One afternoon she went to sit with her grandfather on a bench
beneath an apple-tree. The old man had his pipe and a newspaper. Ida
was quiet, and glancing at her presently, Abraham found her eyes
fixed upon him.
"Grandfather," she said, in her gentlest voice, "will you let me
give a garden-party some day next week?"
"A party?" Mr. Woodstock raised his brows in astonishment. "Who are
you going to invite?"
"You'll think it a strange notion.--I wonder whether I can make it
seem as delightful to you as it does to me. Suppose we went to those
houses of yours, and got together as many poor little girls as we
could, and brought them all here to spend an afternoon in the
garden. Think what an unheard-of thing it would be to them! And then
we would give them some tea, and take them back again before dark."
The proposal filled Mr. Woodstock with dismay, and the habitual
hardness of his face suggested a displeasure he did not in reality
feel.
"As you say, it's a strange notion," he remarked, smiling very
slightly. "I don't know why you shouldn't have your own way, Ida,
but--it'll cost you a good deal of trouble, you know."
"You are mistaking me, grandfather. You think this a curious whim I
have got into my head, and your kindness would tempt you to let me
do a silly thing just for the sake of having my way.
Pages:
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498