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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16473-8.txt b/16473-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3c7e97 --- /dev/null +++ b/16473-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5606 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Queen Hildegarde, by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Queen Hildegarde + +Author: Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16473] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + +QUEEN HILDEGARDE + +BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + + * * * * * + +Each 1 volume, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1.75 + + Star Bright + Captain January + +The above volumes boxed as a set, $3.50 + + +STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS + +Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated + + Five Minute Stories $1.75 + More Five Minute Stories 1.75 + Three Minute Stories 1.75 + A Happy Little Time 1.75 + Four Feet, Two Feet, No Feet 2.75 + When I Was Your Age 1.75 + + +THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES + + Captain January $1.00 + Melody 1.00 + +Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents + + Jim of Hellas + Marie + Rosin the Beau + Snow-white + Narcissa + "Some Day" + Nautilus + Isla Heron + The Little Master + + Captain January--_Baby Peggy Edition_ $2.50 + + +HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES + +Each, one volume, illustrated, $1.75 + + Queen Hildegarde + Hildegarde's Holiday + Hildegarde's Home + Hildegarde's Neighbors + Hildegarde's Harvest + Three Margarets + Margaret Montfort + Peggy + Rita + Fernley House + The Merryweathers + +The above eleven volumes are also boxed as a set, $19.25 + + * * * * * + + Honor Bright $1.75 + Honor Bright's New Adventure 1.75 + The Armstrongs 1.50 + The Green Satin Gown 1.50 + + * * * * * + + L.C. PAGE & COMPANY (Inc.) + 53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. + +[Illustration: "SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS."] + + + + +_THE HILDEGARDE SERIES_ + +Queen Hildegarde + +A STORY FOR GIRLS + +BY + +LAURA E. RICHARDS + +Author of + +"The Margaret Series," "The Hildegarde Series," "Captain January," +"Melody," "Five Minute Stories," etc. + +_ILLUSTRATED_ + +[Illustration] + +THE PAGE COMPANY BOSTON ˇ PUBLISHERS + + _Copyright, 1889, by_ + THE PAGE COMPANY + Copyright renewed, 1917 + + Made in U.S.A. + + Thirty-second Impression, August, 1927 + + THE COLONIAL PRESS + C.H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U.S.A. + + + + + TO + + MY BELOVED SISTER, + + =Maud Howe Elliott.= + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM 9 + + II. DAME AND FARMER 31 + + III. THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR 49 + + IV. THE NEW HILDA 73 + + V. THE BLUE PLATTER 94 + + VI. HARTLEY'S GLEN 111 + + VII. PINK CHIRK 135 + +VIII. THE LETTER 160 + + IX. THE OLD CAPTAIN 178 + + X. A PARTY OF PLEASURE 198 + + XI. THE WARRIOR QUEEN 218 + + XII. THE OLD MILL 237 + +XIII. THE TREE-PARTY 272 + + THE LAST WORD 289 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + PAGE + +"SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS" + (_See page 32_) _Frontispiece_ + +"SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM" 47 + +"SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS" 89 + +"SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS" 117 + +"THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE" 155 + +"'SAY, MISS HILDY,--DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'" 205 + +"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK" 227 + +"'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'" 267 + + + + +QUEEN HILDEGARDE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM. + + +"And have you decided what is to become of Hilda?" asked Mrs. Graham. + +"Hilda?" replied her husband, in a tone of surprise, "Hilda? why, she +will go with us, of course. What else should become of the child? She +will enjoy the trip immensely, I have no doubt." + +Mrs. Graham sighed and shook her head. "I fear that is impossible, dear +George!" she said. "To tell the truth, I am a little anxious about +Hilda; she is not at all well. I don't mean that she is actually _ill_," +she added quickly, as Mr. Graham looked up in alarm, "but she seems +languid and dispirited, has no appetite, and is inclined to be +fretful,--an unusual thing for her." + +"Needs a change!" said Mr. Graham, shortly. "Best thing for her. Been +studying too hard, I suppose, and eating caramels. If I could discover +the man who invented that pernicious sweetmeat, I would have him +hanged!--hanged, madam!" + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't, dear!" said his wife, laughing softly; "I think +his life would be quite safe. But about Hilda now! She _does_ need a +change, certainly; but is the overland journey in July just the right +kind of change for her, do you think?" + +Mr. Graham frowned, ran his fingers through his hair, drummed on the +table, and then considered his boots attentively. "Well--no!" he said at +last, reluctantly. "I--suppose--not. But what _can_ we do with her? Send +her to Fred and Mary at the seashore?" + +"To sleep in a room seven by twelve, and be devoured by mosquitoes, and +have to wear 'good clothes' all the time?" returned Mrs. Graham. +"Certainly not." + +"Aunt Emily is going to the mountains," suggested Mr. Graham, +doubtfully. + +"Yes," replied his wife, "with sixteen trunks, a maid, a footman, and +three lapdogs! _That_ would _never_ do for Hilda." + +"You surely are not thinking of leaving her alone here with the +servants?" + +The lady shook her head. "No, dear; such poor wits as Heaven granted me +are not yet entirely gone, thank you!" + +Mr. Graham rose from his chair and flung out both arms in a manner +peculiar to him when excited. "Now, now, now, Mildred!" he said +impressively, "I have always said that you were a good woman, and I +shall continue to assert the same; but you have powers of tormenting +that could not be surpassed by the most heartless of your sex. It is +perfectly clear, even to my darkened mind, that you have some plan for +Hilda fully matured and arranged in that scheming little head of yours; +so what is your object in keeping me longer in suspense? Out with it, +now! What are you--for of course I am in reality only a cipher (a +tolerably large cipher) in the sum--what are you, the commander-in-chief, +going to do with Hilda, the lieutenant-general? If you will kindly +inform the orderly-sergeant, he will act accordingly, and endeavor to +do his duty." + +Pretty Mrs. Graham laughed again, and looked up at the six-feet-two of +sturdy manhood standing on the hearth-rug, gazing at her with eyes which +twinkled merrily under the fiercely frowning brows. "You are a very +_dis_orderly-sergeant, dear!" she said. "Just look at your hair! It +looks as if all the four winds had been blowing through it--" + +"Instead of all the ten fingers _going_ through it," interrupted her +husband. "Never mind my hair; that is not the point. +_What_--do--you--propose--to--do--with--your daughter--Hildegarde, or +Hildegardis, as it should properly be written?" + +"Well, dear George," said the commander-in-chief (she was a very small +woman and a very pretty one, though she had a daughter "older than +herself," as her husband said; and she wore a soft lilac gown, and had +soft, wavy brown hair, and was altogether very pleasant to look +at)--"well, dear George, the truth is, I _have_ a little plan, which I +should like very much to carry out, if you fully approve of it." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Graham, tossing his "tempestuous locks" again, "ho! I +thought as much. _If_ I approve, eh, little madam? Better say, whether I +approve or not." + +So saying, the good-natured giant sat himself down again, and listened +while his wife unfolded her plan; and what the plan was, we shall see by +and by. Meanwhile let us take a peep at Hilda, or Hildegardis, as she +sits in her own room, all unconscious of the plot which is hatching in +the parlor below. She is a tall girl of fifteen. Probably she has +attained her full height, for she looks as if she had been growing too +fast; her form is slender, her face pale, with a weary look in the large +gray eyes. It is a delicate, high-bred face, with a pretty nose, +slightly "tip-tilted," and a beautiful mouth; but it is half-spoiled by +the expression, which is discontented, if not actually peevish. If we +lifted the light curling locks of fair hair which lie on her forehead, +we should see a very decided frown on a broad white space which ought to +be absolutely smooth. Why should a girl of fifteen frown, especially a +girl so "exceptionally fortunate" as all her friends considered Hilda +Graham? Certainly her surroundings at this moment are pretty enough to +satisfy any girl. The room is not large, but it has a sunny bay-window +which seems to increase its size twofold. In re-furnishing it a year +before, her father had in mind Hilda's favorite flower, the +forget-me-not, and the room is simply a bower of forget-me-nots. +Scattered over the dull olive ground of the carpet, clustering and +nodding from the wall-paper, peeping from the folds of the curtains, the +forget-me-nots are everywhere. Even the creamy surface of the toilet-jug +and bowl, even the ivory backs of the brushes that lie on the +blue-covered toilet table, bear each its cluster of pale-blue blossoms; +while the low easy-chair in which the girl is reclining, and the pretty +sofa with its plump cushions inviting to repose, repeat the same tale. +The tale is again repeated, though in a different way, by a scroll +running round the top of the wall, on which in letters of blue and gold +is written at intervals: "Ne m'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!" "Non +ti scordar!" and the same sentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin, +Greek, and Hebrew, of all which tongues the fond father possessed +knowledge. + +Is not this indeed a bower, wherein a girl ought to be happy? the bird +in the window thinks his blue and gold cage the finest house in the +world, and sings as heartily and cheerily as if he had been in the wide +green forest; but his mistress does not sing. She sits in the +easy-chair, with a book upside-down in her lap, and frowns,--actually +frowns, in a forget-me-not bower! There is not much the matter, really. +Her head aches, that is all. Her German lesson has been longer and +harder than usual, and her father was quite right about the caramels; +there is a box of them on the table now, within easy reach of the slim +white hand with its forget-me-not ring of blue turquoises. (I do not +altogether agree with Mr. Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but I +should heartily like to burn all his wares. Fancy a great mountain of +caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glacés piled up in Union +Square, for example, and blazing away merrily,--that is, if the things +would burn, which is more than doubtful. How the maidens would weep and +wring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled and fed the +flames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it is +a pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do you +see?) + +As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parents +were concocting. She knew that her father was obliged to go to San +Francisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousin +who had recently died there, and that her mother and--as she +supposed--herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to the +widow, an invalid with three little children. As to the idea of her +being left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journey +without his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her only +child, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the day +of her birth,--such a thought never came into Hilda's mind. Wherever her +parents went she went, as a matter of course. So it had always been, and +so without doubt it always would be. She did not care specially about +going to California at this season of the year,--in fact she had told +her bosom friend, Madge Everton, only the day before, that it was +"rather a bore," and that she should have preferred to go to Newport. +"But what would you?" she added, with the slightest shrug of her pretty +shoulders. "Papa and mamma really must go, it appears; so of course I +must go too." + +"A bore!" repeated Madge energetically, replying to the first part of +her friend's remarks. "Hilda, what a _very_ singular girl you are! Here +I, or Nelly, or _any_ of the other girls would give both our ears, and +our front teeth too, to make such a trip; and just because you _can_ go, +you sit there and call it 'a bore!'" And Madge shook her black curls, +and opened wide eyes of indignation and wonder at our ungrateful +heroine. "I only wish," she added, "that you and I could be changed into +each other, just for this summer." + +"I wish--" began Hilda; but she checked herself in her response to the +wish, as the thought of Madge's five brothers rose in her mind (Hilda +could not endure boys!), looked attentively at the toe of her little +bronze slipper for a few moments, and then changed the subject by +proposing a walk. "Console yourself with the caramels, my fiery Madge," +she said, pushing the box across the table, "while I put on my boots. We +will go to Maillard's and get some more while we are out. His caramels +are decidedly better than Huyler's; don't you think so!" + +A very busy woman was pretty Mrs. Graham during the next two weeks. +First she made an expedition into the country "to see an old friend," +she said, and was gone two whole days. And after that she was out every +morning, driving hither and thither, from shop to dressmaker, from +dressmaker to milliner, from milliner to shoemaker. + +"It is a sad thing," Mr. Graham would say, when his wife fluttered in +to lunch, breathless and exhausted and half an hour late (she, the most +punctual of women!),--"it is a sad thing to have married a comet by +mistake, thinking it was a woman. How did you find the other planets +this morning, my dear? Is it true that Saturn has lost one of his rings? +and has the Sun recovered from his last attack of spots? I really fear," +he would add, turning to Hilda, "that this preternatural activity in +your comet-parent portends some alarming change in the--a--atmospheric +phenomena, my child. I would have you on your guard!" and then he would +look at her and sigh, shake his head, and apply himself to the cold +chicken with melancholy vigor. + +Hilda thought nothing of her father's remarks,--papa was always talking +nonsense, and she thought she always understood him perfectly. It did +occur to her, however, to wonder at her mother's leaving her out on all +her shopping expeditions. Hilda rather prided herself on her skill in +matching shades and selecting fabrics, and mamma was generally glad of +her assistance in all such matters. However, perhaps it was only +under-clothing and house-linen, and such things that she was buying. All +that was the prosy part of shopping. It was the poetry of it that Hilda +loved,--the shimmer of silk and satin, the rich shadows in velvet, the +cool, airy fluttering of lawn and muslin and lace. So the girl went on +her usual way, finding life a little dull, a little tiresome, and most +people rather stupid, but everything on the whole much as usual, if her +head only would not ache so; and it was without a shadow of suspicion +that she obeyed one morning her mother's summons to come and see her in +her dressing-room. + +Mr. Graham always spoke of his wife's dressing-room as "the citadel." It +was absolutely impregnable, he said. In the open field of the +drawing-room or the broken country of the dining-room it might be +possible--he had never known such a thing to occur, but still it _might_ +be possible--for the commander-in-chief to sustain a defeat; but once +intrenched behind the walls of the citadel, horse, foot, and dragoons +might storm and charge upon her, but they could not gain an inch. Not an +inch, sir! True it was that Mrs. Graham always felt strongest in this +particular room. She laughed about it, but acknowledged the fact. Here, +on the wall, hung a certain picture which was always an inspiration to +her. Here, on the shelf above her desk, were the books of her heart, the +few tried friends to whom she turned for help and counsel when things +puzzled her. (Mrs. Graham was never disheartened. She didn't believe +there was such a word. She was only "puzzled" sometimes, until she saw +her way and her duty clear before her, and then she went straight +forward, over a mountain or through a stone wall, as the case might +be.) Here, in the drawer of her little work-table, were some relics,--a +tiny, half-worn shoe, a little doll, a sweet baby face laughing from an +ivory frame: the insignia of her rank in the great order of sorrowing +mothers; and these, perhaps, gave her that great sympathy and tenderness +for all who were in trouble which drew all sad hearts towards her. + +And so, on this occasion, the little woman had sat for a few moments +looking at the pictured face on the wall, with its mingled majesty and +sweetness; had peeped into the best-beloved of all books, and said a +little prayer, as was her wont when "puzzled," before she sent the +message to Hilda,--for she knew that she must sorely hurt and grieve the +child who was half the world to her; and though she did not flinch from +the task, she longed for strength and wisdom to do it in the kindest and +wisest way. + +"Hilda, dear," she said gently, when they were seated together on the +sofa, hand in hand, with each an arm round the other's waist, as they +loved best to sit,--"Hilda, dear, I have something to say that will not +please you; something that may even grieve you very much at first." She +paused, and Hilda rapidly reviewed in her mind all the possibilities +that she could think of. Had anything happened to the box of French +dresses which was on its way from Paris? Had a careless servant broken +the glass of her fernery again? Had Aunt Emily been saying disagreeable +things about her, as she was apt to do? She was about to speak, but at +that moment, like a thunderbolt, the next words struck her ear: "We have +decided not to take you with us to California." Amazed, wounded, +indignant, Hilda could only lift her great gray eyes to meet the soft +violet ones which, full of unshed tears, were fixed tenderly upon her. +Mrs. Graham continued: "Your father and I both feel, my darling, that +this long, fatiguing journey, in the full heat of summer, would be the +worst possible thing for you. You have not been very well lately, and it +is most important that you should lead a quiet, regular, healthy life +for the next few months. We have therefore made arrangements to leave +you--" + +But here Hilda could control herself no longer. "Mamma! mamma!" she +cried. "How can you be so unkind, so cruel? Leave me--you and papa both? +Why, I shall die! Of course I shall die, all alone in this great house. +I thought you loved me!" and she burst into tears, half of anger, half +of grief, and sobbed bitterly. + +"Dear child!" said Mrs. Graham, smoothing the fair hair lovingly, "if +you had heard me out, you would have seen that we had no idea of leaving +you alone, or of leaving you in this house either. You are to stay +with--" + +"Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl, springing to her feet with +flashing eyes. "Mamma, I would rather beg in the streets than stay with +Aunt Emily. She is a detestable, ill-natured, selfish woman." + +"Hildegarde," said Mrs. Graham gravely, "be silent!" There was a moment +of absolute stillness, broken only by the ticking of the little crystal +clock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs. Graham continued: "I must ask +you not to speak again, my daughter, until I have finished what I have +to say; and even then, I trust you will keep silence until you are able +to command yourself. You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs. Hartley, at +her farm near Glenfield. She is a very kind, good woman, and will take +the best possible care of you. I went to the farm myself last week, and +found it a lovely place, with every comfort, though no luxuries, save +the great one of a free, healthy, natural life. There, my Hilda, we +shall leave you, sadly indeed, and yet feeling that you are in good and +loving hands. And I feel very sure," she added in a lighter tone, "that +by the time we return, you will be a rosy-cheeked country lass, strong +and hearty, with no more thought of headaches, and no wrinkle in your +forehead." As she ceased speaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girl close to +her, and kissed the white brow tenderly, murmuring: "God bless my +darling daughter! If she knew how her mother's heart aches at parting +with her!" But Hilda did not know. She was too angry, too bewildered, +too deeply hurt, to think of any one except herself. She felt that she +could not trust herself to speak, and it was in silence, and without +returning her mother's caress, that she rose and sought her own room. + +Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully, tenderly, but made no effort to +call her back. The tears trembled in her soft blue eyes, and her lip +quivered as she turned to her work-table; but she said quietly to +herself: "Solitude is a good medicine. The child will do well, and I +know that I have chosen wisely for her." + +Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as she flung herself face downward on +her own blue sofa. Angry thoughts surged through her brain. Now she +burned with resentment at the parents who could desert her,--their only +child; now she melted into pity for herself, and wept more and more as +she pictured the misery that lay before her. To be left +alone--_alone!_--on a squalid, wretched farm, with a dirty old woman, a +woman who had been a servant,--she, Hildegardis Graham, the idol of her +parents, the queen of her "set" among the young people, the proudest and +most exclusive girl in New York, as she had once (and not with +displeasure) heard herself called! + +What would Madge Everton, what would all the girls say! How they would +laugh, to hear of Hilda Graham living on a farm among pigs and hens and +dirty people! Oh! it was intolerable; and she sprang up and paced the +floor, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. + +The thought of opposing the plan did not occur to her. Mrs. Graham's +rule, gentle though it was, was not of the flabby, nor yet of the +elastic sort. Her decisions were not hastily arrived at; but once made, +they were final and abiding. "You might just as well try to oppose the +Gulf Stream!" Mr. Graham would say. "They do it sometimes with icebergs, +and what is the result? In a few days the great clumsy things are bowing +and scraping and turning somersaults, and fairly jostling each other in +their eagerness to obey the guidance of the insidious current. Insidious +Current, will you allow a cup of coffee to drift in my direction? I +shall be only too happy to turn a somersault if it will afford +you--thanks!--the smallest gratification." + +So Hildegarde's first lessons had been in obedience and in truthfulness; +and these were fairly well learned before she began her ABC. And so she +knew now, that she might storm and weep as she would in her own room, +but that the decree was fixed, and that unless the skies fell, her +summer would be passed at Hartley's Glen. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +DAME AND FARMER. + + +When the first shock was over, Hilda was rather glad than otherwise to +learn that there was to be no delay in carrying out the odious plan. +"The sooner the better," she said to herself. "I certainly don't want to +see any of the girls again, and the first plunge will be the worst of +it." + +"What clothes am I to take?" she asked her mother, in a tone which she +mentally denominated "quiet and cold," though possibly some people might +have called it "sullen." + +"Your clothes are already packed, dear," replied Mrs. Graham; "you have +only to pack your dressing-bag, to be all ready for the start to-morrow. +See, here is your trunk, locked and strapped, and waiting for the +porter's shoulder;" and she showed Hilda a stout, substantial-looking +trunk, bearing the initials H.G. + +"But, mamma," Hilda began, wondering greatly, "my dresses are all +hanging in my wardrobe." + +"Not all of them, dear!" said her mother, smiling. "Hark! papa is +calling you. Make haste and go down, for dinner is ready." + +Wondering more and more, Hildegarde made a hasty toilet, putting on the +pretty pale blue cashmere dress which her father specially liked, with +silk stockings to match, and dainty slippers of bronze kid. As she +clasped the necklace of delicate blue and silver Venetian beads which +completed the costume, she glanced into the long cheval-glass which +stood between the windows, and could not help giving a little approving +nod to her reflection. Though not a great beauty, Hildegarde was +certainly a remarkably pretty and even distinguished-looking girl; and +"being neither blind nor a fool," she soliloquized, "where is the harm +in acknowledging it?" But the next moment the thought came: "What +difference will it make, in a stupid farm-house, whether I am pretty or +not? I might as well be a Hottentot!" and with the "quiet and cold" look +darkening over her face, she went slowly down stairs. + +Her father met her with a kiss and clasp of the hand even warmer than +usual. + +"Well, General!" he said, in a voice which insisted upon being cheery, +"marching orders, eh? Marching orders! Break up camp! boot, saddle, to +horse and away! Forces to march in different directions, by order of the +commander-in-chief." But the next moment he added, in an altered tone: +"My girl, mamma knows best; remember that! She is right in this move, as +she generally is. Cheer up, darling, and let us make the last evening a +happy one!" + +Hilda tried to smile, for who _could_ be angry with papa? She made a +little effort, and the father and mother made a great one,--_how_ great +she could not know; and so the evening passed, better than might have +been expected. + +The evening passed, and the night, and the next day came; and it was +like waking from a strange dream when Hilda found herself in a railway +train, with her father sitting beside her, and her mother's farewell +kiss yet warm on her cheek, speeding over the open country, away from +home and all that she held most dear. Her dressing-bag, with her +umbrella neatly strapped to it, was in the rack overhead, the check for +her trunk in her pocket. Could it all be true? She tried to listen while +her father told her of the happy days he had spent on his grandfather's +farm when he was a boy; but the interest was not real, and she found it +hard to fix her mind on what he was saying. What did she care about +swinging on gates, or climbing apple-trees, or riding unruly colts! She +was not a boy, nor even a tomboy. When he spoke of the delights of +walking in the country through woodland and meadow, her thoughts strayed +to Fifth Avenue, with its throng of well-dressed people, the glittering +equipages rolling by, the stately houses on either side, through whose +shining windows one caught glimpses of the splendors within; and to the +Park, with its shady alleys and well-kept lawns. Could there be any +walking so delightful as that which these afforded? Surely not! Ah! +Madge and Helen were probably just starting for their walk now. Did they +know of her banishment? would they laugh at the thought of Queen +Hildegardis vegetating for three months at a wretched-- + +"Glenfield!" The brakeman's voice rang clear and sharp through the car. +Hilda started, and seized her father's hand convulsively. + +"Papa!" she whispered, "O papa! don't leave me here; take me home! I +cannot bear it!" + +"Come, my child!" said Mr. Graham, speaking low, and with an odd catch +in his voice; "that is not the way to go into action. Remember, this is +your first battle. So, eyes front! charge bayonets! quick step! forward, +_march_!" + +The train had stopped. They were on the platform. Mr. Graham led Hilda +up to a stout, motherly-looking woman, who held out her hand with a +beaming smile. + +"Here is my daughter, Mrs. Hartley!" he said, hastily. "You will take +good care of her, I know. My darling, good-by! I go on to Dashford, and +home by return train in an hour. God bless you, my Hilda! Courage! Up, +Guards, and at them! Remember Waterloo!" and he was gone. The engine +shrieked an unearthly "Good-by!" and the train rumbled away, leaving +Hilda gazing after it through a mist which only her strong will +prevented from dissolving in tears. + +"Well, my dear," said Dame Hartley's cheery voice, "your papa's gone, +and you must not stand here and fret after him. Here is old Nancy +shaking her head, and wondering why she does not get home to her dinner. +Do you get into the cart, and I will get the station-master to put your +trunk in for us." + +Hilda obeyed in silence; and climbing into the neat wagon, took her seat +and looked about her while Dame Hartley bustled off in search of the +station-master. There was not very much to look at at Glenfield station. +The low wooden building with its long platform stood on a bare spot of +ground, from which the trees all stood back, as if to mark their +disapproval of the railway and all that belonged to it. The sandy soil +made little attempt to produce vegetation, but put out little humps of +rock occasionally, to show what it could do. Behind, a road led off into +the woods, hiding itself behind the low-hanging branches of chestnut and +maple, ash and linden trees. That was all. Now that the train was gone, +the silence was unbroken save by the impatient movements of the old +white mare as she shook the flies off and rattled the jingling harness. + +Hilda was too weary to think. She had slept little the night before, and +the suddenness of the recent changes confused her mind and made her feel +as if she were some one else, and not herself at all. She sat patiently, +counting half-unconsciously each quiver of Nancy's ears. But now Dame +Hartley came bustling back with the station-master, and between the two, +Hilda's trunk was hoisted into the cart. Then the good woman climbed in +over the wheel, settled her ample person on the seat and gathered up the +reins, while the station-master stood smoothing the mare's mane, ready +for a parting word of friendly gossip. + +"Jacob pooty smart!" he asked, brushing a fly from Nancy's shoulder. + +"Only middling," was the reply. "He had a touch o' rheumatiz, that last +spell of wet weather, and it seems to hang on, kind of. Ketches him in +the joints and the small of his back if he rises up suddin." + +"I know! I know!" replied the station-master, with eager interest. "Jest +like my spells ketches me; on'y I have it powerful bad acrost my +shoulders, too. I been kerryin' a potato in my pocket f'r over and above +a week now, and I'm in hopes 't'll cure me." + +"A potato in your pocket!" exclaimed Dame Hartley. "Reuel Slocum! what +_do_ you mean?" + +"Sounds curus, don't it?" returned Mr. Slocum. "But it's a fact that +it's a great cure for rheumatiz. A grea-at cure! Why, there's Barzillay +Smith, over to Peat's Corner, has kerried a potato in his pocket for +five years,--not the same potato, y' know; changes 'em when they begin +to sprout,--and he hesn't hed a touch o' rheumatism all that time. Not a +touch! tol' me so himself." + +"Had he ever hed it before?" asked Dame Hartley. + +"I d'no as he hed," said Mr. Slocum, "But his father hed; an' his +granf'ther before him. So ye see--" + +But here Hilda uttered a long sigh of weariness and impatience; and Dame +Hartley, with a penitent glance at her, bade good-morning to the victim +of rheumatism, gave old Nancy a smart slap with the reins, and drove off +down the wood-road. + +"My dear child," she said to Hilda as they jogged along, "I ought not to +have kept you waiting so long, and you tired with your ride in the cars. +But Reuel Slocum lives all alone here, and he does enjoy a little chat +with an old neighbor more than most folks; so I hope you'll excuse me." + +"It is of no consequence, thank you," murmured Hildegarde, with cold +civility. She did not like to be called "my dear child," to begin with; +and besides, she was very weary and heartsick, and altogether miserable. +But she tried to listen, as the good woman continued to talk in a +cheery, comfortable tone, telling her how fond she had always been of +"Miss Mildred," as she called Mrs. Graham, and how she had the care of +her till she was almost a woman grown, and never would have left her +then if Jacob Hartley hadn't got out of patience. + +"And to think how you've grown, Hilda dear! You don't remember it, of +course, but this isn't the first time you have been at Hartley's Glen. A +sweet baby you were, just toddling about on the prettiest little feet I +ever saw, when your mamma brought you out here to spend a month with old +Nurse Lucy. And your father came out every week, whenever he could get +away from his business. What a fine man he is, to be sure! And he and my +husband had rare times, shooting over the meadows, and fishing, and the +like." + +They were still in the wood-road, now jolting along over ridges and +hummocks, now ploughing through stretches of soft, sandy soil. Above and +on either side, the great trees interlaced their branches, sometimes +letting them droop till they brushed against Hilda's cheek, sometimes +lifting them to give her a glimpse of cool vistas of dusky green, shade +within shade,--moss-grown hollows, where the St. John's-wort showed its +tarnished gold, and white Indian pipe gleamed like silver along the +ground; or stony beds over which, in the time of the spring rains, +little brown brooks ran foaming and bubbling down through the woods. The +air was filled with the faint cool smell of ferns, and on every side +were great masses of them,--clumps of splendid ostrich-ferns, waving +their green plumes in stately pride; miniature forests of the graceful +brake, beneath whose feathery branches the wood-mouse and other tiny +forest-creatures roamed secure; and in the very road-way, trampled under +old Nancy's feet, delicate lady-fern, and sturdy hart's-tongue, and a +dozen other varieties, all perfect in grace and sylvan beauty. Hilda was +conscious of a vague delight, through all her fatigue and distress How +beautiful it was; how cool and green and restful! If she must stay in +the country, why could it not be always in the woods, where there was no +noise, nor dust, nor confusion? + +Her revery was broken in upon by Dame Hartley's voice crying cheerily,-- + +"And here we are, out of the woods at last! Cheer up, my pretty, and let +me show you the first sight of the farm. It's a pleasant, heartsome +place, to my thinking." + +The trees opened left and right, stepping back and courtesying, like +true gentlefolks as they are, with delicate leaf-draperies drooping low. +The sun shone bright and hot on a bit of hard, glaring yellow road, and +touched more quietly the roofs and chimneys of an old yellow farm-house +standing at some distance from the road, with green rolling meadows on +every side, and a great clump of trees mounting guard behind it. A low +stone wall, with wild-roses nodding over it, ran along the roadside for +some way, and midway in it was a trim, yellow-painted gate, which stood +invitingly open, showing a neat drive-way, shaded on either side by +graceful drooping elms. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and quickened her +pace into a very respectable trot, as if she already smelt her oats. +Dame Hartley shook her own comfortable shoulders and gave a little sigh +of relief, for she too was tired, and glad to get home. But Hilda +tightened her grasp on the handle of her dressing-bag, and closed her +eyes with a slight shiver of dislike and dread. She would not look at +this place. It was the hateful prison where she was to be shut up for +three long, weary, dismal months. The sun might shine on it, the trees +might wave, and the wild-roses open their slender pink buds; it would be +nothing to her. She hated it, and nothing, nothing, _nothing_ could +_ever_ make her feel differently. Ah! the fixed and immovable +determination of fifteen,--does later life bring anything like it? + +But now the wagon stopped, and Hilda must open her eyes, whether she +would or no. In the porch, under the blossoming clematis, stood a tall, +broad-shouldered man, dressed in rough homespun, who held out his great +brown hand and said in a gruff, hearty voice,-- + +"Here ye be, eh? Thought ye was never comin'. And this is little miss, +is it? Howdy, missy? Glad to see ye! Let me jump ye out over the wheel!" + +But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;" and barely touching the proffered +hand, sprang lightly to the ground. + +"Now, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley, "let's see you give a jump like +that. 'Tain't so long, seems to me, sence ye used to be as spry as a +hoppergrass." + +Dame Hartley laughed, and climbed leisurely down from the cart. "Never +mind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spry enough yet to take care of you, if I +can't jump as well as I used." + +"This missy's trunk?" continued the farmer. "Let me see! What's missy's +name now? Huldy, ain't it! Little Huldy! 'Pears to me that's what they +used to call ye when ye was here before." + +"My name is Hildegardis Graham!" said Hilda in her most icy +manner,--what Madge Everton used to call her +Empress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zero +manner. + +"Huldy Gardies!" repeated Farmer Hartley. "Well, that's a comical name +now! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys, doosn't it? Where did Mis' Graham pick up +a name like that, I wonder? But I reckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout the +Gardies, whatever they be." + +"Come, father," said Dame Hartley, "the child's tired now, an' I guess +she wants to go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk, we'll follow ye." + +The stalwart farmer swung the heavy trunk up on his shoulder as lightly +as if it were a small satchel, and led the way into the house and up the +steep, narrow staircase. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR. + + +As she followed in angry silence, Hilda had a glimpse through a +half-open door of a cosey sitting-room; while another door, standing +fully open at the other end of the little hall, showed, by a blaze of +scarlet tiger-lilies and yellow marigolds, where the garden lay. And now +the farmer opened a door and set down the trunk with a heavy thump; and +Dame Hartley, taking the girl's hand, led her forward, saying: "Here, my +dear, here is your own little room,--the same that your dear mamma slept +in when she was here! And I hope you'll be happy in it, Hilda dear, and +get all the good we wish for you while you're here!" Hilda bowed +slightly, feeling unable to speak; and the good woman continued: "You +must be hungry as well as tired, travelling since morning. It's near our +dinner-time. Or shall I bring ye up something now,--a cup o' tea and a +cooky, eh? Or would you like solid victuals better?" + +"Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not at all hungry; I could not possibly +eat anything. My head aches badly!" she added, nervously forestalling +her hostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cup of tea later, thank you! I +should like to rest now. And I shall not want any dinner." + +"Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when you have rested a bit," said Dame +Hartley, smoothing the girl's fair hair with a motherly touch, and not +seeming to notice her angry shrinking away. "It's the best thing you can +do, to lie down and take a good nap; then you'll wake up fresh as a +lark, and ready to enjoy yourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring up your +tea in an hour or so." And with a parting nod and smile, the good woman +departed, leaving Hilda, like the heroine of a three-volume novel, +"alone with her despair." + +Very tragic indeed the maiden looked as she tossed off her hat and flung +herself face downward on the bed, refusing to cast even a glance at the +cell which was to be her hateful prison. "For of course I shall spend my +time here!" she said to herself. "They may send me here, keep me here +for years, if they will; but they cannot make me associate with these +people." And she recalled with a shudder the gnarled, horny hand which +she had touched in jumping from the cart,--she had never felt anything +like it; the homely speech, and the nasal twang with which it was +delivered; the uncouth garb (good stout butternut homespun!) and unkempt +hair and beard of the "odious old savage," as she mentally named Farmer +Hartley. + +After all, however, Hilda was only fifteen; and after a few minutes, +Curiosity began to wake; and after a short struggle with Despair, it +conquered, and she sat up on the bed and looked about her. + +It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright, clean, fresh little room, all +white and blue. White walls, white bedstead, with oh! such snowy +coverings, white dimity curtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ball +fringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaint +looking-glass framed with fat gilt cherubs, all apparently trying to +fold their wings in such a way as to enable them to get a peep at +themselves in the mirror, and not one succeeding. Then there was a low +rocking-chair, and another chair of the high-backed order, and a tall +chest of drawers, all painted white, and a wash-hand-stand with a set of +dark-blue crockery on it which made the victim of despair open her eyes +wide. Hilda had a touch of china mania, and knew a good thing when she +saw it; and this deep, eight-sided bowl, this graceful jug with the +quaint gilt dragon for a handle, these smaller jugs, boxes, and dishes, +all of the same pattern, all with dark-blue dragons (no cold "Canton" +blue, but a rich, splendid ultramarine), large and small, prancing and +sprawling on a pale buff ground,--what were these things doing in the +paltry bedroom of a common farm-house? Hilda felt a new touch of +indignation at "these people" for presuming to have such things in their +possession. + +When her keen eyes had taken in everything, down to the neat rag-carpet +on the floor, the girl bethought her of her trunk. She might as well +unpack it. Her head could not ache worse, whatever she did; and now that +that little imp Curiosity was once awake, he prompted her to wonder what +the trunk contained. None of the dresses she had been wearing, she was +sure of that; for they were all hanging safely in her wardrobe at home. +What surprise had mamma been planning? Well, she would soon know. +Hastily unlocking the trunk, she lifted out one tray after another and +laid them on the bed. In the first were piles of snowy collars and +handkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen, with no lace or embroidery; a +broad-brimmed straw hat with a simple wreath of daisies round it; +another hat, a small one, of rough gray felt, with no trimming at all, +save a narrow scarlet ribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; a couple of +white aprons, and one of brown holland, with long sleeves. The next tray +was filled with dresses,--dresses which made Hilda's eyes open wide +again, as she laid them out, one by one, at full length. There was a +dark blue gingham with a red stripe, a brown gingham dotted with yellow +daisies, a couple of light calicoes, each with a tiny figure or flower +on it, a white lawn, and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel. All these +dresses, and among them all not an atom of trimming. No sign of an +overskirt, no ruffle or puff, plaiting or ruching, no "Hamburg" or +lace,--nothing! Plain round waists, neatly stitched at throat and +wrists; plain round skirts, each with a deep hem, and not so much as a +tuck by way of adornment. + +Hildegarde drew a deep breath, and looked at the simple frocks with +kindling eyes and flushing cheeks. These were the sort of dresses that +her mother's servants wore at home. Why was she condemned to wear them +now,--she, who delighted in soft laces and dainty embroideries and the +clinging draperies which she thought suited her slender, pliant figure +so well? Was it a part of this whole scheme; and was the object of the +scheme to humiliate her, to take away her self-respect, her proper +pride? + +Mechanically, but carefully, as was her wont, Hilda hung the despised +frocks in the closet, put away the hats, after trying them on and +approving of them, in spite of herself ("Of course," she said, "mamma +_could_ not get an ugly hat, if she tried!"), and then proceeded to take +out and lay in the bureau drawers the dainty under-clothing which filled +the lower part of the trunk. Under all was a layer of books, at sight +of which Hilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!" she said, "I shall +not be quite alone;" for she saw at a glance that here were some old and +dear friends. Lovingly she took them up, one by one: "Romances of the +Middle Ages," Percy's "Reliques," "Hereward," and "Westward, Ho!" and, +best-beloved of all, the "Adventures of Robin Hood," by grace of Howard +Pyle made into so strong an enchantment that the heart thrills even at +sight of its good brown cover. And here was her Tennyson and her +Longfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, and the "Book of Golden Deeds." Verily +a goodly company, such as might even turn a prison into a palace. But +what was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, this +white leather case, with--ah! Hilda--with blue forget-me-nots delicately +painted on it? Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring. Her +mother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes looked lovingly into +hers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, +seemed almost to quiver as if in life. So kind, so loving, so faithful, +so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joy +or to comfort one's grief,--her own dear, dear mother! A mist came +before the girl's eyes. She gazed at the miniature till she could no +longer see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, she +burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would +break. No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged and indignant +"prisoner," only Hilda,--Hilda who wanted her mother! + +Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,--which was the very best thing she +could have done. By and by Dame Hartley peeped softly in, and seeing the +child lying "all in a heap," as she said to herself, with her pretty +hair all tumbled about, brought a shawl and covered her carefully up, +and went quietly away. + +"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, +like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better,--though I fear it +will be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, +Miss Mildred, dear!" + +Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summer +twilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start +from a dream of home. + +"Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For one +moment she stared in amazement at the strange room, with its unfamiliar +furnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as a +knock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said: + +"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. +Will you come down with me?" + +"Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not--I +haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!" + +"Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. +"You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. +Come down just as you are, there's a dear!" + +Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands +in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon +pitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little +curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she +followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably +resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a +great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, +and very, very hungry,--and oh, how good something did smell! + +Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at Hartley +Farm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of a +modern stove in the back kitchen, while the great fireplace, with the +crane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as a +rule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming, +and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between the +iron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at Hartley +Farm,--wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south and +west; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century of +scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side of +the room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held a +goodly array of polished pewter and brass, shining glass, and curious +old china and crockery. Overhead were dark, heavy rafters, relieved by +the gleam of yellow "crook-neck" squashes, bunches of golden corn, and +long festoons of dried apples. In one window stood the good dame's +rocking-chair, with its gay patchwork cushion; and her Bible, +spectacles, and work-basket lay on the window-seat beside it. In +another was a huge leather arm-chair, which Hilda rightly supposed to be +the farmer's, and a wonderful piece of furniture, half desk, half chest +of drawers, with twisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-holes and tiny +drawers, and I don't know what else. The third window Hilda thought was +the prettiest of all. It faced the west, and the full glory of sunset +was now pouring through the clustering vines which partly shaded it. The +sash was open, and a white rose was leaning in and nodding in a friendly +way, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, +both of quaint and graceful fashion, stood in the recess; and on the +window-seat stood some flowering-plants in pretty blue and white pots. + +"I suppose _I_ am expected to sit there!" said Hilda to herself. "As if +I should sit down in a kitchen!" But all the while she knew in her heart +of hearts that this was one of the most attractive rooms she had ever +seen, and that that particular corner was pretty enough and picturesque +enough for a queen to sit in. You are not to think that she saw all +these things at the first glance; far from it. There was something else +in the room which claimed the immediate attention of our heroine, and +that was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered with +good things,--cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, a +great brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rolls +piled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled with +rich, creamy milk. Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine of +fifteen! But alas! at the head of this inviting table sat Farmer +Hartley, the "odious savage," in his rough homespun coat, with his hair +still very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and the +broad, horny hands were scrupulously clean). With a slight shudder Hilda +took the seat which Dame Hartley offered her. + +"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon with +a cheery smile, "here ye be, eh? Rested after yer journey, be ye?" + +"Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly. + +"Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on her +plate. "An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey? That's right! +It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, +unless it's soft custard. I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler. +Haw! haw!" + +Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined to pay no attention to the +vulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster. It was hard enough to eat +with a steel fork, without being further tormented. But the farmer +seemed determined to drag her into conversation. + +"How's yer ha-alth in gineral, Huldy? Pooty rugged, be ye? Seems to me +ye look kin' o' peaked." + +"I am quite well!" It was Queen Hildegarde who spoke now, in icy tones; +but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious host. + +"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used ter +things, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We're short-handed +now, and a smart, likely gal kin be a sight o' help. There's the cows +ter milk--the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and _she_ only +kicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her." + +Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in the +farmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her. The angry blood +surged up even to the roots of her hair; but she disdained to reply, and +continued to crumble her bread in silence. + +"Father, what ails you?" said kind Dame Hartley. "Why can't you let the +child alone? She's tired yet, and she doesn't understand your joking +ways.