Harper's Round Table, September 3, 1895 Part 3

Cynthia turned to her neighbor and began to talk.

"Good-evening!" she said; "did you see anything of my broom? I forgot to bring it along. Dear me, there's a lot to be done up there," gazing towards the ceiling; "why didn't I bring it along?"

The neighbor chanced to be Dennis Morgan.

"I haven't seen your broom," he replied, "but I'm going to find out why you want it. The trouble is, I've come too soon, I think, and I can't find my way; but I can't tell you where I want to go, or you would guess me on the spot."

"Ho!" laughed Cynthia; "I know where you want to go. I think you would like a gla.s.s of water, wouldn't you? For I am sure you have burned your mouth," she added.

Then she wrote on her card: "Dennis Morgan--Man in the Moon."

"Pshaw! How did you guess me so soon? And I haven't the ghost of an idea who you are. Let me see, you want your broom. I can't imagine why you need a broom."

"Cobwebs, cobwebs everywhere," murmured Cynthia, as she turned away and listened to the conversation that was being carried on between Neal and Gertrude Morgan.

"I'm a wonderful man," said Neal. "In fact I don't know but what I'm about as great a person as you ever heard of. You can't mention my name without alluding to it."

"I don't believe you are half as great as I am," retorted Gertrude, "only I don't talk as much about it. Why, I am a queen."

"And I am a king. What kind of a queen are you?"

"I rule over a very important kingdom, and not only do I reign but I can cook, too. I am one of those very convenient people to have about that can turn their hand to almost anything, but I am chiefly celebrated for my cookery. I made something nice one hot summer day--"

"Take care, Gertrude!" cried Cynthia; "I know you." And she wrote on her card: "Gertrude Morgan--Queen of Hearts."

"Oh, come, Cynth, that's too bad!" exclaimed Neal. "I can't guess her at all, but it's because I am so taken up reading a wonderful book when I am very young, and making colored candles, and all that sort of thing."

"I thought you said you were a king!" said Gertrude.

"So I am; a terribly good sort, too."

At last Gertrude guessed him, and wrote "Alfred the Great" with his name on her card.

Neal, however, could not discover who she was, not being as well posted in "Mother Goose" as was Cynthia.

The one who was most mysterious was Edith. For a long time no one could imagine who she was.

"I have had a great many adventures," she said, as they gathered about her. "I have travelled to places that the rest of you have never been to. I have played games with a d.u.c.h.ess, and I have taken care of a d.u.c.h.ess's baby. A great many of my friends talk poetry. I have long light hair, and sometimes I'm tall and sometimes I'm short."

"Never short, Edith, I'm sure," said Neal. Everyone laughed, for they teased Edith about her stately height.

"I know you! I know you!" cried Cynthia, dancing with glee. "You told too much that time," and she hastily scribbled "Alice in Wonderland" on her card.

She herself, as the "Old woman who swept the cobwebs from the sky," was easily guessed, much to her own chagrin.

At last each one had written twenty-four names on his or her card, and they were given to Mrs. Franklin for inspection. Some funny mistakes were made, and as they were read out they created much merriment.

Somebody thought Yankee Doodle must be Paul Revere, because he had been spoken of as a rider; Julius Caesar and Columbus were hopelessly mixed, both having mentioned themselves as crossing the water, and it being impossible, from the description given, to distinguish between the Rubicon and the Atlantic Ocean; the Lady of the Lake and Pocahontas were confused, as they each saved a life; and every one mistook the Old Woman that lived in a Shoe for Puss in Boots, because of her persistent talk about foot-wear.

Cynthia had made a greater number of correct guesses than any one, but as she was one of the hostesses she could not, of course, claim a prize, so it fell to Tony Bronson, who was next on the list. Cynthia turned away to hide the grimace which she could not repress when the dear little clock in a red-leather case was given to him as first prize.

Kitty Morgan, Gertrude's cousin, was awarded the "b.o.o.by" prize, for having made the poorest guesses--a dainty little pin, which, she said, quite repaid her for her stupidity; while one of the Brenton girls, whose list was next best to Bronson's, received a pretty silver-framed calendar as "Consolation."

It made a merry evening, and after the game was over they danced and played other games until it was time to go home. It was eleven o'clock when the last sleigh drove away.

"Only an hour to midnight," said Cynthia; "can't we sit up and see the old year out? Do, papa, let us! We never have, and it must be such fun.

We couldn't go to sleep, anyhow, after such an exciting evening."

Mr. Franklin consented, and they sat about the fire discussing the success of the game and the girls and boys who had been there, one or two of whom remained for the night at Oakleigh.

Neal and Cynthia were alone for a few moments. They had gone out into the hall to see the hour by the tall clock, and they found the hands pointing to ten minutes of twelve.

"Let us wait here for it to strike," said Cynthia, going to the window.

The lamp had gone out in the hall, and it was but dimly lighted from the room where the family were sitting. Outside, the moon was s.h.i.+ning on the white fields and frozen river. The old year was dying in a flood of glory.

"I always feel so full of good resolutions on New-Year's Eve," said Cynthia, in a low voice; "I wish I could keep them all."

"So do I," returned Neal. "I am always turning over a new leaf. I must have turned over three volumes of new leaves by this time. But they don't amount to much."

"It is discouraging, isn't it? I have never said anything about it to any one before. It seems to me I am always breaking my good resolutions."

"I don't see how. First of all, it doesn't seem as if you did anything that is wrong--a girl doesn't have much chance to."

"Oh yes, she does. You don't know. And I have so many faults. There are my bureau drawers--I can't keep them neat, and my clothes would be all in tatters if it were not for Edith and mamma. And, worst of all, there is my tongue."

"Your tongue?"

"Yes. It is such fun to make fun of people and say sharp things when I don't like them--the kind of thing I am always saying to that Bronson."

Neal laughed, and then he sighed.

"You are putting me into a bad corner. If you think your faults are so tremendous, what must you think of mine? I'm a thief and a coward."

"Neal!"

"Yes, I am. I am a thief because I don't pay that money. I had no business to borrow it in the first place, and I could save it out of my allowance if I would take the trouble, but I am too lazy: and I am such a coward I won't ask Hessie for it, because I am ashamed to have your father know it. It's all a nasty business, anyway."

He looked moodily out on the snow, drumming his fingers on the window-pane.

"Neal," said Cynthia, softly touching his arm with her hand as she spoke, "let's turn over one more new leaf. I will look out for my tongue and my bureau drawers, and you will tell mamma everything and start fresh. Will you, Neal? Promise!"

Before he answered the clock began to strike.

"Happy New-Year! Happy New-Year!" was heard from the parlor. "Neal and Cynthia, where are you? Come in here, that we may all be together when the clock stops striking."

So the old year died, and Neal had not given the required promise.

One day, shortly before he returned to St. Asaph's, he said to his sister,