Spring came on apace, and spring in New York had many beautiful features then.  The Battery, the Bowling Green, City Hall Park, with its fountain, the College grounds, Trinity and St. Paul’s churchyards, and the squares coming into existence farther up-town.  Trees and grass and flowers delighted the eye, and lilacs made the air fragrant.  All up the country ways there were patches of wild honeysuckle, ­pinxter flowers, as it was called.

The little girl had so many things to distract her attention that she wondered how grown-up people could be so tranquil with all their knowledges and their cares.  She began to realise the great difference in tastes and characteristics, though she would not have quite comprehended that long word.  Perhaps Ben, being in the midst of stories and books, and hearing so much talk about the great men of the day, roused the same train of thought in her, though I think hero-worship came natural to her.  The Dean girls read the sweet pretty domestic stories with great relish.  Miss Macintosh, Mary Howitt, and even Jane Austin were their delight.  Hanny and Daisy were deeply interested in history.  And during the last year some very spirited stories had been written on the Mexican war, and all the struggles of a few years before.  The wealth and splendour of Montezuma and his sad ending, the wonders of that land of ancient romance, were rendered more real on account of the present struggle that Hanny and her father had followed closely.  She kept in touch with all the generals.  The hero of Monterey, General Worth, General Scott’s entry into the city of Montezuma, General Watts Kearny, who led his men a thousand miles through the desert to seize Santa Fe, and hold New Mexico, and his brilliant young nephew, Philip, who was the first man to enter the gate of San Antonio, and who lost his left arm at the battle of Churubusco.  Little did she dream, indeed, who could have dreamed then, that he was to be one of the heroes of another war, nearer and more dreadful to us!

Then there was a great celebration over the final victory.  City Hall was crowded.  There were some magnificent fireworks and much rejoicing.  And though there were questions for diplomacy to adjust, we had gained California and New Mexico; and both were destined to have a great bearing on the future of the country.

When Hanny could spare time from this exciting topic and her lessons, there was little Stevie, who was the sweetest and most cunning baby alive, she was quite sure.  He could run all over, and say ever so many words.  The hard ones he had to shorten, so he called the little girl Nan, and Dolly and Stephen caught it up as well.  When they came over to First Street, the neighbourhood paid him the highest honours.  All the children wanted to see him, and walk up and down with him.  He was so merry, laughing at the least little thing, and chattering away in his baby language, with a few words now and then in good English.  And, oh, delight! his hair curled all over his head, and had a golden gleam to it.  Certainly, as a baby, he was a tremendous success.

But the crowning point of this May was Hanny’s birthday party.  She was twelve years old.  Dolly and Margaret came down to spend the day and help.  Oddly enough, Hanny knew very few boys.  First, she thought she would only have a girls’ party.  But there was Charlie, and some of her schoolmates had brothers; and Jim said he knew two splendid boys in school that he would like to ask; and when they counted them up, they found there were plenty enough.

They played games, of course, ­pretty laughable things that had not gone out of fashion.  And the supper-table was a feast to the eye as well as to the appetite.  Toward the last, there were mottoes, and they had a good deal of fun in exchanging.  Doctor Joe was as merry as any boy, in fact, he laid himself out, as people say, to make the party a success, for Hanny would have been a timid little hostess.  Dolly and Margaret were not much behind.

After they went upstairs some one proposed the Virginia Reel.  The older ones were not long in taking their places.

“Come,” said Doctor Joe to Daisy Jasper.  “It’s very easy.  You will have to learn some time.”

“Will I surely have to?” and she gave an arch little smile.

“Yes.  You are to learn all the things girls do, even if you can draw portraits, which every girl can’t do.”

“Oh, no,” when she saw that he was in earnest; “I am afraid.  And then, I ­”

“You are not to be afraid.”  He put his arm about her and gently drew her out.  “You are to be my partner.”

Hanny stood second in the row, looking so bright and eager that she was absolutely pretty.  And Jim’s chum, the handsomest lad in the room, had chosen her.  When she saw Daisy, she wanted to run down and kiss her, she was so delighted.

What with braces, and several appliances, Daisy now had only one shoulder that was a little high; and as she had grown stronger, she could get about without much of a limp.  She was quite tall for her age, and every gesture and motion was very graceful, in spite of the misfortune.  She sometimes danced at school.

Dolly struck up some merry music, and Stephen called off.  How prettily they balanced and turned, and joined hands left and right, and marched down and up again, and then the first couple chassed down the middle!  When it was Hanny’s turn, she came down looking like a fairy, and smiled over to her friend.

