went quite alone? All of you could come later if it pleases you,” answered Kate.

“Of course, it will be managed exactly as you like,” answered Uncle George. “I know you will bring sunshine to our old mother’s life, just as you have to ours. I haven’t seen her for a year, but I know she is well and comfortable, and Dolly guards her like a dragon. Give her my love, sweet Kate, and tell her we have sent her something she will value a hundred times more than the very best tea, the finest cap, or the most handsome tabby cat who ever purred.”

So, in spite of the protestations of her cousins, Kate went happily off to find the grandmother whom no one else seemed to value as she did.

Grandpa had been a farmer and lived contentedly on the old place until he died, but his four sons wanted to be something better, so they went away one after the other to make their way in the world. All worked hard, earned a good living, and forgot, as far as possible, the dull lives they had led in the old place from which they had come.

They were all good sons in their own way and had each offered his mother a home with him if she cared to come. But Grandma clung to the old home, the simple ways, and the quiet life. She thanked them gratefully, but chose to remain in the big farmhouse, empty, lonely, and plain though it was compared to the fine homes in which her sons lived.

Little by little the busy men seemed to forget their quiet, uncomplaining old mother, who spent her years thinking of them, longing to see and know their children, and hoping that one day they would remember how much she loved them.

Now and then one of her sons would pay her a hasty visit, and all sent gifts of far less value to her than one loving look, one hour of dutiful, affectionate companionship.

“If you ever want me, send and I’ll come. Or if you ever need a home, remember the old place is always open, and you are always welcome here,” the good old lady had told them. But they never seemed to need her and so seldom came that she concluded the old place evidently held no charming memories for them.

It was hard. But the sweet old woman bore it patiently and lived her lonely life quietly and usefully, with her faithful maid Dolly, who served and loved and supported her.

Anna, her only daughter, had married young, gone to England, and, dying early, had left her only child to her husband and his family. Among them, little Kate had grown up, knowing scarcely anything about her American relatives.

She had been the pet of her English grandmother, and, finding all her aunts to be busy, fashionable women, had longed for the tender fostering she had known and now felt as if only grandmothers could give.

With a flutter of hope and expectation, she approached the old house after the long journey was over. Leaving the luggage at the inn and accompanied only by her nurse, Bessie, Kate went up the village street and, pausing at the gate, looked with interest at the home where her mother had been born.

It was a large, old-fashioned farmhouse, with a hospitable porch and tall trees in front. Her uncles had told her that the house also had a lovely orchard in back and a hill, which grew over with luscious wild blackberries in summer and provided the perfect place for sledding in winter.

Kate noticed that all the upper windows were curtained, making the house look as if it were half asleep. At one of the lower windows, she spotted a portly puss, blinking in the sun. Just to the side and behind, she was certain she could see a cap, a regular grandmotherly old cap, with a little black bow on the back.

Something about the lonely look of the house and the pensive droop of that cap made Kate hurry on up the walk and eagerly tap the front door with the antique knocker. A brisk little old woman peered out, as if startled at the sound. Kate asked, smiling. “Does Madam Coverley live here?”

“She surely does, my dear,” said the maid, “Come right in.” Then throwing wide the door, she led the way down the long, wide hall and announced in a low tone to her mistress, “A lovely young girl is here to see you, mum.”

“I would love to see a young face, Dolly. Who is it?” she asked in a gentle voice.

Before Dolly could answer that she didn’t know the identity of their visitor, Kate stepped straight up to the old lady with both hands out. “Grandma, can’t you guess?” she asked. The first sight of her grandmother’s dear face had won her heart.

Lifting her spectacles, Grandma examined her for a moment, then opened her arms without a word. In the long embrace that followed, Kate felt assured that she was welcome in the home she wanted.

“So like my Anna! And this is her little girl? God bless you, my darling! You are so good to come and see me!” said Grandma when the emotion had passed and she was able to speak again.

“Why Grandma, as soon as I knew where to find you, I was in a tizzy to come. Already I know that I will want to stay here with you as long as you will have me,” Kate said, caressing her grandmother’s hand affectionately.

