Читать книгу The Haven Children; or, Frolics at the Funny Old House on Funny Street онлайн

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One more little figure attracts us, whose sunny ringlets, like a golden setting, encircle the fair face of the peerless little Lily, the Nursery Queen, at whose shrine brothers and sisters bow most loyal subjects.

Yes, little Mocking-bird, your sway is undisputed, you may pull off Aunt Kitty’s cap-strings, wring young Jacko’s saucy nose, tear the leaves of Artie’s book, or even, unrebuked, hurl your rattle at poor little Bear’s pale face. It is all right! The acts of Queen Baby are never questioned by her willing subjects.

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“Whirled on with shriek and whistle.”

Let us draw a curtain over the scenes of the last hour at home, for partings, though some have called them

“Such sweet sorrow,”

have a deal of the bitter mingled with them, when a dear Mamma and baby-sisters have to be left behind.

The last bell has sounded, the last trunk been hurled into the baggage-car, the last “All aboard” has been shouted, and the “Shore-Line Express Train,” with its precious load of human life, is steaming out from under the shelter of the Grand Central, rushing through the Forties, Fifties, Sixties, and past the beautiful Park, with hasty glimpses at its trees, Casino, lakes, and glittering equipages.