--Don't you mind the farmer, dear, one bit; his heart's in the +right place, but he do love to tease." + +But the good woman's gentle words were harder to bear, at that moment, +than her husband's untimely jesting. Hilda's heart swelled high. She +felt that in another moment the tears must come; and murmuring a word of +excuse, she hastily pushed back her chair and left the room. + +An hour after, Hilda was sitting by the window of her own room, looking +listlessly out on the soft summer evening, and listening to the +melancholy cry of the whippoorwill, when she heard voices below. The +farmer was sitting with his pipe in the vine-clad porch just under the +window; and now his wife had joined him, after "redding up" the kitchen, +and giving orders for the next morning to the tidy maidservant. + +"Well, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley's gruff, hearty voice, "now thet +you have your fine bird, I sh'd like to know what you're a-goin' to do +with her. She's as pretty as a pictur, but a stuck-up piece as ever I +see. Don't favor her mother, nor father either, as I can see." + +"Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with a sigh, "I fear she will have a +hard time of it before she comes to herself. But I promised Miss Mildred +that I would try my best; and you said you would help me, Jacob." + +"So I did, and so I will!" replied the farmer. "But tell me agin, what +was Miss Mildred's idee? I got the giner'l drift of it, but I can't seem +to put it together exactly. I didn't s'pose the gal was _this_ kind, +anyhow." + +"She told me," Dame Hartley said, "that this child--her only one, Jacob! +you know what that means--was getting into ways she didn't like. Going +about with other city misses, who cared for nothing but pleasure, and +who flattered and petted her because of her beauty and her pretty, proud +ways (and maybe because of her father's money too; though Miss Mildred +didn't say that), she was getting to think too much of herself, and to +care too much for fine dresses and sweetmeats and idle chatter about +nothing at all." (How Hilda's cheeks burned as she remembered the long +séances in her room, she on the sofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, with +the box of Huyler's or Maillard's best always between them! Had they +ever talked of anything "worth the while," as mamma would say? She +remembered mamma's coming in upon them once or twice, with her sweet, +grave face. She remembered, too, a certain uneasy feeling she had had +for a moment--only for a moment--when the door closed behind her mother. +But Madge had laughed, and said, "Isn't your mother perfectly sweet? She +doesn't mind a bit, does she?" and she had answered, "Oh, no!" and had +forgotten it in the account of Helen McIvor's new bonnet.) "And then +Miss Mildred said, 'I had meant to take her into the country with me +this summer, and try to show the child what life really means, and let +her learn to know her brothers and sisters in the different walks of +this life, and how they live, and what they do. I want her to see for +herself what a tiny bit of the world, and what a silly, useless, gilded +bit, is the little set of fashionable girls whom she has chosen for her +friends. But this sudden call to California has disarranged all my +plans. I cannot take her with me there, for the child is not well, and +country air and quiet are necessary for her bodily health. And so, Nurse +Lucy,' she says, 'I want _you_ to take my child, and do by her as you +did by me!' + +"'Oh! Miss Mildred,' I said, 'do you think she can be happy or contented +here? I'll do my best; I'm sure you know that! But if she's as you say, +she is a very different child to what you were, Miss Mildred dear.' + +"'She will not be happy at first,' says Miss Mildred. 'But she has a +really noble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I am very sure that it will triumph +over the follies and faults which are on the outside.' + +"And then she kissed me, the dear! and came up and helped me set the +little room to rights, and kissed the pillows, sweet lady, and cried +over them a bit. Ah me! 'tis hard parting from our children, even for a +little while, that it is." + +Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Then she said: "And so, here the child +is, for good or for ill, and we must do our very best by her, Jacob, you +as well as I. What ailed you to-night, to tease her so at supper? I +thought shame of you, my man." + +"Well, Marm Lucy," said the farmer, "I don't hardly know what ailed me. +But I tell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry for me, and I thought +laughin' was better nor t'other. To see that gal a-settin' there, with +her pretty head tossed up, and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twas an +honor to the vittles to put them in her mouth; and to think of my +maid--" He stopped abruptly, and rising from the bench, began to pace up +and down the garden-path. His wife joined him after a moment, and the +two walked slowly to and fro together, talking in low tones, while the +soft summer darkness gathered closer and closer, and the pleasant +night-sounds woke, cricket and katydid and the distant whippoorwill +filling the air with a cheerful murmur. + +Long, long sat Hildegarde at the window, thinking more deeply than she +had ever thought in her life before. Different passions held her young +mind in control while she sat motionless, gazing into the darkness with +wide-open eyes. First anger burned high, flooding her cheek with hot +blushes, making her temples throb and her hands clench themselves in a +passion of resentment. But to this succeeded a mood of deep sadness, of +despair, as she thought; though at fifteen one knows not, happily, the +meaning of despair. + +Was this all true? Was she no better, no wiser, than the silly girls of +her set? She had always felt herself so far above them mentally; they +had always so frankly acknowledged her supremacy; she knew she was +considered a "very superior girl:" was it true that her only superiority +lay in possessing powers which she never chose to exert? And then came +the bitter thought: "What have I ever done to prove myself wiser than +they?" Alas for the answer! Hilda hid her face in her hands, and it was +shame instead of anger that now sent the crimson flush over her cheeks. +Her mother despised her! Her mother--perhaps her father too! They loved +her, of course; the tender love had never failed, and would never fail. +They were proud of her too, in a way. And yet they despised her; they +must despise her! How could they help it? Her mother, whose days were a +ceaseless round of work for others, without a thought of herself; her +father, active, energetic, business-like,--what must her life seem to +them? How was it that she had never seen, never dreamed before, that she +was an idle, silly, frivolous girl? The revelation came upon her with +stunning force. These people too, these coarse country people, despised +her and laughed at her! The thought was more than she could bear. She +sprang up, feeling as if she were suffocating, and walked up and down +the little room with hurried and nervous steps. Then suddenly there came +into her mind one sentence of her mother's that Dame Hartley had +repeated: "Hilda has a really noble nature--" What was the rest? +Something about triumphing over the faults and follies which lay +outside. Had her mother really said that? Did she believe, trust in, her +silly daughter? The girl stood still, with clasped hands and bowed head. +The tumult within her seemed to die away, and in its place something was +trembling into life, the like of which Hilda Graham had never known, +never thought of, before; faint and timid at first, but destined to gain +strength and to grow from that one moment,--a wish, a hope, finally a +resolve. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE NEW HILDA. + + +The morning came laughing into Hilda's room, and woke her with such a +flash of sunshine and trill of bird-song that she sprang up smiling, +whether she would or no. Indeed, she felt happier than she could have +believed to be possible. The anger, the despair, even the +self-humiliation and anguish of repentance, were gone with the night. +Morning was here,--a new day and a new life. "Here is the new +Hildegarde!" she cried as she plunged her face into the clear, sparkling +water. "Do you see me, blue dragons? Shake paws, you foolish creatures, +and don't stand ramping and glaring at each other in that way! Here is a +new girl come to see you. The old one was a minx,--do you hear, +dragons?" The dragons heard, but were too polite to say anything; and as +for not ramping, why they had ramped and glared for fifty years, and had +no idea of making a change at their time of life. + +The gilt cherubs round the little mirror were more amiable, and smiled +cheerfully at Hilda as she brushed and braided her hair, and put on the +pretty blue gingham frock. "We have no clothes ourselves," they seemed +to say, "but we appreciate good ones when we see them!" Indeed, the +frock fitted to perfection. "And after all," said the new Hilda as she +twirled round in front of the glass, "what _is_ the use of an +overskirt?" after which astounding utterance, this young person +proceeded to do something still more singular. After a moment's +hesitation she drew out one of the white aprons which she had scornfully +laid in the very lowest drawer only twelve hours before, tied it round +her slender waist, and then, with an entirely satisfied little nod at +the mirror, she tripped lightly downstairs and into the kitchen. Dame +Hartley was washing dishes at the farther end of the room, in her neat +little cedar dish-tub, with her neat little mop; and she nearly dropped +the blue and white platter from her hands when she heard Hilda's +cheerful "Good morning, Nurse Lucy!" and, turning, saw the girl smiling +like a vision of morning. + +"My dear," she cried, "sure I thought you were fast asleep still. I was +going up to wake you as soon as I had done my dishes. And did you sleep +well your first night at Hartley's Glen?" + +"Oh, yes! I slept very sound indeed," said Hilda, lightly. And then, +coming close up to Dame Hartley, she said in an altered tone, and with +heightened color: "Nurse Lucy, I did not behave well last night, and I +want to tell you that I am sorry. I am not like mamma, but I want to +grow a little like her, if I can, and you must help me, please!" + +Her voice faltered, and good Nurse Lucy, laying down her mop, took the +slender figure in her motherly arms, from which it did not now shrink +away. + +"My lamb!" she said; "Miss Mildred's own dear child! You look liker your +blessed mother this minute than I ever thought you would. Help you? That +I will, with all my heart!--though I doubt if you need much help, coming +to yourself so soon as this. Well, well!" + +"Coming to herself!" It was the same phrase the good dame had used the +night before, and it struck Hilda's mind with renewed force. Yes, she +had come to herself,--her new self, which was to be so different from +the old. How strange it all was! What should she do now, to prove the +new Hilda and try her strength? Something must be done at once; the time +for folded hands and listless revery was gone by. + +"Shall I--may I help you to get breakfast?" she asked aloud, rather +timidly. + +"Breakfast? Bless you, honey, we had breakfast two hours ago. We farmers +are early birds, you know. But you can lay a plate and napkin for +yourself, if you like, while I drop a couple of fresh eggs and toast a +bit of bacon for you. Do you like bacon, then?" + +Rather disappointed at the failure of her first attempt to be useful, +Hilda laid the snowy napkin on the shining table, and chose a pretty +blue and white plate from the well-stocked shelves of the dresser. + +"And now open that cupboard, my lamb," said her hostess, "and you'll +find the loaf, and a piece of honeycomb, and some raspberries. I'll +bring a pat of butter and some milk from the dairy, where it's all cool +for you." + +"Raspberries!" cried Hilda. "Oh, how delightful! Why, the dew is still +on them, Nurse Lucy! And how pretty they look, with the cool green +leaves round them!" + +"Ay!" said the good woman, "Jacob brought them in not ten minutes ago. +He thought you would like them fresh from the bushes." + +Hilda's cheek rivalled the raspberries in bloom as she bent over them to +inhale their fragrance. The farmer had picked these himself for +her,--had probably left his work to do so; and she had called him an +odious old savage, and an unkempt monster, and--oh dear! decidedly, the +old Hilda was a very disagreeable girl. But here were the eggs, each +blushing behind its veil of white, and here was the milk, and a little +firm nugget in a green leaf, which was too beautiful to be butter, and +yet too good to be anything else. And the new Hilda might eat her +breakfast with a thankful heart, and did so. The white rose nodded to +her from the west window much more cordially than it had done the night +before. It even brought out a little new bud to take a peep at the girl +who now smiled, instead of scowling across the room. The vines rustled +and shook, and two bright black eyes peeped between the leaves. +"Tweet!" said the robin, ruffling his scarlet waistcoat a little. "When +you have quite finished your worms, you may come out, and I will show +you the garden. There are cherries!" and away he flew, while Hilda +laughed and clapped her hands, for she had understood every word. + +"May I go out into the garden?" she asked, when she had finished her +breakfast and taken her first lesson in dish-washing, in spite of Dame +Hartley's protest. "And isn't there something I can do there, please? I +want to work; I don't want to be idle any longer." + +"Well, honey," replied the dame, "there are currants to pick, if you +like such work as that. I am going to make jelly to-morrow; and if you +like to begin the picking, I will come and help you when my bread is out +of the oven." + +Gladly Hilda flew up to her room for the broad-leaved hat with the +daisy-wreath; and then, taking the wide, shallow basket which Dame +Hartley handed her, she fairly danced out of the door, over the bit of +green, and into the garden. + +Ah! the sweet, heartsome country garden that this was,--the very thought +of it is a rest and a pleasure. Straight down the middle ran a little +gravel path, with a border of fragrant clove-pinks on either side, +planted so close together that one saw only the masses of pale pink +blossoms resting on their bed of slender silvery leaves. And over the +border! Oh the wealth of flowers, the blaze of crimson and purple and +gold, the bells that swung, the spires that sprang heavenward, the +clusters that nodded and whispered together in the morning breeze! Here +were ranks upon ranks of silver lilies, drawn up in military fashion, +and marshalled by clumps of splendid tiger-lilies,--the drum-majors of +the flower-garden. Here were roses of every sort, blushing and paling, +glowing in gold and mantling in crimson. And the carnations showed their +delicate fringes, and the geraniums blazed, and the heliotrope +languished, and the "Puritan pansies" lifted their sweet faces and +looked gravely about, as if reproving the other flowers for their +frivolity; while shy Mignonette, thinking herself well hidden behind her +green leaves, still made her presence known by the exquisite perfume +which all her gay sisters would have been glad to borrow. + +Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking and playing; and through all went +Hildegarde, her heart filled with a new delight, feeling as if she had +never lived before. She talked to the flowers. She bent and kissed the +damask rose, which was too beautiful to pluck. She put her cheek against +a lily's satin-silver petals, and started when an angry bee flew out and +buzzed against her nose. But where were the currant-bushes? Ah! there +they were,--a row of stout green bushes, forming a hedge at the bottom +of the garden. + +Hilda fell busily to work, filling her basket with the fine, ruddy +clusters. "How beautiful they are!" she thought, holding up a bunch so +that the sunlight shone through it. "And these pale, pinky golden ones, +which show all the delicate veins inside. Really, I _must_ eat this fat +bunch; they are like fairy grapes! The butler fay comes and picks a +cluster every evening, and carries it on a lily-leaf platter to the +queen as she sits supping on honey-cakes and dew under the damask +rose-bush." + +While fingers and fancy were thus busily employed, Hilda was startled by +the sound of a voice which seemed to come from beyond the +currant-bushes, very near her. She stood quite still and listened. + +"A-g, ag," said the voice; "g-l-o-m, glom,--agglom; e-r er,--agglomer; +a-t-e, ate,--agglomerate." There was a pause, and then it began again: +"A-g, ag; g-l-o-m, glom," etc. + +Hilda's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down her +basket, she cautiously parted the leaves and peeped through. She hardly +knew what she expected to see. What she did see was a boy about ten +years old, in a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged breeches, busily +weeding a row of carrots; for this was the vegetable garden, which lay +behind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was a huge heap of +weeds; on the other lay a tattered book, at which he glanced from time +to time, though without leaving his work. "A-n, an," he was now saying; +"t-i, ti,--anti; c-i-p, cip,--anticip; a-t-e, ate,--anti_cip_ate. 'To +expect.' Well! that _is_ a good un. Why can't they _say_ expect, 'stead +o' breakin' their jawsen with a word like that? Anti_cip_-ate! Well, I +swan! I hope he enjoyed eatin' it. Sh'd think 't'd ha giv' him the +dyspepsy, anyhow." + +At this Hilda could contain herself no longer, but burst into a merry +peal of laughter; and as the boy started up with staring eyes and open +mouth, she pushed the bushes aside and came towards him. "I am sorry I +laughed," she said, not unkindly. "You said that so funnily, I couldn't +help it. You did not pronounce the word quite right, either. It is +an_ti_cipate, not antic_ip_-ate." + +[Illustration: "SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"] + +The boy looked half bewildered and half grateful. "An_ti_cipate!" he +repeated, slowly. "Thanky, miss! it's a onreasonable sort o' word, +'pears ter me." And he bent over his carrots again. + +But Hilda did not return to her currant-picking. She was interested in +this freckled, tow-headed boy, wrestling with four-syllabled words while +he worked. + +"Why do you study your lesson out here?" she asked, sitting down on a +convenient stump, and refreshing herself with another bunch of white +currants. "Couldn't you learn it better indoors?" + +"Dunno!" replied the boy. "Ain't got no time ter stay indoors." + +"You might learn it in the evening!" suggested Hilda. + +"I can't keep awake evenin's," said the boy, simply. "Hev to be up at +four o'clock to let the cows out, an' I git sleepy, come night. An' I +like it here too," he added. "I can l'arn 'em easier, weedin'; take ten +weeds to a word." + +"Ten weeds to a word?" repeated Hilda. "I don't understand you." + +"Why," said the boy, looking up at her with wide-open blue eyes, "I take +a good stiff word (I like 'em stiff, like that an--an_ti_cipate feller), +and I says it over and over while I pull up ten weeds,--big weeds, o' +course, pusley and sich. I don't count chickweed. By the time the weeds +is up, I know the word, I've larned fifteen this spell!" and he glanced +proudly at his tattered spelling-book as he tugged away at a mammoth +root of pusley, which stretched its ugly, sprawling length of fleshy +arms on every side. + +Hilda watched him for some moments, many new thoughts revolving in her +head. How many country boys were there who taught themselves in this +way? How many, among the clever girls at Mademoiselle Haut-ton's +school, had this sort of ambition to learn, of pride in learning? Had +she, the best scholar in her class, had it? She had always known her +lessons, because they were easy for her to learn, because she had a +quick eye and ear, and a good memory. She could not help learning, +Mademoiselle said. But this,--this was something different! + +"What is your name?" she asked, with a new interest. + +"Bubble Chirk," replied the freckled boy, with one eye on his book, and +the other measuring a tall spire of pigweed, towards which he stretched +his hand. + +"WHAT!" cried Hilda, in amazement. + +"Bubble Chirk!" said the boy. "Kin' o' curus name, ain't it? The hull of +it's Zerubbabel Chirk; but most folks ain't got time to say all that. It +trips you up, too, sort o'. Bubble's what they call me; 'nless it's +Bub." + +The contrast between the boy's earnest and rather pathetic face, and +his absurdly volatile name, was almost too much for Hilda's gravity. But +she checked the laugh which rose to her lips, and asked: "Don't you go +to school at all, Bubble? It is a pity that you shouldn't, when you are +so fond of study." + +"Gin'lly go for a spell in the winter," replied Bubble. "They ain't no +school in summer, y' know. Boys hes to work, round here. Mam ain't got +nobody but me 'n Pink, sence father died." + +"Who is Pink?" asked Hilda, gently. + +"My sister," replied Bubble. "Thet ain't _her_ real name, nuther. Mam +hed her christened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein' so fond o' roses, Mam +was; but we don't call her nothin' only Pink." + +"Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself. "What a name! What can a girl +be like who is called Pink Chirk?" + +But now Bubble seemed to think that it was his turn to ask questions. "I +reckon you're the gal that's come to stay at Mr. Hartley's?" he said in +an interrogative tone. + +Hilda's brow darkened for a moment at the word "gal," which came with +innocent frankness from the lips of the ragged urchin before her. But +the next moment she remembered that it was only the old Hilda who cared +about such trifles; so she answered pleasantly enough: + +"Yes, I am staying at Mr. Hartley's. I only came yesterday, but I am to +stay some time." + +"And what mought _your_ name be?" inquired Master Chirk. + +"Hildegardis Graham." It was gently said, in a very different voice from +that which had answered Farmer Hartley in the same words the night +before; but it made a startling impression on Bubble Chirk. + +"Hildy--" he began; and then, giving it up, he said simply: "Well, I +swan! Do ye kerry all that round with ye all the time?" + +Hilda laughed outright at this. + +"Oh, no!" she said; "I am called Hilda generally." + +"But you kin spell the hull of it?" asked the boy anxiously. + +"Yes, certainly!" Bubble's eager look subsided into one of mingled awe +and admiration. + +"Reckon ye must know a heap," he said, rather wistfully. "Wish't I did!" + +Hilda looked at him for a moment without speaking. Her old self was +whispering to her. "Take care what you do!" it said. "This is a coarse, +common, dirty boy. He smells of the stable; his hair is full of hay; his +hands are beyond description. What have you in common with such a +creature? He has not even the sense to know that he is your inferior." +"I don't care!" said the new Hilda. "I know what mamma would do if she +were here, and I shall do it,--or try to do it, at least. Hold your +tongue, you supercilious minx!" + +"Bubble," she said aloud, "would you like me to teach you a little, +while I am here? I think perhaps I could help you with your lessons." + +The boy looked up with a sudden flash in his blue eyes, while his face +grew crimson with pleasure. + +"Would I like it?" he cried eagerly. But the next moment the glow faded, +and he looked awkwardly down at his ragged book and still more ragged +clothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arn that way," he muttered in +confusion. + +"Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly. "There must be _some_ hour in the day +when you can be spared. I shall speak to Farmer Hartley about it. Don't +look at your clothes, you foolish boy," she continued, with a touch of +Queen Hildegardis' quality, yet with a kindly intonation which was new +to that potentate. "I am not going to teach your clothes. _You_ are not +your clothes!" cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself, and a little +flushed with her recent victory over the "minx." The boy's face +brightened again. + +"That's so!" he said, joyously; "that's what Pink says. But I didn't +s'pose _you'd_ think so," he added, glancing bashfully at the delicate, +high-bred face, with its flashing eyes and imperial air. + +"I _do_ think so!" said Hilda. "So that is settled, and we will have our +first lesson to-morrow. What would you--" + +"Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear?" called Dame Hartley's voice from +the other side of the currant-bush-hedge. And catching up her basket, +and bidding a hasty good-by to her new acquaintance and future scholar, +Hildegarde darted back through the bushes. + +Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her a few moments, with kindling eyes and +open mouth of wonder and admiration. + +"Wall!" he said finally, after a pause of silent meditation, "I swan! I +reelly do! I swan to man!" and fell to weeding again as if his life +depended on it. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE BLUE PLATTER. + + + "Merry it is in the green forést, + Among the leavés green!" + +Thus sang Hildegarde as she sat in the west window, busily stringing her +currants. She had been thinking a great deal about Bubble Chirk, making +plans for his education, and wondering what his sister Pink was like. He +reminded her, she could not tell why, of the "lytel boy" who kept fair +Alyce's swine, in her favorite ballad of "Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, +and William of Cloudeslee;" and the words of the ballad rose half +unconsciously to her lips as she bent over the great yellow bowl, heaped +with scarlet and pale-gold clusters. + + "Merry it is in the green forést, + Among the leavés green, + Whenas men hunt east and west + With bows and arrowés keen, + + "For to raise the deer out of their denne,-- + Such sights have oft been seen; + As by three yemen of the north countree: + By them it is, I mean. + + "The one of them hight Adam Bell, + The other Clym o' the Clough; + The third was Willyam of Cloudeslee,-- + An archer good enough. + + "They were outlawed for venison, + These yemen every one. + They swore them brethren on a day + To English wood for to gone. + + "Now lythe and listen, gentylmen, + That of myrthes loveth to hear!" + +At this moment the door opened, and Farmer Hartley entered, taking off +his battered straw hat as he did so, and wiping his forehead with a red +bandanna handkerchief. Hilda looked up with a pleasant smile, meaning to +thank him for the raspberries which he had gathered for her breakfast; +but to her utter astonishment the moment his eyes fell upon her he gave +a violent start and turned very pale; then, muttering something under +his breath, he turned hastily and left the room. + +"Oh! what is the matter?" cried Hilda, jumping up from her chair. "What +have I done, Nurse Lucy? I have made the farmer angry, somehow. Is this +his chair? I thought--" + +"No, no, honey dear!" said Nurse Lucy soothingly. "Sit ye down; sit ye +down! You have done nothing. I'm right glad of it," she added, with a +tone of sadness in her pleasant voice. "Seeing as 'tis all in God's +wisdom, Jacob must come to see it so; and 'tis no help, but a deal of +hindrance, when folks set aside chairs and the like, and see only them +that's gone sitting in them." Then, seeing Hilda's look of bewilderment, +she added, laying her hand gently on the girl's soft hair: "You see, +dear, we had a daughter of our own this time last year. Our only one she +was, and just about your age,--the light of our eyes, our Faith. She +was a good girl, strong and loving and heartsome, and almost as pretty +as yourself, Hilda dear; but the Father had need of her, so she was +taken from us for a while. It was cruel hard for Jacob; cruel, cruel +hard. He can't seem to see, even now, that it was right, or it wouldn't +have been so. And so I can tell just what he felt, coming in just now, +sudden like, and seeing you sitting in Faith's chair. Like as not he +forgot it all for a minute, and thought it was herself. She had a blue +dress that he always liked, and she'd sit here and sing, and the sun +coming in on her through her own window there, as she always called it: +like a pretty picture she was, our Faith." + +"Oh!" cried Hilda, taking the brown, motherly hand in both of hers, "I +am so very, very sorry, dear Nurse Lucy! I did not know! I will never +sit here again. I thought--" + +But she was ashamed to say what she had thought,--that this chair and +table had been set for her to tempt her to sit down "in a kitchen!" She +could hear herself say it as she had said it last night, with a world of +scornful emphasis. How long it seemed since last night; how much older +she had grown! And yet--and yet somehow she felt a great deal younger. + +All this passed through her mind in a moment; but Nurse Lucy was petting +her, and saying: "Nay, dearie; nay, child! This is just where I want you +to sit. 'Twill be a real help to Farmer, once he is used to it. Hark! I +hear him coming now. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sit still where +ye are." + +[Illustration: "SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."] + +Hilda obeyed, though her heart beat painfully; and she bent in real +distress over the currants as Farmer Hartley once more entered the room. +She hardly knew what she feared or expected; but her relief was great +when he bade her a quiet but cheerful "Good-day!" and crossing the +room, sat down in his great leather arm-chair. + +"Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, Jacob!" said the good dame, +cheerily; "I've only to lay the table and dish the mutton." + +"Oh! let me help," cried Hilda, springing up and setting her bowl of +currants on the window-sill. + +So between the two the snowy cloth was laid, and the blue plates and the +shining knives and forks laid out. Then they all sat down, and the +little maid-servant came too, and took her place at the end of the +table; and presently in came a great loutish-looking fellow, about one +or two and twenty, with a great shock of sandy hair and little +ferret-eyes set too near together, whom Dame Hartley introduced as her +nephew. He sat down too, and ate more than all the rest of them put +together. At sight of this man, who gobbled his food noisily, and +uttered loud snorts between the mouthfuls, the old Hilda awoke in full +force. She could _not_ endure this; mamma never could have intended it! +The Hartleys were different, of course. She was willing to acknowledge +that she had been in the wrong about them; but this lout, this oaf, this +villainous-looking churl,--to expect a lady to sit at the same table +with him: it was too much! She would ask if she might not dine in her +own room after this, as apparently it was only at dinner that this +"creature" made his appearance. + +Farmer Hartley had been very silent since he came in, but now he seemed +to feel that he must make an effort to be sociable, so he said kindly, +though gravely,-- + +"I see ye're lookin' at that old dish, Huldy. 'Tis a curus old piece, +'n' that's a fact. Kin ye read the motter on it?" + +Hilda had not been _looking_ at the dish, though her eyes had been +unconsciously fixed upon it, and she now bent forward to examine it. It +was an oblong platter, of old blue and white crockery. In the middle +(which was now visible, as the "creature" had just transferred the last +potato to his own plate, stabbing it with his knife for that purpose) +was a quaint representation of a mournful-looking couple, clad in +singularly ill-fitting aprons of fig-leaves. The man was digging with a +spade, while the woman sat at a spinning-wheel placed dangerously near +the edge of the deep ditch which her husband had already dug. Round the +edge ran an inscription, which, after some study, Hilda made out to be +the old distich: + + "When Adam delved, and Eve span, + Where was then the gentleman?" + +Hilda burst out laughing in spite of her self. + +"Oh, it is wonderful!" she cried. "Who ever heard of Eve with a +spinning-wheel? Where did this come from, Farmer Hartley? I am sure it +must have a history." + +"Wa-al," said the farmer, smiling, "I d'no ez 't' hes so to speak a +hist'ry, an' yit there's allays somethin' amoosin' to me about that +platter. My father was a sea-farin' man most o' his life, an' only came +to the farm late in life, 'count of his older brother dyin', as owned +it. Well, he'd picked up a sight o' queer things in his voyages, father +had; he kep' some of 'em stowed away in boxes, and brought 'em out from +time to time, ez he happened to think of 'em. Wa-al, we young uns growed +up (four of us there was, all boys, and likely boys too, if I do say +it), and my brother Simon, who was nex' to me, he went to college. He +was a clever chap, Simon was, an' nothin' would do for _him_ but he must +be a gentleman. + +"'Jacob kin stick to the farm an' the mill; if he likes,' says he, 'an' +Tom kin go to sea, an' William kin be a minister,--'t's all he's good +fer, I reckon; but _I'm_ goin' ter be a _gentleman_!' says Simon. He +said it in father's hearin' one day, an' father lay back in his cheer +an' laughed; he was allays laughin', father was. An' then he went off +upstairs, an' we heard him rummagin' about among his boxes up in the +loft-chamber. We dassn't none of us tech them boxes, we boys, though we +warn't afeard of nothin' else in the world, only father. Presently he +comes down again, still a-laughin', an' kerryin' that platter in his +hand. He sets it down afore Simon, an' says he, 'Wealthy,' says he (that +was my mother), 'Wealthy,' says he, 'let Simon have his victuals off o' +this platter every day, d'ye hear? The' ain't none other that's good +enough for him!' an' then he laughed again, till he fairly shook, an' +Simon looked black as thunder, an' took his hat an' went out. An' so +after Simon went to college, every time he come home for vacation and +set down to table with his nose kind o' turned up, like he was too good +to set with his own kith and kin, father 'ud go an git the old blue +platter and set it afore him, an' say, 'Here's _your_ dish, Simon; been +diggin' any lately, my son?' and then lay back in his cheer and laugh." + +"And did Simon become--a--a gentleman?" asked Hilda, taking her own +little lesson very meekly, in her desire to know more. + +Farmer Hartley's brow clouded instantly, and the smile vanished from his +lips. "Poor Simon!" he said, sadly. "He might ha' been anythin' he +liked, if he'd lived and--been fortunate." + +"Simon Hartley is dead, Hilda dear," interposed Dame Hartley, gently; +"he died some years ago. Will you have some of your own currants, my +dear?--Hilda has been helping me a great deal, Father," she added, +addressing her husband. "I don't know how I should have got all my +currants picked without her help." + +"Has she so?" exclaimed the farmer, fixing his keen gray eyes on the +girl. "Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, we sh'll hev her milkin' that +cow soon, after all; hey, Huldy?" + +Hildegarde looked up bravely, with a little smile. "I will try," she +said, cheerfully, "if you will risk the milk, Farmer Hartley." + +The old farmer returned her smile with one so bright and kind and genial +that somehow the ice bent, then cracked, and then broke. The old Hilda +shrank into so small a space that there was really very little left of +her, and the new Hilda rose from table feeling that she had gained a new +friend. + +So it came to pass that about an hour later our heroine was walking +beside the farmer on the way to the barnyard, talking merrily, and +swinging the basket which she was going to fill with eggs. "But how +shall I find them," she asked, "if the hens hide them away so +carefully?" + +"Oh, you'll hear 'em scrattlin' round!" replied the farmer. "They're +gret fools, hens are,--greter than folks, as a rule; an' that is sayin' +a good deal." + +They crossed the great sunny barn-yard, and paused at the barn-door, +while Hilda looked in with delight. A broad floor, big enough for a +ballroom, with towering walls of fragrant hay on either side reaching +up to the rafters; great doors open at the farther end, showing a snatch +of blue, radiant sky, and a lovely wood-road winding away into deep +thickets of birch and linden; dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeams slanting +down through the little windows, and touching the tossed hay-piles into +gold; and in the middle, hanging by iron chains from the great central +beam, a swing, almost big enough for a giant,--such was the barn at +Hartley Farm; as pleasant a place, Hilda thought, as she had ever seen. + +"Waal, Huldy, I'll leave ye heer," said the farmer; "ye kin find yer way +home, I reckon." + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stop one moment, please, Farmer +Hartley. I want to know--will you please--may I teach Bubble Chirk a +little?" The farmer gave a low whistle of surprise; but Hilda went on +eagerly: "I found him studying, this morning, while he was weeding the +garden,--oh! studying so hard, and yet not neglecting his work for a +minute. He seems a very bright boy, and it is a pity he should not have +a good education. Could you spare him, do you think, for an hour every +day?" She stopped, while the farmer looked at her with a merry twinkle +in his eye. + +"You teach Bubble Chirk!" he said. "Why, what would your fine friends +say to that, Miss Huldy? Bubble ain't nothin' but a common farm-boy, if +he _is_ bright; an' I ain't denyin' that he is." + +"I don't know what they would say," said Hildegarde, blushing hotly, +"and I don't care, either! I know what mamma would do in my place; and +so do you, Farmer Hartley!" she added, with a little touch of +indignation. + +"Waal, I reckon I do!" said Farmer Hartley. "And I know who looks like +her mother, this minute, though I never thought she would. Yes!" he +said, more seriously, "you shall teach Bubble Chirk, my gal; and it's my +belief 'twill bring you a blessin' as well as him. Ye are yer mother's +darter, after all. Shall I give ye a swing now, before I go; or are ye +too big to swing!" + +"I--don't--know!" said Hildegarde, eying the swing wistfully. "Am I too +big, I wonder?" + +"Yer ma warn't, when she was here three weeks ago!" said the farmer. "She +just sot heer and took a good solid swing, for the sake of old times, +she said." + +"Then I will take one for the sake of new times!" cried Hilda, running +to the swing and seating herself on its broad, roomy seat. "For the sake +of this new time, which I know is going to be a happy one, give me three +_good_ pushes, please, Farmer Hartley, and then I can take care of +myself." + +One! two! three! up goes Queen Hildegarde, up and up, among the dusty, +cobwebby sunbeams, which settle like a crown upon her fair head. Down +with a rush, through the sweet, hay-scented air; then up again, +startling the swallows from under the eaves, and making the staid and +conservative old hens frantic with anxiety. Up and down, in broad, free +sweeps, growing slower now, as the farmer left her and went to his work. +How perfect it was! Did the world hold anything else so delightful as +swinging in a barn? She began to sing, for pure joy, a little song that +her mother had made for her when she was a little child, and used to +swing in the garden at home. And Farmer Hartley, with his hand on the +brown heifer's back, paused with a smile and a sigh as he heard the +girl's sweet fresh voice ring out gladly from the old barn. This was the +song she sang:-- + + If I were a fairy king + (Swinging high, swinging low), + I would give to you a ring + (Swinging, oh!) + With a diamond set so bright + That the shining of its light + Should make morning of the night + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + Should make morning of the night + (Swinging, oh!). + + On each ringlet as it fell + (Swinging high, swinging low) + I would tie a golden bell + (Swinging, oh!); + And the golden bells would chime + In a little merry rhyme, + In the merry morning time + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + In the happy morning time + (Swinging, oh!). + + You should wear a satin gown + (Swinging high, swinging low), + All with ribbons falling down + (Swinging, oh!). + And your little twinkling feet, + O my Pretty and my Sweet! + Should be shod with silver neat + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + Shod with silver slippers neat + (Swinging, oh!). + + But I'm not a fairy, Pet + (Swinging high, swinging low), + Am not even a king, as yet + (Swinging, oh!). + So all that I can do + Is to kiss your little shoe, + And to make a queen of you + (Swinging high, swinging low), + Make a fairy queen of you + (Swinging, oh!). + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +HARTLEY'S GLEN. + + +How many girls, among all the girls who may read this little book, have +seen with their own eyes Hartley's Glen? Not one, perhaps, save Brynhild +and the Rosicrucian, for whom the book is written. But the others must +try to see it with my eyes, for it is a fair place and a sweet as any on +earth. Behind the house, and just under the brow of the little hill that +shelters it, a narrow path dips down to the right, and goes along for a +bit, with a dimpled clover-meadow on the one hand, and a stone wall, all +warm with golden and red-brown lichens, on the other. Follow this, and +you come to a little gateway, beyond which is a thick plantation of +larches, with one grim old red cedar keeping watch over them. If he +regards you favorably, you may pass on, down the narrow path that winds +among the larches, whose feathery finger-tips brush your cheek and try +to hold you back, as if they willed not that you should go farther, to +see the wonders which they can never behold. + +But you leave them behind, and come out into the sunshine, in a little +green glade which might be the ballroom of the fairy queen. On your +right, gleaming through clumps of alder and black birch, is a pond,--the +home of cardinal flowers and gleaming jewel-weed; a little farther on, a +thicket of birch and maple, from which comes a musical sound of falling +water. Follow this sound, keeping to the path, which winds away to the +left. Stop! now you may step aside for a moment, and part the heavy +hanging branches, and look, where the water falls over a high black +wall, into a sombre pool, shut in by fantastic rocks, and shaded from +all sunshine by a dense fringe of trees. This is the milldam, and the +pond above is no natural one, but the enforced repose and outspreading +of a merry brown brook, which now shows its true nature, and escaping +from the gloomy pool, runs scolding and foaming down through a +wilderness of rocks and trees. You cannot follow it there,--though I +have often done so in my barefoot days,--so come back to the path again. +There are pines overhead now, and the ground is slippery with the fallen +needles, and the air is sweet--ah! how sweet!--with their warm +fragrance. See! here is the old mill itself, now disused and falling to +decay. Here the path becomes a little precipice, and you must scramble +as best you can down two or three rough steps, and round the corner of +the ruined mill. This is a millstone, this great round thing like a +granite cheese, half buried in the ground; and here is another, which +makes a comfortable seat, if you are tired. + +But there is a fairer resting-place beyond. Round this one more corner, +now, and down,--carefully, carefully!--down this long stairway, formed +of rough slabs of stone laid one below the other. Shut your eyes now for +a moment, and let me lead you forward by the hand. And now--now open the +eyes wide, wide, and look about you. In front, and under the windows of +the old mill, the water comes foaming and rushing down over a rocky fall +some sixty feet high, and leaps merrily into a second pool. No sombre, +black gulf this, like the one above, but a lovely open circle, half in +broad sunshine, half dappled with the fairy shadows of the boughs and +ferns that bend lovingly over it. So the little brook is no longer +angry, but mingles lovingly with the deep water of the pool, and then +runs laughing and singing along the glen on its way down to the sea. On +one side of this glen the bank rises abruptly some eighty feet, its +sides clothed with sturdy birches which cling as best they may to the +rocky steep. On the other stretches the little valley, a narrow strip of +land, but with turf as fine as the Queen's lawn, and trees that would +proudly grace Her Majesty's park,--tall Norway firs, raising their +stately forms and pointing their long dark fingers sternly at the +intruders on their solitude; graceful birches; and here and there a +whispering larch or a nodding pine. The other wall of the valley, or +glen, is less precipitous, and its sides are densely wooded, and fringed +with barberry bushes and climbing eglantine. + +And between these two banks, and over this green velvet carpet, and +among these dark fir-trees,--ah! how the sun shines. Nowhere else in the +whole land does he shine so sweetly, for he knows that his time there is +short, and that the high banks will shut him out from that green, +pleasant place long before he must say good-night to the more +common-place fields and hill-sides. So here his beams rest right +lovingly, making royal show of gold on the smooth grass, and of diamonds +on the running water, and of opals and topazes and beryls where the +wave comes curling over the little fall. + +And now, amid all this pomp and play of sun and of summer, what is this +dash of blue that makes a strange, though not a discordant, note in our +harmony of gold and green? And what is that round, whitish object which +is bobbing up and down with such singular energy? Why, the blue is +Hildegarde's dress, if you must know; and the whitish object is the head +of Zerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee; and the energy with which said +head is bobbing is the energy of determination and of study. Hilda and +Bubble have made themselves extremely comfortable under the great +ash-tree which stands in the centre of the glen. The teacher has curled +herself up against the roots of the tree, and has a piece of work in her +hands; but her eyes are wandering dreamily over the lovely scene before +her, and she looks as if she were really too comfortable to move even a +finger. The scholar lies at her feet, face downwards, his chin +propped on his hands, his head bobbing up and down. The silence is only +broken by the noise of the waterfall and the persistent chirping of some +very cheerful little bird. + +Presently the boy raised his head and cried joyfully, "I've fetched him, +Miss Hildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!" Whereupon he stood up, and +assuming a military attitude, submitted to a severe geographical +catechising, and came off with flying colors. + +"That was a very good recitation," said Hilda, approvingly, as she laid +the book down. "You shall have another ballad to-day as a reward. But, +Bubble," she added, rather seriously, "I do wish you would not use so +much slang. It is so senseless! Now what did you mean by saying 'just +like pie,' in speaking of your lesson just now?" + +"Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" said Bubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no use +in your tellin' me you don't know what pie is." + +"Of course I know what pie is, you silly boy!" said Hilda, laughing. +"But what has pie to do with your geography lesson?" + +"That's so!" murmured the boy, apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it! +I won't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'like blazes,' instead." + +"You needn't say 'like' anything!" cried Hilda, laughing again; "just +say, I know my lesson 'well,' or 'thoroughly.' There are plenty of +_real_ words, Bubble, that have as much meaning as the slang ones, and +often a great deal more." + +"That's so," said Bubble, with an air of deep conviction. "I'll try not +to talk no more slang, Miss Hildy. I will, I swan!" + +"But, Bubble, you must not say 'I swan' either; that is _abominable_ +slang." + +Bubble looked very blank. "Why, what _shall_ I say?" he asked, simply. +"Pink won't let me say 'I swow,' 'cause it's vulgar; an' if I say 'by' +anything, Ma says it's swearin',--an' I can't swear, nohow!" + +"Of course not," said Hilda. "But why _must_ you say anything, +Bubble,--anything of that sort, I mean?" + +"Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin say ezackly _why_, Miss Hildy; +but--but--wal, I swan! I mean, I--I don't mean I swan--but--there now! +You see how 'tis, Miss Hildy. Things don't seem to hev no taste to 'em, +without you say _somethin'_." + +"Let me think," said Hilda. "Perhaps I can think of something that will +sound better." + +"I might say, 'Gee Whittekers!'" suggested Bubble, brightening up a +little. "I know some fellers as says that." + +"I don't think that would do," replied Hilda, decidedly. "What does it +mean?" + +"Don't mean nothing as I knows on," said the boy; "but it sounds kind o' +hahnsome, don't it?" + +Hilda shook her head with a smile. She did not think "Gee Whittekers" a +"hahnsome" expression. + +"Bubble," she said after a few moments' reflection, during which her +scholar watched her anxiously, "I have an idea. If you _must_ say +'something,' beside what you actually have to say, let it be something +that will remind you of your lessons; then it may help you to remember +them. Instead of Gee--what is it?