“Then you shall never leave, for I will always want you, my darling,” Grandma assured her. “Now tell me everything. It is like an angel coming to see me quite unannounced. Sit close, and let me feel sure it isn’t one of the dreams I create to cheer myself when I’m feeling lonely.”

Kate sat on a little stool at her grandmother’s feet and, leaning on her knee, told all her little story. All the while, the old lady fed her hungry eyes with the sight of the fresh, young face, listened to the music of the child’s loving voice, and felt the happy certainty that God had sent her a wonderful gift.

Kate spent the long, happy day talking and listening, looking at her new home and, to her delight, being fawned over by the two old women. Her eyes quickly read the truth of Grandma’s lonely life, and her warm heart was soon flooded with tender pity for her. Kate resolved to devote herself to making her grandmother happy in her few remaining years, for at eighty, everyone should have the blessing of loving children.

To Dolly and Madam, it really did seem as if an angel had come, a singing, smiling, chattering sprite, who danced all over the old house, making blithe echoes in the silent house and brightening every room she entered. They also soon grew fond of Bessie, who welcomed their help caring for her charge.

Kate opened all the shutters and let in the sun, saying she must see which room she liked best before she settled in. She played on the old piano, which wheezed and jangled, all out of tune. But no one minded, for the girlish voice was as sweet as a lark’s. She invaded Dolly’s sacred kitchen and messed to her heart’s content, delighting the old soul by praising her skill and begging to be taught all she knew.

She took possession of Grandma’s little parlor and made it so cozy that the old lady felt as if she might have stumbled into someone else’s front room. Cushioned armchairs, fur footstools, soft rugs, and delicate warm shawls appeared like magic.

Kate planted flowers in the deep, sunny window seats and hung pictures of lovely places on the oaken walls. She found a dainty workbasket for herself and placed it near Grandma’s quaint one. And, best of all, she spent plenty of time in the little chair next to Grandma’s rocker.

The first thing in the morning, Kate awakened her grandmother with a kiss and a cheery, “Good morning!” And all day, she hovered about her with willing hands and quick feet. Kate’s loving heart returned her grandmother’s love and pledged her the tender reverence, which is the beautiful tribute the young should pay the old. In the twilight, the bright head could always be found at the old woman’s knee, listening to the stories of the past or making lively plans for the future. Together, they whiled away the time that had once been filled with sadness.

Kate never found it lonely, seldom wished for other society, and grew every day more certain that, in this home, she would find the cherishing she needed and do the good she hoped to do for others.

Dolly and Bessie were on capital terms; each trying to see which could sing “Little Kate’s” praises loudest and spoil her quickest by unquestioning obedience to her every whim. They were a happy family, indeed! And the dull November days went by so fast that Christmas was at hand before they knew it.

All the uncles had written to ask Kate to pass the holidays with them, feeling sure that by then she would be longing for a change. But she had refused them all, thanking them for their gracious invitations. “I wish to stay with Grandma,” she told them, “for she cannot go to join other people’s merrymaking.”

Her uncles urged, her aunts advised, and her cousins teased, but Kate denied them all, yet offended no one, for she was inspired by a grand idea and carried it out with help from Dolly and Bessie. Her grandma never suspected a thing.

“We are going to have a little Christmas fun up here among ourselves, and you mustn’t know about it until we are ready. So just sit all cozy in your chair, and let me riot about as I like. I know you won’t mind, and I think you’ll say it is splendid when I’ve carried out my plan,” said Kate, when the old lady wondered what she was thinking about so deeply, with her brows knit and her lips smiling.

“Very well, dear, do anything you like, and I shall enjoy it, only please don’t tire yourself out by trying to do too much,” said Grandma. And with that she became deaf and blind to the mysteries that went on about her.

Because her Grandma was lame and seldom left her few favorite rooms, Kate, with the help of her devoted helpers, was able to turn the house topsy-turvy. Together, the three trimmed the hall and parlor and great dining room with shining holly and evergreen, lay fires ready for kindling on the hearths that had been cold for years, and made beds fit for sleeping all over the house.

What went on in the kitchen, only Dolly could tell. But such delicious odors as stole out made Grandma sniff the air and think of merry Christmas revels long ago.

Up in her room, Kate wrote lots of letters and sent so many orders to the city that Bessie was soon throwing up her hands. More letters came in reply, and Kate studied each one carefully with a look of pure happiness on her face.