Daisy was a good deal frightened at first, and would have run away but for Doctor Joe’s encouraging eyes.  However, when her turn came, she did very well.  By this time they were all so intent upon their own pleasure no one really noticed her.  Oh, how jolly it was!

After that some of the children tried the three-step polka, and found it very fascinating.  A little after ten, the plates of cream came in, and at half-past, they began to disperse.

Stevie was asleep upstairs on Nan’s bed.  All the girls had to go and look at him; and when Dolly picked him up, and bundled his cloak about him, and put on his cap, he only stretched a little and settled himself, being as famous a sleeper as some of his Dutch ancestors.  But the girls had to kiss him; and then he did wake up and laugh and rub his eyes with his fat fist.  Before Stephen had him settled on his shoulder, he was asleep again.

“Oh!” cried Hanny, “it’s his first party as well as mine.  And when he gets old enough, I’ll have to tell him all about it.”

“Yes,” laughed his father.  “His memory can hardly he depended upon now.”

Jim’s friend came to wish Hanny good-night, and say that he had enjoyed himself first rate, ­quite a boy’s word then.  And he added, “I think your doctor-brother is the nicest man I ever met.  If my mother is ever ill, I mean she shall have him.  He is so sweet and kindly.  And that Miss Jasper is a beautiful girl!”

Hanny flushed with delight.

One day, not long afterwards, Mrs. Jasper took both little girls down to Stewart’s beautiful store at the corner of Chambers Street and Broadway.  When the ladies were out for a promenade, they used to drop in and see the pretty articles.  It was the finest store in New York; kid-gloves and laces were specialties, but there were no end of elegant silks and India shawls, which were considered family heir-looms when you became the owner of one.

Some of the more careful business-men shook their heads doubtfully over the young merchant’s extravagance, and predicted a collapse presently.  But he went on prospering, and even built another marble palace, and a marble dwelling-place for himself.

Then the Reeds and the Underhills were full of interest in their boys who were to pass examinations for Columbia College.  Charles stood high, but he was rather nervous about it; and Jim never studied so hard in all his life as the last three months.  When there was any doubt, or even when there wasn’t, he pressed Joe into service.  However, they both came off with flying colours.  Charles was the best scholar, undoubtedly; but Jim had a way of making everything tell in his favour.

Miss Lily Ludlow had quite given Jim the cold shoulder; but now she smiled upon him again.  Her sister had married very well; but Lily had quite resolved upon a rich husband.  Still it would be something to have the young and good-looking collegian in her train.

Mrs. Jasper pleaded to take Hanny with them to Saratoga for a little while; and Margaret said she and her husband would go up and spend a week and bring her home.  The Jaspers were to stay at a quiet cottage; and, after much persuasion, Mrs. Underhill consented, though she had an idea a fashionable watering-place was hardly proper for little girls; and her father was very loath to give her up even for a few weeks.

To tell the truth, the little girl was rather homesick for a night or two.  There was so much to see, so many drives and all; but she had never been away alone before.  And she did so miss sitting in her father’s lap, and kissing him good-night.  She was too big a girl of course; and one time her mother asked her if she meant to keep up the habit when she was a woman grown!

She had not thought of being grown-up.  And she wished she could stay a little girl forever.  Josie Dean was quite womanly already, and didn’t want to wear her hair in “pigtails” any more ­indeed, quite fretted because her mother wouldn’t let her put it up.  But Tudie confessed to Hanny “that she should be awful sorry when she was too big to play with dolls.”

“I put my beautiful doll away the Christmas Stevie was born,” said Hanny.

“Oh, well, if we had a big brother married, and a lovely little baby like that, I wouldn’t mind so much.  But Josie is going to study and teach, and ­oh, dear!  Hanny Underhill, you’re just the luckiest girl I know.”

And the Deans thought it another piece of luck that she should go to Saratoga.

They went to Congress Hall, and drank some of the water that Hanny thought just horrid.  Daisy didn’t like it very much; but it had proved beneficial the summer before.  And they used to watch the beautifully attired ladies promenade the long piazza.  Such lovely lawns and organdies and embroidered white gowns; such laces and sashes and ribbons!  Every afternoon they were out in force.  They promenaded up and down the street too, with dainty parasols, and often times no bonnet, but a little square of lace with long lappets.

One evening after Margaret and the Doctor came, they all went in to the hop to look on.  Hanny thought the dancing a bewitching sight, and could have stayed up until midnight watching it.  There were a good many quite famous people whom Dr. Hoffman knew, and Hanny had seen on Broadway or up at Washington Square.

