Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-05-09
WILMINGTON, DEL, THURSDAY, MAY 8, 1867.

yonrself?' said Pennie, who slipped now
and then into the native idiom.
g I frames to get about, but Use rocked
wi rheumatic terrible--teyribie.'
Pennie dropt lightly from her saddle, gath
cred her skirt over her arm, and glancing
round at the busy hens pecking between the
stones, at the cows crowding to the fold-yard
gate, at a team Of tired plough-horscs going
down 10 water at the pond, made her way
to the back-door, and into the glowing kitch-
en- whittier her mother had preceded her.
Homes home be il ever so homely Pen
ME, isn't it, now p said the widow, warmly
Yes, mother, il Is" No mistake about
Pennies sense Of satisfaction. She was at
her ease at Mayfield, and happy.
1t was substantial house with double
doors and no draughts; crooked stairs in
corner, carpetcd with red, square hall, tile
paved, long, low, sunny rooms, with broad
windows, cushioned seats, and little panes;
solid old furniture kept at a wonderful pol
ish, and in the best parlour, pretty pale
chintz curtains and covers, chosen in defer
ence to Pennies wishes, piano, and a
bookcase with glass-doors. Mrs, Croft pre-
| ferred the stuify crimson comfort of the little
dning-room, where she and her husband
had always sat, except on Sunday after
moons, when they dozed in state over good
books in the best parlour, TO keep it aired.
But during Pennies visits the best parlour
was opened for daily use, and as she went
upstairs to the cleanest and sweetest of
white dimlty bedrooms, she saw the CLEAN
of the fire through the door ajar and felt
how nice it was, for change to be more
made Of than anybody.
The first evening was not to get over with
out visitor. Pennie had come downstairs,
had ensconced herself before the fire in a
chair, especially dedicated to her service, and
was costly contemplating the red play Of the
flames in the half light, and listening to her
mothers voice in high debate with Bessie,
when the garden door banged, somebody
tapped at the window in passing, and Mr.
Richard Lister marched ina very loud
young man, of whom the whole house be-
came aware the instant he entered it.
"There is no need to ask if that is Dick"
said Mrs Croft, ,bustling into the hal. ''You
are come TO stay"
"Ill have my tea, aunt. Nothing would
serve my mother but | must walk over and
see if you had brought Penne"
Yes, she's there in the best parlour.
Pennie love, here's your cousin Dick"
Pennie rose and presented her small paw,
@iicI1 the young giant capt beiwNeen his
two big ones sonorously.
"What mite it is she doesn't grow a
Bit, said he, and chucked her under the
chin, and bade her look taller.
Poor Pennie hardly knew whether to
laugh or to be angry, and while she was max
ing up her mind, Dick pulled chair close
alongside of hers, and took possession of her
in a masterful, manly sort Of way, that there
was no getting rid of without being dis
agreeable. Dick knew he was doing the
cousisly to admiration Gas the cousinly was
done in those parts, and if Penne had given
herself airs of dignity he would only have
teased her She had wisdom enough to un-
derstand that, and after momentary qualm,
to take his assiduities in good part lie
helped her at tea to the daintiest messes he
made her play, and tried TO make her sing
for him; he asked if she could sew worsted
work, and promised to ride with her to the
meet of the hounds and before he took him
self away, lio Insisted on a pledge that she
would dance the first dance with him when
ever the party that was to he at Rood came
off
'It is to be some day early next week,
| that's all know. But you'll come to-mor-
row and sec my mother Goodnight, aunt;
goodnight, cousin Pennic. That's to be all,
is it p and touching her fingers delicately,
he made her a formal bow, and walked with
mock majestic air into the hall.
Ibid cousin Dick expect me TO give him
kiss, mother?" asked Pennie, aifrontcd,
when he was gone.
II daresay he did, love; it's Dicks way
The gals at home spoil him. But never you
heed his nonsense"
Rood Grange lay in the fields about a
quarter of a mile wide of the abbey II was
within moderrte walk to Mayfeld, but Pen
ME rode and her mother drove, as on the
day before, II being Mrs. Croft's intention,
after showing her daughter at her brothers
house, to go round by Beckby to visit Mrs.
Jones, Pennie felt shy reluctance to en-
counter again the boisterous courtcsies of
her cousin Dick but she braccd up her
mind TO bear them with complacency rather
than yeS her mother, or make any of her
kinsfolk think she was "above them"-a
tendency which she had seen and suffered
from on former occasions 1t could there
fore be no disappointment when they got TO
the Grange to hear that Dick was gose TO
Norminster with his father, and that only
aunt Lister and the girls were at home, with
a fire in their best parlour in expectation of
the visit.
Mrs. Lister was tall, handsome woman,
of six or seven and forty, rather austere in
her notions, and very proud of her family,
whose gravestones for three hundred years
back were to be seen in Eskdale churchyard.
Her daughters, Joanna and Lucy, were shor-
ter and homeier; without their mothers
beauty, but not without her pride. They
kissed Pennie, and sat formally down again
in their chairs, and looked her over while
their mother and her mother talked about
her in the fankcst way.
} ''She is the moral of Croft, the very moral
of her father, she is, said her aunt consider
! ing her visage critically. "But never mind,
J Pennie beauty's but skin deep, and hand
!, some is that handsome docs"
81 don't care for being ugly; never
think of it unless am reminded replied
Pennie, quickly.
"Aunt Lister didn't mean to remind you
of it, Pennie love; she's better manners
said her mother, patting her arm.
" don't know what sort of manners Miss
I Pennies used to among tn Vineyards, an