Big bundles were left by the express man, who came so often that the gates were left open and the lawn was full of sleigh tracks. The shops in the village were ravaged by Mistress Kate, who laid in stores of bright ribbon, toys, nuts, and all manner of delightful things.

“I really think the sweet young thing has lost her mind,” said the postmaster as she flew out of the office one day with a handful of letters.

If Grandma had thought the girl out of her wits, no one could have blamed her, for on Christmas day she really did behave in the most puzzling manner.

“You are going to church with me this morning, Grandma. It’s all arranged. A closed sleigh is coming for us; the sleighing is lovely, the church all trimmed out for the holidays, and I must have you see it. I shall wrap you in fur, and we will go and say our prayers together, like good girls, won’t we?” said Kate, who was in an unusual flutter, her eyes shining bright, her lips full of smiles, and her feet dancing in spite of her.

“Anywhere you like, my darling,” Grandma answered. “I’d start for Australia tomorrow, if you wanted me to go with you.”

So they went to church, and Grandma did enjoy it, for she had many blessings to thank God for, chief among them the treasure of a dutiful, loving child. Kate tried to keep herself quiet, but the odd little flutter would not subside and seemed to get worse and worse as time went on. It increased rapidly as they drove home, and when Grandma was safe in her little parlor again, Kate’s hands trembled so she could hardly tie the strings of the old lady’s fancy cap.

“We must take a look in the big parlor. It is all trimmed out, and I have my presents in there. Is it ready, Dolly?” Kate asked, as the dear, old servant appeared, looking greatly excited.

“We have been quiet so long, poor Dolly doesn’t know what to make of a little gayety,” Grandma said, smiling at her beloved companion.

“Lord, bless us, my dear mum! It’s all so beautiful and kind of surprising. I feel as if miracles are coming to pass again,” answered Dolly, actually wiping away a tear with her best apron.

“Come, Grandma,” urged Kate offering her arm. “You look so sweet and dear,” she added, smoothing the soft, silken shawl about the old lady’s shoulders and kissing the placid, old face that beamed at her from under the festive, new cap.

“I always said Madam was the finest and dearest of women,” Dolly went on. “But, do hurry, Miss Kate. That parlor door could burst open at any moment and spoil the surprise,” with which mysterious remark Dolly vanished, giggling.

Across the hall they went, but at the door Kate paused, and said with a look Grandma never forgot, “I hope I have done right. I hope you will like my present and not find it too much for you. At any rate, remember that I meant to please you and give you the thing you need and long for most, my dear, sweet grandmother.”

“My good child, don’t be afraid. I shall like anything you do and thank you for your thoughtfulness,” Grandma answered. “But, oh my! What a curious noise.”

Without another word, Kate threw open the door and led Grandma in. Only a step or two—for the lady stopped short and stared about her, as if she didn’t know her own best parlor. No wonder she didn’t, for it was full of people, and such people! All her sons, their wives, and children rose as she came in, and turned to greet her with smiling faces. Uncle George went up and kissed her, saying, with a choke in his voice, “A merry Christmas, Mother!” and everybody echoed the words in a chorus of goodwill that went straight to the heart.

Poor Grandma could not bear it and sat down in her big chair, trembling and sobbing like a little child. Kate hung over her, fearing the surprise had been too much; but joy seldom kills, and presently, the old lady was calm enough to look up and welcome them all by stretching out her feeble hands and saying, brokenly yet heartily, “God bless you, my children! This is a merry Christmas, indeed! Now tell me all about what you’ve been doing. And give me names, for I don’t know half the little ones.”

Then Uncle George explained that it was Kate’s plan, and told how she had made everyone agree to it, pleading so eloquently for Grandma that all the other plans were given up. They had arrived while she was at church and had been, with difficulty, kept from bursting out before the time.

“Do you like your present?” whispered Kate, quite calm and happy now that the grand surprise was safely over.

Grandma answered with a silent kiss that said more than the warmest words, and then Kate put everyone at ease by leading up the children, one by one, and introducing each with some lively speech. Everyone enjoyed this and became acquainted quickly, for Grandma thought the children the most remarkable she had ever seen. The little people soon made up their minds that an old lady who had such a very nice, big house and such a dinner waiting for them (of course, they had peeped everywhere) was a most desirable and charming grandma.

