AUNT OCTAVIA'S FIRST RIDE.

Press, Volume LIV, Issue 9817, 28 August 1897, Page 3

AUNT OCTAVIA'S FIRST RIDE.

We weren't really a bicycle, club, of course; there were only six riders in our village—hardly enough" to be dignified by the title of " club." But we had a habit of meeting at the Franklins' house before every Ions; ride, and of resting there on our return ere we scattered to our own homes. There were several reasons for our making the Franklins , house our headquarters. For one thing, Kate and Mary Franklin had been the first people in town to take up riding; so it was natural that when the rest of us began we should drop in at the Franklins' for advice and help. Besides this the Franklins had an ideal piazzA—just the place for tired riders to rest and chat— and Mrs Franklin made the most delicious lemonade. Thus it came about that almost any fair day you might see half the bicycles in town, that is, two or three, leaning against the Franklin's fence or the maples ou their lawn.

One splendid afternoon in May, Jack Emerson, the ouly masculine member of our little fraternity, and I had been riding somewhat aimlessly abonfc, when we found ourselves at the head of the Franklin's street.

"Let's ride down and see whether the girls have got home from their vacation," Jack suggested. I assented ; and in a few minutes we had leaned our wheels in their familiar resting places on the Franklin's lawn and Jack was ringing the door-boll vigorously. No one answered his summons.

" It's no use," he said, with a final pull : " There's nobody at home, that's sure." So saying he came and sat down beside mc on the top step. Before we had decided how to amuse ourselves for the rest of the afternoon Jack leaped up from his seat with his favourite exclamation, and pointed excitedly down the road. "Honest.'" he cried, " who can tbat be?" I looked where he was pointing, to a spot some distance away where the road was visible among the trees, and saw a neat little figure with short skirts and a crimson waist spinning along toward us on a shining bicycle. In a minute she was hidden by the trees again, and we fell to wondering who Bhe could be. When there are only six riders in town, a new one unexpectedly appearing on the scene is bound to cause some excitement.

" She isn't big enough to be Emily Jones," mused Jack.

" No, and Sue Campbell never wears red; you know how it swears at her hair." " She's about the right size for either of the Franklin girls." " True, but Kate and Mary always ride that tandem of theirs; don't you remember that just before they went away they were mourning because they couldn't afford to sell it and buy a bicycle apiece ?" "Perhapsthey have," said Jack. Just then the object of our discussion flashed into sight, turned up the drive with a swing, and dismounted neatly before us. It was Mary Franklin.

" Is it yours ? Where'd you get it ?" said Jack, helping her with her bicycle. "Of course it's mine, Mr Impertinence," slapping him playfully with her glove. " And if you'll keep still half a minute, perhaps I'll tell you how I got it." Jack carae meekly back to his seat on the steps ; and when Mary had kissed mc (Jack watching enviously) she began her story. " Mother and Kate and I, as you know, have been visiting mother's aunt, Mies OeUvi* Himpkiiu — iea't that * drtodfttl

name ?—in the quietest, most de3erted little country town you ever saw. This place is a city compared with it. Just imagine it— the station five miles away, and the stage coming only twice a day. The stage driver tosses out the mail for the whole town— eight or ten letters, sometimes—to the first inhabitant he happens to see, who is alwaye glad to hare the excitement of distributing it.

"But such delightful rides—you know Kate and I took our tandem. Narrow little foot-paths, smooth as a floor, winding along beside the sandy roads, under spreading pine branches. Kate and I used to ride to the station just for the fun of beating the stage back with the mail for our village, until Aunt Octavia got an idea that it wasn't proper. Then, of course, we stopped; for Aunt Octavia has been ever so good to us, and we wouldn't do anythiug to offend her.

" When we'd been there about a week Kate sprained her ankle trying to reach some apple blossoms from a ricketty stone wall ; and then I didn't get any riding at all. That's the bother with a tandem. So for a few days it was very quiet; we just loafed about in hammocks and read books— Kate nursing her ankle all the time.