Daisy was almost in despair at the thought of Hanny’s return.  Dr. Hoffman had promised to take a brother physician’s practice when he went away to recuperate, so he felt that he really could not extend his stay beyond the week.

“Oh, I do wish I had a sister!” groaned Daisy.  “Auntie is very nice, and mamma is the sweetest mother in the world; but I like to have some one who thinks real young thoughts.  I don’t want to be grown up and sensible, and take an interest in tiresome things.”

“Let’s just stay little,” laughed Hanny.  “Twelve isn’t so very old.”

“But being in your ‘teens’ seems on the way to it. You may stay little; but see how tall I am getting.  I grow like a weed.”

Hanny gave a soft sigh.  How curious to want to stay little, and feel sorry you were not getting big at the same time!

When they returned to the city, Hanny found that Charles and his mother had gone to the sea-side, out on Long Island.  Mrs. Reed didn’t seem to get strong.  She had thought all along first she could soon do without Cousin Jane; and to give her the opportunity Cousin Jane went away on a little visit.  But Mr. Reed sent for her ten days later.

“I’m never going to be good for anything again!” Mrs. Reed said fretfully.

“Oh, yes, there are a good many useful things in the world beside work,” replied Mr. Reed.  “You’ve done your share.  Cousin Jane is splendid to have around.  Anyhow, I think we will keep her for awhile.”

“You just go down on Great South Bay, and eat fish and clams, and have the sea-breeze,” advised Cousin Jane.  “The Seamens will board you very reasonably.  And Charles looks as if something of the kind wouldn’t hurt him.  He will have a pretty hard pull in college the first year, and he ought to have some good backbone to start on.”

It was very extravagant to go away to board when they were paying house-rent.  And there had been a doctor’s bill, and a nurse for three weeks, and Cousin Jane ­

“Never you mind,” said Mr. Reed, “I’m not anywhere near the poor-house.  I’ve only you and Charles.  He is going to be a credit to us if he keeps his health; but he does look rather pale and thin.  You ought to go for his sake.”

The Reeds seemed insensibly to have changed places.  It was Mr. Reed who gave the orders and suggested the plans, and Mrs. Reed who acquiesced.

“You’ve worked steadily all your life, harder than I ever wanted you to,” continued her husband.  “We had better take the good of what we have, and let Charles earn his own money when it comes his time to work.  And if you could improve a little, ­at least I think it is your duty to try for both our sakes.  It will be a sad thing if, when Charles takes his degree, you are not here to congratulate him.”

She was not anxious to die; very few people are.  So she listened, and allowed herself to be over-ruled.  She was really proud of her son’s manliness, though she would not have admitted it.  They went off to stay a fortnight, and both improved so much they remained a whole month.

Janey and Polly Odell and another cousin came to visit Hanny, and had a fine time seeing the city sights.  Then Daisy came home, school began, and wonderful events were happening all the time.

The old story of Eldorado repeated itself.  Strange rumours ran about like wildfire in meadow grass.  A Captain Sutter was having his mill-race on one of the forks of the Sacramento River deepened and repaired, when a workman accidently discovered a shining nugget that proved to be gold.  Crowds flocked to the spot:  men who had been in the army, adventurers who had followed Fremont in his prospecting journeys; and they found gold on every hand.

When Congress opened, President Polk proudly announced the wealth of our new possessions.  It was Mexico and Peru over again.  The Spaniards had not despoiled the whole earth.

Men talked themselves up to fever-heat.  Why plod along years making a fortune, when here you could dig it out of the ground in a few months!  As if wealth was the great and only good to mankind.

Now, when one flies across the continent in a palace-car, it seems strange indeed to think of the long journey of these pilgrims to the land of Ophir, as it was called.  The overland route, that across Mexico, or the isthmus, comprised the sail to Vera Cruz, and then up the Pacific coast, and was costly.  That around Cape Horn took five months.  Yet men were selling their property or business that they had been years in building up, leaving their families, and hurrying off, promising to be back in a few years, millionaires perhaps.

The Underhills were not seized with the mania.  There were several other matters that occupied their attention.  John was to be married in January, and to go in business with his employer, who would be his father-in-law.  And in December, two granddaughters were added to the family.

Hanny was quite dazed with the conflicting claims.  Margaret’s little girl had large dark eyes like Dr. Hoffman, and dark, silky hair; while Dolly’s daughter was fair.  Margaret’s baby was really beautiful.