By the time the first raptures were over, Dolly and Bessie had dinner on the table, and the procession, headed by Madam proudly escorted by her eldest son, filed into the dining room where such a party had not met for years.

The dinner itself was most spectacular. Everyone partook copiously of everything, and they laughed and talked, told stories, and sang songs. The cheer they gave Grandma was almost too much for her to bear.

After that, the elders sat with Grandma in the parlor, while the younger part of the flock trooped after Kate all over the house. Fires burned everywhere, and the long unused toys that had belonged to their fathers were brought out for their amusement. The big nursery was full of games, and here Bessie collected the little ones when the older boys and girls were invited by Kate to go outside for sledding. The evening ended with a cozy tea and a dance in the long hall.

The going to bed that night was the best joke of all, for though Kate’s arrangements were a bit odd, everyone loved them quite well. There were many rooms, but not enough for all to have one apiece. So the uncles and aunts had the four big chambers, all the boys were ordered into the great playroom, where beds were made on the floor and a great fire was blazing. The nursery was devoted to the girls, and the little ones were sprinkled ’round wherever a snug corner was found.

How the riotous flock were ever packed away into their beds no one knows. The lads caroused until long past midnight, and no knocking on the walls of paternal boots or whispered entreaties of maternal voices through the keyholes had any effect, for it was impossible to resist the present advantages for a grand Christmas rampage.

The older girls giggled and told secrets, while the little ones tumbled into bed and went to sleep at once, quite exhausted by the festivities of this remarkable day.

Grandma, down in her own cozy room, sat listening to the blithe noises with a smile on her face, for the past seemed to have come back again. It was as if her own boys and girls were once again frolicking in the rooms above her head, as they had done forty years before.

“It’s all so beautiful. I can’t go to bed, Dolly, and lose any of it. They’ll go away tomorrow, and I may never see them again,” she said, as Dolly tied on her nightcap and brought her slippers.

“Yes, you will, Mum. That dear child has made it so pleasant that they won’t be able to stay away. You’ll see plenty of them, if they carry out half the plans they had made. Mrs. George wants to come up and pass the summer here; Mr. Tom says he shall send his boys to school here; and every girl among them has promised Kate to make her a long visit. You’ll never be lonely again, Mum.”

“Thank God for that!” Grandma said bowing her head to acknowledge that she had received a great blessing. “Dolly, I want to go and look at those children. It seems so like a dream to have them here, I must be sure of it,” said Grandma, folding her wrapper about her, and getting up with great decision.

“Oh my, Mum,” Dolly protested. “You haven’t been up those stairs in months. The dears are just fine, sleeping warm as toast.”

But Grandma would go, so Dolly gave her an arm, and together the two dear friends hobbled up the wide stairs and peeped in at the precious children. The lads looked like a camp of weary warriors reposing after a victory, and Grandma went laughing away when she had taken a proud survey of this promising portion of the younger generation.

The nursery was like a little convent full of rosy nuns sleeping peacefully, while a picture of Saint Agnes, with her lamb, smiled on them from the wall. The firelight flickered over the white figures and sweet faces, as if the sight were too fair to be lost in darkness. The little ones lay about, looking like little Cupids with sugar hearts and faded roses still clutched in their chubby hands.

“My darlings!” whispered Grandma, lingering fondly over them to cover a pair of rosy feet, put back a pile of tumbled curls, or kiss a little mouth still smiling in its sleep.

But when she came to the coldest corner of the room, where Kate lay on the hardest mattress, under the thinnest quilt, the old lady’s eyes were full of tender tears. Forgetting the stiff joints that bent so painfully, she knelt slowly down and, putting her arms about the girl, blessed her in silence for the happiness she had given one old heart.

Kate woke at once and started up, exclaiming with a smile, “Why Grandma, I was dreaming about an angel, and you look like one with your white gown and silvery hair!”

“No, dear, you are the angel in this house. How can I ever give you up?” answered Madam, holding fast the treasure that came to her so late.

“You never need to, Grandma, for I have made my choice.”