"But one afternoon—it was just three days ago —we had a great excitement. A boy came riding up from ' the city' with a telegram for Aunt Octavia. We all stood round her as she opened Jt with trembling fingers. It was from her lawyer, telling her to come to Boston that very day, on some business connected with her sister's estate, I think. Poor Aunt Octavia was nearly wild. It was then after 4 o'clock and the last train went at s—the station you remember was five miles away. The only horse in the village was sick, there was no time to go anywhere else for another, even if we had known of another, and the telegraph boy, who might have been of some assistance, was a mile away by that time.

" Aunt Octfivia kept twisting the yellow paper nervously in her fingers, and pacing quickly up and down the room. * What shall I do?' she kept saying. 'I'd give a hundred dollars to catch that train—l must catch it!'

•'Just then an idea came to mc. I would take Aunt Oclavia to the station on the tandem. ' Hurry and get ready—mother, you help her ; we can get to the station in time—see if we don't!' I cried. Then*l ran out to the woodshed and trundled the tandem out before the house just as Aunt Octavia got to the front door. I had on my bicycle skirt and a suitable hat, for comfort; so there was no time lost in dressing. Auntie's face was study when she saw the tandem awaiting her. • What! me—on that thing ?' she gasped.

" • It's the only way,' I answered. After a moment's hesitation Aunt Octavia came timidly up to the machine, and allowed mother to help her into the front seat, and tuck her feet up on the coasters, while I stood behind her ready to mount.

" ' Now, auntie,' said I, ' lean the way you feel the bieyele tipping, leave the steering all to mc and—don't be scared. .

" With that 1 mounted and started carefully along the level road. Auntie behaved so beautifully that I gradually put on more speed, until we were going at a really good rate. Ltickily there were no considerable hills in our way, so I felt sure of reaching ilie station on time.

•' It was fun to watch Aunt Octavia. She soon got over the scare that our first spurt of speed had given her and began taking deep breaths as though she enjoyed the motion. Her little gray curls flew back all about her face, and by leaning out a bit I could see a lively colour in her cheeks. We neither of us said a word during the whole five miles ; but when we got to the station, several minutes ahead of the train, and I helped auntie to dismount, she surprised mc by throwing her arms about my neck and exclaiming, 'It was delicious, dear; I haven't had such a good time since 1 was a girl! .

"I waited until the train came and auntie got in; and then rode slowly back home. Mother and Kate, of course, were worried for fear something had happened to auntie on our ride, and were glad enough to have mc get home with good news. " Well, next day auntie came back on the afternoon stage. She had transacted her business satisfactorily, and was glad to get home, she said, where she could hear herself think. The first thing she did after taking her things off was to sit down at her desk and write a few lines in a long narrow book. Then she tore out the page and handed it to mc. It was a cheque in my name for a hundred dollars. " • Why ! Auntie ' I cried, ' What is this for?' " ' Didn't I say I'd give a hundred dollars to catch that train ?' she answered with a augh.

" Then she wrote another cheque and gave it to Kate, who nearly fainted, 'Take it, dear,' said Aunt Octavia, 'you know I always have to give you girls just the same things to keep you from quarrelling.' Then she turned to mother and began telling her how we had caught the train, while Kate and I just hugged one another for joy—" "And came straightway to Boston," put in Jack, " and bought two—bicycles !"

" Precisely," said Mary. " And here comes Kate now."

As she spoke a second wheel turned into the drive, and Kate stood breathless and laughing before us.

" Has Mary told you all the fun ?" she asked as she greeted us. " Yes," " But you don't know the best of it," Kate went on. " After Mary and I went to bed that night Aunt Octavia, asked mother if she thought we could leave the tandem at her house awhile, because—what do you suppose ? because she and Hiram, the hired man, are going to leara to ride."—The Wheeltvoman.