The Daisy Chain or Aspirations
Margaret had borne the meeting much too well for her own good, and a
wakeful night of palpitation was the consequence; but she would not allow
any one to take it to heart, and declared that she should be ready to enjoy
Harry by the time he should return, and meantime, she should dwell on the
delight of his meeting Flora.
No one had rested too soundly that night, and Dr. May had not been able to
help looking in at his sleeping boy at five in the morning, to certify himself
that he had not only figured his present bliss to himself, in his ten minutes'
dream. And looking in again at half- past seven, he found Harry half dressed,
with his arm round Mary; laughing, almost sobbing, over the treasures in his
cupboard, which he had newly discovered in their fresh order.
Dr. May looked like a new man that morning, with his brightened eye and
bearing, as if there were a well-spring of joy within him, ready to brim over at
once in tear and in smile, and finding an outlet in the praise and thanksgiving
that his spirit chanted, and his face expressed, and in that sunny genial
benevolence that must make all share his joy.
He was going to run over half the town--every one would like to hear it from
him; Ethel and Mary must go to the rest--the old women in the almshouses,
where lived an old cook who used to be fond of Harry-- they should have a
feast; all who were well enough in the hospital should have a tea-drinking;
Dr. Hoxton had already granted a holiday to the school; every boy with whom
they had any connection should come to dinner, and Edward Anderson should
be asked to meet Harry on his return, because, poor fellow, he was so
Dr. May was in such a transport of kind-hearted schemes, that he was not
easily made to hear that Harry had not a sixpence wherewith to reach
Ethel, meanwhile, was standing beside her brother tendering to him some
gold, as his last quarter.
"How did you get it, Ethel? do you keep the purse?"
"No, but papa took Cocksmoor in your stead, when--"
"Nonsense, Ethel," said Harry; "I don't want it. Have I not all my pay and
allowance for the whole time I was dead? And as to robbing Cocksmoor--"
"Yes, keep it, Ethel," said her father; "do you think I would take it now, when
if there were a thank-offering in the world.--And, by the bye, your Cocksmoor
children must have something to remember this by--"