Three Minute Stories

she would steal away through the little door and down the three steps to the white rooms, where peace and quiet, gentle words and kind affection were always aw

r your age, Aunt Faith, than the girls'? Do you suppose I real

specially where, as in your case, the companionship with father or mother is close and intimate. No doubt your dear father did his be

er it so well, though I must have been a little tot. Then he got up and said, 'I will be a horse, Margaret! Consider me a horse!' and he gave me the tassels of his dressing-gown, and began to amble about the room slowly, among the piles of books. Oh, dear! I can see him now, dear Papa! He made a very slow horse, Aunt Faith, and I felt, in a baby way, that there was so

d on the girl's head, and

n lonely sometimes

, if I only put them back. So I carpeted the room with them, and I laid out streets and squares, and had the pamphlets for walls and houses. Or I was a queen, with a great correspondence, and all the letters were brought to me by pages in green and gold, and when I read them (this was before

ally a baby s

rth,-little Penelope! It seems such a great name for a tiny baby

pe. You remember the poor Aunt Penelope I told you about,

We were speaking of these white rooms, and you said it was a fancy of Uncle John's to have them so, and you thought he reme

this is not a very good time; the twilight is soft and dusky, a

say-was betrothed to a brave young officer, Lieutenant Hetherington. It was just at the breaking out of the War of 1812, and the engagement was made just as he was going into active service. She was a beautiful girl, with large dark eyes, and superb

ret, "like Sir Pe

ey were surrounded, the house set on fire, and the officers all killed. One private escaped to tell the dreadful story, and he told of the gallant fight they made, and how Giles Hetherington fought for the life that was so dear to others. He defended the door while two of his comrades forced the window open, hoping to steal around and take the savages in the rear; but the window was watched, too, and these officers were shot down, and then an Indian sprang in at the window, and stabbed Hetherington in the back. Ah, me! It is a terrible story, dear child! He staggered back to the bed, the soldier said, and caught up

ping her hands. "Aunt Faith, it is t

lly, it might almost have been as well if she had, poor soul. When she woke from the long swoon into which she had fal

?" repeate

artly the want of light-that her eyes became abnormally sensitive, and she could not bear even to see anything white. As time went on-Margaret, you will hardly believe this, but it is literally true-she would not even have white china on her table. She declar

lly is true! but-how could they let h

he hundred different ways that we know of nowadays. But then, nobody knew what to do for her, poor lady. To be 'crossed in love,' as it was called, was a thing that admitted of no cure, unless the patient were willing to

"poor soul! And did she have to live

he says, for fear the Black Aunt should come out and seize him, and take him into her dreary dwelling. Poor Aunt Phoebe was the mildest creature in the world, and would not have hurt a fly, but to him she was something awful,-out of nature. He was taken in to see her once or twice a year, and he always had nightmare after it, being a nervous child. Well, one d

out'n dis window, straight by whar you's stand

ls, and ran, and never stopped runnin

to add that the belt of hair was laid in t

or, forlorn, tortured soul! How glad

ear Mar

ard one, and that one never can look forward, never know when they may come! I sometimes think, if I c

nd the mercy of it. How could we go steadfastly along our path of every day, if

e so!" said Marg

and strength and happiness for the dark days when we may so deeply need them. Think a moment! Think of all the happy days and years with your father! They are blessed memorie

e girl raised her head, and saw the face of the aged woman transfigured with ligh

blessed golden days, you had days of storm and anger and disagreement to look back on; that there had been unkindness on one side, unfaithf

ad no bitterness in them; "but it could not have been so, Aunt F

ghter,-think what your possessions would be to-day. As it is, you have what can never be taken from you; and so if we go on steadfastly, as I said, content not to see before u

looking a little upward, with her lips slightly parted, the breath coming and going so softly that one could not perceive it, her hands clasped in her lap. Now the lips moved, and Margaret heard the lo

be too long. I will just tell you about the change in the rooms, and then-well, the Black Rooms remained shut up for many, many years after Aunt Phoebe's death. Indeed, I fancy they were never used until after your grandfather's death, when the property was divided, and your Uncle John took Fernley as his share. Then one of the first things he did was to throw open thes

" cried Margaret. "Ju

pt one of the black silk gowns (she has been in the house ever since she was a child), to put in the family ches

d Margaret. "Aunt Faith,-Un

man in the world. There

e him at all

shall see him, Margaret; that I promise you on the wo

th. I have had the most delightful hour," and Jane