CHAPTER VI.
ANOTHER TEA-PARTY.
It was the very day after the great affair at Roseholme thatHildegarde had her own tea-party; in fact, it had been planned forthe birthday itself, and had only been postponed when ColonelFerrers made known his kind wish. This was a piazza party. Thebroad, out-door room was hung with roses,--some of the verygarlands which had graced the dark walls of Roseholme the nightbefore; but here they were twined in and out of the vines whichgrew on all sides of the piazza, screening it from outside view,and making it truly a bower and a retreat. The guests had beenasked to come at five o'clock, but it was not more than three whenHildegarde, coming to the door by chance, saw two or three littlefigures hanging about the gate, gazing wistfully in. At sight ofher, their heads went down and their fingers went into theirmouths; they studied the ground, and appeared to know neitherwhere they were, nor why they had come.
"Euleta!" exclaimed Hildegarde; "is that you, child? and Minnieand Katie, too. Why, you are here in good time, aren't you?"
She ran down and took the children by the hand, and led them up tothe piazza. "I am very glad to see you, chicks," she said. "Shallwe take off the hats? Perhaps we will leave them on for a little,"she added, quickly, seeing a shade of distress on Euleta's face;"they look so--gay and bright, and we might want to walk about thegarden, you see."
Euleta beamed again, and the others with her. They were sisters,and their careful mother had given them hats just alike, dreadfulmysteries of magenta roses and apple-green ribbon. Their pride waspleasant to see, and Hildegarde smiled back at them, saying toherself that the dear little faces would look charming inanything, however, hideous.
Soon more children came, and yet more: Vesta Philbrook and MarthaSkeat, Philena Tabb and Susan Aurora Bulger,--twelve children inall, and every child there before the stroke of four.
"Well," said Hildegarde to herself, "the tea-table will not bequite so pretty as if I had had time to make the wreaths; but theywould rather play than have wreaths, and I should not have left ittill the last hour, sinner that I am." She proposed "Little SallyWaters," and they all fell to it with ardour.
Hildegarde's Neighbors Page 6