--Gee Whittekers, say Geography, or +Spelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of 'I swan,' say 'I study!' What do +you think of this plan?" + +"Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I like +fustrate! Ge-_o_graphy! Why, that sounds just like pie! I--I don't mean +that, Miss Hildy. I didn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o' slipped +out, ye know." Bubble paused, and hung his head in much confusion. + +"Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly. "Of course you cannot make the change +all at once, Bubble. But little by little, if you really think about it, +you will bring it about. Next week," she added, "I think we must begin +upon grammar. You are doing very well indeed in spelling and geography, +and pretty well in arithmetic; but your grammar, Bubble, is simply +frightful." + +"Be it?" said Bubble, resignedly. "I want to know!" + +"And now," said the young instructress, rising, and shaking out her +crumpled frock, "that is enough for to-day, Bubble. We must be going +home soon; but first, I want to take a peep at the lower part of the old +mill, that you told me about yesterday. You have been in there, you say? +And how did you get in?" + +"I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity, and leading +the way towards the mill. "I'll show ye the very place, Miss Hildy. +'Tain't easy to get in, and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow; but I +kin git in, jist like--like 'rithmetic!" + +"Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughing merrily. "That is very well for a +beginning. How long is it since the mill was used?" she asked, looking +up at the frowning walls of rough, dark stone, covered with moss and +lichens. + +"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller," replied Bubble +Chirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' at +the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', +jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' made +the mill pay well. But his eldest son, that kem after him, warn't no +great shakes, an' he let the mill go to wrack and ruin, an' jes' stayed +on the farm. An' then he died, an' Cap'n Hartley came (that's the +farmer's father, ye know), an' he was kind o' crazy, and didn't care +about the mill either, an' so there it stayed. + +"This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy, breaking off suddenly, and +plunging into the tangled thicket of shrubs and brambles that hid the +base of the mill. "Thar! ye see that hole? That's whar I get in. Wait +till I clear away the briers a bit! Thar! now ye kin look in." + +The "hole" was a square opening, a couple of feet from the ground, and +large enough for a person of moderate size to creep through. Hildegarde +stooped down and looked in. At first she saw nothing but utter +blackness; but presently her eyes became accustomed to the place, and +the feeble light which struggled in past her through the opening, +revealed strange objects which rose here and there from the vast pit of +darkness,--fragments of rusty iron, bent and twisted into unearthly +shapes; broken beams, their jagged ends sticking out like stiffly +pointing fingers; cranks, and bits of hanging chain; and on the side +next the water, a huge wheel, rising apparently out of the bowels of the +earth, since the lower part of it was invisible. A cold, damp air seemed +to rise from the earth. Hilda shivered and drew back, looking rather +pale. "What a _dreadful_ place!" she cried. "It looks like a dungeon of +the Inquisition. I think you were very brave to go in there, Bubble. I +am sure _I_ should not dare to go; it looks so spectral and frightful." + +"Hy Peters stumped me to go," said Bubble, simply, "so o' course I went. +Most of the boys dassent. And it ain't bad, after the fust time. They do +say it's haunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'." + +"Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing back still farther from the black +opening. "By--by what, Bubble?" + +"Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "He used to go rooklin' round in there +when he was alive, folks say, and some thinks his sperit haunts there +now." + +"Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, with a laugh which did not sound quite +natural. "Of course you don't believe any such foolishness as that, +Bubble. But what did the old--old gentleman--want there when he was +alive? I can't imagine any one going in there for pleasure." + +"Dunno, I'm sure!" replied Bubble. "Father, he come down here one day, +after blackberries, when he was a boy. He hearn a noise in there, an' +went an' peeked in, an' there was the ol' Cap'n pokin' about with his +big stick in the dirt. He looked up an' saw father, an' came at him with +his stick up, roarin' like a mad bull, father said. An' he cut an' run, +father did, an' he hearn the ol' Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'd +have a fit. Crazy as a loon, I reckon the Cap'n was, though none of his +folks thought so, Ma says." + +He let the wild briers fly back about the gloomy opening, and they +stepped back on the smooth greensward again. Ah, how bright and warm the +sunshine was, after that horrible black pit! Hilda shivered again at the +thought of it, and then laughed at her own cowardice. She turned and +gazed at the waterfall, creaming and curling over the rocks, and making +such a merry, musical jest of its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely, +lovely!" she cried, kissing her hand to it. "Bubble, do you know that +Hartley's Glen is without exception the most beautiful place in the +world?" + +"No, miss! Be it really?" asked Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays thought +'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn't know't was all that." + +"Well, it is," said Hilda. "It is all that, and more; and I love it! But +now, Bubble," she added, "we must make haste, for the farmer will be +wanting you, and I have a dozen things to do before tea." + +"Yes, miss," said Bubble, but without his usual alacrity. + +Hilda saw a look of disappointment in his honest blue eyes, and asked +what was the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!" said Zerubbabel, sadly. + +"Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!" said Hildegarde. "But you shall +have it; I will tell it to you as we walk back to the farm. Which one +will you have,--or shall I tell you a new one?" + +The blue eyes sparkled with the delight of anticipation. "Oh, please!" +he cried; "the one about the bold Buckle-oh!" + +Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauld Buccleugh?" she repeated. "Oh! you +mean 'Kinmont Willie.' Yes, indeed, you shall have that. It is one of my +favorite ballads, and I am glad you like it." + +"Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he whangs the table, and says do +they think his helmet's an old woman's bunnit, an' all the rest of +it,--I tell ye that's _some_, Miss Hildy!" + +"You have the spirit of the verse, Bubble," said Hilda, laughing softly; +"but the words are not _quite_ right." And she repeated the splendid, +ringing words of Buccleugh's indignant outcry: + + "Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch, + Or my lance a wand o' the willow-tree, + Or my arm a lady's lily hand, + That an English lord should lightly me? + + "And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, + Against the truce of Border tide, + And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh + Is warden here o' the Scottish side? + + "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, + Withouten either dread or fear, + And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh + Can back a steed or shake a spear?" + +Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up and down in his excitement "Oh! but +begin again at the beginning, _please_, Miss Hildy," he cried. + +So Hilda, nothing loth, began at the beginning; and as they walked +homeward, recited the whole of the noble old ballad, which if any +girl-reader does not know, she may find it in any collection of Scottish +ballads. + +"And the best of it is, Bubble," said Hilda, "that it is all +true,--every word of it; or nearly every word." + +"I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still much excited. "They couldn't make +lies sound like that, ye know! You kind o' _know_ it's true, and it goes +right through yer, somehow. When did it happen, Miss Hildy?" + +"Oh! a long time ago," said Hildegarde; "near the end of the sixteenth +century. I forget just the very year, but it was in the reign of Queen +Elizabeth. She was very angry at Buccleugh's breaking into Carlisle +Castle, which was an English castle, you see, and carrying off Lord +Scroope's prisoner; and she sent word to King James of Scotland that he +must give up Buccleugh to her to punish as she saw fit. King James +refused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first to +break the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but at +length he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, +and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent to +London and brought before the great, haughty English queen. But he was +just as haughty as she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked down +on him from her throne (she was very stately, you know, and she wore a +crown, and a great stiff ruff, and her dress was all covered with gold +and precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake such a +desperate and presumptuous enterprise. And Buccleugh--O Bubble, I +always liked this so much!--Buccleugh just looked her full in the face, +and said, 'What is it a man dare not do?' Now Queen Elizabeth liked +nothing so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased her. She +turned to one of her ministers and said, 'With ten thousand such men our +brother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe.' And so +she let him go, just because he was so brave and so handsome." + +Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd ben +alive then!" he said. + +"Why, Bubble?" asked Hilda, much amused; "what would you have done?" + +"I'd ha' killed Lord Scroope!" he cried,--"him and the hull kit of 'em. +Besides," he added, "I'd like t' ha' lived then jest ter see +_him_,--jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what _I_ call a man!" +And Queen Hildegardis fully agreed with him. + +They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked: "If that king was +her brother, why did she treat him so kind o' ugly? My sister don't act +that way." + +"What--oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!" said Hilda, laughing. "King James +was not her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing more." + +"You _said_ she said 'brother,'" persisted the boy. + +"So I did," replied Hilda. "You see, it was the fashion, and is still, +for kings and queens to _call_ each other brother and sister, whether +they were really related to each other or not." + +"But I thought they was always fightin'," objected Bubble. "I've got a +hist'ry book to home, an' in that it says they fit like time whenever +they got a chance." + +"So they did," said Hilda. "But they called each other 'our royal +brother' and 'our beloved sister;' and they were always paying each +other fine compliments, and saying how much they loved each other, even +in the middle of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could." + +"Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind o folks they must ha' been. Well, I +must go, Miss Hildy," he added, reluctantly. "I've had a splendid time, +an' I'm _real_ obleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn that story by heart, +'bout the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! _She_'d like +it--oh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like--I mean jest like spellin'! +Good by, Miss Hildy!" And Bubble ran off to bring home the cows, his +little heart swelling high with scorn of kings and queens, and with a +fervor of devotion to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +PINK CHIRK. + + +One lovely morning Hildegarde stood at the back door, feeding the fowls. +She wore her brown gingham frock with the yellow daisies on it, and the +daisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she held a great yellow bowl full +of yellow corn. So bright a picture she made that Farmer Hartley, +driving the oxen afield, stopped for pure pleasure to look at her. +Around her the ducks and hens were fighting and squabbling, quacking, +clucking, and gobbling, and she flung the corn in golden showers on +their heads and backs, making them nearly frantic with greedy anxiety. + +[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."] + +"Wal, Huldy," said the farmer, leaning against Bright's massive side, +"you look pooty slick in that gown, I must say. I reckon thar ain't no +sech gown as _that_ on Fifth Avenoo, hey?" + +"Indeed, I don't believe there is, Farmer Hartley," replied Hilda, +laughing merrily; "at least I never saw one like it. It _is_ pretty, I +think, and _so_ comfortable! And where are you going this morning with +the mammoths?" + +"Down to the ten-acre lot," replied the farmer. "The men are makin' hay +thar to-day. Jump into the riggin' and come along," he added. "Ye kin +hev a little ride, an' see the hay-makin'. Pooty sight 'tis, to my +thinkin'." + +"May I?" cried Hilda, eagerly. "I am sure these fowls have had enough. +Go away now, you greedy creatures! There, you shall have all there is!" +and she emptied the bowl over the astonished dignitaries of the +barn-yard, laid it down on the settle in the porch, and jumped gayly +into the "rigging," as the great hay-cart was called. + +"Haw, Bright! hoish, Star!" said the farmer, touching one and then the +other of the great black oxen lightly with his goad. The huge beasts +swayed from side to side, and finally succeeded in getting themselves +and the cart in motion, while the farmer walked leisurely beside them, +tapping and poking them occasionally, and talking to them in that mystic +language which only oxen and their drivers understand. Down the sweet +country lane they went, with the willows hanging over them, and the +daisies and buttercups and meadow-sweet running riot all over the banks. +Hilda stood up in the cart and pulled off twigs from the willows as she +passed under them, and made garlands, which the farmer obediently put +over the oxen's necks. She hummed little snatches of song, and chatted +gayly with her kind old host; for the world was very fair, and her heart +was full of summer and sunshine. + +"And have you always lived here, Farmer Hartley?" she asked. "All your +life, I mean?" + +"No, not all my life," replied the farmer, "though pooty nigh it. I was +ten year old when my uncle died, and father left sea-farin', and kem +home to the farm to live. Before that we'd lived in different places, +movin' round, like. We was at sea a good deal, sailin' with father when +he went on pleasant voyages, to the West Indies, or sich. But sence then +I ain't ben away much. I don't seem to find no pleasanter place than the +old farm, somehow." + +"I don't believe there _is_ any pleasanter place in the world!" said +Hilda, warmly. "I am sure I have never been so happy anywhere as I have +here." + +Farmer Hartley looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "Ye've changed yer +views some, Huldy, hain't ye, sence the fust day ye kem heer? I didn't +never think, then, as I'd be givin' you rides in the hay-riggin', sech a +fine young lady as you was." + +Hilda gave him an imploring glance, while the blood mounted to her +temples. "Please, Farmer Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please try +to forget that first day. It isn't my views that have changed," she +added, "it is I myself. I don't--I really don't _think_ I am the same +girl who came here a month ago." + +"No, my gal," said the farmer, heartily, "I don't think ye are." He +walked along in silence for a few minutes, and then said, "'Tis curus +how folks kin sometimes change 'emselves, one way or the other. 'Tain't +so with critturs; 't least so fur's I've obsarved. The way they're born, +that way they'll stay. Now look at them oxen! When they was young +steers, hardly more'n calves, I began to train them critturs. An' from +the very fust go-off they tuk their cue an' stuck to it. Star, thar, +would lay out, and shake his head, an' pull for all he was wuth, as if +there was nothin' in the world to do _but_ pull; and Bright, he'd wait +till Star was drawin' good an' solid, an' then he'd as much as say, 'Oh! +you kin pull all that, kin ye? Well, stick to it, my boy, an' I'll +manage to trifle along with the rest o' the load.' Wo-_hoish_, Star! +haw, Bright! git up, ye old humbug! You're six year old now, an' you +ain't changed a mite in four years, though I've drove you stiddy, and +tried to spare the other every time." + +The green lane broke off suddenly, and such a blaze of sunlight flashed +upon them that Hilda involuntarily raised her hand to shield her eyes. +The great meadow lay open before them, an undulating plain of gold. The +haycocks looked dull and gray-green upon it; but where the men were +tossing the hay with their long wooden rakes, it flashed pale-golden in +the sunlight, and filled the air with flying gleams. Also the air was +filled with the sweetness of the hay, and every breath was a delight. +Hilda stood speechless with pleasure, and the old farmer watched her +glowing face with kindly gratification. + +"Pooty sightly, ain't it?" he said. And then, in a graver tone, and +removing his battered straw hat, "I don't never seem to see the glory +of the Lord no plainer than in a hay-field, a day like this. Yes, sir! +if a man can't be a Christian on a farm in summer, he can't be it +nowhere. Amen!" and Farmer Hartley put on his hat and proceeded +straightway to business. "Now, Huldy," he said, "here ye be! I'm goin' +to load up this riggin', an' ye kin stay round here a spell, if ye like, +an' run home _when_ ye like. Ye kin find the way, I reckon?" + +"Oh, yes!" said Hilda; "yes, indeed! But I shall stay here for a while, +and watch you. And mayn't I toss the hay too a little?" + +But her courage failed when she found that to do this she must mingle +with the crowd of strange haymakers; and besides, among them she saw the +clumsy form and shock head of Caliban, as she had secretly named the +clownish and surly nephew of her good host. This fellow was the one +bitter drop in Hilda's cup. Everything else she had learned to like, in +the month which had passed since she came to Hartley's Glen. The farmer +and his wife she loved as they deserved to be loved. The little +maidservant was her adoring slave, and secretly sewed her boot-buttons +on, and mended her stockings, as some small return for the lessons in +crochet and fancy knitting that she had received from the skilful white +fingers which were a perpetual marvel to her. But Simon Hartley remained +what she had at first thought him,--a sullen, boorish churl. He was a +malevolent churl too, Hildegarde thought; indeed she was sure of it. She +had several times seen his eyes fixed on his uncle with a look of +positive hatred; and though Farmer Hartley was persistently kind and +patient with him, trying often to draw him into conversation, and make +him join in the pleasant evening talks which they all enjoyed, his +efforts were unsuccessful. The fellow came in, gobbled his food, and +then went off, if his work was over, to hide himself in his own room. +Hilda was quite sure that Nurse Lucy liked this oaf no better than she +herself did, though the good woman never spoke impatiently or unkindly +to him,--and indeed it would be difficult for any one to like him, she +thought, except possibly his own mother. + +Our Queen took presently her seat on a right royal throne of fragrant +hay, and gave herself up to the full delight of the summer morning, and +of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," as she had instantly named the +shining yellow plain, which more prosaic souls knew as "the ten-acre +lot." The hay rustled pleasantly as she nestled down in it, and made a +little penthouse over her head, to keep off the keen, hot sun-arrows. +There was a great oak-tree too, which partly shaded this favored +haycock, and on one of its branches a squirrel came running out, and +then sat up and looked at Hildegarde with bright, inquisitive eyes. A +maiden, all brown and gold, on a golden haycock! What strange apparition +was this? Had she come for acorns? Did she know about the four young +ones in the snug little house in the hollow just above the first branch! +Perhaps--dreadful thought!--she had heard of the marvellous beauty of +the four young ones, and had come to steal them. "Chip!" whisk! and +Madam Squirrel was off up the branch like a streak of brown lightning, +with its tail up. + +Hilda laughed at the squirrel's alarm, and then turned her attention to +a large green grasshopper who seemed to demand it. He had alighted on +her knee, and now proceeded to exhibit his different points before her +admiring gaze with singular gravity and deliberation. First he slowly +opened his wings, to show the delicate silvery gauze of the under-wings; +then as slowly closed them, demonstrating the perfect fit of his whole +wing-costume and the harmony of its colors. He next extended one leg, +calling her attention to its remarkable length and muscular +proportions. Then, lest she should think he had but one, he extended +the other; and then gave a vigorous hop with both of them, to show her +that he did not really need wings, but could get on perfectly well +without them. Finally he rubbed himself all over with his long antennć, +and then, pointing them full at her, and gazing at her with calm and +dispassionate eyes, he said plainly enough: "And now, Monster, what have +_you_ to show _me_?" + +Hildegarde was wondering how she could best dispel the scorn with which +this majestic insect evidently regarded her, when suddenly something new +appeared on her gown,--something black, many-legged, hairy, most +hideous; something which ran swiftly but stealthily, with a motion which +sent a thrill of horror through her veins. She started up with a little +shriek, shaking off the unlucky spider as if it had been the Black Death +in concrete. Then she looked round with flaming cheeks, to see if her +scream had been heard by the hay-makers. No, they were far away, and +too busy to take heed of her. But the charm was broken. Queen Hildegarde +had plenty of courage of a certain sort, but she could _not_ face a +spider. The golden throne had become a "siege perilous," and she +abdicated in favor of the grasshopper and his black and horrent visitor. + +What should she do now? The charm of the morning had made her idle and +drowsy, and she did not feel like going home to help Nurse Lucy in +making the butter, though she often did so with right good-will. She +looked dreamily around, her eyes wandering here and there over the great +meadow and the neat stone walls which bounded it. Presently she spied +the chimneys and part of the red roof of a little cottage which peeped +from a thick clump of trees just beyond the wall. Who lived in that +cottage, Hilda wondered. Why should she not go and see? She was very +thirsty, and there she might get a glass of water. Oh! perhaps it was +Bubble's cottage, where he and his mother and his sister Pink lived. Now +she thought of it, Bubble had told her that he lived "over beyont the +ten-acre lot;" of course this must be the place. Slowly she walked +across the meadow and climbed the wall, wondering a good deal about the +people whom she was going to see. She had often meant to ask Bubble more +about his sister with the queer name; but the lesson-hour was so short, +and there were always so many questions for Bubble to ask and for her to +answer besides the regular lesson, that she always forgot it till too +late. Pink Chirk! what could a girl be like with such a name as that? +Hilda fancied her a stout, buxom maiden, with very red cheeks and very +black eyes--yes, certainly, the eyes must be black! Her hair--well, one +could not be so sure about her hair; but there was no doubt about her +wearing a pink dress and a blue checked apron. And she must be smiling, +bustling, and energetic. Yes! Hilda had the picture of her complete in +her mind. She wondered that this active, stirring girl never came up to +the farm; but of course she must have a great deal of work to do at +home. + +By this time Hildegarde had reached the cottage; and after a moment's +hesitation she knocked softly at the green-painted door. No one came to +open the door, but presently she heard a clear, pleasant voice from +within saying, "Open the door and come in, please!" Following this +injunction, she entered the cottage and found herself directly in the +sitting-room, and face to face with its occupant. This was a girl of her +own age, or perhaps a year older, who sat in a wheeled chair by the +window. She was very fair, with almost flaxen hair, and frank, pleasant +blue eyes. She was very pale, very thin; the hands that lay on her lap +were almost transparent; but--she wore a pink calico dress and a blue +checked apron. Who could this be? and whoever it was, why did she sit +still when a visitor and a stranger came in? The pale girl made no +attempt to rise, but she met Hilda's look of surprise and inquiry with a +smile which broke like sunshine over her face, making it for the moment +positively beautiful. "How do you do?" she said, holding out her thin +hand. "I am sure you must be Miss Hilda Graham, and I am Bubble's sister +Pink. + +[Illustration: "THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE."] + +"Please sit down," she added. "I am so _very_ glad to see you. I have +wanted again and again to thank you for all your kindness to my Bubble, +but I didn't know when I should have a chance. Did Bubble show you the +way?" + +Hildegarde was so astonished, so troubled, so dismayed that she hardly +knew what she was saying or doing. She took the slender fingers in her +own for an instant, and then sat down, saying hastily: "Oh, no! I--I +found my way alone. I was not sure of its being your cottage, though I +thought it must be from what Bubble told me." She paused; and then, +unable to keep back longer the words which sprang to her lips, she said: +"I fear you have been ill, you are so pale. I hope it has not been +serious. Bubble did not tell me--" + +Pink Chirk looked up with her bright, sweet smile. "Oh, no! I have not +been ill," she said. "I am always like this. I cannot walk, you know, +but I am very well indeed." + +"You cannot walk?" stammered Hilda. + +The girl saw her look of horror, and a faint color stole into her wan +cheek. "Did not Bubble tell you?" she asked, gently; and then, as Hilda +shook her head, "It is such a matter of course to him," she said; "he +never thinks about it, I suppose, dear little fellow. I was run over +when I was three years old, and I have never been able to walk since." + +Hildegarde could not speak. The thought of anything so dreadful, so +overwhelming as this, coming so suddenly, too, upon her, seemed to take +away her usually ready speech, and she was dumb, gazing at the cheerful +face before her with wide eyes of pity and wonderment. But Pink Chirk +did not like to be pitied, as a rule; and she almost laughed at her +visitor's horror-stricken face. + +"You mustn't look so!" she cried. "It's very kind of you to be sorry, +but it isn't as if I were really _ill_, you know. I can _almost_ stand +on one foot,--that is, I can bear enough weight on it to get from my bed +to my chair without help. That is a _great_ thing! And then when I am +once in my chair, why I can go almost anywhere. Farmer Hartley gave me +this chair," she added, looking down at it, and patting the arm +tenderly, as if it were a living friend; "isn't it a beauty?" + +It was a pretty chair, made of cherry wood, with cushions of +gay-flowered chintz; and Hilda, finding her voice again, praised it +warmly. "This is its summer dress," said Pink, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure. "Underneath, the cushions are covered with soft crimson cloth, +oh, so pretty, and so warm-looking! I am always glad when it's time to +take the chintz covers off. And yet I am always glad to put them on +again," she added, "for the chintz is pretty too, I think: and besides, +I know then that summer is really come." + +"You like summer best?" asked Hilda. + +"Oh, yes!" she replied. "In winter, of course, I can't go out; and +sometimes it seems a little long, when Bubble is away all day,--not +very, you know, but just a little. But in summer, oh, then I am so +happy! I can go all round the place by myself, and sit out in the +garden, and feed the chickens, and take care of the flowers. And then on +Sunday Bubble always gives me a good ride along the road. My chair moves +very easily,--only see!" She gave a little push, and propelled herself +half way across the little room. + +At this moment the inner door opened, and Mrs. Chirk appeared,--a +slender, anxious-looking woman, with hair prematurely gray. She greeted +Hilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for her +kindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy, Miss Graham," she said, +"sence you begun givin' him lessons. He used to fret and worrit 'cause +there warn't no school, and he couldn't ha' gone to it if there was. +Pinkrosia learned him what she could; but we hain't many books, you see. +But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetry +at the top of his lungs,--jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What +was that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old +black hen nigh to death?" + +"'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!'" murmured +Pink, with a smile. + +"Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "He was lookin' out of the window +and pumpin' at the same time, an' spoutin' them verses too. And all of a +sudden he cries out, 'Ther's the brood of dark My Hen, scratchin' up the +sweet peas. Upon them with the lance!' And he lets go the pump-handle, +and it flies up and hits the shelf and knocks off two plates and a cup, +and Bubble, he's off with the mop-handle, chasin' the old black hen and +makin' believe run her through, till she e'enamost died of fright. Well, +there, it give me a turn; it reelly did!" She paused rather sadly, +seeing that her hearers were both overcome with laughter. + +"I--I am very sorry, Mrs. Chirk, that the plates were broken," said +Hilda; "but it must have been extremely funny. Poor old hen! she must +have been frightened, certainly. Do you know," she added, "I think +Bubble is a _remarkably_ bright boy. I am very sure that he will make a +name for himself, if only he can have proper training." + +"Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, with melancholy satisfaction. "His +father was a _real_ smart man. There warn't no better hayin' hand in the +county than Loammi Chirk. And I'm in hopes Zerubbabel will do as well, +for he has a good friend in Farmer Hartley; no boy couldn't have a +better." + +Eminence in the profession of "haying" was not precisely what Hilda had +meant; but she said nothing. + +"And my poor girl here," Mrs. Chirk continued after a pause, "she sets +in her cheer hay-times and other times. You've heard of her misfortune, +Miss Graham?" + +Pink interposed quickly with a little laugh, though her brows contracted +slightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "Miss +Graham has heard all about me, and knows what a _very_ important person +I am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought you +wanted to begin weaving this afternoon." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I want +to give you a little ride before I go back to the farm. May she go, Mrs. +Chirk? It is such a beautiful day, I am sure the air will do her good. +Would you like it, Pink?" + +Pink looked up with a flush of pleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh," she +said, "would I like it! But it's too much for you to do, Miss Graham." + +"An' with that beautiful dress on too!" cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get it +dusty on the wheel, I'm afraid. I don't think--" + +"Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards the +door. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" she +added, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set my +heart on this." + +Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its strings +under Pink's chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against its +extreme ugliness. "She shall not wear _that_ again," said she to +herself, "if I can help it." But the sweet pale face looked out so +joyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocrat +relented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She would +look like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head." And +then she laughed at the thought of a black japanned scuttle crowning +those fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so they +both went laughing out into the sunshine. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE LETTER. + + +"Nurse Lucy," said Hildegarde that evening, as they sat in the porch +after tea, "why have you never told me about Pink Chirk,--about her +being a cripple, I mean? I had no idea of it till I went to see her +to-day. How terrible it is!" + +"I wonder that I haven't told you, dear!" replied Nurse Lucy, placidly. +"I suppose I am so used to Pink as she is, I forget that she ever was +like other people. She is a dear, good child,--his 'sermon,' Jacob calls +her. He says that whenever he feels impatient or put out, he likes to go +down and look at Pink, and hear her talk. 'It takes the crook right out +of me!' he says. Poor Jacob!" + +"But how did it happen?" asked Hilda. "She says she was only three years +when she--Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It is too dreadful. Tell me how +it happened." + +"Don't ask me, my dear!" said Dame Hartley, sadly. "Why should you hear +anything so painful? It would only haunt your mind as it haunted mine +for years after. The worst of it was, there was no need of it. Her +mother was a young, flighty, careless girl, and she didn't look after +her baby as she should have done. That is all you need know, Hilda, my +dear! Poor Susan Chirk! it took the flightiness out of her, and made her +the anxious, melancholy soul she has been ever since. Then Bubble was +born, and soon after her husband died, and since then she has had a hard +time to fend for herself. But Pink has never been any trouble to her, +only a help and a comfort; and her neighbors have done what they could +from time to time." + +Dame Hartley might have said that she and her husband had kept this +desolate widow and her children from starvation through many a long +winter, and had given her the means of earning her daily bread in +summer; had clothed the children, and provided comforts for the crippled +girl. But this was not Nurse Lucy's way. The neighbors had done what +they could, she said; and now Bubble was earning good wages for a boy, +and was sure to get on well, being bright and industrious; and Mrs. +Chirk took in weaving to do for the neighbors, and went out sometimes to +work by the day; and so they were really getting on very well,--better +than one could have hoped. + +Hildegarde laid her head against the good Dame's shoulder and fell into +a brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed also in a thoughtful mood; and so the +two sat quietly in the soft twilight till the red glow faded in the +west, and left in its stead a single star, gleaming like a living jewel +in the purple sky. All the birds were asleep save the untiring +whippoorwill, who presented his plea for the castigation of the unhappy +William with ceaseless energy. A little night-breeze came up, and said +pleasant, soft things to the leaves, which rustled gently in reply, and +the crickets gave their usual evening concert, beginning with a movement +in G sharp, _allegro con moto_. Other sound there was none, until by and +by the noise of wheels was heard, and the click of old Nancy's hoofs; +and out of the gathering darkness Farmer Hartley appeared, just returned +from the village, whither he had gone to make arrangements about selling +his hay. + +"Wal, Marm Lucy," he said, cheerfully, throwing the reins on Nancy's +neck and jumping from the wagon, "is that you settin' thar? 'Pears to me +I see somethin' like a white apun gloomin' out o' the dark." + +"Yes, Jacob," answered "Marm Lucy," "I am here, and so is Hilda. The +evening has been so lovely, we have not had the heart to light the +lamps, but have just been sitting here watching the sunset. We'll come +in now, though," she added, leading the way into the house. "You'll be +wanting some supper, my man. Or did ye stop at Cousin Sarah's?" + +"I stopped at Sary's," replied the farmer. "Ho! ho! yes, Sary gave me +some supper, though she warn't in no mood for seein' comp'ny, even her +own kin. Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin', sure enough!" + +"Why, what was the matter?" asked Dame Hartley, as she trimmed and +lighted the great lamp, and drew the short curtains of Turkey red cotton +across the windows. "Is Abner sick again!" + +"Shouldn't wonder if he was, by this time," replied the farmer; "but he +warn't at the beginnin' of it. I'll tell ye how 'twas;" and he sat down +in his great leather chair, and stretched his legs out comfortably +before him, while his wife filled his pipe and brought it to him,--a +little attention which she never forgot. "Sary, she bought a new bunnit +yisterday!" Farmer Hartley continued, puffing away at the pipe. "She's +kind o' savin', ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucy nodded, with a knowing +air], and she hadn't had a new bunnit for ten years. (I d' 'no' 's she's +had one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "_I_ never seed her with +one to my knowledge.) Wal, the gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' she +didn't look fit to go to meetin' in the old bunnit, so 't last she giv' +way, and went an' bought a new one. 'Twas one o' these newfangled +shapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin' Chinese, I reckon. Fan +Song! That was it!" + +"Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps?" asked Hilda, much amused. + +"That's what I said, warn't it?" said the farmer. "Fan Song, Fan +Chong,--wal, what's the odds? 'Twas a queer lookin' thing, anyhow, I +sh'd think, even afore it-- Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showed it to +the gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchen +table, an' went upstairs to git some ribbons an' stuff to put on it. +She rummaged round consid'able upstairs, an' when she kum down, lo and +behold, the bunnit was gone! Wal, Sary hunted high, and she hunted low. +She called the gals, thinkin' they'd played a trick on her, an' hidden +it for fun. But they hadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched the house +from garrit to cellar; but they didn't find hide nor hair o' that +bunnit. At last Sary give it up, an' sot down out o' breath, an' mad +enough to eat somebody. 'It's been stole!' says she. 'Some ornery +critter kem along while I was upstairs,' says she, 'an' seed it lyin' +thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' says she. 'I'd like to get hold +of her!' says she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no more bunnits for _one_ +while!' says she. I had come in by that time, an' she was tellin' me all +about it. Jest at that minute the door opened, and Abner kem sa'nterin' +in, mild and moony as usual 'Sary,' says he,--ho! ho! ho! it makes me +laugh to think on't,--'Sary,' says he, 'I wouldn't buy no more baskets +without handles, ef I was you. They ain't convenient to kerry,' says +he. And with that he sets down on the table--that Fan Chong bunnit! He'd +been mixin' chicken feed in it, an' he'd held it fust by one side an' +then by the other, an' he'd dropped it in the mud too, I reckon, from +the looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin' thing in all your born +days as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked at +Abner, an' then at the bunnit agin; an' _then_ she let fly." + +"Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. +"What did she say?" + +"_I_ can't tell ye what she said," replied the farmer. "What did your +old cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An' yet +there was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hull +dictionary was flyin' round that room for about ten minutes,--Webster's +Unabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin' his +head up an' down, and openin' an' shettin' his mouth, as if he'd like +to say somethin' if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out of +breath that she couldn't say another word, an' hed to stop for a minute, +Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guess you're a little excited. Jacob an' me'll +go out an' take a look at the stock,' says he, 'and come back when +you're feelin' calmer.' An' he nods to me, an' out we both goes, before +Sary could git her breath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause I was +laughin' so inside 't I couldn't. Abner, he walked along kind o' solemn, +shakin' his head every little while, an' openin' an' shettin' his mouth. +When we got to the stable-door he looked at me a minute, and then he +said, 'The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I _thought_ that was kind +of a curus lookin' basket, though!' and that was every word he said +about it." + +"Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife +say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?" + +"She warn't thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals +said, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she _would_ have had a +headache,--but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search +in his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgotten +Huldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head." + +Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer +handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not +from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double +letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a +week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality. +There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate +pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume +which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton." + +With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quite +alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a +rose to his lips, and read as follows:-- + + + SARATOGA, July 20. + + MY DEAREST, SWEETEST HILDA,--Can it be possible + that you have been away a whole month, and that I have not + written to you? I am awfully ashamed! but I have been so + TOO busy, it has been out of the question. Papa + decided quite _suddenly_ to come here instead of going to + Long Branch; and you can imagine the _frantic_ amount of + work Mamma and I had to get ready. One has to dress so + _much_ at Saratoga, you know; and we cannot just send an + order to _Paris_, as _you_ do, my dear Queen, for all we + want, but have to _scratch round_ (I know you don't allow + your subjects to use slang, but we DO scratch + round, and nothing else can express it), and get things made + here. I have a _lovely_ pale blue Henrietta-cloth, made like + that rose-colored gown of yours that I admire so much, and + that you SAID I might copy. Mamma says it was + _awfully_ good of you, and that _she_ wouldn't let any one + copy _her_ French dresses if she had them; but I told her + you _were_ awfully good, and that was why. Well, then I have + a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, and a + _lovely_ pointed overskirt, copied from a Donovan dress of + Mamma's; and a dark-red surah, and oh! a perfect + "frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; two _sweet_ white + lawns, one trimmed with valenciennes (I _hate_ valenciennes, + you know, but Mamma _will_ make me have it, because she + thinks it is _jeune fille_!), and one with the new Russian + lace; and a pink sateen, and two or three light chambrays. + + But now I know you will be _dying_ to hear about my hats; + for you always say that the hat _makes_ the costume; and so + it _does_! Well, my dearest, I have _one_ Redfern hat, and + _only_ one. Mamma says I cannot expect to have more until I + come out, which is _bitter_. However, this one is a + _beauty_, and yet cost _only_ thirty dollars. It goes well + with nearly all my dresses, and is _immensely_ becoming, all + the girls say: very high, with long pointed wings and stiff + bows. _Simple_, my dear, doesn't _express_ it! You know I + LOVE simplicity; but it is _Redferny_ to a + _degree_, and _everybody_ has noticed it. + + Well, my dearest Queen, here am I running on about myself, + as if I were not actually EXPIRING to hear about + you. What my feelings were when I called at your house on + that _fatal Tuesday_ and was told that you had gone to spend + the summer on a _farm_ in the _depths_ of the country, + passes my _power_ to tell. I could not ask your mother many + questions, for you know I am always a little bit + AFRAID of her, though she is _perfectly lovely_ to + me! She was very quiet and sweet, _as_ _usual_, and spoke + as if it were the most _natural_ thing in the _world_ for a + brilliant society girl (for that is what you _are_, Hilda, + even though you are only a school-girl; and you + NEVER can be anything else!) to spend her summer in + a wretched farm-house, among _pigs_ and _cows_ and dreadful + ignorant people. Of course, Hilda dearest, you know that my + admiration for your mother is _simply_ IMMENSE, and + that I would not for _worlds_ say _one syllable_ against her + judgment and that of your _military angel_ of a father; but + I MUST say it seemed to me MORE than + strange. I assure you I hardly closed my eyes for several + nights, thinking of the MISERY you must be + undergoing; for _I_ KNOW you, Hildegarde! and the + thought of my proud, fastidious, high-bred Queen being + condemned to associate with _clowns_ and _laborers_ was + really MORE than I could bear. Do write to me, + darling, and tell me HOW you are enduring it. You + were _always_ so sensitive; why, I can see your lip curl + _now_, when any of the girls did anything that was not _tout + ŕ fait comme il faut_! and the _air_ with which you used to + say, "The _little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" + How _true_ it is! I feel it more and more _every_ day. So + _do_ write _at once_, and let me know _all_ about your dear + self. I picture you to myself sometimes, pale and thin, with + the "_white disdain_" that some poet or other speaks of, in + your face, but enduring all the HORRORS that you + must be subjected to with your OWN DIGNITY. Dearest + Hilda, you are _indeed_ a HEROINE! + + Always, darling, + Your own deeply _devoted_ and _sympathizing_ + MADGE. + + +Hildegarde looked up after reading this letter, and, curiously enough, +her eyes fell directly on a little mirror which hung on the wall +opposite. In it she saw a rosy, laughing face, which smiled back +mischievously at her. There were dimples in the cheeks, and the gray +eyes were fairly dancing with life and joyousness. Where was the "white +disdain," the dignity, the pallor and emaciation? Could this be Madge's +Queen Hildegarde? Or rather, thought the girl, with a sudden revulsion +of feeling, could this Hildegarde ever have been the other? The form of +"the minx," long since dissociated from her thoughts and life, seemed to +rise, like Banquo's ghost, and stare at her with cold, disdainful eyes +and supercilious curl of the lip. Oh DEAR! how dreadful it was +to have been so odious! How could poor dear Papa and Mamma, bless them, +have endured her as they did, so patiently and sweetly? But they should +see when they came back! She had only just begun yet; but there were two +months still before her, and in that time what could she not do? They +should be surprised, those dear parents! And Madge--why, Madge would be +surprised too. Poor Madge! To think of her in Saratoga, prinking and +preening herself like a gay bird, in the midst of a whirl of dress and +diamonds and gayety, with no fields, no woods, no glen, no--no +_kitchen_! Hilda looked about the room which she had learned so to love, +trying to fancy Madge Everton in it; remembering, too, the bitterness of +her first feeling about it. The lamplight shone cheerily on the yellow +painted walls, the shining floor, the gleaming brass, copper, and china. +It lighted up the red curtains and made a halo round good Nurse Lucy's +head as she bent over her sewing; it played on the farmer's silver-bowed +spectacles as he pored with knitted brows and earnest look over the +weekly paper which he had brought from the village. The good, kind +farmer! Hilda gazed at him as he sat all unconscious, and wondered why +she had not seen at once how handsome he really was. The broad forehead, +with its deep, thoughtful furrows; the keen, yet kindly blue eyes; the +"sable-silvered" hair and beard, which, if not exactly smooth, were +still so picturesque, so leonine; the firm, perhaps obstinate, mouth, +which could speak so wisely and smile so cordially,--all these combined +to make up what the newspapers would call a "singularly attractive +exterior." And "_Oh!_ how good he has been to me!" thought Hilda. "I +believe he is the best man in the world, next to papa." Then she thought +of Madge again, and tried to fancy her in her Redfern hat,--pretty +Madge, with her black eyes and curly fringe, under the "simplicity" of +the heaven-aspiring wings and bows; and as she smiled at the image, +there rose beside it the fair head of Pink Chirk, looking out like a +white rose from the depths of her dingy straw tunnel. Then she fancied +herself saying airily (she knew _just_ how she used to say it), "The +_little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" and then she laughed +aloud at the very funniness of it. + +"Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, looking up from his paper with a smile. +"What's all this? Are ye keepin' all the jokes to yerself, Huldy?" + +"It is only my letter that is so funny," replied Hilda. "I don't believe +it would seem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley, because you don't know +the writer. But have you finished your paper, and are you ready for +Robin Hood?" + +"Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the good farmer, laying aside his paper and +rubbing his hands with an air of pleasurable anticipation. "'Pears to me +we left that good-lookin' singin' chap--what was his name?" + +"Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling. + +"Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale. 'Pears to me we left him in +rayther a ticklish situation." + +"Oh, but it comes out all right!" cried Hilda, joyously, rising to fetch +the good brown book which she loved. "You will see in the next chapter +how delightfully Robin gets him out of the difficulty." She ran and +brought the book and drew her chair up to the table, and all three +prepared for an hour of solid enjoyment. "But before I begin," she said, +"I want you to promise, Farmer Hartley, to take me with you the next +time you go to the village. I _must_ buy a hat for Pink Chirk." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE OLD CAPTAIN. + + +"Let--me--see!" said Farmer Hartley, as he gathered up the reins and +turned old Nancy's head towards the village, while Hildegarde, on the +seat beside him, turned back to wave a merry farewell to Nurse Lucy, who +stood smiling in the porch. "Let--me--see! Hev you ben off the farm +before, Huldy, sence you kem here?" + +"Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily. "And I don't believe I should be +going now, Farmer Hartley, if it were not for Pink's hat. I promised +myself that she should not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. I +wonder why anything so hideous was ever invented." + +"A straw bunnit, do ye mean?" said the farmer; "somethin' like a long +sugar-scoop, or a tunnel like?" + +"Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and coming down over her poor dear eyes +so that she cannot see anything, except for a few inches straight before +her." + +"Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "I remember when them bunnits was +considered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucy had one when she was a gal; I mind +it right well. A white straw it was, with blue ribbons on top of it. It +come close round her pooty face, an' I used to hev to sidle along and +get round in front of her before I could get a look at her. I hed +rayther a grudge agin the bunnit on that account; but I supposed it was +hahnsome, as everybody said so. I never see a bunnit o' that kind," he +continued, "without thinkin' o' Mis' Meeker an' 'Melia Tyson. I swan! it +makes me laugh now to think of 'em." + +"Who were they?" asked Hildegarde, eagerly, for she delighted in the +farmer's stories. "Please tell me about them!" + +The farmer shook his head, as was his wont when he was about to relapse +into reminiscences, and gave old Nancy several thoughtful taps with the +whip, which she highly resented. + +"Ol' Mis' Meeker," he said, presently, "she was a character, she was! +She didn't belong hereabouts, but down South somewhere, but she was +cousin to Cephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife died, she came to stop +with him a spell, an' look out for his children. Three children there +was, little Cephas, an' Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was a peart, +lively little gal, with snappin' black eyes, an' consid'ble of a will of +her own; an' Mis' Meeker, she was pooty stout, an' she took things easy, +jest as they kem, an' let the children--an' 'Melia specially--do pooty +much as they'd a mind to. Wal, one day I happened in to see Cephas about +a pair o' steers I was thinkin' o' buyin'. Cephas was out; but Mis' +Meeker said he'd be right in, she reckoned, an' asked me to take a cheer +an' wait. So I sot down, an' while I was waitin', in come 'Melia, an' +says she, 'Say, Aunt Cilly (Mis' Meeker's name was Priscilla)--Say, Aunt +Cilly, can I go down an' play with Eddie? He wants me to come, reel bad. +Can I, Aunt Cilly?' 'Not to-day, dearie,' says Mis' Meeker; 'you was +down to play with Eddie yesterday, an' I reckon that'll do for one +while!' she says. I looked at little 'Melia, an' her eyes was snappin' +like coals. She didn't say nothin', but she jest took an' shoved her +elbow right through the plate-glass winder. Ho! ho! Cephas had had his +house made over, an' he was real proud of his plate-glass winders. I d' +'no' how much they'd cost him, but 'twas a pooty good sum. An' she +shoved her elbow right through it and smashed it into shivers. I jumped +up, kind o' startled by the crash. But ol' Mis' Meeker, she jes' looked +up, as if she was a _leetle_ bit surprised, but nothin' wuth +mentionin'. 