But in her secret heart the little girl thought no baby in the world could ever be the sweet and joyful surprise that Stevie had been, ­the Christmas gift to them all.  Dr. Hoffman declared that he was really jealous that she should not transfer all her affections to his little daughter.  “He should not call her Haneran now.”

“I should hope you wouldn’t,” declared Hanny, mirthfully.  “You ought to name her Margaret, and we could all call her Daisy.  That’s such a cheerful, pretty name!”

“But she won’t be white and gold.  She would have to be a Michaelmas daisy.  And we couldn’t call her Pearl, with her dark eyes and hair.  Still, I think Margaret one of the noblest and sweetest of names.”

“I don’t suppose any one will think Hannah a sweet name,” said the little girl, rather ruefully.  “They all say ­it’s a good name.  But I don’t want to be just like Grandmother Van Kortlandt.  When I am real old I would rather be like Grandmother Underhill.”

“Luckily, the names do not endow us with the natures.”

In the end, it was Margaret; and they called her Daisy, much to the little girl’s delight.  When Mrs. Jasper heard of the name, she sent her a beautiful pair of sleeve-pins.  They were used to pin through the shoulders and sleeves of babies’ dresses.  It seemed then as if all babies had beautiful fat necks, and pretty dimpled arms.

Dolly’s little girl was called Annette Dorothea; but her household name was Annie.

Little Stevie had come to grandmother’s to stay a week or so.  He cried a little the first night for mamma.  Hanny begged to have him put in her bed; and she sat and told him Mother Goose Melodies until he dropped asleep.  He was such a sweet, cunning roly-poly, that she couldn’t help kissing him when she came to bed; and she longed to take him in her arms and hug him up; but she was afraid he might wake and cry.

The next night he was quite ready to go to Nan’s bed, and didn’t cry a bit.

Hanny had a delightful time taking him round among the girls.  Her mother said, “You and your father will have that child spoiled.”  But Hanny might have turned the tables, if she had seen grandmother when she had to be in school.

As for Grandfather Underhill, he thought with Hanny there never had been such a smart and wonderful baby.  Jim taught him some rather reprehensible tricks.  He was still full of fun and mischief, and already had a crowd of admirers in college.

And, oh, how they missed the baby when he was gone!  It didn’t seem as if one little mite could fill the house; but it was big and empty now.

John’s courtship had not been so engrossing as Stephen’s.  They had met Miss Bradley, to be sure; and Mr. Bradley was a well-to-do man with two sons and one daughter who had been named Cleanthe, after the heroine of a story Mrs. Bradley had read in her girlhood.  Mr. Bradley had wanted his daughter called Priscilla, after his mother; and Mrs. Bradley’s mother’s name was Jemima.

“I did think Mimy and Silly two of the worst names in the world.  And there isn’t any nickname for Cleanthe,” was Mrs. Bradley’s explanation when any one wondered at the name.

Miss Cleanthe was a very nice, well-bred, rather conventional girl, with none of Dolly’s dash and spirit.  She was a good housekeeper, and could make all but her best dresses.  They were to take the second floor of Mr. Bradley’s house, and set up their own home, until they felt rich enough to indulge in a house owned by themselves.

George came down about this time to spend a month.  He was decidedly tired of farming.

“Of course, if I wanted to marry and build on the old place, it wouldn’t be so bad.  Uncle Faid keeps in the same rut, and you can’t shake him out of it.  Barton Finch is the kind of man who begins with a great flourish, but flats out towards the end.  I’m tired of them all!”

“It will be your turn to marry next,” said his mother.  “And then I’ll seem quite a young woman with only three children.  I do suppose we’ll go up to Yonkers some time and spend our old age there; though I begin to think your father is weaned away.”

George laughed.  “Father seems about half Uncle Faid’s age.  And at eighty, you won’t be as old as Aunt Crete.  If I had lots of money, to do as I liked ­but farming so near by doesn’t amount to much.”

The Germans and Swiss had to come in and show us about market-gardening and floriculture.

George went down-town with Stephen, and talked with Ben, and listened to the groups on every corner discussing the golden land.  He was young and strong; why shouldn’t he go and seek his fortune?

Miss Bradley had a very nice evening wedding, with dancing and a supper.  She was very well looking, but not as handsome as Margaret, or as pretty and piquant as Dolly.  She did not seem to come close to their hearts, as Dolly had; though Mrs. Underhill was very well satisfied, and knew she would make John happy.  John was a sort of solid, sober-going fellow, quite different from Steve and Joe.