A family dilemma

Front matter

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II

Saraii never will forget the charmed excitement of that morning, when she flew about with a good will, running back and forth and up and down at the bidding of Mrs. Knapp or Mrs. Keyes, while the great house was revealed bit by bit, and the young girl from Dawson’s Block got over her first almost dismay at seeing her own thin, brisk little figure so often repeated in the mirrors of the long beautiful drawing room, or those set panel-wise in the folding doors between the dining room and the Colonel’s special library, and ceased to feel so spellbound and bewildered over the varied elegancies the faded splendors brought to light, even though they filled her with unspeakable admiration, waking up that love of the wonderful in the young girl, which did duty for a feeling such as might have revealed the poetic side of life and nature with a deeper charm.

It was all like living in a story book Sarah could not help feeling, and she polished the great, shining staircase in the entrance hall, allowing herself, when no one was by, the delight of walking up and down it slowly and “like a lady,” smiling and bowing to an imaginary cavalier and feeling as if she was really of great consequence. “Oh, my, no , sir,” she responded, in answer to an imaginary inquiry on her partner’s part if she felt too tired to dance again. “I guess not. I’m sure you’re awfully kind!” and putting up her hand she twirled around and around and about, humming an air under her quickly drawn breath.

A FAMILY DILEMMA.

But this, of course, was only momentary. There was too much actual work to be done, and Sarah was realty too fond of activity not to lend a willing pair of hands. Moreover, she had caught the fire of Mrs. Knapp’s anxiety about this unexpected home-coming, and quite appreciated the fact, as her employer explained it to her, that “Colonel would expect things to be all ready and in waiting, or there’d be a precious how do you do about it!”

Sarah looked on in wonder at the way in which Peter Knapp accepted all his wife’s suggestions, doing her bidding as though he had long been waiting for just such a day as this, only insisting upon plenty of time to get out the old-fashioned family carriage and clean it thoroughly for its first journey in many a day.

When Peter was at last ready to start with it to the Junction Station two miles below, Mrs. Knapp calmed down long enough to watch it start away, pride beaming in her expression. She grew almost affectionate in her manner as she and Sarah turned back to the house.

“Time enough that carriage gave its wheels a chance, I should say,” she exclaimed. “Now then we’ll swift a look upstairs, Sarah. Aint you never called Salty? Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose, now,” as Sarah absently shook her head. “We’ll just make sure every room’s right, and I’ll tell you all about them so you won’t be waking the Colonel up, let’s say, if it’s Miss Jean’s bell that rung.”

She preceded the happy Sarah up the staircase, and flung open door after door of the rooms opening on to the wide hall.

“Here’s Colonel’s room all right,” a sombre looking but very commodious apartment, with a glimmer of heavy old brass in picture frames and mantel ornaments, mahogany and rich dark colors in the furniture. “Yes, and here’s his dressing room,” and at the next, “Here’s old Miss Dyker’s,” a large severely plain but very commodious and well-appointed room; “and here, this is Miss Polly’s, you see, Sarah,” a square little room at the upper end of the hall; “and here’s the room Miss Jean — Lord love her — has always had, right next! All those chiney figures on the mantel and the things on the little dressing table are her very own, and this pink and gray chintz, that’s her own choice, and,” descending two steps to a corridor in a small wing, “here are three company rooms.”

One after another was entered and subjected to the process called by Mrs. Knapp “swifting” a look, not inaptly, if the truth were known, her peculiar phraseology having the merit of fitness; for her eyes darted with lightning rapidity from point to point, taking in everything, sending her flying across to straighten a picture or shake out a curtain fold where needed, while Sarah looked on, still appreciative and wondering.

The rooms were all so evidently fashioned for comfort and cheerful occupancy that it seemed pity enough they were so seldom used, and Mrs. Knapp, as she reopened the door of Miss Jean’s pink and white bower, remarked upon this, turning suddenly as Sarah, who was just behind her, uttered a cry, an exclamation of bewilderment — or was it fright?

“My gracious /” exclaimed Mrs. Knapp; “ speak! What’s the matter with the girl!”

But Sarah’s eyes were fixed, riveted on a picture unnoticed before, and which hung in a recess near the western window.

It was the portrait of a man, young in years, yet with a peculiar, grave nobility of expression. The face was thin, clear cut and sensitive in outline, dark in coloring,

A FAMILY DILEMMA.

lighted by a pair of keen hazel eyes, at once mirthful and yet intense in their glance; not eyes which even in a picture could, once seen, be easily forgotten, and Sarah’s heart beat wildly as she thought of another portrait with just those eyes, just that gentle, quiet mouth — the same broad, white brow and loosely -waving dark brown hair — the same alert, noble poise of the head ! It seemed impossible, but surely it must be the same! And then suddenly the girl’s presence of mind came back with a rush, and Sarah’s frightened, puzzled eyes were turned upon the old housekeeper.

“Oh, it was because it’s so like a picture I’ve — I’ve seen,” faltered Sarah, the crimson dyeing her cheeks as she spoke.

“A picture you've seen," demanded Mrs. Knapp curiously, “like this, you say?”

Sarah, more and more composed in manner, could only nod her head, but she still continued to gaze at the portrait.

“Well, upon my word,” the housekeeper was beginning, when, fortunately for Sarah’s peace of mind, a wild call from Mrs. Keyes below reminded Mrs. Knapp that time was flying and “the family” might even now be on their way up the avenue itself.

“Come, come, my dear,” she. exclaimed anxiously, “I declare I believe we’re going to pay in a day’s hurrying for ten years’ dawdling.”

“There they be, mother,” fairly shrieked Mrs. Keyes, and five minutes later the two women had contrived to light the main jets in the great hall, and fling open the seldom-used front door. Sarah hovered in the distance, hidden from view but where she could see all the kaleidoscopic effects which followed.