'Why, honey!' says she, in her slow, drawlin' kind o' way, +'I didn't know ye wanted to go _that_ bad! Put on yer bunnit, an' go an' +play with Eddie _this minute_!' says she. Ho! ho! ho! Them was her very +words. An' 'Melia, she tossed her bunnit on (one o' them straw Shakers +it was, an' that's what made me think o' the story), and jes' shook the +glass out'n her sleeve,--_I_ d' 'no' why the child warn't cut to pieces, +but she didn't seem t' have got no hurt,--and made a face at her aunt, +an' off she went. That's the way them children was brought up." + +"Poor things!" cried Hilda. "What became of them, Farmer Hartley?" + +"'Melia, she run off an' married a circus feller," replied the farmer, +"an' the boys, I don't rightly know _what_ become of 'em. They went out +West, I b'lieve; an' after 'Melia married, Cephas went out to jine 'em, +an' I ain't heerd nothin' of 'em for years." + +By this time they were rattling through the main street of the little +village, and presently stopped before an unpretending little shop, in +the window of which were displayed some rather forlorn-looking hats and +bonnets. + +"Here y'are, Huldy!" said the farmer, pointing to the shop with a +flourish of his whip. "Here's whar ye git the styles fust hand. Hev to +come from New York to Glenfield to git the reel thing, ye see." + +"I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightly from the wagon. + +"I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;" and with a kindly nod the +farmer drove away down the street. + +Hildegarde entered the dingy little shop with some misgivings, "I hope I +shall find _something_ fresh!" she said to herself; "those things in the +window look as if they had been there since the Flood." She quickly made +friends with the brisk little milliner, and they were soon turning over +the meagre store of hats, trimmed and untrimmed. + +"This is _real_ tasty!" said the little woman, lifting with honest pride +an alarming structure of green satin, which some straggling cock's +feathers were doing their best to hide. + +Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly, "Rather heavy for summer; don't +you think so? It would be better for a winter hat. What is this?" she +added, drawing from the farthest recesses of the box an untrimmed hat of +rough yellow straw. "I think perhaps this will do, Miss Bean." + +"Oh my land, no! you don't want _that_!" cried the little milliner, +aghast. "That's only common doin's, anyhow; and it's been in that box +three years. Them shapes ain't worn now." + +"Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it is perfectly fresh, and I like +the shape. Just wait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean. May I rummage a +little among your drawers? I will not toss the things about." + +A piece of dotted mull and a bunch of soft pink roses rewarded her +search; and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded to +make the rough straw into so dainty and bewitching a thing that Miss +Bean sat fairly petrified with amazement on her little hair-cloth sofa +in the back shop. "Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't the beat of all! +It's the tastiest hat I ever see. You never told me you'd learned the +trade!" + +This last was rather reproachfully said; and Hilda, much amused, +hastened to reassure the good woman. + +"Indeed, I never learned the trade," she said. "I take to it naturally, +I think; and I have watched my mother, who does it much better than I." + +"She must be a first-class trimmer, then!" replied Miss Bean, +emphatically. "Works in one o' them big houses in New York, I reckon, +don't she?" + +Hildegarde laughed; but before she could reply, Miss Bean went on to +say: "Wal, you're a stranger to me, but you've got a pooty good +count'nance, an' ye kem with Farmer Hartley; that's reference enough." +She paused and reflected, while Hildegarde, putting the finishing +touches to the pretty hat, wondered what was coming. "I wasn't +calc'latin' to hire help this summer," continued the milliner; "but +you're so handy, and yer ma could give ye idees from time to time. So if +ye'd like a job, I d' 'no' but I'd like to hire ye." + +The heiress of all the Grahams wanted to laugh at this naďve proposal, +but good feeling and good manners alike forbade. She thanked Miss Bean +for her kind offer, and explained that she was only spending her school +vacation at Hartley Farm; that her time was fully occupied, etc., etc. + +The little milliner looked so disappointed that Hilda was seized with a +royal impulse, and offered to "go over" the hats in the window while she +waited for Farmer Hartley, and freshen them up a bit. + +"Well, I wish't ye would!" said poor Miss Bean. "Fact is, I ain't done +so well as I c'd wish this season. Folks is dretful 'fraid o' buyin' new +things nowadays." + +Then followed a series of small confidences on the hair-cloth sofa, +while Hilda's fingers flew about the forlorn hats and bonnets, changing +a ribbon here and a flower there, patting and poking, and producing +really marvellous results. Another tale of patient labor, suffering, +privation. An invalid mother and an "innocent" brother for this frail +little woman to support. Doctors' bills and hard times, and stingy +patrons who were "as 'fraid of a dollar-bill as if 'twas the small-pox." +Hilda's eyes filled with tears of sympathy, and one great drop fell on +the green satin hat, but was instantly covered by the wreath of ivy +which was replacing the staring cock's feathers. + +"Wal, I declare to gracious!" exclaimed Miss Bean. "You'd never know +that for the same hat, now, would ye? I thought 'twas han'some before, +but it's enough site han'somer now. I shouldn' wonder a mite if Mis' +Peasley bought that hat now. She's been kind o' hankerin' arter it, the +last two or three times she was in here; but every time she tried it on, +she'd say No, 'twas too showy, she guessed. Wal, I do say, you make a +gret mistake not goin' into the trade, for you're born to it, that's +plain. When a pusson's born to a thing, he's thrown away, you may say, +on anything else. What _was_ you thinkin'--" + +But at this moment came a cheery call of "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde, +cutting short the little woman's profuse thanks and invitations to call +again, bade her a cordial good-by, and ran out to the wagon, carrying +her purchase neatly done up in brown paper. + +"Stiddy thar!" said the farmer, making room for her on the seat beside +him. "Look out for the ile-can, Huldy! Bought out the hull shop, hev ye? +Wal, I sh'll look for gret things the next few days. Huddup thar, +Nancy!" And they went jingling back along the street again. + +As they passed the queer little shops, with their antiquated signboards, +the farmer had something to say about each one. How Omnium Grabb here, +the grocer, missed his dried apples one morning, and how he accused his +chore-boy, who was his sister's son too, of having eaten them,--"As if +any livin' boy would pick out dried apples to eat, when he hed a hull +store to choose from!" and how the very next day a man coming to buy a +pair of boots, Omnium Grabb hooked down a pair from the ceiling, where +all the boots hung, and found them "chock full" of dried apples, which +the rats had been busily storing in them and their companion pairs. + +How Enoch Pillsbury, the "'pottecary, like t' ha' killed" Old Man Grout, +sending him writing fluid instead of the dark mixture for his +"dyspepsy." + +How Beulah Perkins, who lived over the dry-goods store, had been +bedridden for nineteen years, till the house where she was living caught +fire, "whereupon she jumped out o' bed an' grabbed an umbrella an' +opened it, an' ran down street in her red-flannel gownd, with the +umbrella over her head, shoutin', 'Somebody go save my bedstid! I ain't +stirred from it for nineteen years, an' I ain't never goin' to stir from +it agin. Somebody go save my bedstid!'" + +"And was it saved?" asked Hilda, laughing. + +"No," said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuth savin', nohow. Besides, if't +_hed_ been, she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayed there. Hosy Grout, who +did her chores, kicked it into the fire; an' she was a well woman to the +day of her death." + +Now the houses straggled farther and farther apart, and at last the +village was fairly left behind. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and +quickened her pace a little, looking right and left with glances of +pleasure as the familiar fields ranged themselves along either side of +the road. Hilda too was glad to be in the free country again, and she +looked with delight at the banks of fern, the stone walls covered with +white starry clematis, and the tangle of blackberry vines which made the +pleasant road so fragrant and sweet. She was silent for some time. At +last she said, half timidly, "Farmer Hartley, you promised to tell me +more about your father some day. Don't you think this would be a good +time? I have been so much interested by what I have heard of him." + +"That's curus, now," said Farmer Hartley slowly, flicking the dust with +the long lash of his whip. "It's curus, Huldy, that you sh'd mention +Father jest now, 'cause I happened to be thinkin' of him myself that +very minute. Old Father," he added meditatively, "wal, surely, he _was_ +a character, Father was. Folks about here," he said, turning suddenly to +Hilda and looking keenly at her, "think Father was ravin' crazy, or +mighty nigh it. But he warn't nothin' o' the sort. His mind was as keen +as a razor, an' as straight-edged, 'xcept jest on _one_ subject. On +_that_ he was, so to say, a little--wal--a little _tetched_." + +"And that was--?" queried Hilda. + +"Why, ye see, Huldy, Father had been a sea-farin' man all his days, an' +he'd seen all manner o' countries an' all manner o' folks; and 'tain't +to be wondered at ef he got a leetle bit confoosed sometimes between the +things he'd seen and the things he owned. Long'n short of it was, Father +thought he hed a kind o' treasure hid away somewhar, like them pirate +fellers used to hev. Ef they _did_ hev it!" he added slowly. "I never +more'n half believed none o' them yarns; but Father, he thought _he_ hed +it, an' no mistake. 'D'ye think I was five years coastin' round Brazil +for nothin'?' he says. 'There's di'monds in Brazil,' he says, 'whole +mines of 'em; an' there's _some_ di'monds _out_ o' Brazil too;' and then +he'd wink, and laugh out hearty, the way he used. He was always +laughin', Father was. An' when times was hard, he'd say to my mother, +'Wealthy, we won't sell the di'monds yet a while. Not this time, +Wealthy; but they're thar, you know, my woman, they're thar!' And when +my mother'd say, 'Whar to goodness be they, Thomas?' he'd only chuckle +an' laugh an' shake his head. Then thar was his story about the ruby +necklace. How we youngsters used to open our eyes at that! Believed it +too, every word of it." + +"Oh! what was it?" cried Hilda. "Tell me, and I will believe it too!" + +"He used to tell of a Malay pirate," said the farmer, "that he fit and +licked somewhere off in the South Seas,--when he sailed the 'Lively +Polly,' that was. She was a clipper, Father always said; an' he run +aboard the black fellers, and smashed their schooner, an' throwed their +guns overboard, an' demoralized 'em ginerally. They took to their boats +an' paddled off, what was left of 'em, an' he an' his crew sarched the +schooner, an' found a woman locked up in the cabin,--an Injin princess, +father said she was,--an' they holdin' her for ransom. Wal, Father found +out somehow whar she come from,--Javy, or Mochy, or some o' them places +out o' the spice-box,--an' he took her home, an' hunted up her parents +an' guardeens, an' handed her over safe an' sound. They--the +guardeens--was gret people whar they lived, an' they wanted to give +Father a pot o' money; but he said he warn't that kind. 'I'm a Yankee +skipper!' says he. ''Twas as good as a meal o' vittles to me to smash +that black feller!' says he. '_I_ don't want no pay for it. An' as for +the lady, 'twas a pleasure to obleege her,' he says; 'an' I'd do it agin +_any_ day in the week, _'xcept_ Sunday, when I don't fight, ez a rewl, +when I kin help it.' Then the princess, she tried to kiss his hand; but +Father said he guessed that warn't quite proper, an' the guardeens +seemed to think so too. So then she took a ruby necklace off her neck +(she was all done up in shawls, Father said, an' silk, an' gold chains, +an' fur an' things, so 's 't he couldn' see nothin' but her eyes; but +they was better wuth seein' than any other woman's hull face that ever +_he_ see), and gave it to him, an' made signs that he _must_ keep that, +anyhow. Then she said somethin' to one o' the guardeens who spoke a +little Portuguese, Father understandin' it a little too, and he told +Father she said these was the drops of her blood he had saved, an' he +must keep it to remember her. Jest like drops of blood, he said the +rubies was, strung along on a gold chain. So he took it, an' said he +warn't likely to forget about it; an' then he made his bow, an' the +guardeens said he was their father, an' their mother, an' their +great-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an' made him stay to supper, an' he +didn't eat nothin' for a week arterward." + +The farmer paused, and Hildegarde drew a long breath, "_Oh!_" she cried, +"what a delightful story, Farmer Hartley! And you don't believe it? _I_ +do, every word of it! I am _sure_ it is true!" + +"Wal, ye see," said the farmer, meditatively; "Ef' t was true, what +become o' the necklace? That's what _I_ say. Father believed it, sure +enough, and he thought he hed that necklace, as sure as you think you +hev that bunnit in yer hand. But 'twarn't never found, hide _nor_ hair +of it." + +"Might he not have sold it?" Hilda suggested. + +Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No," he said, "he warn't that kind. +Besides, he thought to the day of his death that he hed it, sure enough. +'Thar's the princess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't ye forgit that, +Wealthy! Along with the di'monds, ye know.' And then he'd laugh like he +was fit to bust. Why, when he was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't he +couldn' speak plain, he called me to him, an' made signs he wanted to +tell me somethin'. I stooped down clost, an' he whispered somethin'; but +all I could hear was 'di'monds,' and 'dig,' and then in a minute 'twas +all over. Poor old Father! He'd been a good skipper, an' a good man all +his days." + +He was silent for a time, while Hilda pondered over the story, which she +could not make up her mind to disbelieve altogether. + +"Wal! wal! and here we are at the old farm agin!" said the farmer +presently, as old Nancy turned in at the yellow gate. "Here I've been +talkin' the everlastin' way home, ain't I? You must herry and git into +the house, Huldy, for _I_ d' 'no' how the machine's managed to run +without ye all this time. I sha'n't take ye out agin ef I find anythin's +wrong." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A PARTY OF PLEASURE. + + +On a certain lovely afternoon the three happiest people in the world (so +they styled themselves, and they ought to know) were gathered together +in a certain spot, which was _next_ to the prettiest spot in the world. + +"You should have had _the_ prettiest, Pink," said Hilda, "but we could +not get your chair down into the glen, you know. My poor, dear Pink, you +have never seen the glen, have you?" + +"No," answered Pink Chirk, cheerily. "But I have heard so much about it, +I really feel as if I had seen it, almost. And indeed I don't think it +_can_ be much lovelier than this place." + +However that might be, the place they had chosen was certainly pretty +enough to satisfy any one. Not far from Mrs. Chirk's cottage was a +little pine-grove, easy of access, and with trees far enough apart to +allow the wheeled chair to pass between them. And in the grove, just in +a little open space where two or three trees had been cut away, was a +great black rock, with ferns growing in all its cracks and crannies, and +a tiny birch-tree waving like a green and white plume on its top. And at +the foot of the rock--oh, what a wonderful thing!--a slender thread of +crystal water came trickling out, as cold as ice and as clear as--as +itself; for nothing else could be so clear. Bubble had made a little +wooden trough to hold this fairy stream, and it gurgled along the trough +and tumbled over the end of it with as much agitation and consequence as +if it were the Niagara River in person. And under the rock and beside +the stream was a bank of moss and ferns most lovely to behold, most +luxurious to sit upon. On this bank sat Queen Hildegarde, with Bubble +at her feet as usual; and beside her, in her chair, sat sweet Pink, +looking more like a white rose than ever, with her fresh white dimity +gown and her pretty hat. Hilda was very busy over a mysterious-looking +basket, from whose depths she now drew a large napkin, which she spread +on the smooth green moss. A plate of sandwiches came next, and some cold +chicken, and six of Dame Hartley's wonderful apple-turnovers. + +"Now, Bubble," said Hilda, "where are those birch-bark cups that you +made for us? I have brought nothing to drink out of." + +"I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy," cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity. +"I clean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall I--? would you?" and he made +sundry enigmatical signs to his sister. + +"Yes, certainly," said Pink; "of course." + +The boy ran off, and Hilda fell to twisting pine tassels together into a +kind of fantastic garland, while Pink looked on with beaming eyes. + +"Pink," said Hilda, presently, "how is it that you speak so differently +from Bubble and your mother,--so much better English, I mean? Have +you--but no; you told me you never went to school." + +"It was Faith," said Pink, with a look of tender sadness,--"Faith +Hartley. She wanted to be a teacher, and we studied together always. +Dear Faith! I wish you had known her, Miss Graham." + +"You promised not to call me Miss Graham again, Pink," said Hildegarde, +reproachfully. "It is absurd, and I won't have it." + +"Well, Hilda, then," said Pink, shyly. "I wish you had known Faith, +Hilda; you would have loved her very much, I know." + +"I am sure I should," said Hilda, warmly. "Tell me more about her. Why +did she want to teach when she was so happy at home?" + +"She loved children very much," said Pink, "and liked to be with them. +She thought that if she studied hard, she could teach them more than +the district school teachers about here generally do, and in a better +way. I think she would have done a great deal of good," she added, +softly. + +"Oh! _why_ did she die?" cried Hilda. "She was so much needed! It broke +her father's heart, and her mother's, and almost yours, my Pink. Why was +it right for her to die?" + +"It _was_ right, dear," said Pink, gently; "that is all we can know. +'Why' isn't answered in this world. My granny used to say,-- + + "'Never lie! + Never pry! + Never ask the reason why!'" + +Hilda shook her head, and was about to reply earnestly; but at this +moment Bubble came bounding back with something in his arms,--something +covered with an old shawl; something alive, which did not like the +shawl, and which struggled, and made plaintive little noises, which the +boy tried vainly to repress. + +[Illustration: "'SAY, MISS HILDY,--DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"] + +"Say, Miss Hildy," he cried, eagerly, "do ye like--be still, ye critter; +hesh, I tell ye!--do you like purps?" + +"'Purps,' Bubble?" repeated Hilda, wonderingly. "What are they? And what +have you there,--your poor old cat? Let her go! For shame, you naughty +boy!" + +"Puppies, he means," whispered Pink. + +"'Cause if ye do," cried the breathless Bubble, still struggling with +his shrouded captive, "I've got one here as--Wal, thar! go 'long, ye +pesky critter, if ye _will_!" for the poor puppy had made one frantic +effort, and leaped from his arms to the ground, where it rolled over and +over, a red and green plaid mass, with a white tail sticking out of one +end. On being unrolled, it proved to be a little snow-white, curly +creature, with long ears and large, liquid eyes, whose pathetic glance +went straight to Hilda's heart. + +"Oh, the little darling!" she cried, taking him up in her arms; "the +pretty, pretty creature! Is he really for me, Bubble? Thank you very +much. I shall love him dearly, I know." + +"I'm glad ye like him," said Bubble, looking highly gratified. "Hosy +Grout giv him an' another one to me yes'day, over 't the village. He was +goin' to drownd 'em, an' I wouldn' let him, an' he said I might hev 'em +ef I wanted 'em. I knew Pink would like to hev one, an' I thought mebbe +you liked critters, an' so--" + +"Good Bubble!" said Hilda, stroking the little dog's curly head. "And +what shall I call him, Pink? Let us each think of a name, and then +choose the best." + +There was a pause, and then Bubble said, "Call him Scott, after the bold +Buckle-oh!" + +"Or Will, for 'the wily Belted Will,'" said Pink, who was as inveterate +a ballad-lover as her brother. + +"I think Jock is a good name," said Hildegarde,--"Jock o' Hazeldean, you +know. I think I will call him Jock." The others assented, and the +puppy was solemnly informed of the fact, and received a chicken-bone in +honor of the occasion. Then the three friends ate their dinner, and very +merry they were over it. Hildegarde crowned Pink with the pine-tassel +wreath, and declared that she looked like a priestess of Diana. + +"No, she don't," said Bubble, looking up from his cold chicken; "she +looks like Lars Porsena of Clusium sot in his ivory cheer, on'y she +ain't f'erce enough. Hold up yer head, Pinky, an' look real savage, an' +I'll do Horatius at the Bridge." + +Pink did her best to look savage, and Zerubbabel stood up and delivered +"Horatius" with much energy and appropriate action, to the great +amusement of his audience. A stout stick, cut from a neighboring +thicket, served for the "good Roman steel;" and with this he cut and +slashed and stabbed with furious energy, reciting the lines meanwhile +with breathless ferocity. He slew the "great Lord of Luna," and on the +imaginary body he-- + + "Right firmly pressed his heel, + And thrice and four times tugged amain, + Ere he wrenched out the steel." + +But when he cried-- + + "What noble Lucumo comes next + To taste our Roman cheer?" + +the puppy, who had been watching the scene with kindling eyes, and ears +and tail of eager inquiry, could bear it no longer, but flung himself +valiantly into the breach, and barked defiance, dancing about in front +of Horatius and snapping furiously at his legs. Alas, poor puppy! He was +hailed as "Sextus," and bade "welcome" by the bold Roman, who forthwith +charged upon him, and drove him round and round the grove till he sought +safety and protection in the lap of Lars Porsena herself. Then the +bridge came down, and Horatius, climbing nimbly to the top of the rock, +apostrophized his Father Tiber, sheathed his good sword by his side +(_i.e._, rammed his stick into and _through_ his breeches pocket), and +with his jacket on his back plunged headlong in the tide, and swam +valiantly across the pine-strewn surface of the little glade. + +Bubble's performance was much applauded by the two girls, who, in the +characters of Lars Porsena and Mamilius, "Prince of the Latian name," +had surveyed the whole with dignified amazement. And when the boy, +exhausted with his heroic exertions, threw himself down on the +pine-needles and begged "Miss Hildy" to sing to them, she readily +consented, and sang "Jock o' Hazeldean" and "Come o'er the stream, +Charlie!" so sweetly that the little fat birds sat still on the branches +to listen. A faint glow stole into Pink's wan cheek, and her blue eyes +sparkled with pleasure; while Bubble bobbed his head, and testified his +delight by drumming with his heels on the ground and begging for more. +"A ballid now, Miss Hildy, please," he cried. + +"Well," said Hildegarde, nothing loth, "what shall it be?" + +"One with some fightin' in it," replied Bubble, promptly. + +So Hildegarde began:-- + + "Down Deeside cam Inverey, + Whistling and playing; + He's lighted at Brackley gates + At the day's dawing." + +And went on to tell of the murder of "bonnie Brackley" and of the +treachery of his young wife:-- + + "There's grief in the kitchen, + And mirth in the ha'; + But the Baron o' Brackley + Is dead and awa'." + +So the ballad ended, leaving Bubble full of sanguinary desires anent the +descendants of the false Inverey. "I--I--I'd like jest to git holt o' +some o' them fellers!" he exclaimed. "They wouldn't go slaughterin' +round no gret amount when I'd finished with em', I tell ye!" And he +flourished his stick, and looked so fierce that the puppy yelped +piteously, expecting another onslaught. + +"And now, Pink," said Hilda, "we have just time for a story before we go +home. Bubble has told me about your stories, and I want very much to +hear one." + +"Oh, Hilda, they are not worth telling twice!" protested Pink; "I just +make them for Bubble when he takes me out on Sunday. It's all I can do +for the dear lad." + +"Don't you mind her, Miss Hildy," said Bubble; "they're fustrate +stories, an' she tells 'em jest like p--'rithmetic. Go ahead, Pink! Tell +the one about the princess what looked in the glass all the time." + +So Pink, in her low, sweet voice, told the story of + + +THE VAIN PRINCESS. + +Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful that it was +a wonder to look at her. But she was also very vain; and her beauty was +of no use or pleasure to anybody, for she sat and looked in her mirror +all day long, and never thought of doing anything else. + +The mirror was framed in beaten gold, but the gold was not so bright as +her shining locks; and all about its rim great sapphires were set, but +they were dim and gray, compared with the blue of her lovely eyes. So +there she sat all day in a velvet chair, clad in a satin gown with +fringes of silver and pearl; and nobody in the world was one bit the +better for her or her beauty. + +Now, one day the princess looked at herself so long and so earnestly +that she fell fast asleep in her velvet chair, with the golden mirror in +her lap. While she slept, a gust of wind blew the casement window open, +and a rose that was growing on the wall outside peeped in. It was a poor +little feeble white rose, which had climbed up the wall in a straggling +fashion, and had no particular strength or beauty or sweetness. Every +one who saw it from the outside said, "What a wretched little plant! +Why is it not cut down?" and the rose trembled when it heard this, for +it was as fond of life as if it were beautiful, and it still hoped for +better days. Inside, no one thought about it at all; for the beautiful +princess never left her chair to open the window. + +Now, when the rose saw the princess it was greatly delighted, for it had +often heard of her marvellous beauty. It crept nearer and nearer, and +gazed at the golden wonder of her hair, her ivory skin under which the +blushes came and went as she slept, and her smiling lips. "Ah!" sighed +the rose, "if I had only a tinge of that lovely red, I should be finer +than all the other roses." And as it gazed, the thought came into its +mind: "Why should I not steal a little of this wondrous beauty? Here it +is of no use to anybody. If I had it, I would delight every one who +passed by with my freshness and sweetness, and people would be the +better for seeing a thing so lovely." + +So the rose crept to the princess's feet, and climbed up over her satin +gown, and twined about her neck and arms, and about her lovely golden +head. And it stole the blush from her cheek, and the crimson from her +lips, and the gold from her hair. And the princess grew pale and paler; +but the rose blushed red and redder, and its golden heart made the room +bright, and its sweetness filled the air. It grew and grew, and now new +buds and leaves and blossoms appeared; and when at last it left the +velvet chair and climbed out of the casement again, it was a glorious +plant, such as had never before been seen. All the passers-by stopped to +look at it and admire it. Little children reached up to pluck the +glowing blossoms, and sick and weary people gained strength and courage +from breathing their delicious perfume. The world was better and happier +for the rose, and the rose knew it, and was glad. + +But when the princess awoke, she took up her golden mirror again, and +looking in it, saw a pale and wrinkled and gray-haired woman looking at +her. Then she shrieked, and flung the mirror on the ground, and rushed +out of her palace into the wide world. And wherever she went she cried, +"I am the beautiful princess! Look at me and see my beauty; for I will +show it to you now!" But nobody looked at her, for she was withered and +ugly; and nobody cared for her, because she was selfish and vain. So she +made no more difference in the world than she had made before. But the +rose is blossoming still, and fills the air with its sweetness. + + * * * * * + +"My Pink," said Hildegarde, tenderly, as she walked beside her friend's +chair on their homeward way, "you are shut up like the princess; but +instead of the rose stealing your sweetness, you have stolen the +sweetness of all the roses, and taken it into your prison with you." + +"I 'shut up,' Hilda?" cried Pink, opening wide eyes of wonder and +reproach. "Do you call _this_ being shut up? See what I have had to-day! +Enough pleasure to think about for a year. And even without it,--even +before you came, Hilda,--why, I am the happiest girl in the world, and I +ought to be." + +Hildegarde stooped and kissed the pale forehead. "Yes, dear, I think you +are," she said; "but I should like you to have all the pleasant and +bright and lovely things in the world, my Pink." + +"Well, I have the best of them," said Pink Chirk, smiling +brightly,--"home and love, and friends and flowers. And as for the rest, +why, dear Hilda, what _is_ the use in thinking about things one has +not?" + +After this, which was part of Pink's little code of philosophy, she fell +a-musing happily, while Hilda walked beside her in a kind of silent +rage, almost hating herself for the fulness of vigor, the superabundant +health and buoyancy, which she felt in every limb. She looked sidelong +at the transparent cheek, the wasted frame, the unearthly radiance of +the blue eyes. This girl was just her own age, and had never walked! It +could not, it _must_ not, be so always. Thoughts thronged into her mind +of the great New York physicians and the wonders they had wrought. Might +it not be possible? Could not something be done? The blood coursed more +quickly through her veins, and she laid her hand on that of the crippled +girl with a sudden impulse of protection and tenderness. + +Pink Chirk looked up with a wondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde," she +said, "you look like the British warrior queen you told me about +yesterday. I was just thinking what a comfort it is to live now, instead +of in those dreadful murdering times that the ballads tell of." + +"I _druther_ ha' lived then!" cried Bubble, from behind the chair. "If I +hed, I'd ha' got hold o' that Inverey feller." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE WARRIOR QUEEN. + + +Happily, happily, the days and weeks slipped by at Hartley Farm; and now +September was half gone, and in two weeks more Hilda's parents would +return. The letter had just arrived which fixed the date of their +homecoming and Hildegarde had carried it upstairs to feast on it in her +own room. She sat by the window in the little white rocking-chair, and +read the words over and over again. In two weeks--really in two little +weeks--she should see her mother again! It was too good to be true. + +"Dragons, do you hear?" she cried, turning towards the wash-handstand. +"You have seen my mother, Dragons, and she has washed her little +blessed face in your bowl. I should think that might have stopped your +ramping, if anything could. Or have you been waving your paws for joy +ever since? I may have been unjust to you, Dragons." + +The blue dragons, as usual, refused to commit themselves; and, as usual, +the gilt cherubs round the looking-glass were shocked at their rudeness, +and tried to atone for it by smiling as hard as they possibly could. + +"Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" said the happy girl, bending forward +to kiss one of them as she was brushing her hair. "_You_ do not ramp and +glower when one tells you that one's mother is coming home. I know you +are glad, you dear old things!" + +And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at the cherubs, a +thought struck her which sent a pang through her heart. The cherubs +would still smile, just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not all +delight, this great news. There was sorrow mingled with the rapture. +Her heart was with her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeing +her mother's face, of hearing her father's voice, sent the blood dancing +through her veins. And yet--she must leave the farm; she must leave +Nurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss her. They loved her; ah! +how could they help it, when she loved them so much? And the pain came +again at her heart as she recalled the sad smile with which the farmer +had handed her this letter. "Good news for you, Huldy," he said, "but +bad for the rest of us, I reckon!" Had he had word also, or did he just +know that this was about the time they had meant to return? Oh, but she +would come out so often to the farm! Papa and mamma would be willing, +would wish her to come; and she could not live long at a time in town, +without refreshing herself with a breath of _real_ air, country air. She +might have _wilted_ along somehow for sixteen years; but she had never +been _really_ alive--had she?--till this summer. + +Pink and Bubble too! they would miss her almost as much. But that did +not trouble her, for she had a plan in her head for Pink and Bubble,--a +great plan, which was to be whispered to Papa _almost_ the very moment +she saw him,--not quite _the_ very moment, but the next thing to it. The +plan would please Nurse Lucy and the farmer too,--would please them +almost as much as it delighted her to think about it. + +Happy thought! She would go down now and tell the farmer about it. Nurse +Lucy was lying down with a bad headache, she knew; but the farmer was +still in the kitchen. She heard him moving about now, though he had said +he was going off to the orchard. She would steal in softly and startle +him, and then-- + +Full of happy and loving thoughts, Hildegarde slipped quietly down the +stairs and across the hall, and peeped in at the kitchen-door to see +what the farmer was doing. He was at the farther end of the room, with +his back turned to her, stooping down over his desk. What was he doing? +What a singular attitude he was in! Then, all in a moment, Hilda's heart +seemed to stop beating, and her breath came thick and short; for she saw +that this man before her was not the farmer. The farmer had not long +elf-locks of black hair straggling over his coat-collar; he was not +round-shouldered or bow-legged; above all, he would not be picking the +lock of his own desk, for this was what the man before her was doing. +Silent as her own shadow, Hildegarde slipped back into the hall and +stood still a moment, collecting her thoughts. What should she do? Call +Dame Hartley? The "poor dear" was suffering much, and why should she be +disturbed? Run to find the farmer? She might have to run all over the +farm! No; she would attend to this herself. She was not in the least +afraid. She knew pretty well what ugly face would look up at her when +she spoke; for she felt sure that the slouching, ungainly figure was +that of Simon Hartley. Her heart burned with indignation against the +graceless, thankless churl who could rob the man on whose charity he had +been living for two years. She made a step forward, with words of +righteous wrath on her lips; then paused, as a new thought struck her. +This man was an absolute ruffian; and though she believed him to be an +absolute coward also, still he must know that she and Dame Hartley were +alone in the house. He must know also that the farmer was at some +distance, else he would not have ventured to do this. What should she +do? she asked herself again. She looked round her, and her eyes fell +upon the old horse-pistol which rested on a couple of hooks over the +door. The farmer had taken it down only a day or two before, to show it +to her and tell her its story. It was not loaded, but Simon did not know +that. She stepped lightly up on a chair, and in a moment had taken the +pistol down. It was a formidable-looking weapon, and Hildegarde surveyed +it with much satisfaction as she turned once more to enter the kitchen. +Unloaded as it was, it gave her a feeling of entire confidence; and her +voice was quiet and steady as she said: + +"Simon Hartley, what are you doing to your uncle's desk?" + +The man started violently and turned round, his hands full of papers, +which he had taken from one of the drawers. He changed color when he saw +"the city gal," as he invariably termed Hilda, and he answered sullenly, +"Gitt'n someth'n for Uncle." + +"That is not true," said Hildegarde, quietly, "I have heard your uncle +expressly forbid you to go near that desk. Put those papers back!" + +The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyes shifting uneasily from her to +the desk and back again. "I guess I ain't goin' to take orders from no +gal!" he muttered, huskily. + +"Put those papers back!" repeated Hildegarde sternly, with a sudden +light in her gray eyes which made the rascal step backward and thrust +the papers hurriedly into the drawer. After which he began to bluster, +as is the manner of cowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin' hectorin' +round with their airs an'--" + +"Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde, quietly. + +But Simon's sluggish blood was warmed by his little bluster, and he took +courage as he reflected that this was only a slight girl, and that no +one else was in the house except "Old Marm," and that many broad meadows +intervened between him and the farmer's stout arm. He would frighten her +a bit, and get the money after all. + +"We'll see about that!" he said, taking a step towards Hilda, with an +evil look in his red eyes. "I'll settle a little account with you fust, +my fine lady. I'll teach you to come spyin' round on me this way. Ye +ain't give me a civil word sence ye come here, an' I'll pay ye--" + +Here Simon stopped suddenly; for without a word Hildegarde had raised +the pistol (which he had not seen before, as her hand was behind her), +and levelled it full at his head, keeping her eyes steadily fixed on +him. With a howl of terror the wretch staggered back, putting up his +hands to ward off the expected shot. + +"Don't shoot!" he gasped, while his color changed to a livid green. +"I--I didn't mean nothin', I swar I didn't, Miss Graham. I was +only--foolin'!" and he tried to smile a sickly smile; but his eyes fell +before the stern glance of the gray eyes fixed so unwaveringly on him. + +"Go to your room!" said Hilda, briefly. He hesitated. The lock clicked, +and the girl took deliberate aim. + +"I'm goin'!" shrieked the rascal, and began backing towards the door, +while Hilda followed step by step, still covering him with her deadly(!) +weapon. They crossed the kitchen and the back hall in this way, and +Simon stumbled against the narrow stairs which led to his garret +room. + +"I dassn't turn round to g' up!" he whined; "ye'll shoot me in the +back." No answer; but the lock clicked again, more ominously than +before. He turned and fled up the stairs, muttering curses under his +breath. Hildegarde closed the door at the foot of the stairs, which +generally stood open, bolted it, and pushed a heavy table against it. +Then she went back into the kitchen, sat down in her own little chair, +and--laughed! + +Yes, laughed! The absurdity of the whole episode, the ruffian quaking +and fleeing before the empty pistol, her own martial fierceness and +sanguinary determination, struck her with irresistible force, and peal +after peal of silvery laughter rang through the kitchen. Perhaps it was +partly hysterical, for her nerves were unconsciously strung to a high +pitch; but she was still laughing, and still holding the terrible pistol +in her hand, when Dame Hartley entered the kitchen, looking startled +and uneasy. + +"Dear Hilda," said the good woman, "what has been going on? I thought +surely I heard a man's voice here. And--why! good gracious, child! what +are you doing with that pistol?" + +Hildegarde saw that there was nothing for it but to tell the simple +truth, which she did in as few words as possible, trying to make light +of the whole episode. But Dame Hartley was not to be deceived, and saw +at once the full significance of what had happened. She was deeply +moved. "My dear, brave child," she said, kissing Hilda warmly, "to think +of your facing that great villain and driving him away! The courage of +you! Though to be sure, any one could see it in your eyes, and your +father a soldier so many of his days too." + +"Oh! it was not I who frightened him," said honest Hilda, "it was the +old pistol." But Nurse Lucy only shook her head and kissed her again. +The thought of Simon's ingratitude and treachery next absorbed her mind, +and tears of anger stood in her kind blue eyes. + +"It was a black day for my poor man," she said, "when he brought that +fellow to the house. I mistrusted him from the first look at his sulky +face. A man who can't look you in the eyes,--well, there! that's my +opinion of him!" + +"Why did the farmer bring him here?" asked Hilda. "I have often +wondered." + +"Why, 'tis a long story, my dear," said Nurse Lucy, smoothing her apron +and preparing for a comfortable chat ("For," she said, "Simon will not +dare to stir from his room, even if he could get out, which he can't."). +"Of all his brothers, my husband loved his brother Simon best. He was a +handsome, clever fellow, Simon was. Don't you remember, my dear, Farmer +speaking of him one day when you first came here, and telling how he +wanted to be a gentleman; and I turned the talk when you asked what +became of him?" Hilda nodded assent "Well," Nurse Lucy continued, "that +was because no good came of him, and I knew it vexed Farmer to think on +it, let alone Simon's son being there. It was all through his wanting to +be a gentleman that Simon got into bad ways. Making friends with people +who had money, he got to thinking he must have it, or must make believe +he had it; so he spent all he had, and then--oh, dear!--he forged his +father's name, and the farm had to be mortgaged to get him out of +prison; and then he took to drinking, and went from bad to worse, and +finally died in misery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! it almost broke +Jacob's heart, that it did. He had tried, if ever man tried, to save his +brother; but 'twas of no use. It seemed as if he was _bound_ to ruin +himself, and nothing could stop him. When he died, his wife (he married +her, thinking she had money, and it turned out she hadn't a penny) took +the child and went back to her own people, and we heard nothing more +till about two years ago, when this boy came to Jacob with a letter from +his mother's folks. She was dead, and they said _they_ couldn't do for +him any longer, and he didn't seem inclined to do for himself. Well, +that is the story, Hilda dear. He has been here ever since, and he has +been no comfort, no pleasure to us, I must say; but we have tried to do +our duty by him, and I hoped he might feel in his heart some gratitude +to his uncle, though he showed none in his actions. And now to think of +it! to think of it! How shall I tell my poor man?" + +"What was his mother like?" asked Hildegarde, trying to turn for the +moment the current of painful thought. + +Nurse Lucy gave a little laugh, even while wiping the tears from her +eyes. "Poor Eliza!" she said. "She was a good woman, but--well, there! +she had no _faculty_, as you may say. And homely! you never saw such a +homely woman, Hilda; for I don't believe there could be two in the +world. I never think of Eliza without remembering what Jacob said after +he saw her for the first time. He'd been over to see Simon; and when he +came back he walked into the kitchen and sat down, never saying a word, +but just shaking his head over and over again. 'What's the matter, +Jacob?' I said. 'Matter?' said he. 'Matter enough, Marm Lucy' (he's +always called me Marm Lucy, my dear, since the very day we were married, +though I wasn't _very_ much older than you then). 'Simon's married,' he +said, 'and I've seen his wife.' Of course I was surprised, and I wanted +to know all about it. 'What sort of a girl is she?' I asked. 'Is she +pretty? What color is her hair?' But Jacob put up his hand and stopped +me. 'Thar!' he says, 'don't ask no questions, and I'll tell ye. Fust +place, she ain't no gal, no more'n yer Aunt Saleny is!' (that was a +maiden aunt of mine, dear, and well over forty at that time.) 'And what +does she look like?' 'Wal! D'ye ever see an old cedar fence-rail,--one +that had been chumped out with a blunt axe, and had laid out in the sun +and the wind and the snow and the rain till 'twas warped this way, and +shrunk that way, and twisted every way? Wal! Simon's wife looks as if +she had swallowed one o' them fence-rails, and _shrunk to it_! Dear, +dear! how I laughed. And 'twas true, my dear! It was just the way she +did look. Poor soul! she led a sad life; for when Simon found he'd made +a mistake about the money, there was no word too bad for him to fling at +her." + +At this moment Farmer Hartley's step was heard in the porch, and Nurse +Lucy rose hurriedly. "Don't say anything to him, Hilda dear," she +whispered,--"anything about Simon, I mean. I'll tell him to-morrow; but +I don't want to trouble him to-night. This is our Faith's +birthday,--seventeen year old she'd have been to-day; and it's been a +right hard day for Jacob! I'll tell him about it in the morning." + +Alas! when morning came it was too late. The kitchen door was swinging +idly open; the desk was broken open and rifled; and Simon Hartley was +gone, and with him the savings of ten years' patient labor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD MILL. + + +It was a sad group that sat in the pleasant kitchen that bright +September morning. The good farmer sat before his empty desk, seeming +half stupefied by the blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him, while +his wife hung about him, reproaching herself bitterly for not having put +him on his guard the night before. Hildegarde moved restlessly about the +kitchen, setting things to rights, as she thought, though in reality she +hardly knew what she was doing, and had already carefully deposited the +teapot in the coal-hod, and laid the broom on the top shelf of the +dresser. Her heart was full of wrath and sorrow,--fierce anger against +the miserable wretch who had robbed his benefactor; sympathy for her +kind friends, brought thus suddenly from comfort to distress. For she +knew now that the money which Simon had stolen had been drawn from the +bank only two days before to pay off the mortgage on the farm. + +"I shouldn't ha' minded the money," Farmer Hartley was saying, even now, +"if I'd ha' been savin' it jest to spend or lay by. I shouldn't ha' +minded, though 'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hev Simon's son take +it,--my brother Simon's son, as I allus stood by. But it's hard to let +the farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it's terrible hard!" and he bowed his +head upon his hands in a dejection which made his wife weep anew and +wring her hands. + +"But they will not take the farm from you, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda, +aghast. "They _cannot_ do that, can they? Why, it was your father's, and +your grandfather's before him." + +"And _his_ father's afore _him_!" said the farmer, looking up with a sad +smile on his kindly face. "But that don't make no difference, ye see, +Hildy. Lawyer Clinch is a hard man, a terrible hard man; and he's always +wanted this farm. It's the best piece o' land in the hull township, an' +he wants it for a market farm." + +"But _why_ did you mortgage it to him?" cried Hilda. + +"I didn't, my gal; I didn't!" said the farmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watch +over it ever sence Simon began to get into trouble,--reckon he knew +pooty well how things would come out; an' bimeby Jason Doble, as held +the mortgage, he up an' died, an' then Lawyer Clinch stepped in an' told +the 'xecutors how Jason owed him a big debt, but he didn't want to do +nothin' onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and call +it square. Th' executors was kind o' fool people, both on 'em--_I_ d'no' +what possessed Jason Doble to choose them for 'xecutors, when he might +ha' hed the pick o' the State lunatic asylum an' got some fools as knew +something; but so 'twas, an' I s'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv' +it to him, an' thanked him for takin' it; and he's waited an' waited, +hopin' to ketch me in a tight place,--an' now he's done it. An' that's +about all there is to it!" added Farmer Hartley, rising and pushing back +his massive gray hair. "An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an' mowlin' +over it. Thar's all Simon's work to be done, an' my own too. Huldy, my +gal!" he held out his honest brown hand to Hildegarde, who clasped it +affectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stay by Marm Lucy and chirk her +up a bit. 'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't no gal of her own +now to do for her. But ye've grown to be almost a daughter to us, Huldy. +God bless ye, child!" + +His voice faltered as he laid his other hand for a moment on the girl's +fair head; then, turning hastily away, he took up his battered straw hat +and went slowly out of the house, an older man, it might have been by +ten years, than he had been the night before. + +Right daughterly did Hilda show herself that day, and Faith herself +could hardly have been more tender and helpful. Feeling intuitively that +work was the best balm for a sore heart, she begged for Nurse Lucy's +help and advice in one and another item of household routine. Then she +bethought her of the churning, and felt that if this thing was to +befall, it could not have better befallen than on a Tuesday, when the +great blue churn stood ready in the dairy, and the cream lay thick and +yellow in the shining pans. + +"Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy. "If I hadn't forgotten my +butter in all this trouble! And it must be made, sorrow or smiles, as +the old saying is. Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will. Your face is +the only bright thing I can see this sad day." + +[Illustration: "EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."] + +So they went together into the cool dairy, where the light came in dimly +through the screen of clematis that covered the window; Hilda bared her +round white arms, and Nurse Lucy pinned back her calico sleeves from a +pair that were still shapely, though brown, and each took a skimmer and +set earnestly to work. The process of skimming cream is in itself a +soothing, not to say an absorbing one. To push the thick, yellow +ripples, piling themselves upon the skimmer, across the pan; to see it +drop, like melted ivory, into the cream-bowl; to pursue floating cream +islands round and round the pale and mimic sea,--who can do this long, +and not be comforted in some small degree, even in the midst of heavy +sorrow? Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement when +the butter first splashes in the churn. So Nurse Lucy took heart, and +churned and pressed and moulded her butter; and though some tears fell +into it, it was none the worse for that. + +But as she stamped each ball with the familiar stamp, showing an +impossible cow with four lame legs--"How many more times," said the good +woman, "shall I use this stamp; and what kind of butter will they make +who come after me?" and her tears flowed again. "Lawyer Clinch keeps a +hired girl, and I never saw _real_ good butter made by a hired girl. +They haven't the _feeling_ for it; and there's feeling in butter-making +as much as in anything else." + +But here Hilda interposed, and gently hinted that there ought now to be +"feeling" about getting the farmer's dinner. "We must have the things he +likes best," she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eat +anything. I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; and +there is the fowl for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy." + +The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work to +be done. Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seen +Dame Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble had +brought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, with +a bottle of hot water at her and a bowl of cracked ice by her side,--it +was not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothing +songs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself. She +ran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting for +the village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, +of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search was +being made for the wretched Simon. + +When old Nancy had trotted away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat +down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, so +hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening +ruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary flash of hope that +made her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but the +hope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for the +Yosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatch +would reach him. She sighed, and sank back on the bench with a hopeless +feeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had not +seen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually her +inseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, to +which he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was a +person who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was in +return to be loved desperately, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping, and +knocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one's +invitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from a +mistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jock +always sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door, +and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for the +sound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligently +forward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but only +waited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appeared +with her hat on, oh, the rapture! the shrieks and squeaks and leaps of +joy, the wrigglings of body and frantic waggings of tail that ensued! + +So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge of +his views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But now +it struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since last +night; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tail +against the door by way of reminder. Where could the little fellow be? +She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visited +the barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wont +to linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to see +Will," she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was very +possible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchanged +visits, sometimes acting as letter-carriers for their two mistresses, +Pink and Hilda. If Jock was at Pink's house, he would be well cared for, +and Bubble would--but here Hildegarde started, as a new perplexity +arose. Where _was_ Bubble? They had actually forgotten the boy in the +confusion and trouble of the day. He had not certainly come to the +house, as he invariably did; and the farmer had not spoken of him when +he came in at noon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hilda thought, with fresh +alarm. If it should be so, Bubble could not leave her, for Mrs. Chirk +was nursing a sick woman two or three miles away, and there were no +other neighbors nearer than the farm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "and I +cannot go to you at once, for Nurse Lucy must not be left alone in her +trouble. I must wait, wait patiently till Farmer Hartley comes back." + +Patiently she tried to wait. She stole up to her room, and taking up one +of her best-beloved books, "The Household of Sir Thomas More," lost +herself for a while in the noble sorrows of Margaret Roper. But even +this could not hold her long in her restless frame of mind, so she went +downstairs again, and out into the soft, golden September air, and fell +to pacing up and down the gravel walk before the house like a slender, +white-robed sentinel. Presently there was a rustling in the bushes, then +a hasty, joyful bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greeted +Hildegarde with every demonstration of affection. "Jock! my own dear +little Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress her favorite. But as +she did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which was +bounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless patted +the little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad to +see him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where +is Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke" as well +as he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the well-known +name. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with a +peculiar action which at once attracted her attention. She took him up +in her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinned +securely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened the +note and read as follows:-- + + MISS HILDY, + + Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to + me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned + on the fence and says he I've fixed your city gal up fine he + says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says + I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I + know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it + don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her + to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he. And then + he larf LAUGHED I was bound I'd get it Miss Hildy I don't + see why they spell a thing g and say it f and went away. And + I run after him to make him tell me what he d been up to and + climbin over the wall I ketched my foot on a stone and the + stone come down on my foot and me with it and I didn't know + anything till Simon had gone and my foot swoll up so s I + couldn't walk and I wouldnt a minded its hurtin Miss Hildy + but it s like there wornt no bones in it Pink says I sprante + it bad and I started to go over to the Farm on all fours to + tell ye but I didn't know anythin g agin and Pink made me + come back. We couldnt nether on us get hold of Will but now + we got him I hope he l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted to + write this for me but I druther write myself you aint punk + tuated it she says. She can punk tuate it herself better n I + can I an ti cip ate I says. From + + ZERUBBABEL CHIRK + + P.S. I wisht I could get him out for ye Miss Hildy. + +If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda had no heart to see the fun. Her +tears flowed fast as she realized the fate of her pretty little pet and +playfellow. The vindictive wretch, too cowardly to face her again, had +taken his revenge upon the harmless little dog. All day long poor Jock +had been in that fearful place! He was still only a puppy, and she knew +he could not possibly get out if he had really been thrown into the pit +of the great wheel. But--and she gave a cry of pain as the thought +struck her--perhaps it was only his lifeless body that was lying there. +Perhaps the ruffian had killed him, and thrown him down there +afterwards. She started up and paced the walk hurriedly, trying to think +what she had best do. Her first impulse was to fly at once to the glen; +but that was impossible, as she must not, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. +No one was near: they were quite alone. Again she said, "I must wait; I +_must_ wait till Farmer Hartley comes home." But the waiting was harder +now than it had been before. She could do nothing but pace up and down, +up and down, like a caged panther, stopping every few minutes to throw +back her head and listen for the longed-for sound,--the sound of +approaching wheels. + +Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilight +deepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the soft +night noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day died +away. But Hilda had ears for only one sound. At length, out of the +silence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint, +clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. There +was no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs, and with it was a dim +suggestion of a rattle, a jingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer was +coming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just coming +down the stairs. "The farmer is coming," she said, hastily; "he is +almost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back--" and she was +gone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question. + +Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, only +stopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to put +some matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully, +and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past the +cow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was so +familiar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blindfold; and +this was well for her, for in the dense shade of the beech-plantation it +was now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caught +the tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was something +ghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerves +had been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer full +control of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to the +dog and hurried on. + +Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade; down the +pine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwood +at the right, and the ruined mill looming black before her. Now came the +three broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Round +the corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping +her way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily, +so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must light +the lantern before she ventured down the long flight of steps. The +match spurted, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faint +light on the immediate space around her. It only made the outer darkness +seem more intense. But no matter, she could see two steps in front of +her; and holding the lantern steadily before her, she stepped carefully +down and down, until she stood on the firm greensward of the glen. Ah! +how different everything was now from its usual aspect. The green and +gold were turned into black upon black. The laughing, dimpling, +sun-kissed water was now a black, gloomy pool, beyond which the fall +shimmered white like a water-spirit (Undine,--or was it Kühleborn, the +malignant and vengeful sprite?). The firs stood tall and gaunt, closing +like a spectral guard about the ruined mill, and pointing their long, +dark fingers in silent menace at the intruder upon their evening repose. +Hildegarde shivered again, and held her lantern tighter, remembering how +Bubble had said that the glen was "a tormentin' spooky place after +dark." She looked fearfully about her as a low wind rustled the +branches. They bent towards her as if to clutch her; an angry whisper +seemed to pass from one to the other; and an utterly unreasoning terror +fell upon the girl. She stood for a moment as if paralyzed with fear, +when suddenly the little dog gave a sharp yelp, and leaped up on her +impatiently. The sound startled her into new terror; but in a moment the +revulsion came, and she almost laughed aloud. Here was she, a great +girl, almost a woman, cowering and shivering, while a tiny puppy, who +had hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on. She patted the dog, +and "taking herself by both ears," as she expressed it afterwards, +walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle of vines and +bushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into the +vault of the mill. + +A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wing +that brushed it. It had a mouldy smell. Holding up the lantern, +Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening. A +gruesome place it was in which she found herself. Grim enough by +daylight, it was now doubly so; for the blackness seemed like something +tangible, some shapeless monster which was gathering itself together, +and shrinking back, inch by inch, as the little spark of light moved +forward. The gaunt beams, the jagged bits of iron, bent and twisted into +fantastic shapes, stretched and thrust themselves from every side, and +again the girl fancied them fleshless arms reaching out to clutch her. +But hark! was that a sound,--a faint sound from the farthest and darkest +corner, where the great wheel raised its toothed and broken round from +the dismal pit? + +"Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, "are you there?" + +A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tiny bark, answered her, and a faint +scratching was heard. In an instant all fear left Hilda, and she sprang +forward, holding the lantern high above her head, and calling out words +of encouragement and cheer. "Courage, Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missis +is here; Missis will save you! Speak to him, Will! tell him you are +here." + +"Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttling about in the darkness. "Wa-ow!" +replied a pitiful squeak from the depths of the wheel-pit. Hilda reached +the edge of the pit and looked down. In one corner was a little white +bundle, which moved feebly, and wagged a piteous tail, and squeaked with +faint rapture. Evidently the little creature was exhausted, perhaps +badly injured. How should she reach him? She threw the ray of light--oh! +how dim it was, and how heavy and close the darkness pressed!--on the +side of the pit, and saw that it was a rough and jagged wall, with +stones projecting at intervals. A moment's survey satisfied her. Setting +the lantern carefully at a little distance, and bidding Will "charge" +and be still, she began the descent, feeling the way carefully with her +feet, and grasping the rough stones firmly with her hands. Down! down! +while the huge wheel towered over her, and grinned with all its rusty +teeth to see so strange a sight. At last her feet touched the soft +earth; another instant, and she had Jock in her arms, and was fondling +and caressing him, and saying all sorts of foolish things to him in her +delight. But a cry of pain from the poor puppy, even in the midst of his +frantic though feeble demonstrations of joy, told her that all was not +right; and she found that one little leg hung limp, and was evidently +broken. How should she ever get him up? For a moment she stood +bewildered; and then an idea came to her, which she has always +maintained was the only really clever one she ever had. In her +pre-occupation of mind she had forgotten all day to take off the brown +holland apron which she had worn at her work in the morning, and it was +the touch of this apron which brought her inspiration. Quick as a flash +she had it off, and tied round her neck, pinned up at both ends to form +a bag. Then she stooped again to pick up Jock, whom she had laid +carefully down while she arranged the apron. As she did so, the feeble +ray from the lantern fell on a space where the ground had been scratched +up, evidently by the puppy's paws; and in that space something shone +with a dull glitter. Hildegarde bent lower, and found what seemed to be +a small brass handle, half covered with earth. She dug the earth away +with her hands, and pulled and tugged at the handle for some time +without success; but at length the sullen soil yielded, and she +staggered back against the wheel with a small metal box in her hands. No +time now to examine the prize, be it what it might. Into the apron bag +it went, and on top of it went the puppy, yelping dismally. Then slowly, +carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and limb, Hilda +reascended the wall. Oh, but it was hard work! Her hands were already +very sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half choked +her. Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped piteously, and +struggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressed +painfully against the back of her neck. The jutting stones were far +apart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reach +the next one. But the royal blood was fully up. Queen Hildegarde set her +teeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved with +steel. At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment had +dragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground. +She drew a long breath, and hastily untying the apron from her neck, +took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried the +lantern and the iron box. Will was jumping frantically about, and trying +to reach his brother puppy, who responded with squeaks of joy to his +enraptured greeting. + +"Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly. "Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! we +shall be at home soon now. Patience, little dog!" And Jock tried hard to +be patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball while +his mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with some +difficulty, laden with her triple burden. + +However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm as +fast as eager feet could carry them. Little thought had Hilda now of +spectral trees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully she hurried back, up the long +steps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing now +when the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tight +that he squeaked again. Now she saw the lights twinkling in the +farm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane and +barnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, breathless and exhausted, +but radiant. The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbed +and anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered. + +"Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley, "we have been terribly frightened +about you. Jacob has been searching--But, good gracious, child!" she +added, breaking off hastily, "where have you been, and what have you +been doing to get yourself into such a state!" + +Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silent +astonishment. The girl's dress was torn and draggled, and covered with +great spots and splashes of black. Her face was streaked with dirt, her +fair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. Could this be Hilda, the +dainty, the spotless? But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, +though very pale, wore a look of triumphant delight. + +"I have found him!" she said, simply. "My little Jock! Simon threw him +into the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out. His leg +is broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy. Don't look so +frightened," she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wife +were fairly pale with horror; "it was not so _very_ bad, after all." And +in as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble's note and of +her strange expedition. + +"My child! my child!" cried Dame Hartley, putting her arms round the +girl, and weeping as she did so. "How could you do such a fearful thing? +Think, if your foot had slipped you might be lying there now yourself, +in that dreadful place!" and she shuddered, putting back the tangle of +fair hair with trembling fingers. + +"Ah, but you see, my foot _didn't_ slip, Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, +gayly. "I wouldn't _let_ it slip! And here I am safe and sound, so it's +really absurd for you to be frightened now, my dear!" + +"Why in the name of the airthly didn't ye wait till I kem home, and let +me go down for ye?" demanded the farmer, who was secretly delighted +with the exploit, though he tried to look very grave. + +"Oh! I--I never thought of it!" said Hildegarde. "My only thought was to +get down there as quickly as possible. So I waited till I heard you +coming, for I didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone; and then--I went! +And I will not be scolded," she added quickly, "for I think I have made +a great discovery." She held one hand behind her as she spoke, and her +eyes sparkled as she fixed them on the farmer. "Dear Farmer Hartley," +she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to go +down often into the vault of the old mill?" + +"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy +of his, pokin' about thar. But what--" + +"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment! +Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell me that when he +was dying, your father said something about digging? Try to remember +just what he said!" + +The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look. +"What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, he +didn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he was +allus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fell +back on the piller, an' that was all." + +"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebody +has been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we have +found--we have found--" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her hand +from behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried, +thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on her +knees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think--oh! I am +sure--that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly, +_please_!" + +[Illustration: "'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"] + +Now much agitated in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself to +the task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly, +and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rusted +hinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, and +slowly, unwillingly, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short and +quick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward to +look into the mysterious casket. What did she see? + +At first nothing but a handkerchief,--a yellow silk handkerchief, of +curious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicely +inside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as he +said, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shaking +hand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look--and he fell back in his +chair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For the +diamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds,--some rough +and dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone the +brighter for their long imprisonment; some tinged with yellow or blue, +some with the clear white radiance which is seen in nothing else save a +dewdrop when the morning sun first strikes upon it. There they lay,--a +handful of stones, a little heap of shining crystals; but enough to pay +off the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and leave the farmer a rich man for +life. + +Dame Hartley was the first to rouse herself from the silent amaze into +which they had fallen. "Well, well!" she said, wiping her eyes, "the +ways of Providence are mysterious. To think of it, after all these +years! Why, Jacob! Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying, now that the +Lord, and this blessed child under Him, has taken away all your +trouble?" + +But the farmer, to his own great amazement, _was_ crying. He sobbed +quietly once or twice, then cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes with +the old silk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father," he said, simply. "It seems +kind o' hard that nobody ever believed him, an' we let him die thinkin' +he was crazy. That takes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy, now I tell ye! +Seems like's if I'd been punished for not havin' faith, and now I git +the reward without havin' deserved it." + +"As if you _could_ have reward enough!" cried Hildegarde, laying her +hand on his affectionately. "But, oh! do just look at them, dear Farmer +Hartley! Aren't they beautiful? But what is that peeping out of the +cotton-wool beneath? It is something red." + +Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cotton which lined the box, and drew +out--oh, wonderful! a chain of rubies! Each stone glowed like a living +coal as he held it up in the lamp-light. Were they rubies, or were they +drops of blood linked together by a thread of gold? + +"The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful! And +I _knew_ it was true! I knew it all the time." + +The old man fixed a strange look, solemn and tender, on the girl as she +stood at his side, radiant and glowing with happiness. "She said--" his +voice trembled as he spoke, "that furrin woman--she said it was her +heart's blood as father had saved. And now it's still blood, Hildy, my +gal, our heart's blood, that goes out to you, and loves and blesses you +as if you were our own child come back from the dead." And drawing her +to him, he clasped the ruby chain round Hilda's neck. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE TREE-PARTY. + + +Another golden day! But the days would all be golden now, thought +Hildegarde. "Oh, how different it is from yesterday!" she cried to Nurse +Lucy as she danced about the kitchen. "The sun shone yesterday, but it +did us no good. To-day it warms my heart, the good sunshine. And +yesterday the trees seemed to mock me, with all their scarlet and gold; +but to-day they are dressed up to celebrate our good fortune. Let us +call them in to rejoice with us, Nurse Lucy. Let us have a tree-party, +instead of a tea-party!" + +"My dear," said Dame Hartley, looking up with a puzzled smile, "what +_do_ you mean?" + +"Oh! I don't mean to invite the whole forest to supper," said +Hildegarde, laughing. "But you shall see, Nurse Lucy; you shall see. +Just wait till this afternoon. I must run now over to Pink's, and tell +her all the wonderful things that have happened, and see how poor Bubble +is." + +Away she went like a flash, through the golden fields, down the lane, +where the maples made a flaming tent of scarlet over her head, bursting +suddenly like a whirlwind into the little cottage, where the brother and +sister, both now nearly helpless, sat waiting with pale and anxious +faces. At sight of her Pink uttered a cry of delight, while Bubble +flushed with pleasure; and both were about to pour out a flood of eager +questions, when Hilda laid her hand over Pink's mouth and made a sign to +the boy. "Two minutes to get my breath!" she cried, panting; "only two, +and then you shall hear all." She spent the two minutes in filling the +kettle and presenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that Dame +Hartley had sent him; then, sitting down by the invalid's chair, she +told from beginning to end the history of the past two days. The recital +was thrilling enough, and before it was over the pale cheeks were +crimson, and the two pairs of blue eyes blazed with excitement. + +"_Oh!_" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless of +the sprained ankle. "Oh, I _say_, Miss Hildy! I dunno what _to_ say! +Wouldn't _he_ ha' liked it, though? My! 'twas jest like himself. Jes' +exactly what he'd ha' done." + +"What who would have done, Bubble?" asked Hilda, laughing. + +"Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy. "I was jest sayin' over the ballid +when I saw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink, say?" + +But Pink drew the stately head down towards her, and kissed the glowing +cheek, and whispered, "Queen Hildegarde! _my_ queen!" + +The tears started to Hilda's eyes as she returned the kiss; but she +brushed them away, and rose hastily, announcing her intention of +"setting things to rights" against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poor +dears!" she cried, "how did you manage yesterday? If I had only known, I +would have come and got dinner for you." + +"Oh! we got on very well indeed," replied Pink, laughing, "though there +were one or two mishaps. Fortunately there was plenty of bread in the +cupboard, where we could easily reach it; and with that and the molasses +jug, we were in no danger of starvation. But Mother had left a +custard-pie on the upper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted a piece of it for +dinner. But neither of us cripples could get at it; and for a long time +we could think of no plan which would make it possible. At last Bubble +had a bright idea. You remember the big fork that Mother uses to take +pies out of the oven? Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, and +then, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of course, +for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie. It +was a dreadful moment, Hilda! The pie slid easily on to the fork, and +for a moment all seemed to promise well; but the next minute, just as +Bubble began to lower it, he wavered on his one foot--only a little, but +enough to send the poor pie tumbling to the ground." + +"Poor pie!" cried Bubble. "Wal, I like that! Poor _me_, I sh'd say. I'd +had bread'n m'lasses three meals runnin', Miss Hildy. Now don't you +think that old pie might ha' come down straight?" + +"You should have seen his face, poor dear!" cried Pink. "He really +couldn't laugh--for almost two minutes." + +"Wal, I s'pose 'twas kind o' funny," the boy admitted, while Hilda +laughed merrily over the catastrophe. "But thar! when one's used to +standin' on two legs, it's dretful onhandy tryin' to stand on one. We'll +have bread and jam to-day," he added, with an affectionate glance at +the pot of marmalade, "and that's a good enough dinner for the Governor +o' the State." + +"Indeed, you shall have more than that!" cried Hildegarde. "Nurse Lucy +does not need me before dinner, so I will get your dinner for you." + +So the active girl made up the fire anew, swept the floor, dusted tables +and chairs, and made the little room look tidy and cheerful, as Pink +loved to see it. Then she ran down to the cellar, and reappeared with a +basket of potatoes and a pan of rosy apples. + +"Now we will perform a trio!" she said. "Pink, you shall peel and core +the apples for apple-sauce, and Bubble shall pare the potatoes, while I +make biscuit and gingerbread." + +Accordingly, she rolled up her sleeves and set busily to work; the +others followed her example, and fingers and tongues moved ceaselessly, +in cheerful emulation of each other. + +"I'd like to git hold o' Simon Hartley!" said Bubble, slicing vengefully +at a big potato. "I wish't he was this tater, so I do! _I'd_ skin him! +Yah! ornery critter! An' him standin' thar an' grinnin' at me over the +wall, an' I couldn't do nothin'! Seemed's though I sh'd _fly_, Miss +Hildy, it did; an' then not to be able to crawl even! I sw--I tell ye, +now, I didn't like that." + +"Poor Bubble!" said Hilda, compassionately, "I'm sure you didn't. And +did he really start to crawl over to the farm, Pink?" + +"Indeed he did!" replied Pink. "Nothing that I could say would keep him +from trying it; so I bandaged his ankle as well as I could, and off he +started. But he fainted twice before he got to the gate, so there was +nothing for it but to crawl back again, and--have the knees of his +trousers mended." + +"Dear boy!" said Hilda, patting the curly head affectionately. "Good, +faithful boy! I shall think a great deal more of it, Bubble, than if +you had been able to walk all the way. And, after all," she added, "I am +glad I had to do it myself,--go down to the mill, I mean. It is +something to remember! I would not have missed it." + +"No more wouldn't I!" cried Bubble, enthusiastically. "I'd ha' done it +for ye twenty times, ye know that, Miss Hildy; but I druther ha' hed you +do it;" and Hildegarde understood him perfectly. + +The simple meal prepared and set out, Hilda bade farewell to her two +friends, and flitted back to the farm. Mrs. Chirk was to return in the +evening, so she felt no further anxiety about them. + +She found the farmer just returned from the village in high spirits. +Squire Gaylord had examined the diamonds, pronounced them of great +value, and had readily advanced the money to pay off the mortgage, +taking two or three large stones as security. Lawyer Clinch had +reluctantly received his money, and relinquished all claim upon +Hartley's Glen, though with a very bad grace. + +"He kind o' insinuated that the di'monds had prob'ly ben stole by Father +_or_ me, he couldn't say which; and he said somethin' about inquirin' +into the matter. But Squire Gaylord shut him up pooty quick, by sayin' +thar was more things than that as might be inquired into, and if he +began, others might go on; and Lawyer Clinch hadn't nothin' more to say +after that." + +When dinner was over, and everything "redded up," Hildegarde sent Dame +Hartley upstairs to take a nap, and escorted the farmer as far as the +barn on his way to the turnip-field. Then, "the coast being clear," she +said to herself, "we will prepare for the tree-party." + +Accordingly, arming herself with a stout pruning-knife, she took her way +to the "wood-lot," which lay on the north side of the house. The +splendor of the trees, which were now in full autumnal glory, gave Hilda +a sort of rapture as she approached them. What had she ever seen so +beautiful as this,--the shifting, twinkling myriads of leaves, blazing +with every imaginable shade of color above the black, straight trunks; +the deep, translucent blue of the sky bending above; the golden light +which transfused the whole scene; the crisp freshness of the afternoon +air? She wanted to sing, to dance, to do everything that was joyous and +free. But now she had work to do. She visited all her favorite +trees,--the purple ash, the vivid, passionate maples, the oaks in their +sober richness of murrey and crimson. On each and all she levied +contributions, cutting armful after armful, and carried them to the +house, piling them in splendid heaps on the shed-floor. Then, after +carefully laying aside a few specially perfect branches, she began the +work of decoration. Over the chimney-piece she laid great boughs of +maple, glittering like purest gold in the afternoon light, which +streamed broadly in through the windows. Others--scarlet, pink, dappled +red, and yellow--were placed over the windows, the doors, the dresser. +She filled the corners with stately oak-boughs, and made a bower of the +purple ash in the bow-window,--Faith's window. Then she set the +tea-table with the best china, every plate and dish resting on a mat of +scarlet leaves, while a chain of yellow ones outlined the shining square +board. A tiny scarlet wreath encircled the tea-kettle, and even the +butter-dish displayed its golden balls beneath an arch of flaming +crimson. This done, she filled a great glass bowl with purple-fringed +asters and long, gleaming sprays of golden-rod, and setting it in the +middle of the table, stood back with her head a little on one side and +surveyed the general effect. + +"Good!" was her final comment; "very good! And now for my own part." + +She gathered in her apron the branches first selected, and carried them +up to her own room, where she proceeded to strip off the leaves and to +fashion them into long garlands. As her busy fingers worked, her +thoughts flew hither and thither, bringing back the memories of the past +few days. Now she stood in the kitchen, pistol in hand, facing the +rascal Simon Hartley; and she laughed to think how he had shaken and +cowered before the empty weapon. Now she was in the vault of the ruined +mill, with a thousand horrors of darkness pressing on her, and only the +tiny spark of light in her lantern to keep off the black and shapeless +monsters. Now she thought of the kind farmer, with a throb of pity, as +she recalled the hopeless sadness of his face the night before. Just the +very night before, only a few hours; and now how different everything +was! Her heart gave a little happy thrill to think that she, Hilda, the +"city gal," had been able to help these dear friends in their trouble. +They loved her already, she knew that; they would love her more now. Ah! +and they would miss her all the more, now that she must leave them so +soon. + +Then, like a flash, her thoughts reverted to the plan she had been +revolving in her mind two days before, before all these strange things +had happened. It was a delightful little plan! Pink was to be sent to a +New York hospital,--the very best hospital that could be found; and +Hildegarde hoped--she thought--she felt almost sure that the trouble +could be greatly helped, if not cured altogether. And then, when Pink +was well, or at least a great, great deal better, she was to come and +live at the farm, and help Nurse Lucy, and sing to the farmer, and be +all the comfort--no, not all, but nearly the comfort that Faith would +have been if she had lived. And Bubble--yes! Bubble must go to +school,--to a good school, where his bright, quick mind should learn +everything there was to learn. Papa would see to that, Hilda knew he +would. Bubble would delight Papa! And then he would go to college, and +by and by become a famous doctor, or a great lawyer, or--oh! Bubble +could be anything he chose, she was sure of it. + +So the girl's happy thoughts flew on through the years that were to +come, weaving golden fancies even as her fingers were weaving the gay +chains of shining leaves; but let us hope the fancy-chains, airy as they +were, were destined to become substantial realities long after the +golden wreaths had faded. + +But now the garlands were ready, and none too soon; for the shadows were +lengthening, and she heard Nurse Lucy downstairs, and Farmer Hartley +would be coming in soon to his tea. She took from a drawer her one white +frock, the plain lawn which had once seemed so over-plain to her, and +with the wreaths of scarlet and gold she made a very wonderful thing of +it. Fifteen minutes' careful work, and Hilda stood looking at her image +in the glass, well pleased and a little surprised; for she had been too +busy of late to think much about her looks, and had not realized how sun +and air and a free, out-door life had made her beauty blossom and glow +like a rose in mid-June. With a scarlet chaplet crowning her fair locks, +bands of gold about waist and neck and sleeves, and the whole skirt +covered with a fantastic tracery of mingled gold and fire, she was a +vision of almost startling loveliness. She gave a little happy laugh. +"Dear old Farmer!" she said, "he likes to see me fine. I think this will +please him." And light as a thistledown, the girl floated downstairs and +danced into the kitchen just as Farmer Hartley entered it from the other +side. + +"Highty-tighty!" cried the good man, "what's all this? Is there a fire? +Everything's all ablaze! Why, Hildy! bless my soul!" He stood in silent +delight, looking at the lovely figure before him, with its face of rosy +joy and its happy, laughing eyes. + +"It's a tree-party," explained Hildegarde, taking his two hands and +leading him forward. "I'm part of it, you see, Farmer Hartley. Do you +like it? Is it pretty? It's to celebrate our good fortune," she added; +and putting her arm in the old man's, she led him about the room, +pointing out the various decorations, and asking his approval. + +Farmer Hartley admired everything greatly, but in an absent way, as if +his mind were preoccupied with other matters. He turned frequently +towards the door, as if he expected some one to follow him. "All for +me?" he kept asking. "All for me and Marm Lucy, Hildy? Ye--ye ain't +expectin' nobody else to tea, now?" + +"No," said Hilda, wondering. "Of course not. Who else is there to come? +Bubble has sprained his ankle, you know, and Pink--" + +"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said the farmer, still with that backward +glance at the door. And then, as he heard some noise in the yard, he +added hurriedly: "At the same time, ye know, Hildy, people do sometimes +drop in to tea--kind o' onexpected-like, y' understand. And--and--all +this pretty show might--might seem to--indicate, ye see--" + +"Jacob Hartley? what are you up to?" demanded Nurse Lucy, rather +anxiously, as she stood at the shed-door watching him intently. "Does +your head feel dizzy? You'd better go and lie down; you've had too much +excitement for a man of--" + +"Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy?" cried the farmer, with a sigh of relief that +was half a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tell Hildy that folks does sometimes +drop in--onexpected-like--folks from a _con_sid'able distance sometimes. +Why, I've known 'em--" But here he stopped suddenly. And as Hilda, +expecting she knew not what, stood with hands clasped together, and +beating heart, the door was thrown open and a strong, cheery voice +cried, "Well, General!" Another moment, and she was clasped in her +father's arms. + + + + +THE LAST WORD. + + +The lovely autumn is gone, and winter is here. Mr. and Mrs. Graham have +long since been settled at home, and Hildegarde is with them. How does +it fare with her, the new Hildegarde, under the old influences and amid +the old surroundings? For answer, let us take the word of her oldest +friend,--the friend who "_knows_ Hildegarde!" Madge Everton has just +finished a long letter to Helen McIvor, who is spending the winter in +Washington, and there can be no harm in our taking a peep into it. + + "You ask me about Hilda Graham; but, _alas!_ I have + NOTHING pleasant to tell. My dear, Hilda is simply + LOST to us! It is all the result of that _dreadful_ + summer spent among _swineherds_. You know what the Bible + says! I don't know exactly _what_, but something _terrible_ + about that sort of thing. Of course it is _partly_ her + mother's influence as well. I have always DREADED + it for Hilda, who is so _sensitive_ to _impressions_. Why, I + remember, as far back as the first year that we were at Mme. + Haut-Ton's, Mrs. Graham saying to Mamma, 'I wish we could + interest our girls a little in _sensible_ things!' My dear, + she meant _hospitals_ and _soup-kitchens_ and things! And + Mamma said (you know Mamma isn't in the _least_ afraid of + Mrs. Graham, though I confess I AM!), 'My _dear_ + Mrs. Graham, if there is _one_ thing Society will + NOT tolerate, it is a _sensible_ woman. Our girls + might as well have the small-pox at once, and be done with + it.' Wasn't it _clever_ of Mamma? And Mrs. Graham just + LOOKED at her as if she were a _camel_ from + _Barnum's_. + + "Well, poor Hildegarde is sensible enough _now_ to satisfy + _even_ her mother. Ever since she came home from that + _odious_ place, it has been one round of hospitals and + tenement-houses and _sloughs of horror_. I don't mean that + she has given up school, for she is studying harder than + ever; but out of school she is simply _swallowed up_ by + these wretched things. I have remonstrated with her _almost_ + on my KNEES. 'Hildegarde,' I said one day, 'do you + REALIZE that you are practically _giving up_ your + _whole_ LIFE? If you once _lose your place_ in + Society among those of your _own age_ and _position_, you + NEVER can regain it. Do you REALIZE this, Hilda? + for I feel it a SOLEMN DUTY to _warn_ you!' My + dear, she actually LAUGHED! and only said, 'Dear + Madge, I have only just begun to have any life!' And that + was _all_ I could get out of her, for just then some one + came in. But even _this_ is not _the worst_! Oh, Helen! she + has some of the _creatures_ whom she saw this summer, + actually _staying_ in the house,--in THAT house, + which we used to call Castle Graham, and were almost afraid + to enter ourselves, so stately and beautiful it was! There + are two of these creatures,--a girl about our age, some sort + of dreadful cripple, who goes about in a bath-chair, and a + freckled imp of a boy. The girl is at ---- Hospital for + treatment, but spends _every Sunday_ at the Grahams', and + Hilda devotes _most_ of her spare time to her. The boy is at + school,--one of the _best_ schools in the city. 'But _who_ + are these people?' I hear you cry. My dear! they are simply + _ignorant paupers_, who were Hilda's constant companions + through that _disastrous summer_. Now their mother is dead, + and the people with whom Hilda stayed have adopted them. The + boy is to be a doctor, and the girl is going to get well, + Dr. George says. (_He_ calls her a beautiful and interesting + creature; but you know what _that_ means. _Any diseased_ + creature is beautiful to _him_!) Well, and THESE, + my dear Helen, are Hilda Graham's FRIENDS, for whom + she has _deserted_ her OLD _ones_! for though she + is _unchanged_ towards me when I see her, I hardly ever + _do_ see her. She cares nothing for _my_ pursuits, and I + certainly have NO intention of joining in _hers_. I + met her the other day on _Fifth Avenue_, walking beside that + _odious_ bath-chair, which the freckled boy was pushing. She + looked so _lovely_ (for she is prettier than ever, with a + fine color and eyes like _stars_), and was talking so + earnestly, and walking somehow as if she were treading on + air, it sent a PANG through my heart. I just paused + an instant (for though I _trust_ I am not SNOBBISH, + Helen, still, I _draw the line_ at bath-chairs, and will + _not_ be seen standing by one), and said in a low tone, + meant _only_ for _her ear_, 'Ah! has _Queen Hildegarde_ come + to _this_?' My dear, she only LAUGHED! But that + _girl_, that cripple, looked up with a smile and a sort of + flash over her face, and said, just as if she _knew_ me, + 'Yes, Miss Everton! the Queen has come to her kingdom!'" + + +THE END + + + + +Selections from The Page Company's Books for Young People + + * * * * * + +THE BLUE BONNET SERIES + +_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.75 + + +A TEXAS BLUE BONNET + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS. + +"The book's heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, +honest, lively girlishness."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ + + +BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ. + +"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_Boston +Transcript._ + + +BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many +human touches."--_Boston Globe._ + + +BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens."--_New +York Sun._ + + +BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE + +By LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet. + + +BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS + +By LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"The author's intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader an +interesting story of the heroine's war activities."--_Pittsburgh +Leader._ + + +ONLY HENRIETTA + +BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90 + +"It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl--a +story in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth of +delicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of young +and old."--_Pittsburgh Leader._ + + +HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE: A Sequel to "Only Henrietta" + +BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90 + +"One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. The +life of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in the +narrative to balance the delightful characterization."--_Providence +Journal._ + + +THE YOUNG KNIGHT + +By I.M.B. of K. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 + +The clash of broad-sword on buckler, the twanging of bow-strings and the +cracking of spears splintered by whirling maces resound through this +stirring tale of knightly daring-do. + + +THE YOUNG CAVALIERS + +By I.M.B. of K. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 + +"There have been many scores of books written about the Charles Stuarts +of England, but never a merrier and more pathetic one than 'The Young +Cavaliers.'"--_Family Herald._ + +"The story moves quickly, and every page flashes a new thrill before the +reader, with plenty of suspense and excitement. There is valor, +affection, romance, chivalry and humor in this fascinating +tale."--_Kansas City Kansan._ + + + + +THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES + +By ALICE E. ALLEN + +_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 + + +JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY + +These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, +combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from young +people for these two particular tales. + + +THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy + +"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human +nature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings."--_New York +Standard._ + + +MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL + +A sequel to "Joe, the Circus boy," and "The Martie Twins." + + +MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS +Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl. + +"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins her +little folk right down to this life of ours, in which she ranges +vigorously and delightfully."--_Boston Ideas._ + + +MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch + +"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells them +stories that never fail to charm."--_Madison Courier._ + + +MARJORY'S DISCOVERY + +This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable and +original as any of the other creations of this writer of charming +stories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy +minded Joe and sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the +entire summer, in which all of the characters of the previous +MARJORY-JOE stories participate, and their happy times are delightfully +depicted. + + + + +THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES + +By HARRISON ADAMS + +_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65 + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; +OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS. + +"Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the +young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer +ancestors and the early days of the Republic."--_Boston Globe._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; +OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS. + +"The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interesting +but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which +these days of self-reliance and trial produced."--_American Tourist, +Chicago._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; +OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS. + +"The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."--_New York +Sun._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; +OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX. + +"Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, true +to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for +boys."--_Watchman Examiner, New York City._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; +OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS. + +"There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well +told."--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; +OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST. + +"The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable +historical information."--_Boston Herald._ + + + + +THE FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES + +By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH + +_Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_ +$1.75 + + +THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE + +"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knits +hearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle to +try carrying them out, and most of all it proves that in daily life, +threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the +most ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger +than the most thrilling fiction."--_Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young +People's Weekly, Chicago._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION + +"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. +It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten the +day."--_Utica, N.Y., Observer._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS + +"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, +natural development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone."--_The +Christian Register, Boston._ + + +THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE + +"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most +delightful narrative, especially for young people. It will also make the +older readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live +again in the days of their youth."--_Troy Budget._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY + +"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesome +incidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion and +leader."--_World of Books._ + +"It possesses a plot of much merit and through its 324 pages it weaves a +tale of love and of adventure which ranks it among the best books for +girls."--_Cohoe-American._ + + + + +FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES + +By CHARLES H.L. JOHNSTON + +_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $2.00 + + +FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS + +"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers +with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."--_New York +Sun._ + + +FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS + +"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of +battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whites +for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United States +History."--_New York Marine Journal._ + + +FAMOUS SCOUTS + +"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys +and young men."--_New London Day._ + + +FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA + +"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, +stirring the blood with thrilling force."-_Pittsburgh Post._ + + +FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER + +"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a +book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual +adventure."--_Cleveland Leader._ + + +FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA + +"The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures of +which the world has known."--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._ + + +FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR + +Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory. + +"The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its unreality. +The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history of the World +War."--_Rochester Post Express._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES (Con.) + +By EDWIN WILDMAN + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--First Series + +"Are these stories interesting? Let a boy read them; and tell +you."--_Boston Transcript._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--Second Series + +"As fascinating as fiction are these biographies, which emphasize their +humble beginning and drive home the truth that just as every soldier of +Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every American +youngster carries potential success under his hat."--_New York World._ + + +THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution to +the Monroe Doctrine) + +"How can one become acquainted with the histories of some of the famous +men of the United States? A very good way is to read 'The Founders of +America,' by Edwin Wildman, wherein the life stories of fifteen men who +founded our country are told"--_New York Post._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War +to Today) + +"An informing, interesting and inspiring book for boys."--_Presbyterian +Banner._ + +" ... Is a book that should be read by every boy in the whole +country...."--_Atlanta Constitution._ + + +FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS + +With a complete index. + +By CHARLES LEE LEWIS + +_Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis_ + +"Professor Lewis does not make the mistake of bringing together simply a +collection of biographical sketches. In connection with the life of John +Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and other famous naval officers, he groups +the events of the period in which the officer distinguished himself, and +combines the whole into a colorful and stirring narrative."--_Boston +Herald._ + + +STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN + +Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, with a jacket in +color $1.65 + + +THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER + +This story happened many hundreds of years ago in the quaint Flemish +city of Bruges and concerns a little girl named Karen, who worked at +lace-making with her aged grandmother. + + +GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK + +"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir +the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so +admirably told by this author."--_Louisville Daily Courier._ + + +A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE + +"The story should be one of the influences in the life of every child to +whom good stories can be made to appeal."--_Public Ledger._ + + +THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY + +"This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth of interest +coupled with enlivening descriptions of the country where its scenes are +laid and of the people thereof"--_Wilmington Every Evening._ + + +WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY + +"The stories are music in prose--they are like pearls on a chain of +gold--each word seems exactly the right word in the right place; the +stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed."--_The +Lafayette Leader._ + + +PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night + +"This retelling of an old Twelfth Night romance is a creation almost as +perfect as her 'Christmas Porringer.'"--_Lexington Herald._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Queen Hildegarde, by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + +***** This file should be named 16473-8.txt or 16473-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/7/16473/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Richards. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .right {margin-left:10%; margin-right:20%; text-align: right;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Queen Hildegarde, by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Queen Hildegarde + +Author: Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16473] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter"><a href="./images/cover.jpg"><img src="./images/cover-tb.jpg" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /></a></div> + + + +<h1>QUEEN HILDEGARDE</h1> + +<h3>BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS</h3> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<div class='center'>Each 1 volume, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1.75</div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Books"> +<tr><td align='left'>Star Bright </td><td align='left'>Captain January</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='center'>The above volumes boxed as a set, $3.50</div> + + +<h4>STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS</h4> + +<div class='center'>Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated</div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Stories For Little Folk"> +<tr><td align='left'>Five Minute Stories</td> +<td align='right'>$1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>More Five Minute Stories</td> +<td align='right'>1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Three Minute Stories</td> +<td align='right'>1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>A Happy Little Time</td> +<td align='right'>1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Four Feet, Two Feet, No Feet</td> +<td align='right'>2.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>When I Was Your Age</td> +<td align='right'>1.75</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h4>THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES</h4> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Captain January Series"> +<tr><td align='left'>Captain January</td> +<td align='right'>$1.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Melody</td> +<td align='right'>1.00</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'>Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents<br /><br /></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book List"> +<tr><td align='left'>Jim of Hellas</td> +<td align='left'>Narcissa</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Marie</td> +<td align='left'>"Some Day"</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Rosin the Beau</td> +<td align='left'>Nautilus</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Snow-white</td> +<td align='left'>Isla Heron</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'>The Little Master</div> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Captain January, Baby Peggy Edition"> +<tr><td align='left'>Captain January—<i>Baby Peggy Edition</i></td><td align='left'>$2.50</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<h4>HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES</h4> + +<div class='center'>Each, one volume, illustrated, $1.75</div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Hildegarde-Margaret Series"> +<tr><td align='left'>Queen Hildegarde</td> +<td align='left'>Three Margarets</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Holiday</td> +<td align='left'>Margaret Montfort</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Home</td> +<td align='left'>Peggy</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Neighbors</td> +<td align='left'>Rita</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Harvest</td> +<td align='left'>Fernley House</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'>The Merryweathers</div> + + +<div class='center'>The above eleven volumes are also boxed as a set, $19.25</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Honor Bright Books"> +<tr><td align='left'>Honor Bright</td> +<td align='right'>$1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Honor Bright's New Adventure</td> +<td align='right'>1.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Armstrongs</td> +<td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Green Satin Gown</td> +<td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<div class='center'>L.C. PAGE & COMPANY (Inc.)<br /> +53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass.<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="front" id="front"></a><img src="./images/frontis.png" alt=""SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS."" title=""SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS."" /></div> +<div class='center'>"SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS."<a name="Page_0" id="Page_0"></a><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="./images/title.png" alt="Queen Hildegarde Title Page" title="Queen Hildegarde Title Page" /></div> + +<p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></p> + +<p class="center"> <i>Copyright, 1889, by</i> + <span class="smcap">The Page Company</span> + Copyright renewed, 1917</p> + +<p class="center"> Made in U.S.A.</p> + +<p class="center"> Thirty-second Impression, August, 1927</p> + +<p class="center"> THE COLONIAL PRESS + C.H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U.S.A.</p> +<p><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></p> + + + + + +<p class="center"> TO<br /> + MY BELOVED SISTER,<br /> + <b>Maud Howe Elliott.</b> +<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td><td align='left'>nothing</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>I.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hildegardis Graham</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_9"><b>9</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>II.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dame and Farmer</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_31"><b>31</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>III.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Prisoner of Despair</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_49"><b>49</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>IV.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The New Hilda</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_73"><b>73</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>V.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Blue Platter</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_94"><b>94</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>VI.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hartley's Glen</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_111"><b>111</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>VII.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Pink Chirk</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_135"><b>135</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>VIII.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Letter</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_160"><b>160</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>IX.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Old Captain</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_178"><b>178</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>X.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Party of Pleasure</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_198"><b>198</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>XI.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Warrior Queen</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_218"><b>218</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>XII.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Old Mill</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_237"><b>237</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>XIII.</td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Tree-Party</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_272"><b>272</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Last Word</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_289"><b>289</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She glanced into the long cheval-glass</span>" (<i>See page 32</i>)</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#front"><b><i>Frontispiece</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She pushed the bushes aside and came towards him</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#pushed"><b><i>47</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She bent in real distress over the currants</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#bent"><b><i>89</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She flung the corn in golden showers on their heads</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#flung"><b><i>117</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The pale girl made no attempt to rise</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#pale"><b><i>155</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Say, Miss Hildy,—do you like purps</span>?'"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#miss"><b><i>205</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Each took a skimmer and set earnestly to work</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#took"><b><i>227</i></b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Take it and open it</span>!'"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#it"><b><i>267</i></b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>QUEEN HILDEGARDE.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM.</h3> + + +<p>"And have you decided what is to become of Hilda?" asked Mrs. Graham.</p> + +<p>"Hilda?" replied her husband, in a tone of surprise, "Hilda? why, she +will go with us, of course. What else should become of the child? She +will enjoy the trip immensely, I have no doubt."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Graham sighed and shook her head. "I fear that is impossible, dear +George!" she said. "To tell the truth, I am a little anxious about +Hilda; she is not at all well. I don't mean that she is actually <i>ill</i>," +she added quickly, as Mr. Graham looked up in alarm,<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a> "but she seems +languid and dispirited, has no appetite, and is inclined to be +fretful,—an unusual thing for her."</p> + +<p>"Needs a change!" said Mr. Graham, shortly. "Best thing for her. Been +studying too hard, I suppose, and eating caramels. If I could discover +the man who invented that pernicious sweetmeat, I would have him +hanged!—hanged, madam!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you wouldn't, dear!" said his wife, laughing softly; "I think +his life would be quite safe. But about Hilda now! She <i>does</i> need a +change, certainly; but is the overland journey in July just the right +kind of change for her, do you think?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Graham frowned, ran his fingers through his hair, drummed on the +table, and then considered his boots attentively. "Well—no!" he said at +last, reluctantly. "I—suppose—not. But what <i>can</i> we do with her? Send +her to Fred and Mary at the seashore?"</p> + +<p>"To sleep in a room seven by twelve, and <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>be devoured by mosquitoes, and +have to wear 'good clothes' all the time?" returned Mrs. Graham. +"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Emily is going to the mountains," suggested Mr. Graham, +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied his wife, "with sixteen trunks, a maid, a footman, and +three lapdogs! <i>That</i> would <i>never</i> do for Hilda."</p> + +<p>"You surely are not thinking of leaving her alone here with the +servants?"</p> + +<p>The lady shook her head. "No, dear; such poor wits as Heaven granted me +are not yet entirely gone, thank you!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Graham rose from his chair and flung out both arms in a manner +peculiar to him when excited. "Now, now, now, Mildred!" he said +impressively, "I have always said that you were a good woman, and I +shall continue to assert the same; but you have powers of tormenting +that could not be surpassed by the most heartless of your sex. It is +perfectly clear, even to my darkened mind, <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>that you have some plan for +Hilda fully matured and arranged in that scheming little head of yours; +so what is your object in keeping me longer in suspense? Out with it, +now! What are you—for of course I am in reality only a cipher (a +tolerably large cipher) in the sum—what are you, the +commander-in-chief, going to do with Hilda, the lieutenant-general? If +you will kindly inform the orderly-sergeant, he will act accordingly, +and endeavor to do his duty."</p> + +<p>Pretty Mrs. Graham laughed again, and looked up at the six-feet-two of +sturdy manhood standing on the hearth-rug, gazing at her with eyes which +twinkled merrily under the fiercely frowning brows. "You are a very +<i>dis</i>orderly-sergeant, dear!" she said. "Just look at your hair! It +looks as if all the four winds had been blowing through it—"</p> + +<p>"Instead of all the ten fingers <i>going</i> through it," interrupted her +husband. "Never mind my hair; that is not the point. +<i>What</i>—do—<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>you—propose—to—do—with—your daughter—Hildegarde, or +Hildegardis, as it should properly be written?"</p> + +<p>"Well, dear George," said the commander-in-chief (she was a very small +woman and a very pretty one, though she had a daughter "older than +herself," as her husband said; and she wore a soft lilac gown, and had +soft, wavy brown hair, and was altogether very pleasant to look +at)—"well, dear George, the truth is, I <i>have</i> a little plan, which I +should like very much to carry out, if you fully approve of it."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" said Mr. Graham, tossing his "tempestuous locks" again, "ho! I +thought as much. <i>If</i> I approve, eh, little madam? Better say, whether I +approve or not."</p> + +<p>So saying, the good-natured giant sat himself down again, and listened +while his wife unfolded her plan; and what the plan was, we shall see by +and by. Meanwhile let us take a peep at Hilda, or Hildegardis, as she +sits in her own room, all unconscious of the plot which is hatching in +<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>the parlor below. She is a tall girl of fifteen. Probably she has +attained her full height, for she looks as if she had been growing too +fast; her form is slender, her face pale, with a weary look in the large +gray eyes. It is a delicate, high-bred face, with a pretty nose, +slightly "tip-tilted," and a beautiful mouth; but it is half-spoiled by +the expression, which is discontented, if not actually peevish. If we +lifted the light curling locks of fair hair which lie on her forehead, +we should see a very decided frown on a broad white space which ought to +be absolutely smooth. Why should a girl of fifteen frown, especially a +girl so "exceptionally fortunate" as all her friends considered Hilda +Graham? Certainly her surroundings at this moment are pretty enough to +satisfy any girl. The room is not large, but it has a sunny bay-window +which seems to increase its size twofold. In re-furnishing it a year +before, her father had in mind Hilda's favorite flower, the +forget-me-not, and the room is simply a <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>bower of forget-me-nots. +Scattered over the dull olive ground of the carpet, clustering and +nodding from the wall-paper, peeping from the folds of the curtains, the +forget-me-nots are everywhere. Even the creamy surface of the toilet-jug +and bowl, even the ivory backs of the brushes that lie on the +blue-covered toilet table, bear each its cluster of pale-blue blossoms; +while the low easy-chair in which the girl is reclining, and the pretty +sofa with its plump cushions inviting to repose, repeat the same tale. +The tale is again repeated, though in a different way, by a scroll +running round the top of the wall, on which in letters of blue and gold +is written at intervals: "Ne m'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!" "Non +ti scordar!" and the same sentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin, +Greek, and Hebrew, of all which tongues the fond father possessed +knowledge.</p> + +<p>Is not this indeed a bower, wherein a girl ought to be happy? the bird +in the window thinks his blue and gold cage the finest house <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>in the +world, and sings as heartily and cheerily as if he had been in the wide +green forest; but his mistress does not sing. She sits in the +easy-chair, with a book upside-down in her lap, and frowns,—actually +frowns, in a forget-me-not bower! There is not much the matter, really. +Her head aches, that is all. Her German lesson has been longer and +harder than usual, and her father was quite right about the caramels; +there is a box of them on the table now, within easy reach of the slim +white hand with its forget-me-not ring of blue turquoises. (I do not +altogether agree with Mr. Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but I +should heartily like to burn all his wares. Fancy a great mountain of +caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glacés piled up in Union +Square, for example, and blazing away merrily,—that is, if the things +would burn, which is more than doubtful. How the maidens would weep and +wring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>and fed the +flames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it is +a pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do you +see?)</p> + +<p>As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parents +were concocting. She knew that her father was obliged to go to San +Francisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousin +who had recently died there, and that her mother and—as she +supposed—herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to the +widow, an invalid with three little children. As to the idea of her +being left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journey +without his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her only +child, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the day +of her birth,—such a thought never came into Hilda's mind. Wherever her +parents went she went, as a matter of course. So it had always been, and +so without doubt <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>it always would be. She did not care specially about +going to California at this season of the year,—in fact she had told +her bosom friend, Madge Everton, only the day before, that it was +"rather a bore," and that she should have preferred to go to Newport. +"But what would you?" she added, with the slightest shrug of her pretty +shoulders. "Papa and mamma really must go, it appears; so of course I +must go too."</p> + +<p>"A bore!" repeated Madge energetically, replying to the first part of +her friend's remarks. "Hilda, what a <i>very</i> singular girl you are! Here +I, or Nelly, or <i>any</i> of the other girls would give both our ears, and +our front teeth too, to make such a trip; and just because you <i>can</i> go, +you sit there and call it 'a bore!'" And Madge shook her black curls, +and opened wide eyes of indignation and wonder at our ungrateful +heroine. "I only wish," she added, "that you and I could be changed into +each other, just for this summer."<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></p> + +<p>"I wish—" began Hilda; but she checked herself in her response to the +wish, as the thought of Madge's five brothers rose in her mind (Hilda +could not endure boys!), looked attentively at the toe of her little +bronze slipper for a few moments, and then changed the subject by +proposing a walk. "Console yourself with the caramels, my fiery Madge," +she said, pushing the box across the table, "while I put on my boots. We +will go to Maillard's and get some more while we are out. His caramels +are decidedly better than Huyler's; don't you think so!"</p> + +<p>A very busy woman was pretty Mrs. Graham during the next two weeks. +First she made an expedition into the country "to see an old friend," +she said, and was gone two whole days. And after that she was out every +morning, driving hither and thither, from shop to dressmaker, from +dressmaker to milliner, from milliner to shoemaker.</p> + +<p>"It is a sad thing," Mr. Graham would say, <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>when his wife fluttered in +to lunch, breathless and exhausted and half an hour late (she, the most +punctual of women!),—"it is a sad thing to have married a comet by +mistake, thinking it was a woman. How did you find the other planets +this morning, my dear? Is it true that Saturn has lost one of his rings? +and has the Sun recovered from his last attack of spots? I really fear," +he would add, turning to Hilda, "that this preternatural activity in +your comet-parent portends some alarming change in the—a—atmospheric +phenomena, my child. I would have you on your guard!" and then he would +look at her and sigh, shake his head, and apply himself to the cold +chicken with melancholy vigor.</p> + +<p>Hilda thought nothing of her father's remarks,—papa was always talking +nonsense, and she thought she always understood him perfectly. It did +occur to her, however, to wonder at her mother's leaving her out on all +her shopping expeditions. Hilda rather prided <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>herself on her skill in +matching shades and selecting fabrics, and mamma was generally glad of +her assistance in all such matters. However, perhaps it was only +under-clothing and house-linen, and such things that she was buying. All +that was the prosy part of shopping. It was the poetry of it that Hilda +loved,—the shimmer of silk and satin, the rich shadows in velvet, the +cool, airy fluttering of lawn and muslin and lace. So the girl went on +her usual way, finding life a little dull, a little tiresome, and most +people rather stupid, but everything on the whole much as usual, if her +head only would not ache so; and it was without a shadow of suspicion +that she obeyed one morning her mother's summons to come and see her in +her dressing-room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Graham always spoke of his wife's dressing-room as "the citadel." It +was absolutely impregnable, he said. In the open field of the +drawing-room or the broken <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>country of the dining-room it might be +possible—he had never known such a thing to occur, but still it <i>might</i> +be possible—for the commander-in-chief to sustain a defeat; but once +intrenched behind the walls of the citadel, horse, foot, and dragoons +might storm and charge upon her, but they could not gain an inch. Not an +inch, sir! True it was that Mrs. Graham always felt strongest in this +particular room. She laughed about it, but acknowledged the fact. Here, +on the wall, hung a certain picture which was always an inspiration to +her. Here, on the shelf above her desk, were the books of her heart, the +few tried friends to whom she turned for help and counsel when things +puzzled her. (Mrs. Graham was never disheartened. She didn't believe +there was such a word. She was only "puzzled" sometimes, until she saw +her way and her duty clear before her, and then she went straight +forward, over a mountain or through a stone wall, as the case might +be.)<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a> Here, in the drawer of her little work-table, were some relics,—a +tiny, half-worn shoe, a little doll, a sweet baby face laughing from an +ivory frame: the insignia of her rank in the great order of sorrowing +mothers; and these, perhaps, gave her that great sympathy and tenderness +for all who were in trouble which drew all sad hearts towards her.</p> + +<p>And so, on this occasion, the little woman had sat for a few moments +looking at the pictured face on the wall, with its mingled majesty and +sweetness; had peeped into the best-beloved of all books, and said a +little prayer, as was her wont when "puzzled," before she sent the +message to Hilda,—for she knew that she must sorely hurt and grieve the +child who was half the world to her; and though she did not flinch from +the task, she longed for strength and wisdom to do it in the kindest and +wisest way.</p> + +<p>"Hilda, dear," she said gently, when they were seated together on the +sofa, hand in <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>hand, with each an arm round the other's waist, as they +loved best to sit,—"Hilda, dear, I have something to say that will not +please you; something that may even grieve you very much at first." She +paused, and Hilda rapidly reviewed in her mind all the possibilities +that she could think of. Had anything happened to the box of French +dresses which was on its way from Paris? Had a careless servant broken +the glass of her fernery again? Had Aunt Emily been saying disagreeable +things about her, as she was apt to do? She was about to speak, but at +that moment, like a thunderbolt, the next words struck her ear: "We have +decided not to take you with us to California." Amazed, wounded, +indignant, Hilda could only lift her great gray eyes to meet the soft +violet ones which, full of unshed tears, were fixed tenderly upon her. +Mrs. Graham continued: "Your father and I both feel, my darling, that +this long, fatiguing <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>journey, in the full heat of summer, would be the +worst possible thing for you. You have not been very well lately, and it +is most important that you should lead a quiet, regular, healthy life +for the next few months. We have therefore made arrangements to leave +you—"</p> + +<p>But here Hilda could control herself no longer. "Mamma! mamma!" she +cried. "How can you be so unkind, so cruel? Leave me—you and papa both? +Why, I shall die! Of course I shall die, all alone in this great house. +I thought you loved me!" and she burst into tears, half of anger, half +of grief, and sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" said Mrs. Graham, smoothing the fair hair lovingly, "if +you had heard me out, you would have seen that we had no idea of leaving +you alone, or of leaving you in this house either. You are to stay +with—"</p> + +<p>"Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl, <a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>springing to her feet with +flashing eyes. "Mamma, I would rather beg in the streets than stay with +Aunt Emily. She is a detestable, ill-natured, selfish woman."</p> + +<p>"Hildegarde," said Mrs. Graham gravely, "be silent!" There was a moment +of absolute stillness, broken only by the ticking of the little crystal +clock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs. Graham continued: "I must ask +you not to speak again, my daughter, until I have finished what I have +to say; and even then, I trust you will keep silence until you are able +to command yourself. You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs. Hartley, at +her farm near Glenfield. She is a very kind, good woman, and will take +the best possible care of you. I went to the farm myself last week, and +found it a lovely place, with every comfort, though no luxuries, save +the great one of a free, healthy, natural life. There, my Hilda, we +shall leave you, sadly indeed, and yet feeling that you are in good and +loving hands.<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a> And I feel very sure," she added in a lighter tone, "that +by the time we return, you will be a rosy-cheeked country lass, strong +and hearty, with no more thought of headaches, and no wrinkle in your +forehead." As she ceased speaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girl close to +her, and kissed the white brow tenderly, murmuring: "God bless my +darling daughter! If she knew how her mother's heart aches at parting +with her!" But Hilda did not know. She was too angry, too bewildered, +too deeply hurt, to think of any one except herself. She felt that she +could not trust herself to speak, and it was in silence, and without +returning her mother's caress, that she rose and sought her own room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully, tenderly, but made no effort to +call her back. The tears trembled in her soft blue eyes, and her lip +quivered as she turned to her work-table; but she said quietly to +herself: "Solitude is a good medicine. The child will do <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>well, and I +know that I have chosen wisely for her."</p> + +<p>Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as she flung herself face downward on +her own blue sofa. Angry thoughts surged through her brain. Now she +burned with resentment at the parents who could desert her,—their only +child; now she melted into pity for herself, and wept more and more as +she pictured the misery that lay before her. To be left +alone—<i>alone!</i>—on a squalid, wretched farm, with a dirty old woman, a +woman who had been a servant,—she, Hildegardis Graham, the idol of her +parents, the queen of her "set" among the young people, the proudest and +most exclusive girl in New York, as she had once (and not with +displeasure) heard herself called!</p> + +<p>What would Madge Everton, what would all the girls say! How they would +laugh, to hear of Hilda Graham living on a farm among pigs and hens and +dirty people! Oh! it was intolerable; and she sprang up and paced <a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>the +floor, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>The thought of opposing the plan did not occur to her. Mrs. Graham's +rule, gentle though it was, was not of the flabby, nor yet of the +elastic sort. Her decisions were not hastily arrived at; but once made, +they were final and abiding. "You might just as well try to oppose the +Gulf Stream!" Mr. Graham would say. "They do it sometimes with icebergs, +and what is the result? In a few days the great clumsy things are bowing +and scraping and turning somersaults, and fairly jostling each other in +their eagerness to obey the guidance of the insidious current. Insidious +Current, will you allow a cup of coffee to drift in my direction? I +shall be only too happy to turn a somersault if it will afford +you—thanks!—the smallest gratification."</p> + +<p>So Hildegarde's first lessons had been in obedience and in truthfulness; +and these were fairly well learned before she began her<a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a> ABC. And so she +knew now, that she might storm and weep as she would in her own room, +but that the decree was fixed, and that unless the skies fell, her +summer would be passed at Hartley's Glen.<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>DAME AND FARMER.</h3> + + +<p>When the first shock was over, Hilda was rather glad than otherwise to +learn that there was to be no delay in carrying out the odious plan. +"The sooner the better," she said to herself. "I certainly don't want to +see any of the girls again, and the first plunge will be the worst of +it."</p> + +<p>"What clothes am I to take?" she asked her mother, in a tone which she +mentally denominated "quiet and cold," though possibly some people might +have called it "sullen."</p> + +<p>"Your clothes are already packed, dear," replied Mrs. Graham; "you have +only to pack your dressing-bag, to be all ready for the start to-morrow. +See, here is your trunk, locked and <a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>strapped, and waiting for the +porter's shoulder;" and she showed Hilda a stout, substantial-looking +trunk, bearing the initials H.G.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma," Hilda began, wondering greatly, "my dresses are all +hanging in my wardrobe."</p> + +<p>"Not all of them, dear!" said her mother, smiling. "Hark! papa is +calling you. Make haste and go down, for dinner is ready."</p> + +<p>Wondering more and more, Hildegarde made a hasty toilet, putting on the +pretty pale blue cashmere dress which her father specially liked, with +silk stockings to match, and dainty slippers of bronze kid. As she +clasped the necklace of delicate blue and silver Venetian beads which +completed the costume, she glanced into the long cheval-glass which +stood between the windows, and could not help giving a little approving +nod to her reflection. Though not a great beauty, Hildegarde was +certainly a remarkably pretty and even distinguished-looking girl; and +"being neither blind nor <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>a fool," she soliloquized, "where is the harm +in acknowledging it?" But the next moment the thought came: "What +difference will it make, in a stupid farm-house, whether I am pretty or +not? I might as well be a Hottentot!" and with the "quiet and cold" look +darkening over her face, she went slowly down stairs.</p> + +<p>Her father met her with a kiss and clasp of the hand even warmer than +usual.</p> + +<p>"Well, General!" he said, in a voice which insisted upon being cheery, +"marching orders, eh? Marching orders! Break up camp! boot, saddle, to +horse and away! Forces to march in different directions, by order of the +commander-in-chief." But the next moment he added, in an altered tone: +"My girl, mamma knows best; remember that! She is right in this move, as +she generally is. Cheer up, darling, and let us make the last evening a +happy one!"</p> + +<p>Hilda tried to smile, for who <i>could</i> be angry with papa? She made a +little effort, and the <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>father and mother made a great one,—<i>how</i> great +she could not know; and so the evening passed, better than might have +been expected.</p> + +<p>The evening passed, and the night, and the next day came; and it was +like waking from a strange dream when Hilda found herself in a railway +train, with her father sitting beside her, and her mother's farewell +kiss yet warm on her cheek, speeding over the open country, away from +home and all that she held most dear. Her dressing-bag, with her +umbrella neatly strapped to it, was in the rack overhead, the check for +her trunk in her pocket. Could it all be true? She tried to listen while +her father told her of the happy days he had spent on his grandfather's +farm when he was a boy; but the interest was not real, and she found it +hard to fix her mind on what he was saying. What did she care about +swinging on gates, or climbing apple-trees, or riding unruly colts! She +was not a boy, nor even a tomboy. When he spoke of the de<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>lights of +walking in the country through woodland and meadow, her thoughts strayed +to Fifth Avenue, with its throng of well-dressed people, the glittering +equipages rolling by, the stately houses on either side, through whose +shining windows one caught glimpses of the splendors within; and to the +Park, with its shady alleys and well-kept lawns. Could there be any +walking so delightful as that which these afforded? Surely not! Ah! +Madge and Helen were probably just starting for their walk now. Did they +know of her banishment? would they laugh at the thought of Queen +Hildegardis vegetating for three months at a wretched—</p> + +<p>"Glenfield!" The brakeman's voice rang clear and sharp through the car. +Hilda started, and seized her father's hand convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Papa!" she whispered, "O papa! don't leave me here; take me home! I +cannot bear it!"</p> + +<p>"Come, my child!" said Mr. Graham, speaking low, and with an odd catch +in his voice;<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a> "that is not the way to go into action. Remember, this is +your first battle. So, eyes front! charge bayonets! quick step! forward, +<i>march</i>!"</p> + +<p>The train had stopped. They were on the platform. Mr. Graham led Hilda +up to a stout, motherly-looking woman, who held out her hand with a +beaming smile.</p> + +<p>"Here is my daughter, Mrs. Hartley!" he said, hastily. "You will take +good care of her, I know. My darling, good-by! I go on to Dashford, and +home by return train in an hour. God bless you, my Hilda! Courage! Up, +Guards, and at them! Remember Waterloo!" and he was gone. The engine +shrieked an unearthly "Good-by!" and the train rumbled away, leaving +Hilda gazing after it through a mist which only her strong will +prevented from dissolving in tears.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said Dame Hartley's cheery voice, "your papa's gone, +and you must not stand here and fret after him. Here <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>is old Nancy +shaking her head, and wondering why she does not get home to her dinner. +Do you get into the cart, and I will get the station-master to put your +trunk in for us."</p> + +<p>Hilda obeyed in silence; and climbing into the neat wagon, took her seat +and looked about her while Dame Hartley bustled off in search of the +station-master. There was not very much to look at at Glenfield station. +The low wooden building with its long platform stood on a bare spot of +ground, from which the trees all stood back, as if to mark their +disapproval of the railway and all that belonged to it. The sandy soil +made little attempt to produce vegetation, but put out little humps of +rock occasionally, to show what it could do. Behind, a road led off into +the woods, hiding itself behind the low-hanging branches of chestnut and +maple, ash and linden trees. That was all. Now that the train was gone, +the silence was unbroken <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>save by the impatient movements of the old +white mare as she shook the flies off and rattled the jingling harness.</p> + +<p>Hilda was too weary to think. She had slept little the night before, and +the suddenness of the recent changes confused her mind and made her feel +as if she were some one else, and not herself at all. She sat patiently, +counting half-unconsciously each quiver of Nancy's ears. But now Dame +Hartley came bustling back with the station-master, and between the two, +Hilda's trunk was hoisted into the cart. Then the good woman climbed in +over the wheel, settled her ample person on the seat and gathered up the +reins, while the station-master stood smoothing the mare's mane, ready +for a parting word of friendly gossip.</p> + +<p>"Jacob pooty smart!" he asked, brushing a fly from Nancy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Only middling," was the reply. "He had a touch o' rheumatiz, that last +spell of wet weather, and it seems to hang on, kind of.<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a> Ketches him in +the joints and the small of his back if he rises up suddin."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" replied the station-master, with eager interest. "Jest +like my spells ketches me; on'y I have it powerful bad acrost my +shoulders, too. I been kerryin' a potato in my pocket f'r over and above +a week now, and I'm in hopes 't'll cure me."</p> + +<p>"A potato in your pocket!" exclaimed Dame Hartley. "Reuel Slocum! what +<i>do</i> you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Sounds curus, don't it?" returned Mr. Slocum. "But it's a fact that +it's a great cure for rheumatiz. A grea-at cure! Why, there's Barzillay +Smith, over to Peat's Corner, has kerried a potato in his pocket for +five years,—not the same potato, y' know; changes 'em when they begin +to sprout,—and he hesn't hed a touch o' rheumatism all that time. Not a +touch! tol' me so himself."</p> + +<p>"Had he ever hed it before?" asked Dame Hartley.<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></p> + +<p>"I d'no as he hed," said Mr. Slocum, "But his father hed; an' his +granf'ther before him. So ye see—"</p> + +<p>But here Hilda uttered a long sigh of weariness and impatience; and Dame +Hartley, with a penitent glance at her, bade good-morning to the victim +of rheumatism, gave old Nancy a smart slap with the reins, and drove off +down the wood-road.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," she said to Hilda as they jogged along, "I ought not to +have kept you waiting so long, and you tired with your ride in the cars. +But Reuel Slocum lives all alone here, and he does enjoy a little chat +with an old neighbor more than most folks; so I hope you'll excuse me."</p> + +<p>"It is of no consequence, thank you," murmured Hildegarde, with cold +civility. She did not like to be called "my dear child," to begin with; +and besides, she was very weary and heartsick, and altogether miserable. +But she tried to listen, as the good woman continued <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>to talk in a +cheery, comfortable tone, telling her how fond she had always been of +"Miss Mildred," as she called Mrs. Graham, and how she had the care of +her till she was almost a woman grown, and never would have left her +then if Jacob Hartley hadn't got out of patience.</p> + +<p>"And to think how you've grown, Hilda dear! You don't remember it, of +course, but this isn't the first time you have been at Hartley's Glen. A +sweet baby you were, just toddling about on the prettiest little feet I +ever saw, when your mamma brought you out here to spend a month with old +Nurse Lucy. And your father came out every week, whenever he could get +away from his business. What a fine man he is, to be sure! And he and my +husband had rare times, shooting over the meadows, and fishing, and the +like."</p> + +<p>They were still in the wood-road, now jolting along over ridges and +hummocks, now ploughing through stretches of soft, sandy soil. Above and +on either side, the great trees interlaced <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>their branches, sometimes +letting them droop till they brushed against Hilda's cheek, sometimes +lifting them to give her a glimpse of cool vistas of dusky green, shade +within shade,—moss-grown hollows, where the St. John's-wort showed its +tarnished gold, and white Indian pipe gleamed like silver along the +ground; or stony beds over which, in the time of the spring rains, +little brown brooks ran foaming and bubbling down through the woods. The +air was filled with the faint cool smell of ferns, and on every side +were great masses of them,—clumps of splendid ostrich-ferns, waving +their green plumes in stately pride; miniature forests of the graceful +brake, beneath whose feathery branches the wood-mouse and other tiny +forest-creatures roamed secure; and in the very road-way, trampled under +old Nancy's feet, delicate lady-fern, and sturdy hart's-tongue, and a +dozen other varieties, all perfect in grace and sylvan beauty. Hilda was +conscious of a vague delight, through all her fatigue and distress<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a> How +beautiful it was; how cool and green and restful! If she must stay in +the country, why could it not be always in the woods, where there was no +noise, nor dust, nor confusion?</p> + +<p>Her revery was broken in upon by Dame Hartley's voice crying cheerily,—</p> + +<p>"And here we are, out of the woods at last! Cheer up, my pretty, and let +me show you the first sight of the farm. It's a pleasant, heartsome +place, to my thinking."</p> + +<p>The trees opened left and right, stepping back and courtesying, like +true gentlefolks as they are, with delicate leaf-draperies drooping low. +The sun shone bright and hot on a bit of hard, glaring yellow road, and +touched more quietly the roofs and chimneys of an old yellow farm-house +standing at some distance from the road, with green rolling meadows on +every side, and a great clump of trees mounting guard behind it. A low +stone wall, with wild-roses nodding over it, ran along the roadside for +some way, and midway in it was a trim, <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>yellow-painted gate, which stood +invitingly open, showing a neat drive-way, shaded on either side by +graceful drooping elms. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and quickened her +pace into a very respectable trot, as if she already smelt her oats. +Dame Hartley shook her own comfortable shoulders and gave a little sigh +of relief, for she too was tired, and glad to get home. But Hilda +tightened her grasp on the handle of her dressing-bag, and closed her +eyes with a slight shiver of dislike and dread. She would not look at +this place. It was the hateful prison where she was to be shut up for +three long, weary, dismal months. The sun might shine on it, the trees +might wave, and the wild-roses open their slender pink buds; it would be +nothing to her. She hated it, and nothing, nothing, <i>nothing</i> could +<i>ever</i> make her feel differently. Ah! the fixed and immovable +determination of fifteen,—does later life bring anything like it?</p> + +<p>But now the wagon stopped, and Hilda must <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>open her eyes, whether she +would or no. In the porch, under the blossoming clematis, stood a tall, +broad-shouldered man, dressed in rough homespun, who held out his great +brown hand and said in a gruff, hearty voice,—</p> + +<p>"Here ye be, eh? Thought ye was never comin'. And this is little miss, +is it? Howdy, missy? Glad to see ye! Let me jump ye out over the wheel!"</p> + +<p>But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;" and barely touching the proffered +hand, sprang lightly to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Now, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley, "let's see you give a jump like +that. 'Tain't so long, seems to me, sence ye used to be as spry as a +hoppergrass."</p> + +<p>Dame Hartley laughed, and climbed leisurely down from the cart. "Never +mind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spry enough yet to take care of you, if I +can't jump as well as I used."</p> + +<p>"This missy's trunk?" continued the farmer. "Let me see! What's missy's +name now?<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a> Huldy, ain't it! Little Huldy! 'Pears to me that's what they +used to call ye when ye was here before."</p> + +<p>"My name is Hildegardis Graham!" said Hilda in her most icy +manner,—what Madge Everton used to call her +Empress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zero +manner.</p> + +<p>"Huldy Gardies!" repeated Farmer Hartley. "Well, that's a comical name +now! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys, doosn't it? Where did Mis' Graham pick up +a name like that, I wonder? But I reckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout the +Gardies, whatever they be."</p> + +<p>"Come, father," said Dame Hartley, "the child's tired now, an' I guess +she wants to go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk, we'll follow ye."</p> + +<p>The stalwart farmer swung the heavy trunk up on his shoulder as lightly +as if it were a small satchel, and led the way into the house and up the +steep, narrow staircase.<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a></p> + +<p><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR.</h3> + + +<p>As she followed in angry silence, Hilda had a glimpse through a +half-open door of a cosey sitting-room; while another door, standing +fully open at the other end of the little hall, showed, by a blaze of +scarlet tiger-lilies and yellow marigolds, where the garden lay. And now +the farmer opened a door and set down the trunk with a heavy thump; and +Dame Hartley, taking the girl's hand, led her forward, saying: "Here, my +dear, here is your own little room,—the same that your dear mamma slept +in when she was here! And I hope you'll be happy in it, Hilda dear, and +get all the good we wish for you while you're here!" Hilda bowed +slightly, feeling unable <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>to speak; and the good woman continued: "You +must be hungry as well as tired, travelling since morning. It's near our +dinner-time. Or shall I bring ye up something now,—a cup o' tea and a +cooky, eh? Or would you like solid victuals better?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not at all hungry; I could not possibly +eat anything. My head aches badly!" she added, nervously forestalling +her hostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cup of tea later, thank you! I +should like to rest now. And I shall not want any dinner."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when you have rested a bit," said Dame +Hartley, smoothing the girl's fair hair with a motherly touch, and not +seeming to notice her angry shrinking away. "It's the best thing you can +do, to lie down and take a good nap; then you'll wake up fresh as a +lark, and ready to enjoy yourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring up your +tea in an hour or so." And with a part<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>ing nod and smile, the good woman +departed, leaving Hilda, like the heroine of a three-volume novel, +"alone with her despair."</p> + +<p>Very tragic indeed the maiden looked as she tossed off her hat and flung +herself face downward on the bed, refusing to cast even a glance at the +cell which was to be her hateful prison. "For of course I shall spend my +time here!" she said to herself. "They may send me here, keep me here +for years, if they will; but they cannot make me associate with these +people." And she recalled with a shudder the gnarled, horny hand which +she had touched in jumping from the cart,—she had never felt anything +like it; the homely speech, and the nasal twang with which it was +delivered; the uncouth garb (good stout butternut homespun!) and unkempt +hair and beard of the "odious old savage," as she mentally named Farmer +Hartley.</p> + +<p>After all, however, Hilda was only fifteen; and after a few minutes, +Curiosity began to <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>wake; and after a short struggle with Despair, it +conquered, and she sat up on the bed and looked about her.</p> + +<p>It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright, clean, fresh little room, all +white and blue. White walls, white bedstead, with oh! such snowy +coverings, white dimity curtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ball +fringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaint +looking-glass framed with fat gilt cherubs, all apparently trying to +fold their wings in such a way as to enable them to get a peep at +themselves in the mirror, and not one succeeding. Then there was a low +rocking-chair, and another chair of the high-backed order, and a tall +chest of drawers, all painted white, and a wash-hand-stand with a set of +dark-blue crockery on it which made the victim of despair open her eyes +wide. Hilda had a touch of china mania, and knew a good thing when she +saw it; and this deep, eight-sided bowl, this graceful jug with the +quaint gilt dragon <a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>for a handle, these smaller jugs, boxes, and dishes, +all of the same pattern, all with dark-blue dragons (no cold "Canton" +blue, but a rich, splendid ultramarine), large and small, prancing and +sprawling on a pale buff ground,—what were these things doing in the +paltry bedroom of a common farm-house? Hilda felt a new touch of +indignation at "these people" for presuming to have such things in their +possession.</p> + +<p>When her keen eyes had taken in everything, down to the neat rag-carpet +on the floor, the girl bethought her of her trunk. She might as well +unpack it. Her head could not ache worse, whatever she did; and now that +that little imp Curiosity was once awake, he prompted her to wonder what +the trunk contained. None of the dresses she had been wearing, she was +sure of that; for they were all hanging safely in her wardrobe at home. +What surprise had mamma been planning? Well, she would soon know. +Hastily unlocking the trunk, she lifted out one <a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>tray after another and +laid them on the bed. In the first were piles of snowy collars and +handkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen, with no lace or embroidery; a +broad-brimmed straw hat with a simple wreath of daisies round it; +another hat, a small one, of rough gray felt, with no trimming at all, +save a narrow scarlet ribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; a couple of +white aprons, and one of brown holland, with long sleeves. The next tray +was filled with dresses,—dresses which made Hilda's eyes open wide +again, as she laid them out, one by one, at full length. There was a +dark blue gingham with a red stripe, a brown gingham dotted with yellow +daisies, a couple of light calicoes, each with a tiny figure or flower +on it, a white lawn, and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel. All these +dresses, and among them all not an atom of trimming. No sign of an +overskirt, no ruffle or puff, plaiting or ruching, no "Hamburg" or +lace,—nothing! Plain round waists, neatly stitched at throat and +<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>wrists; plain round skirts, each with a deep hem, and not so much as a +tuck by way of adornment.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde drew a deep breath, and looked at the simple frocks with +kindling eyes and flushing cheeks. These were the sort of dresses that +her mother's servants wore at home. Why was she condemned to wear them +now,—she, who delighted in soft laces and dainty embroideries and the +clinging draperies which she thought suited her slender, pliant figure +so well? Was it a part of this whole scheme; and was the object of the +scheme to humiliate her, to take away her self-respect, her proper +pride?</p> + +<p>Mechanically, but carefully, as was her wont, Hilda hung the despised +frocks in the closet, put away the hats, after trying them on and +approving of them, in spite of herself ("Of course," she said, "mamma +<i>could</i> not get an ugly hat, if she tried!"), and then proceeded to take +out and lay in the bureau drawers the dainty under-clothing which filled +the lower part of the <a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>trunk. Under all was a layer of books, at sight +of which Hilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!" she said, "I shall +not be quite alone;" for she saw at a glance that here were some old and +dear friends. Lovingly she took them up, one by one: "Romances of the +Middle Ages," Percy's "Reliques," "Hereward," and "Westward, Ho!" and, +best-beloved of all, the "Adventures of Robin Hood," by grace of Howard +Pyle made into so strong an enchantment that the heart thrills even at +sight of its good brown cover. And here was her Tennyson and her +Longfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, and the "Book of Golden Deeds." Verily +a goodly company, such as might even turn a prison into a palace. But +what was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, this +white leather case, with—ah! Hilda—with blue forget-me-nots delicately +painted on it? Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring. Her +mother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes <a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>looked lovingly into +hers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, +seemed almost to quiver as if in life. So kind, so loving, so faithful, +so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joy +or to comfort one's grief,—her own dear, dear mother! A mist came +before the girl's eyes. She gazed at the miniature till she could no +longer see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, she +burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would +break. No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged and indignant +"prisoner," only Hilda,—Hilda who wanted her mother!</p> + +<p>Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,—which was the very best thing she +could have done. By and by Dame Hartley peeped softly in, and seeing the +child lying "all in a heap," as she said to herself, with her pretty +hair all tumbled about, brought a shawl and covered her carefully up, +and went quietly away.<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></p> + +<p>"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, +like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better,—though I fear it +will be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, +Miss Mildred, dear!"</p> + +<p>Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summer +twilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start +from a dream of home.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For one +moment she stared in amazement at the strange room, with its unfamiliar +furnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as a +knock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said:</p> + +<p>"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. +Will you come down with me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not—I +haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!"<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a></p> + +<p>"Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. +"You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. +Come down just as you are, there's a dear!"</p> + +<p>Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands +in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon +pitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little +curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she +followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably +resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a +great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, +and very, very hungry,—and oh, how good something did smell!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at Hartley +Farm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of a +modern stove in the back kitchen, <a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>while the great fireplace, with the +crane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as a +rule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming, +and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between the +iron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at Hartley +Farm,—wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south and +west; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century of +scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side of +the room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held a +goodly array of polished pewter and brass, shining glass, and curious +old china and crockery. Overhead were dark, heavy rafters, relieved by +the gleam of yellow "crook-neck" squashes, bunches of golden corn, and +long festoons of dried apples. In one window stood the good dame's +rocking-chair, with its gay patchwork cushion; and her Bible, +spectacles, and work-basket lay on <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>the window-seat beside it. In +another was a huge leather arm-chair, which Hilda rightly supposed to be +the farmer's, and a wonderful piece of furniture, half desk, half chest +of drawers, with twisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-holes and tiny +drawers, and I don't know what else. The third window Hilda thought was +the prettiest of all. It faced the west, and the full glory of sunset +was now pouring through the clustering vines which partly shaded it. The +sash was open, and a white rose was leaning in and nodding in a friendly +way, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, +both of quaint and graceful fashion, stood in the recess; and on the +window-seat stood some flowering-plants in pretty blue and white pots.</p> + +<p>"I suppose <i>I</i> am expected to sit there!" said Hilda to herself. "As if +I should sit down in a kitchen!" But all the while she knew in her heart +of hearts that this was one of the most attractive rooms she had ever +seen, and <a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>that that particular corner was pretty enough and picturesque +enough for a queen to sit in. You are not to think that she saw all +these things at the first glance; far from it. There was something else +in the room which claimed the immediate attention of our heroine, and +that was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered with +good things,—cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, a +great brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rolls +piled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled with +rich, creamy milk. Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine of +fifteen! But alas! at the head of this inviting table sat Farmer +Hartley, the "odious savage," in his rough homespun coat, with his hair +still very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and the +broad, horny hands were scrupulously clean). With a slight shudder Hilda +took the seat which Dame Hartley offered her.<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon with +a cheery smile, "here ye be, eh? Rested after yer journey, be ye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on her +plate. "An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey? That's right! +It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, +unless it's soft custard. I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler. +Haw! haw!"</p> + +<p>Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined to pay no attention to the +vulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster. It was hard enough to eat +with a steel fork, without being further tormented. But the farmer +seemed determined to drag her into conversation.</p> + +<p>"How's yer ha-alth in gineral, Huldy? Pooty rugged, be ye? Seems to me +ye look kin' o' peaked."</p> + +<p>"I am quite well!" It was Queen Hilde<a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>garde who spoke now, in icy tones; +but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious host.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used ter +things, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We're short-handed +now, and a smart, likely gal kin be a sight o' help. There's the cows +ter milk—the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and <i>she</i> only +kicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her."</p> + +<p>Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in the +farmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her. The angry blood +surged up even to the roots of her hair; but she disdained to reply, and +continued to crumble her bread in silence.</p> + +<p>"Father, what ails you?" said kind Dame Hartley. "Why can't you let the +child alone? She's tired yet, and she doesn't understand your joking +ways.—Don't you mind the farmer, dear, one bit; his heart's in the +right place, but he do love to tease."<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a></p> + +<p>But the good woman's gentle words were harder to bear, at that moment, +than her husband's untimely jesting. Hilda's heart swelled high. She +felt that in another moment the tears must come; and murmuring a word of +excuse, she hastily pushed back her chair and left the room.</p> + +<p>An hour after, Hilda was sitting by the window of her own room, looking +listlessly out on the soft summer evening, and listening to the +melancholy cry of the whippoorwill, when she heard voices below. The +farmer was sitting with his pipe in the vine-clad porch just under the +window; and now his wife had joined him, after "redding up" the kitchen, +and giving orders for the next morning to the tidy maidservant.</p> + +<p>"Well, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley's gruff, hearty voice, "now thet +you have your fine bird, I sh'd like to know what you're a-goin' to do +with her. She's as pretty as a pictur, but a stuck-up piece as ever I +see.<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a> Don't favor her mother, nor father either, as I can see."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with a sigh, "I fear she will have a +hard time of it before she comes to herself. But I promised Miss Mildred +that I would try my best; and you said you would help me, Jacob."</p> + +<p>"So I did, and so I will!" replied the farmer. "But tell me agin, what +was Miss Mildred's idee? I got the giner'l drift of it, but I can't seem +to put it together exactly. I didn't s'pose the gal was <i>this</i> kind, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"She told me," Dame Hartley said, "that this child—her only one, Jacob! +you know what that means—was getting into ways she didn't like. Going +about with other city misses, who cared for nothing but pleasure, and +who flattered and petted her because of her beauty and her pretty, proud +ways (and maybe because of her father's money too; though Miss Mildred +didn't say that), she was getting to think too much of herself, and <a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>to +care too much for fine dresses and sweetmeats and idle chatter about +nothing at all." (How Hilda's cheeks burned as she remembered the long +séances in her room, she on the sofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, with +the box of Huyler's or Maillard's best always between them! Had they +ever talked of anything "worth the while," as mamma would say? She +remembered mamma's coming in upon them once or twice, with her sweet, +grave face. She remembered, too, a certain uneasy feeling she had had +for a moment—only for a moment—when the door closed behind her mother. +But Madge had laughed, and said, "Isn't your mother perfectly sweet? She +doesn't mind a bit, does she?" and she had answered, "Oh, no!" and had +forgotten it in the account of Helen McIvor's new bonnet.) "And then +Miss Mildred said, 'I had meant to take her into the country with me +this summer, and try to show the child what life really means, and let +her learn to know her brothers <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>and sisters in the different walks of +this life, and how they live, and what they do. I want her to see for +herself what a tiny bit of the world, and what a silly, useless, gilded +bit, is the little set of fashionable girls whom she has chosen for her +friends. But this sudden call to California has disarranged all my +plans. I cannot take her with me there, for the child is not well, and +country air and quiet are necessary for her bodily health. And so, Nurse +Lucy,' she says, 'I want <i>you</i> to take my child, and do by her as you +did by me!'</p> + +<p>"'Oh! Miss Mildred,' I said, 'do you think she can be happy or contented +here? I'll do my best; I'm sure you know that! But if she's as you say, +she is a very different child to what you were, Miss Mildred dear.'</p> + +<p>"'She will not be happy at first,' says Miss Mildred. 'But she has a +really noble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I am very sure that it will triumph +over the follies and faults which are on the outside.'<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></p> + +<p>"And then she kissed me, the dear! and came up and helped me set the +little room to rights, and kissed the pillows, sweet lady, and cried +over them a bit. Ah me! 'tis hard parting from our children, even for a +little while, that it is."</p> + +<p>Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Then she said: "And so, here the child +is, for good or for ill, and we must do our very best by her, Jacob, you +as well as I. What ailed you to-night, to tease her so at supper? I +thought shame of you, my man."</p> + +<p>"Well, Marm Lucy," said the farmer, "I don't hardly know what ailed me. +But I tell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry for me, and I thought +laughin' was better nor t'other. To see that gal a-settin' there, with +her pretty head tossed up, and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twas an +honor to the vittles to put them in her mouth; and to think of my +maid—" He stopped abruptly, and rising from the bench, began to pace up +and down the garden-path.<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a> His wife joined him after a moment, and the +two walked slowly to and fro together, talking in low tones, while the +soft summer darkness gathered closer and closer, and the pleasant +night-sounds woke, cricket and katydid and the distant whippoorwill +filling the air with a cheerful murmur.</p> + +<p>Long, long sat Hildegarde at the window, thinking more deeply than she +had ever thought in her life before. Different passions held her young +mind in control while she sat motionless, gazing into the darkness with +wide-open eyes. First anger burned high, flooding her cheek with hot +blushes, making her temples throb and her hands clench themselves in a +passion of resentment. But to this succeeded a mood of deep sadness, of +despair, as she thought; though at fifteen one knows not, happily, the +meaning of despair.</p> + +<p>Was this all true? Was she no better, no wiser, than the silly girls of +her set? She had always felt herself so far above them mentally; <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>they +had always so frankly acknowledged her supremacy; she knew she was +considered a "very superior girl:" was it true that her only superiority +lay in possessing powers which she never chose to exert? And then came +the bitter thought: "What have I ever done to prove myself wiser than +they?" Alas for the answer! Hilda hid her face in her hands, and it was +shame instead of anger that now sent the crimson flush over her cheeks. +Her mother despised her! Her mother—perhaps her father too! They loved +her, of course; the tender love had never failed, and would never fail. +They were proud of her too, in a way. And yet they despised her; they +must despise her! How could they help it? Her mother, whose days were a +ceaseless round of work for others, without a thought of herself; her +father, active, energetic, business-like,—what must her life seem to +them? How was it that she had never seen, never dreamed before, that she +was an idle, silly, frivolous girl?<a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a> The revelation came upon her with +stunning force. These people too, these coarse country people, despised +her and laughed at her! The thought was more than she could bear. She +sprang up, feeling as if she were suffocating, and walked up and down +the little room with hurried and nervous steps. Then suddenly there came +into her mind one sentence of her mother's that Dame Hartley had +repeated: "Hilda has a really noble nature—" What was the rest? +Something about triumphing over the faults and follies which lay +outside. Had her mother really said that? Did she believe, trust in, her +silly daughter? The girl stood still, with clasped hands and bowed head. +The tumult within her seemed to die away, and in its place something was +trembling into life, the like of which Hilda Graham had never known, +never thought of, before; faint and timid at first, but destined to gain +strength and to grow from that one moment,—a wish, a hope, finally a +resolve.<a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW HILDA.</h3> + + +<p>The morning came laughing into Hilda's room, and woke her with such a +flash of sunshine and trill of bird-song that she sprang up smiling, +whether she would or no. Indeed, she felt happier than she could have +believed to be possible. The anger, the despair, even the +self-humiliation and anguish of repentance, were gone with the night. +Morning was here,—a new day and a new life. "Here is the new +Hildegarde!" she cried as she plunged her face into the clear, sparkling +water. "Do you see me, blue dragons? Shake paws, you foolish creatures, +and don't stand ramping and glaring at each other in that way! Here is a +new girl come to see you. The old one was a minx,—<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>do you hear, +dragons?" The dragons heard, but were too polite to say anything; and as +for not ramping, why they had ramped and glared for fifty years, and had +no idea of making a change at their time of life.</p> + +<p>The gilt cherubs round the little mirror were more amiable, and smiled +cheerfully at Hilda as she brushed and braided her hair, and put on the +pretty blue gingham frock. "We have no clothes ourselves," they seemed +to say, "but we appreciate good ones when we see them!" Indeed, the +frock fitted to perfection. "And after all," said the new Hilda as she +twirled round in front of the glass, "what <i>is</i> the use of an +overskirt?" after which astounding utterance, this young person +proceeded to do something still more singular. After a moment's +hesitation she drew out one of the white aprons which she had scornfully +laid in the very lowest drawer only twelve hours before, tied it round +her slender waist, and then, with an entirely satisfied little nod at +the mirror, she <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>tripped lightly downstairs and into the kitchen. Dame +Hartley was washing dishes at the farther end of the room, in her neat +little cedar dish-tub, with her neat little mop; and she nearly dropped +the blue and white platter from her hands when she heard Hilda's +cheerful "Good morning, Nurse Lucy!" and, turning, saw the girl smiling +like a vision of morning.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she cried, "sure I thought you were fast asleep still. I was +going up to wake you as soon as I had done my dishes. And did you sleep +well your first night at Hartley's Glen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I slept very sound indeed," said Hilda, lightly. And then, +coming close up to Dame Hartley, she said in an altered tone, and with +heightened color: "Nurse Lucy, I did not behave well last night, and I +want to tell you that I am sorry. I am not like mamma, but I want to +grow a little like her, if I can, and you must help me, please!"<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></p> + +<p>Her voice faltered, and good Nurse Lucy, laying down her mop, took the +slender figure in her motherly arms, from which it did not now shrink +away.</p> + +<p>"My lamb!" she said; "Miss Mildred's own dear child! You look liker your +blessed mother this minute than I ever thought you would. Help you? That +I will, with all my heart!—though I doubt if you need much help, coming +to yourself so soon as this. Well, well!"</p> + +<p>"Coming to herself!" It was the same phrase the good dame had used the +night before, and it struck Hilda's mind with renewed force. Yes, she +had come to herself,—her new self, which was to be so different from +the old. How strange it all was! What should she do now, to prove the +new Hilda and try her strength? Something must be done at once; the time +for folded hands and listless revery was gone by.</p> + +<p>"Shall I—may I help you to get breakfast?" she asked aloud, rather +timidly.<a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a></p> + +<p>"Breakfast? Bless you, honey, we had breakfast two hours ago. We farmers +are early birds, you know. But you can lay a plate and napkin for +yourself, if you like, while I drop a couple of fresh eggs and toast a +bit of bacon for you. Do you like bacon, then?"</p> + +<p>Rather disappointed at the failure of her first attempt to be useful, +Hilda laid the snowy napkin on the shining table, and chose a pretty +blue and white plate from the well-stocked shelves of the dresser.</p> + +<p>"And now open that cupboard, my lamb," said her hostess, "and you'll +find the loaf, and a piece of honeycomb, and some raspberries. I'll +bring a pat of butter and some milk from the dairy, where it's all cool +for you."</p> + +<p>"Raspberries!" cried Hilda. "Oh, how delightful! Why, the dew is still +on them, Nurse Lucy! And how pretty they look, with the cool green +leaves round them!"</p> + +<p>"Ay!" said the good woman, "Jacob brought them in not ten minutes ago. +He <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>thought you would like them fresh from the bushes."</p> + +<p>Hilda's cheek rivalled the raspberries in bloom as she bent over them to +inhale their fragrance. The farmer had picked these himself for +her,—had probably left his work to do so; and she had called him an +odious old savage, and an unkempt monster, and—oh dear! decidedly, the +old Hilda was a very disagreeable girl. But here were the eggs, each +blushing behind its veil of white, and here was the milk, and a little +firm nugget in a green leaf, which was too beautiful to be butter, and +yet too good to be anything else. And the new Hilda might eat her +breakfast with a thankful heart, and did so. The white rose nodded to +her from the west window much more cordially than it had done the night +before. It even brought out a little new bud to take a peep at the girl +who now smiled, instead of scowling across the room. The vines rustled +and shook, and two bright black eyes peeped between the <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>leaves. +"Tweet!" said the robin, ruffling his scarlet waistcoat a little. "When +you have quite finished your worms, you may come out, and I will show +you the garden. There are cherries!" and away he flew, while Hilda +laughed and clapped her hands, for she had understood every word.</p> + +<p>"May I go out into the garden?" she asked, when she had finished her +breakfast and taken her first lesson in dish-washing, in spite of Dame +Hartley's protest. "And isn't there something I can do there, please? I +want to work; I don't want to be idle any longer."</p> + +<p>"Well, honey," replied the dame, "there are currants to pick, if you +like such work as that. I am going to make jelly to-morrow; and if you +like to begin the picking, I will come and help you when my bread is out +of the oven."</p> + +<p>Gladly Hilda flew up to her room for the broad-leaved hat with the +daisy-wreath; and then, taking the wide, shallow basket which<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a> Dame +Hartley handed her, she fairly danced out of the door, over the bit of +green, and into the garden.</p> + +<p>Ah! the sweet, heartsome country garden that this was,—the very thought +of it is a rest and a pleasure. Straight down the middle ran a little +gravel path, with a border of fragrant clove-pinks on either side, +planted so close together that one saw only the masses of pale pink +blossoms resting on their bed of slender silvery leaves. And over the +border! Oh the wealth of flowers, the blaze of crimson and purple and +gold, the bells that swung, the spires that sprang heavenward, the +clusters that nodded and whispered together in the morning breeze! Here +were ranks upon ranks of silver lilies, drawn up in military fashion, +and marshalled by clumps of splendid tiger-lilies,—the drum-majors of +the flower-garden. Here were roses of every sort, blushing and paling, +glowing in gold and mantling in crimson. And the carnations showed their +<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>delicate fringes, and the geraniums blazed, and the heliotrope +languished, and the "Puritan pansies" lifted their sweet faces and +looked gravely about, as if reproving the other flowers for their +frivolity; while shy Mignonette, thinking herself well hidden behind her +green leaves, still made her presence known by the exquisite perfume +which all her gay sisters would have been glad to borrow.</p> + +<p>Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking and playing; and through all went +Hildegarde, her heart filled with a new delight, feeling as if she had +never lived before. She talked to the flowers. She bent and kissed the +damask rose, which was too beautiful to pluck. She put her cheek against +a lily's satin-silver petals, and started when an angry bee flew out and +buzzed against her nose. But where were the currant-bushes? Ah! there +they were,—a row of stout green bushes, forming a hedge at the bottom +of the garden.</p> + +<p>Hilda fell busily to work, filling her basket <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>with the fine, ruddy +clusters. "How beautiful they are!" she thought, holding up a bunch so +that the sunlight shone through it. "And these pale, pinky golden ones, +which show all the delicate veins inside. Really, I <i>must</i> eat this fat +bunch; they are like fairy grapes! The butler fay comes and picks a +cluster every evening, and carries it on a lily-leaf platter to the +queen as she sits supping on honey-cakes and dew under the damask +rose-bush."</p> + +<p>While fingers and fancy were thus busily employed, Hilda was startled by +the sound of a voice which seemed to come from beyond the +currant-bushes, very near her. She stood quite still and listened.</p> + +<p>"A-g, ag," said the voice; "g-l-o-m, glom,—agglom; e-r er,—agglomer; +a-t-e, ate,—agglomerate." There was a pause, and then it began again: +"A-g, ag; g-l-o-m, glom," etc.</p> + +<p>Hilda's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down her +basket, she cautiously parted the leaves and peeped through. She <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>hardly +knew what she expected to see. What she did see was a boy about ten +years old, in a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged breeches, busily +weeding a row of carrots; for this was the vegetable garden, which lay +behind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was a huge heap of +weeds; on the other lay a tattered book, at which he glanced from time +to time, though without leaving his work. "A-n, an," he was now saying; +"t-i, ti,—anti; c-i-p, cip,—anticip; a-t-e, ate,—anti<i>cip</i>ate. 'To +expect.' Well! that <i>is</i> a good un. Why can't they <i>say</i> expect, 'stead +o' breakin' their jawsen with a word like that? Anti<i>cip</i>-ate! Well, I +swan! I hope he enjoyed eatin' it. Sh'd think 't'd ha giv' him the +dyspepsy, anyhow."</p> + +<p>At this Hilda could contain herself no longer, but burst into a merry +peal of laughter; and as the boy started up with staring eyes and open +mouth, she pushed the bushes aside and came towards him. "I am sorry I +laughed," she said, not unkindly. "You said that so <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>funnily, I couldn't +help it. You did not pronounce the word quite right, either. It is +an<i>ti</i>cipate, not antic<i>ip</i>-ate."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="pushed" id="pushed"></a><img src="./images/47.png" alt=""SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"" title=""SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"" /></div> +<div class='center'>"SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"</div> + +<p>The boy looked half bewildered and half grateful. "An<i>ti</i>cipate!" he +repeated, slowly. "Thanky, miss! it's a onreasonable sort o' word, +'pears ter me." And he bent over his carrots again.</p> + +<p>But Hilda did not return to her currant-picking. She was interested in +this freckled, tow-headed boy, wrestling with four-syllabled words while +he worked.</p> + +<p>"Why do you study your lesson out here?" she asked, sitting down on a +convenient stump, and refreshing herself with another bunch of white +currants. "Couldn't you learn it better indoors?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno!" replied the boy. "Ain't got no time ter stay indoors."</p> + +<p>"You might learn it in the evening!" suggested Hilda.</p> + +<p>"I can't keep awake evenin's," said the boy, <a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>simply. "Hev to be up at +four o'clock to let the cows out, an' I git sleepy, come night. An' I +like it here too," he added. "I can l'arn 'em easier, weedin'; take ten +weeds to a word."</p> + +<p>"Ten weeds to a word?" repeated Hilda. "I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"Why," said the boy, looking up at her with wide-open blue eyes, "I take +a good stiff word (I like 'em stiff, like that an—an<i>ti</i>cipate feller), +and I says it over and over while I pull up ten weeds,—big weeds, o' +course, pusley and sich. I don't count chickweed. By the time the weeds +is up, I know the word, I've larned fifteen this spell!" and he glanced +proudly at his tattered spelling-book as he tugged away at a mammoth +root of pusley, which stretched its ugly, sprawling length of fleshy +arms on every side.</p> + +<p>Hilda watched him for some moments, many new thoughts revolving in her +head. How many country boys were there who taught themselves in this +way? How many, among <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>the clever girls at Mademoiselle Haut-ton's +school, had this sort of ambition to learn, of pride in learning? Had +she, the best scholar in her class, had it? She had always known her +lessons, because they were easy for her to learn, because she had a +quick eye and ear, and a good memory. She could not help learning, +Mademoiselle said. But this,—this was something different!</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" she asked, with a new interest.</p> + +<p>"Bubble Chirk," replied the freckled boy, with one eye on his book, and +the other measuring a tall spire of pigweed, towards which he stretched +his hand.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span>!" cried Hilda, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Bubble Chirk!" said the boy. "Kin' o' curus name, ain't it? The hull of +it's Zerubbabel Chirk; but most folks ain't got time to say all that. It +trips you up, too, sort o'. Bubble's what they call me; 'nless it's +Bub."</p> + +<p>The contrast between the boy's earnest and <a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>rather pathetic face, and +his absurdly volatile name, was almost too much for Hilda's gravity. But +she checked the laugh which rose to her lips, and asked: "Don't you go +to school at all, Bubble? It is a pity that you shouldn't, when you are +so fond of study."</p> + +<p>"Gin'lly go for a spell in the winter," replied Bubble. "They ain't no +school in summer, y' know. Boys hes to work, round here. Mam ain't got +nobody but me 'n Pink, sence father died."</p> + +<p>"Who is Pink?" asked Hilda, gently.</p> + +<p>"My sister," replied Bubble. "Thet ain't <i>her</i> real name, nuther. Mam +hed her christened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein' so fond o' roses, Mam +was; but we don't call her nothin' only Pink."</p> + +<p>"Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself. "What a name! What can a girl +be like who is called Pink Chirk?"</p> + +<p>But now Bubble seemed to think that it was his turn to ask questions. "I +reckon you're <a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>the gal that's come to stay at Mr. Hartley's?" he said in +an interrogative tone.</p> + +<p>Hilda's brow darkened for a moment at the word "gal," which came with +innocent frankness from the lips of the ragged urchin before her. But +the next moment she remembered that it was only the old Hilda who cared +about such trifles; so she answered pleasantly enough:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am staying at Mr. Hartley's. I only came yesterday, but I am to +stay some time."</p> + +<p>"And what mought <i>your</i> name be?" inquired Master Chirk.</p> + +<p>"Hildegardis Graham." It was gently said, in a very different voice from +that which had answered Farmer Hartley in the same words the night +before; but it made a startling impression on Bubble Chirk.</p> + +<p>"Hildy—" he began; and then, giving it up, he said simply: "Well, I +swan! Do ye kerry all that round with ye all the time?"</p> + +<p>Hilda laughed outright at this.<a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she said; "I am called Hilda generally."</p> + +<p>"But you kin spell the hull of it?" asked the boy anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly!" Bubble's eager look subsided into one of mingled awe +and admiration.</p> + +<p>"Reckon ye must know a heap," he said, rather wistfully. "Wish't I did!"</p> + +<p>Hilda looked at him for a moment without speaking. Her old self was +whispering to her. "Take care what you do!" it said. "This is a coarse, +common, dirty boy. He smells of the stable; his hair is full of hay; his +hands are beyond description. What have you in common with such a +creature? He has not even the sense to know that he is your inferior." +"I don't care!" said the new Hilda. "I know what mamma would do if she +were here, and I shall do it,—or try to do it, at least. Hold your +tongue, you supercilious minx!"</p> + +<p>"Bubble," she said aloud, "would you like me to teach you a little, +while I am here? I <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>think perhaps I could help you with your lessons."</p> + +<p>The boy looked up with a sudden flash in his blue eyes, while his face +grew crimson with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Would I like it?" he cried eagerly. But the next moment the glow faded, +and he looked awkwardly down at his ragged book and still more ragged +clothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arn that way," he muttered in +confusion.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly. "There must be <i>some</i> hour in the day +when you can be spared. I shall speak to Farmer Hartley about it. Don't +look at your clothes, you foolish boy," she continued, with a touch of +Queen Hildegardis' quality, yet with a kindly intonation which was new +to that potentate. "I am not going to teach your clothes. <i>You</i> are not +your clothes!" cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself, and a little +flushed with her recent victory over the "minx." The boy's face +brightened again.<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></p> + +<p>"That's so!" he said, joyously; "that's what Pink says. But I didn't +s'pose <i>you'd</i> think so," he added, glancing bashfully at the delicate, +high-bred face, with its flashing eyes and imperial air.</p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i> think so!" said Hilda. "So that is settled, and we will have our +first lesson to-morrow. What would you—"</p> + +<p>"Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear?" called Dame Hartley's voice from +the other side of the currant-bush-hedge. And catching up her basket, +and bidding a hasty good-by to her new acquaintance and future scholar, +Hildegarde darted back through the bushes.</p> + +<p>Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her a few moments, with kindling eyes and +open mouth of wonder and admiration.</p> + +<p>"Wall!" he said finally, after a pause of silent meditation, "I swan! I +reelly do! I swan to man!" and fell to weeding again as if his life +depended on it.<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE BLUE PLATTER.</h3> + + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Merry it is in the green forést,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Among the leavés green!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Thus sang Hildegarde as she sat in the west window, busily stringing her +currants. She had been thinking a great deal about Bubble Chirk, making +plans for his education, and wondering what his sister Pink was like. He +reminded her, she could not tell why, of the "lytel boy" who kept fair +Alyce's swine, in her favorite ballad of "Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, +and William of Cloudeslee;" and the words of the ballad rose half +unconsciously to her lips as she bent over the great yellow bowl, heaped +with scarlet and pale-gold clusters.<a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Merry it is in the green forést,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Among the leavés green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whenas men hunt east and west</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With bows and arrowés keen,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"For to raise the deer out of their denne,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Such sights have oft been seen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As by three yemen of the north countree:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By them it is, I mean.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"The one of them hight Adam Bell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The other Clym o' the Clough;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The third was Willyam of Cloudeslee,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An archer good enough.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"They were outlawed for venison,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">These yemen every one.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">They swore them brethren on a day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To English wood for to gone.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Now lythe and listen, gentylmen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That of myrthes loveth to hear!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and Farmer Hartley entered, taking off +his battered straw hat as he did so, and wiping his forehead with a red +bandanna handkerchief. Hilda looked up with a pleasant smile, meaning to +thank him for the raspberries which he had gathered for her breakfast; +but to her utter astonish<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>ment the moment his eyes fell upon her he gave +a violent start and turned very pale; then, muttering something under +his breath, he turned hastily and left the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what is the matter?" cried Hilda, jumping up from her chair. "What +have I done, Nurse Lucy? I have made the farmer angry, somehow. Is this +his chair? I thought—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, honey dear!" said Nurse Lucy soothingly. "Sit ye down; sit ye +down! You have done nothing. I'm right glad of it," she added, with a +tone of sadness in her pleasant voice. "Seeing as 'tis all in God's +wisdom, Jacob must come to see it so; and 'tis no help, but a deal of +hindrance, when folks set aside chairs and the like, and see only them +that's gone sitting in them." Then, seeing Hilda's look of bewilderment, +she added, laying her hand gently on the girl's soft hair: "You see, +dear, we had a daughter of our own this time last year. Our only one she +<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>was, and just about your age,—the light of our eyes, our Faith. She +was a good girl, strong and loving and heartsome, and almost as pretty +as yourself, Hilda dear; but the Father had need of her, so she was +taken from us for a while. It was cruel hard for Jacob; cruel, cruel +hard. He can't seem to see, even now, that it was right, or it wouldn't +have been so. And so I can tell just what he felt, coming in just now, +sudden like, and seeing you sitting in Faith's chair. Like as not he +forgot it all for a minute, and thought it was herself. She had a blue +dress that he always liked, and she'd sit here and sing, and the sun +coming in on her through her own window there, as she always called it: +like a pretty picture she was, our Faith."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Hilda, taking the brown, motherly hand in both of hers, "I +am so very, very sorry, dear Nurse Lucy! I did not know! I will never +sit here again. I thought—"</p> + +<p>But she was ashamed to say what she had <a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>thought,—that this chair and +table had been set for her to tempt her to sit down "in a kitchen!" She +could hear herself say it as she had said it last night, with a world of +scornful emphasis. How long it seemed since last night; how much older +she had grown! And yet—and yet somehow she felt a great deal younger.</p> + +<p>All this passed through her mind in a moment; but Nurse Lucy was petting +her, and saying: "Nay, dearie; nay, child! This is just where I want you +to sit. 'Twill be a real help to Farmer, once he is used to it. Hark! I +hear him coming now. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sit still where +ye are."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="bent" id="bent"></a><img src="./images/89.png" alt=""SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."" title=""SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."" /></div> +<div class='center'>"SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."</div> + +<p>Hilda obeyed, though her heart beat painfully; and she bent in real +distress over the currants as Farmer Hartley once more entered the room. +She hardly knew what she feared or expected; but her relief was great +when he bade her a quiet but cheerful "Good-day!"<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a> and crossing the +room, sat down in his great leather arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, Jacob!" said the good dame, +cheerily; "I've only to lay the table and dish the mutton."</p> + +<p>"Oh! let me help," cried Hilda, springing up and setting her bowl of +currants on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>So between the two the snowy cloth was laid, and the blue plates and the +shining knives and forks laid out. Then they all sat down, and the +little maid-servant came too, and took her place at the end of the +table; and presently in came a great loutish-looking fellow, about one +or two and twenty, with a great shock of sandy hair and little +ferret-eyes set too near together, whom Dame Hartley introduced as her +nephew. He sat down too, and ate more than all the rest of them put +together. At sight of this man, who gobbled his food noisily, and +uttered loud snorts between the mouthfuls, the old Hilda awoke in full +force. She <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>could <i>not</i> endure this; mamma never could have intended it! +The Hartleys were different, of course. She was willing to acknowledge +that she had been in the wrong about them; but this lout, this oaf, this +villainous-looking churl,—to expect a lady to sit at the same table +with him: it was too much! She would ask if she might not dine in her +own room after this, as apparently it was only at dinner that this +"creature" made his appearance.</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley had been very silent since he came in, but now he seemed +to feel that he must make an effort to be sociable, so he said kindly, +though gravely,—</p> + +<p>"I see ye're lookin' at that old dish, Huldy. 'Tis a curus old piece, +'n' that's a fact. Kin ye read the motter on it?"</p> + +<p>Hilda had not been <i>looking</i> at the dish, though her eyes had been +unconsciously fixed upon it, and she now bent forward to examine it. It +was an oblong platter, of old blue and white crockery. In the middle +(which was now vis<a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>ible, as the "creature" had just transferred the last +potato to his own plate, stabbing it with his knife for that purpose) +was a quaint representation of a mournful-looking couple, clad in +singularly ill-fitting aprons of fig-leaves. The man was digging with a +spade, while the woman sat at a spinning-wheel placed dangerously near +the edge of the deep ditch which her husband had already dug. Round the +edge ran an inscription, which, after some study, Hilda made out to be +the old distich:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"When Adam delved, and Eve span,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Where was then the gentleman?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Hilda burst out laughing in spite of her self.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is wonderful!" she cried. "Who ever heard of Eve with a +spinning-wheel? Where did this come from, Farmer Hartley? I am sure it +must have a history."</p> + +<p>"Wa-al," said the farmer, smiling, "I d'no ez 't' hes so to speak a +hist'ry, an' yit there's allays somethin' amoosin' to me about that +<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>platter. My father was a sea-farin' man most o' his life, an' only came +to the farm late in life, 'count of his older brother dyin', as owned +it. Well, he'd picked up a sight o' queer things in his voyages, father +had; he kep' some of 'em stowed away in boxes, and brought 'em out from +time to time, ez he happened to think of 'em. Wa-al, we young uns growed +up (four of us there was, all boys, and likely boys too, if I do say +it), and my brother Simon, who was nex' to me, he went to college. He +was a clever chap, Simon was, an' nothin' would do for <i>him</i> but he must +be a gentleman.</p> + +<p>"'Jacob kin stick to the farm an' the mill; if he likes,' says he, 'an' +Tom kin go to sea, an' William kin be a minister,—'t's all he's good +fer, I reckon; but <i>I'm</i> goin' ter be a <i>gentleman</i>!' says Simon. He +said it in father's hearin' one day, an' father lay back in his cheer +an' laughed; he was allays laughin', father was. An' then he went off +upstairs, an' we heard him rummagin' about among his boxes <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>up in the +loft-chamber. We dassn't none of us tech them boxes, we boys, though we +warn't afeard of nothin' else in the world, only father. Presently he +comes down again, still a-laughin', an' kerryin' that platter in his +hand. He sets it down afore Simon, an' says he, 'Wealthy,' says he (that +was my mother), 'Wealthy,' says he, 'let Simon have his victuals off o' +this platter every day, d'ye hear? The' ain't none other that's good +enough for him!' an' then he laughed again, till he fairly shook, an' +Simon looked black as thunder, an' took his hat an' went out. An' so +after Simon went to college, every time he come home for vacation and +set down to table with his nose kind o' turned up, like he was too good +to set with his own kith and kin, father 'ud go an git the old blue +platter and set it afore him, an' say, 'Here's <i>your</i> dish, Simon; been +diggin' any lately, my son?' and then lay back in his cheer and laugh."</p> + +<p>"And did Simon become—a—a gentle<a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>man?" asked Hilda, taking her own +little lesson very meekly, in her desire to know more.</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley's brow clouded instantly, and the smile vanished from his +lips. "Poor Simon!" he said, sadly. "He might ha' been anythin' he +liked, if he'd lived and—been fortunate."</p> + +<p>"Simon Hartley is dead, Hilda dear," interposed Dame Hartley, gently; +"he died some years ago. Will you have some of your own currants, my +dear?—Hilda has been helping me a great deal, Father," she added, +addressing her husband. "I don't know how I should have got all my +currants picked without her help."</p> + +<p>"Has she so?" exclaimed the farmer, fixing his keen gray eyes on the +girl. "Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, we sh'll hev her milkin' that +cow soon, after all; hey, Huldy?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde looked up bravely, with a little smile. "I will try," she +said, cheerfully, "if you will risk the milk, Farmer Hartley."<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a></p> + +<p>The old farmer returned her smile with one so bright and kind and genial +that somehow the ice bent, then cracked, and then broke. The old Hilda +shrank into so small a space that there was really very little left of +her, and the new Hilda rose from table feeling that she had gained a new +friend.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that about an hour later our heroine was walking +beside the farmer on the way to the barnyard, talking merrily, and +swinging the basket which she was going to fill with eggs. "But how +shall I find them," she asked, "if the hens hide them away so +carefully?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll hear 'em scrattlin' round!" replied the farmer. "They're +gret fools, hens are,—greter than folks, as a rule; an' that is sayin' +a good deal."</p> + +<p>They crossed the great sunny barn-yard, and paused at the barn-door, +while Hilda looked in with delight. A broad floor, big enough for a +ballroom, with towering walls of fragrant hay <a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>on either side reaching +up to the rafters; great doors open at the farther end, showing a snatch +of blue, radiant sky, and a lovely wood-road winding away into deep +thickets of birch and linden; dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeams slanting +down through the little windows, and touching the tossed hay-piles into +gold; and in the middle, hanging by iron chains from the great central +beam, a swing, almost big enough for a giant,—such was the barn at +Hartley Farm; as pleasant a place, Hilda thought, as she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"Waal, Huldy, I'll leave ye heer," said the farmer; "ye kin find yer way +home, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stop one moment, please, Farmer +Hartley. I want to know—will you please—may I teach Bubble Chirk a +little?" The farmer gave a low whistle of surprise; but Hilda went on +eagerly: "I found him studying, this morning, while he was weeding the +garden,—oh! studying so hard, and yet not neglecting his work <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>for a +minute. He seems a very bright boy, and it is a pity he should not have +a good education. Could you spare him, do you think, for an hour every +day?" She stopped, while the farmer looked at her with a merry twinkle +in his eye.</p> + +<p>"You teach Bubble Chirk!" he said. "Why, what would your fine friends +say to that, Miss Huldy? Bubble ain't nothin' but a common farm-boy, if +he <i>is</i> bright; an' I ain't denyin' that he is."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what they would say," said Hildegarde, blushing hotly, +"and I don't care, either! I know what mamma would do in my place; and +so do you, Farmer Hartley!" she added, with a little touch of +indignation.</p> + +<p>"Waal, I reckon I do!" said Farmer Hartley. "And I know who looks like +her mother, this minute, though I never thought she would. Yes!" he +said, more seriously, "you shall teach Bubble Chirk, my gal; and it's my +belief 'twill bring you a blessin' as well as him.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a> Ye are yer mother's +darter, after all. Shall I give ye a swing now, before I go; or are ye +too big to swing!"</p> + +<p>"I—don't—know!" said Hildegarde, eying the swing wistfully. "Am I too +big, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Yer ma warn't, when she was here three weeks ago!" said the farmer. "She +just sot heer and took a good solid swing, for the sake of old times, +she said."</p> + +<p>"Then I will take one for the sake of new times!" cried Hilda, running +to the swing and seating herself on its broad, roomy seat. "For the sake +of this new time, which I know is going to be a happy one, give me three +<i>good</i> pushes, please, Farmer Hartley, and then I can take care of +myself."</p> + +<p>One! two! three! up goes Queen Hildegarde, up and up, among the dusty, +cobwebby sunbeams, which settle like a crown upon her fair head. Down +with a rush, through the sweet, hay-scented air; then up again, +start<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>ling the swallows from under the eaves, and making the staid and +conservative old hens frantic with anxiety. Up and down, in broad, free +sweeps, growing slower now, as the farmer left her and went to his work. +How perfect it was! Did the world hold anything else so delightful as +swinging in a barn? She began to sing, for pure joy, a little song that +her mother had made for her when she was a little child, and used to +swing in the garden at home. And Farmer Hartley, with his hand on the +brown heifer's back, paused with a smile and a sigh as he heard the +girl's sweet fresh voice ring out gladly from the old barn. This was the +song she sang:—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">If I were a fairy king</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I would give to you a ring</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With a diamond set so bright</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">That the shining of its light</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Should make morning of the night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Should make morning of the night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">On each ringlet as it fell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I would tie a golden bell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!);</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the golden bells would chime</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In a little merry rhyme,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In the merry morning time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In the happy morning time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">You should wear a satin gown</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">All with ribbons falling down</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And your little twinkling feet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">O my Pretty and my Sweet!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Should be shod with silver neat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Shod with silver slippers neat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">But I'm not a fairy, Pet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Am not even a king, as yet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So all that I can do</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Is to kiss your little shoe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And to make a queen of you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging high, swinging low),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Make a fairy queen of you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">(Swinging, oh!).</span><br /> +<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>HARTLEY'S GLEN.</h3> + + +<p>How many girls, among all the girls who may read this little book, have +seen with their own eyes Hartley's Glen? Not one, perhaps, save Brynhild +and the Rosicrucian, for whom the book is written. But the others must +try to see it with my eyes, for it is a fair place and a sweet as any on +earth. Behind the house, and just under the brow of the little hill that +shelters it, a narrow path dips down to the right, and goes along for a +bit, with a dimpled clover-meadow on the one hand, and a stone wall, all +warm with golden and red-brown lichens, on the other. Follow this, and +you come to a little gateway, beyond which is a <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>thick plantation of +larches, with one grim old red cedar keeping watch over them. If he +regards you favorably, you may pass on, down the narrow path that winds +among the larches, whose feathery finger-tips brush your cheek and try +to hold you back, as if they willed not that you should go farther, to +see the wonders which they can never behold.</p> + +<p>But you leave them behind, and come out into the sunshine, in a little +green glade which might be the ballroom of the fairy queen. On your +right, gleaming through clumps of alder and black birch, is a pond,—the +home of cardinal flowers and gleaming jewel-weed; a little farther on, a +thicket of birch and maple, from which comes a musical sound of falling +water. Follow this sound, keeping to the path, which winds away to the +left. Stop! now you may step aside for a moment, and part the heavy +hanging branches, and look, where the water falls over a high black +wall, into a sombre pool, shut in by fantastic rocks, and shaded from +all <a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>sunshine by a dense fringe of trees. This is the milldam, and the +pond above is no natural one, but the enforced repose and outspreading +of a merry brown brook, which now shows its true nature, and escaping +from the gloomy pool, runs scolding and foaming down through a +wilderness of rocks and trees. You cannot follow it there,—though I +have often done so in my barefoot days,—so come back to the path again. +There are pines overhead now, and the ground is slippery with the fallen +needles, and the air is sweet—ah! how sweet!—with their warm +fragrance. See! here is the old mill itself, now disused and falling to +decay. Here the path becomes a little precipice, and you must scramble +as best you can down two or three rough steps, and round the corner of +the ruined mill. This is a millstone, this great round thing like a +granite cheese, half buried in the ground; and here is another, which +makes a comfortable seat, if you are tired.</p> + +<p>But there is a fairer resting-place beyond.<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a> Round this one more corner, +now, and down,—carefully, carefully!—down this long stairway, formed +of rough slabs of stone laid one below the other. Shut your eyes now for +a moment, and let me lead you forward by the hand. And now—now open the +eyes wide, wide, and look about you. In front, and under the windows of +the old mill, the water comes foaming and rushing down over a rocky fall +some sixty feet high, and leaps merrily into a second pool. No sombre, +black gulf this, like the one above, but a lovely open circle, half in +broad sunshine, half dappled with the fairy shadows of the boughs and +ferns that bend lovingly over it. So the little brook is no longer +angry, but mingles lovingly with the deep water of the pool, and then +runs laughing and singing along the glen on its way down to the sea. On +one side of this glen the bank rises abruptly some eighty feet, its +sides clothed with sturdy birches which cling as best they may to the +rocky steep. On the other stretches the little valley, a narrow strip of +<a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>land, but with turf as fine as the Queen's lawn, and trees that would +proudly grace Her Majesty's park,—tall Norway firs, raising their +stately forms and pointing their long dark fingers sternly at the +intruders on their solitude; graceful birches; and here and there a +whispering larch or a nodding pine. The other wall of the valley, or +glen, is less precipitous, and its sides are densely wooded, and fringed +with barberry bushes and climbing eglantine.</p> + +<p>And between these two banks, and over this green velvet carpet, and +among these dark fir-trees,—ah! how the sun shines. Nowhere else in the +whole land does he shine so sweetly, for he knows that his time there is +short, and that the high banks will shut him out from that green, +pleasant place long before he must say good-night to the more +common-place fields and hill-sides. So here his beams rest right +lovingly, making royal show of gold on the smooth grass, and of diamonds +on the running water, and of opals and topazes and beryls <a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>where the +wave comes curling over the little fall.</p> + +<p>And now, amid all this pomp and play of sun and of summer, what is this +dash of blue that makes a strange, though not a discordant, note in our +harmony of gold and green? And what is that round, whitish object which +is bobbing up and down with such singular energy? Why, the blue is +Hildegarde's dress, if you must know; and the whitish object is the head +of Zerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee; and the energy with which said +head is bobbing is the energy of determination and of study. Hilda and +Bubble have made themselves extremely comfortable under the great +ash-tree which stands in the centre of the glen. The teacher has curled +herself up against the roots of the tree, and has a piece of work in her +hands; but her eyes are wandering dreamily over the lovely scene before +her, and she looks as if she were really too comfortable to move even a +finger. The scholar lies at her feet, <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>face downwards, his chin +propped on his hands, his head bobbing up and down. The silence is only +broken by the noise of the waterfall and the persistent chirping of some +very cheerful little bird.</p> + +<p>Presently the boy raised his head and cried joyfully, "I've fetched him, +Miss Hildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!" Whereupon he stood up, and +assuming a military attitude, submitted to a severe geographical +catechising, and came off with flying colors.</p> + +<p>"That was a very good recitation," said Hilda, approvingly, as she laid +the book down. "You shall have another ballad to-day as a reward. But, +Bubble," she added, rather seriously, "I do wish you would not use so +much slang. It is so senseless! Now what did you mean by saying 'just +like pie,' in speaking of your lesson just now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" said Bubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no use +in your tellin' me you don't know what pie is."<a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></p> + +<p>"Of course I know what pie is, you silly boy!" said Hilda, laughing. +"But what has pie to do with your geography lesson?"</p> + +<p>"That's so!" murmured the boy, apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it! +I won't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'like blazes,' instead."</p> + +<p>"You needn't say 'like' anything!" cried Hilda, laughing again; "just +say, I know my lesson 'well,' or 'thoroughly.' There are plenty of +<i>real</i> words, Bubble, that have as much meaning as the slang ones, and +often a great deal more."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Bubble, with an air of deep conviction. "I'll try not +to talk no more slang, Miss Hildy. I will, I swan!"</p> + +<p>"But, Bubble, you must not say 'I swan' either; that is <i>abominable</i> +slang."</p> + +<p>Bubble looked very blank. "Why, what <i>shall</i> I say?" he asked, simply. +"Pink won't let me say 'I swow,' 'cause it's vulgar; an' if I say 'by' +anything, Ma says it's swearin',—an' I can't swear, nohow!"<a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Hilda. "But why <i>must</i> you say anything, +Bubble,—anything of that sort, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin say ezackly <i>why</i>, Miss Hildy; +but—but—wal, I swan! I mean, I—I don't mean I swan—but—there now! +You see how 'tis, Miss Hildy. Things don't seem to hev no taste to 'em, +without you say <i>somethin'</i>."</p> + +<p>"Let me think," said Hilda. "Perhaps I can think of something that will +sound better."</p> + +<p>"I might say, 'Gee Whittekers!'" suggested Bubble, brightening up a +little. "I know some fellers as says that."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that would do," replied Hilda, decidedly. "What does it +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't mean nothing as I knows on," said the boy; "but it sounds kind o' +hahnsome, don't it?"</p> + +<p>Hilda shook her head with a smile. She did not think "Gee Whittekers" a +"hahnsome" expression.<a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a></p> + +<p>"Bubble," she said after a few moments' reflection, during which her +scholar watched her anxiously, "I have an idea. If you <i>must</i> say +'something,' beside what you actually have to say, let it be something +that will remind you of your lessons; then it may help you to remember +them. Instead of Gee—what is it?—Gee Whittekers, say Geography, or +Spelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of 'I swan,' say 'I study!' What do +you think of this plan?"</p> + +<p>"Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I like +fustrate! Ge-<i>o</i>graphy! Why, that sounds just like pie! I—I don't mean +that, Miss Hildy. I didn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o' slipped +out, ye know." Bubble paused, and hung his head in much confusion.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly. "Of course you cannot make the change +all at once, Bubble. But little by little, if you really think about it, +you will bring it about. Next week," she added, "I think we must begin +upon <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>grammar. You are doing very well indeed in spelling and geography, +and pretty well in arithmetic; but your grammar, Bubble, is simply +frightful."</p> + +<p>"Be it?" said Bubble, resignedly. "I want to know!"</p> + +<p>"And now," said the young instructress, rising, and shaking out her +crumpled frock, "that is enough for to-day, Bubble. We must be going +home soon; but first, I want to take a peep at the lower part of the old +mill, that you told me about yesterday. You have been in there, you say? +And how did you get in?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity, and leading +the way towards the mill. "I'll show ye the very place, Miss Hildy. +'Tain't easy to get in, and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow; but I +kin git in, jist like—like 'rithmetic!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughing merrily. "That is very well for a +beginning. How long is it since the mill was used?" she <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>asked, looking +up at the frowning walls of rough, dark stone, covered with moss and +lichens.</p> + +<p>"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller," replied Bubble +Chirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' at +the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', +jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' made +the mill pay well. But his eldest son, that kem after him, warn't no +great shakes, an' he let the mill go to wrack and ruin, an' jes' stayed +on the farm. An' then he died, an' Cap'n Hartley came (that's the +farmer's father, ye know), an' he was kind o' crazy, and didn't care +about the mill either, an' so there it stayed.</p> + +<p>"This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy, breaking off suddenly, and +plunging into the tangled thicket of shrubs and brambles that hid the +base of the mill. "Thar! ye see that hole? That's whar I get in. Wait +till<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a> I clear away the briers a bit! Thar! now ye kin look in."</p> + +<p>The "hole" was a square opening, a couple of feet from the ground, and +large enough for a person of moderate size to creep through. Hildegarde +stooped down and looked in. At first she saw nothing but utter +blackness; but presently her eyes became accustomed to the place, and +the feeble light which struggled in past her through the opening, +revealed strange objects which rose here and there from the vast pit of +darkness,—fragments of rusty iron, bent and twisted into unearthly +shapes; broken beams, their jagged ends sticking out like stiffly +pointing fingers; cranks, and bits of hanging chain; and on the side +next the water, a huge wheel, rising apparently out of the bowels of the +earth, since the lower part of it was invisible. A cold, damp air seemed +to rise from the earth. Hilda shivered and drew back, looking rather +pale. "What a <i>dreadful</i> place!" she cried. "It looks like a dungeon of +<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>the Inquisition. I think you were very brave to go in there, Bubble. I +am sure <i>I</i> should not dare to go; it looks so spectral and frightful."</p> + +<p>"Hy Peters stumped me to go," said Bubble, simply, "so o' course I went. +Most of the boys dassent. And it ain't bad, after the fust time. They do +say it's haunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing back still farther from the black +opening. "By—by what, Bubble?"</p> + +<p>"Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "He used to go rooklin' round in there +when he was alive, folks say, and some thinks his sperit haunts there +now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, with a laugh which did not sound quite +natural. "Of course you don't believe any such foolishness as that, +Bubble. But what did the old—old gentleman—want there when he was +alive? I can't imagine any one going in there for pleasure."<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a></p> + +<p>"Dunno, I'm sure!" replied Bubble. "Father, he come down here one day, +after blackberries, when he was a boy. He hearn a noise in there, an' +went an' peeked in, an' there was the ol' Cap'n pokin' about with his +big stick in the dirt. He looked up an' saw father, an' came at him with +his stick up, roarin' like a mad bull, father said. An' he cut an' run, +father did, an' he hearn the ol' Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'd +have a fit. Crazy as a loon, I reckon the Cap'n was, though none of his +folks thought so, Ma says."</p> + +<p>He let the wild briers fly back about the gloomy opening, and they +stepped back on the smooth greensward again. Ah, how bright and warm the +sunshine was, after that horrible black pit! Hilda shivered again at the +thought of it, and then laughed at her own cowardice. She turned and +gazed at the waterfall, creaming and curling over the rocks, and making +such a merry, musical jest of its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely, +lovely!" she <a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>cried, kissing her hand to it. "Bubble, do you know that +Hartley's Glen is without exception the most beautiful place in the +world?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss! Be it really?" asked Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays thought +'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn't know't was all that."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is," said Hilda. "It is all that, and more; and I love it! But +now, Bubble," she added, "we must make haste, for the farmer will be +wanting you, and I have a dozen things to do before tea."</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss," said Bubble, but without his usual alacrity.</p> + +<p>Hilda saw a look of disappointment in his honest blue eyes, and asked +what was the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!" said Zerubbabel, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!" said Hildegarde. "But you shall +have it; I will tell it to you as we walk back to the farm. Which one +will you have,—or shall I tell you a new one?"<a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></p> + +<p>The blue eyes sparkled with the delight of anticipation. "Oh, please!" +he cried; "the one about the bold Buckle-oh!"</p> + +<p>Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauld Buccleugh?" she repeated. "Oh! you +mean 'Kinmont Willie.' Yes, indeed, you shall have that. It is one of my +favorite ballads, and I am glad you like it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he whangs the table, and says do +they think his helmet's an old woman's bunnit, an' all the rest of +it,—I tell ye that's <i>some</i>, Miss Hildy!"</p> + +<p>"You have the spirit of the verse, Bubble," said Hilda, laughing softly; +"but the words are not <i>quite</i> right." And she repeated the splendid, +ringing words of Buccleugh's indignant outcry:</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or my lance a wand o' the willow-tree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or my arm a lady's lily hand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That an English lord should lightly me?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Against the truce of Border tide,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is warden here o' the Scottish side?</span><br /><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Withouten either dread or fear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Can back a steed or shake a spear?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up and down in his excitement "Oh! but +begin again at the beginning, <i>please</i>, Miss Hildy," he cried.</p> + +<p>So Hilda, nothing loth, began at the beginning; and as they walked +homeward, recited the whole of the noble old ballad, which if any +girl-reader does not know, she may find it in any collection of Scottish +ballads.</p> + +<p>"And the best of it is, Bubble," said Hilda, "that it is all +true,—every word of it; or nearly every word."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still much excited. "They couldn't make +lies sound like that, ye know! You kind o' <i>know</i> it's true, and it goes +right through yer, somehow. When did it happen, Miss Hildy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! a long time ago," said Hildegarde; "near the end of the sixteenth +century. I <a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>forget just the very year, but it was in the reign of Queen +Elizabeth. She was very angry at Buccleugh's breaking into Carlisle +Castle, which was an English castle, you see, and carrying off Lord +Scroope's prisoner; and she sent word to King James of Scotland that he +must give up Buccleugh to her to punish as she saw fit. King James +refused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first to +break the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but at +length he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, +and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent to +London and brought before the great, haughty English queen. But he was +just as haughty as she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked down +on him from her throne (she was very stately, you know, and she wore a +crown, and a great stiff ruff, and her dress was all covered with gold +and precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake such a +desperate and <a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>presumptuous enterprise. And Buccleugh—O Bubble, I +always liked this so much!—Buccleugh just looked her full in the face, +and said, 'What is it a man dare not do?' Now Queen Elizabeth liked +nothing so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased her. She +turned to one of her ministers and said, 'With ten thousand such men our +brother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe.' And so +she let him go, just because he was so brave and so handsome."</p> + +<p>Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd ben +alive then!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bubble?" asked Hilda, much amused; "what would you have done?"</p> + +<p>"I'd ha' killed Lord Scroope!" he cried,—"him and the hull kit of 'em. +Besides," he added, "I'd like t' ha' lived then jest ter see +<i>him</i>,—jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what <i>I</i> call a man!" +And Queen Hildegardis fully agreed with him.<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></p> + +<p>They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked: "If that king was +her brother, why did she treat him so kind o' ugly? My sister don't act +that way."</p> + +<p>"What—oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!" said Hilda, laughing. "King James +was not her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing more."</p> + +<p>"You <i>said</i> she said 'brother,'" persisted the boy.</p> + +<p>"So I did," replied Hilda. "You see, it was the fashion, and is still, +for kings and queens to <i>call</i> each other brother and sister, whether +they were really related to each other or not."</p> + +<p>"But I thought they was always fightin'," objected Bubble. "I've got a +hist'ry book to home, an' in that it says they fit like time whenever +they got a chance."</p> + +<p>"So they did," said Hilda. "But they called each other 'our royal +brother' and 'our beloved sister;' and they were always paying each +other fine compliments, and say<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>ing how much they loved each other, even +in the middle of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind o folks they must ha' been. Well, I +must go, Miss Hildy," he added, reluctantly. "I've had a splendid time, +an' I'm <i>real</i> obleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn that story by heart, +'bout the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! <i>She</i>'d like +it—oh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like—I mean jest like spellin'! +Good by, Miss Hildy!" And Bubble ran off to bring home the cows, his +little heart swelling high with scorn of kings and queens, and with a +fervor of devotion to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh.<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>PINK CHIRK.</h3> + + +<p>One lovely morning Hildegarde stood at the back door, feeding the fowls. +She wore her brown gingham frock with the yellow daisies on it, and the +daisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she held a great yellow bowl full +of yellow corn. So bright a picture she made that Farmer Hartley, +driving the oxen afield, stopped for pure pleasure to look at her. +Around her the ducks and hens were fighting and squabbling, quacking, +clucking, and gobbling, and she flung the corn in golden showers on +their heads and backs, making them nearly frantic with greedy anxiety.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="flung" id="flung"></a><img src="./images/117.png" alt=""SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."" title=""SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."" /></div> +<div class='center'>"SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."</div> + +<p>"Wal, Huldy," said the farmer, leaning against Bright's massive side, +"you look <a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>pooty slick in that gown, I must say. I reckon thar ain't no +sech gown as <i>that</i> on Fifth Avenoo, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't believe there is, Farmer Hartley," replied Hilda, +laughing merrily; "at least I never saw one like it. It <i>is</i> pretty, I +think, and <i>so</i> comfortable! And where are you going this morning with +the mammoths?"</p> + +<p>"Down to the ten-acre lot," replied the farmer. "The men are makin' hay +thar to-day. Jump into the riggin' and come along," he added. "Ye kin +hev a little ride, an' see the hay-makin'. Pooty sight 'tis, to my +thinkin'."</p> + +<p>"May I?" cried Hilda, eagerly. "I am sure these fowls have had enough. +Go away now, you greedy creatures! There, you shall have all there is!" +and she emptied the bowl over the astonished dignitaries of the +barn-yard, laid it down on the settle in the porch, and jumped gayly +into the "rigging," as the great hay-cart was called.</p> + +<p>"Haw, Bright! hoish, Star!" said the farmer, <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>touching one and then the +other of the great black oxen lightly with his goad. The huge beasts +swayed from side to side, and finally succeeded in getting themselves +and the cart in motion, while the farmer walked leisurely beside them, +tapping and poking them occasionally, and talking to them in that mystic +language which only oxen and their drivers understand. Down the sweet +country lane they went, with the willows hanging over them, and the +daisies and buttercups and meadow-sweet running riot all over the banks. +Hilda stood up in the cart and pulled off twigs from the willows as she +passed under them, and made garlands, which the farmer obediently put +over the oxen's necks. She hummed little snatches of song, and chatted +gayly with her kind old host; for the world was very fair, and her heart +was full of summer and sunshine.</p> + +<p>"And have you always lived here, Farmer Hartley?" she asked. "All your +life, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, not all my life," replied the farmer,<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a> "though pooty nigh it. I was +ten year old when my uncle died, and father left sea-farin', and kem +home to the farm to live. Before that we'd lived in different places, +movin' round, like. We was at sea a good deal, sailin' with father when +he went on pleasant voyages, to the West Indies, or sich. But sence then +I ain't ben away much. I don't seem to find no pleasanter place than the +old farm, somehow."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there <i>is</i> any pleasanter place in the world!" said +Hilda, warmly. "I am sure I have never been so happy anywhere as I have +here."</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "Ye've changed yer +views some, Huldy, hain't ye, sence the fust day ye kem heer? I didn't +never think, then, as I'd be givin' you rides in the hay-riggin', sech a +fine young lady as you was."</p> + +<p>Hilda gave him an imploring glance, while the blood mounted to her +temples. "Please,<a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a> Farmer Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please try +to forget that first day. It isn't my views that have changed," she +added, "it is I myself. I don't—I really don't <i>think</i> I am the same +girl who came here a month ago."</p> + +<p>"No, my gal," said the farmer, heartily, "I don't think ye are." He +walked along in silence for a few minutes, and then said, "'Tis curus +how folks kin sometimes change 'emselves, one way or the other. 'Tain't +so with critturs; 't least so fur's I've obsarved. The way they're born, +that way they'll stay. Now look at them oxen! When they was young +steers, hardly more'n calves, I began to train them critturs. An' from +the very fust go-off they tuk their cue an' stuck to it. Star, thar, +would lay out, and shake his head, an' pull for all he was wuth, as if +there was nothin' in the world to do <i>but</i> pull; and Bright, he'd wait +till Star was drawin' good an' solid, an' then he'd as much as say, 'Oh! +you kin pull all that, kin ye? Well, stick to <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>it, my boy, an' I'll +manage to trifle along with the rest o' the load.' Wo-<i>hoish</i>, Star! +haw, Bright! git up, ye old humbug! You're six year old now, an' you +ain't changed a mite in four years, though I've drove you stiddy, and +tried to spare the other every time."</p> + +<p>The green lane broke off suddenly, and such a blaze of sunlight flashed +upon them that Hilda involuntarily raised her hand to shield her eyes. +The great meadow lay open before them, an undulating plain of gold. The +haycocks looked dull and gray-green upon it; but where the men were +tossing the hay with their long wooden rakes, it flashed pale-golden in +the sunlight, and filled the air with flying gleams. Also the air was +filled with the sweetness of the hay, and every breath was a delight. +Hilda stood speechless with pleasure, and the old farmer watched her +glowing face with kindly gratification.</p> + +<p>"Pooty sightly, ain't it?" he said. And then, in a graver tone, and +removing his battered <a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>straw hat, "I don't never seem to see the glory +of the Lord no plainer than in a hay-field, a day like this. Yes, sir! +if a man can't be a Christian on a farm in summer, he can't be it +nowhere. Amen!" and Farmer Hartley put on his hat and proceeded +straightway to business. "Now, Huldy," he said, "here ye be! I'm goin' +to load up this riggin', an' ye kin stay round here a spell, if ye like, +an' run home <i>when</i> ye like. Ye kin find the way, I reckon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said Hilda; "yes, indeed! But I shall stay here for a while, +and watch you. And mayn't I toss the hay too a little?"</p> + +<p>But her courage failed when she found that to do this she must mingle +with the crowd of strange haymakers; and besides, among them she saw the +clumsy form and shock head of Caliban, as she had secretly named the +clownish and surly nephew of her good host. This fellow was the one +bitter drop in Hilda's cup.<a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a> Everything else she had learned to like, in +the month which had passed since she came to Hartley's Glen. The farmer +and his wife she loved as they deserved to be loved. The little +maidservant was her adoring slave, and secretly sewed her boot-buttons +on, and mended her stockings, as some small return for the lessons in +crochet and fancy knitting that she had received from the skilful white +fingers which were a perpetual marvel to her. But Simon Hartley remained +what she had at first thought him,—a sullen, boorish churl. He was a +malevolent churl too, Hildegarde thought; indeed she was sure of it. She +had several times seen his eyes fixed on his uncle with a look of +positive hatred; and though Farmer Hartley was persistently kind and +patient with him, trying often to draw him into conversation, and make +him join in the pleasant evening talks which they all enjoyed, his +efforts were unsuccessful. The fellow came in, gobbled his food, and +then went off, if his work was over, to hide himself in <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>his own room. +Hilda was quite sure that Nurse Lucy liked this oaf no better than she +herself did, though the good woman never spoke impatiently or unkindly +to him,—and indeed it would be difficult for any one to like him, she +thought, except possibly his own mother.</p> + +<p>Our Queen took presently her seat on a right royal throne of fragrant +hay, and gave herself up to the full delight of the summer morning, and +of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," as she had instantly named the +shining yellow plain, which more prosaic souls knew as "the ten-acre +lot." The hay rustled pleasantly as she nestled down in it, and made a +little penthouse over her head, to keep off the keen, hot sun-arrows. +There was a great oak-tree too, which partly shaded this favored +haycock, and on one of its branches a squirrel came running out, and +then sat up and looked at Hildegarde with bright, inquisitive eyes. A +maiden, all brown and gold, on a golden haycock! What strange apparition +was this? Had she come <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>for acorns? Did she know about the four young +ones in the snug little house in the hollow just above the first branch! +Perhaps—dreadful thought!—she had heard of the marvellous beauty of +the four young ones, and had come to steal them. "Chip!" whisk! and +Madam Squirrel was off up the branch like a streak of brown lightning, +with its tail up.</p> + +<p>Hilda laughed at the squirrel's alarm, and then turned her attention to +a large green grasshopper who seemed to demand it. He had alighted on +her knee, and now proceeded to exhibit his different points before her +admiring gaze with singular gravity and deliberation. First he slowly +opened his wings, to show the delicate silvery gauze of the under-wings; +then as slowly closed them, demonstrating the perfect fit of his whole +wing-costume and the harmony of its colors. He next extended one leg, +calling her attention to its remarkable length and muscular +<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>proportions. Then, lest she should think he had but one, he extended +the other; and then gave a vigorous hop with both of them, to show her +that he did not really need wings, but could get on perfectly well +without them. Finally he rubbed himself all over with his long antennæ, +and then, pointing them full at her, and gazing at her with calm and +dispassionate eyes, he said plainly enough: "And now, Monster, what have +<i>you</i> to show <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde was wondering how she could best dispel the scorn with which +this majestic insect evidently regarded her, when suddenly something new +appeared on her gown,—something black, many-legged, hairy, most +hideous; something which ran swiftly but stealthily, with a motion which +sent a thrill of horror through her veins. She started up with a little +shriek, shaking off the unlucky spider as if it had been the Black Death +in concrete. Then she looked round with flaming cheeks, to see if her +scream had been heard by the hay-mak<a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>ers. No, they were far away, and +too busy to take heed of her. But the charm was broken. Queen Hildegarde +had plenty of courage of a certain sort, but she could <i>not</i> face a +spider. The golden throne had become a "siege perilous," and she +abdicated in favor of the grasshopper and his black and horrent visitor.</p> + +<p>What should she do now? The charm of the morning had made her idle and +drowsy, and she did not feel like going home to help Nurse Lucy in +making the butter, though she often did so with right good-will. She +looked dreamily around, her eyes wandering here and there over the great +meadow and the neat stone walls which bounded it. Presently she spied +the chimneys and part of the red roof of a little cottage which peeped +from a thick clump of trees just beyond the wall. Who lived in that +cottage, Hilda wondered. Why should she not go and see? She was very +thirsty, and there she might get a glass of water.<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a> Oh! perhaps it was +Bubble's cottage, where he and his mother and his sister Pink lived. Now +she thought of it, Bubble had told her that he lived "over beyont the +ten-acre lot;" of course this must be the place. Slowly she walked +across the meadow and climbed the wall, wondering a good deal about the +people whom she was going to see. She had often meant to ask Bubble more +about his sister with the queer name; but the lesson-hour was so short, +and there were always so many questions for Bubble to ask and for her to +answer besides the regular lesson, that she always forgot it till too +late. Pink Chirk! what could a girl be like with such a name as that? +Hilda fancied her a stout, buxom maiden, with very red cheeks and very +black eyes—yes, certainly, the eyes must be black! Her hair—well, one +could not be so sure about her hair; but there was no doubt about her +wearing a pink dress and a blue checked apron. And she must be smiling, +bustling, and energetic. Yes! Hilda had the <a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>picture of her complete in +her mind. She wondered that this active, stirring girl never came up to +the farm; but of course she must have a great deal of work to do at +home.</p> + +<p>By this time Hildegarde had reached the cottage; and after a moment's +hesitation she knocked softly at the green-painted door. No one came to +open the door, but presently she heard a clear, pleasant voice from +within saying, "Open the door and come in, please!" Following this +injunction, she entered the cottage and found herself directly in the +sitting-room, and face to face with its occupant. This was a girl of her +own age, or perhaps a year older, who sat in a wheeled chair by the +window. She was very fair, with almost flaxen hair, and frank, pleasant +blue eyes. She was very pale, very thin; the hands that lay on her lap +were almost transparent; but—she wore a pink calico dress and a blue +checked apron. Who could this be? and whoever it was, why did she sit +still when a visitor and a stranger came <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>in? The pale girl made no +attempt to rise, but she met Hilda's look of surprise and inquiry with a +smile which broke like sunshine over her face, making it for the moment +positively beautiful. "How do you do?" she said, holding out her thin +hand. "I am sure you must be Miss Hilda Graham, and I am Bubble's sister +Pink.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="pale" id="pale"></a><img src="./images/155.png" alt=""THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE."" title=""THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE."" /></div> +<div class='center'>"THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE."</div> + +<p>"Please sit down," she added. "I am so <i>very</i> glad to see you. I have +wanted again and again to thank you for all your kindness to my Bubble, +but I didn't know when I should have a chance. Did Bubble show you the +way?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde was so astonished, so troubled, so dismayed that she hardly +knew what she was saying or doing. She took the slender fingers in her +own for an instant, and then sat down, saying hastily: "Oh, no! I—I +found my way alone. I was not sure of its being your cottage, though I +thought it must be from what Bubble told me." She paused; and <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>then, +unable to keep back longer the words which sprang to her lips, she said: +"I fear you have been ill, you are so pale. I hope it has not been +serious. Bubble did not tell me—"</p> + +<p>Pink Chirk looked up with her bright, sweet smile. "Oh, no! I have not +been ill," she said. "I am always like this. I cannot walk, you know, +but I am very well indeed."</p> + +<p>"You cannot walk?" stammered Hilda.</p> + +<p>The girl saw her look of horror, and a faint color stole into her wan +cheek. "Did not Bubble tell you?" she asked, gently; and then, as Hilda +shook her head, "It is such a matter of course to him," she said; "he +never thinks about it, I suppose, dear little fellow. I was run over +when I was three years old, and I have never been able to walk since."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde could not speak. The thought of anything so dreadful, so +overwhelming as this, coming so suddenly, too, upon her, seemed to take +away her usually ready speech, and she was dumb, gazing at the <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>cheerful +face before her with wide eyes of pity and wonderment. But Pink Chirk +did not like to be pitied, as a rule; and she almost laughed at her +visitor's horror-stricken face.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't look so!" she cried. "It's very kind of you to be sorry, +but it isn't as if I were really <i>ill</i>, you know. I can <i>almost</i> stand +on one foot,—that is, I can bear enough weight on it to get from my bed +to my chair without help. That is a <i>great</i> thing! And then when I am +once in my chair, why I can go almost anywhere. Farmer Hartley gave me +this chair," she added, looking down at it, and patting the arm +tenderly, as if it were a living friend; "isn't it a beauty?"</p> + +<p>It was a pretty chair, made of cherry wood, with cushions of +gay-flowered chintz; and Hilda, finding her voice again, praised it +warmly. "This is its summer dress," said Pink, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure. "Underneath, the cushions are covered with soft crimson cloth, +oh, so pretty, and so warm-looking! I <a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>am always glad when it's time to +take the chintz covers off. And yet I am always glad to put them on +again," she added, "for the chintz is pretty too, I think: and besides, +I know then that summer is really come."</p> + +<p>"You like summer best?" asked Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" she replied. "In winter, of course, I can't go out; and +sometimes it seems a little long, when Bubble is away all day,—not +very, you know, but just a little. But in summer, oh, then I am so +happy! I can go all round the place by myself, and sit out in the +garden, and feed the chickens, and take care of the flowers. And then on +Sunday Bubble always gives me a good ride along the road. My chair moves +very easily,—only see!" She gave a little push, and propelled herself +half way across the little room.</p> + +<p>At this moment the inner door opened, and Mrs. Chirk appeared,—a +slender, anxious-looking woman, with hair prematurely gray. She <a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>greeted +Hilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for her +kindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy, Miss Graham," she said, +"sence you begun givin' him lessons. He used to fret and worrit 'cause +there warn't no school, and he couldn't ha' gone to it if there was. +Pinkrosia learned him what she could; but we hain't many books, you see. +But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetry +at the top of his lungs,—jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What +was that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old +black hen nigh to death?"</p> + +<p>"'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!'" murmured +Pink, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "He was lookin' out of the window +and pumpin' at the same time, an' spoutin' them verses too. And all of a +sudden he cries out, 'Ther's the brood of dark My Hen, scratchin' up the +sweet peas. Upon them with the lance!' And he <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>lets go the pump-handle, +and it flies up and hits the shelf and knocks off two plates and a cup, +and Bubble, he's off with the mop-handle, chasin' the old black hen and +makin' believe run her through, till she e'enamost died of fright. Well, +there, it give me a turn; it reelly did!" She paused rather sadly, +seeing that her hearers were both overcome with laughter.</p> + +<p>"I—I am very sorry, Mrs. Chirk, that the plates were broken," said +Hilda; "but it must have been extremely funny. Poor old hen! she must +have been frightened, certainly. Do you know," she added, "I think +Bubble is a <i>remarkably</i> bright boy. I am very sure that he will make a +name for himself, if only he can have proper training."</p> + +<p>"Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, with melancholy satisfaction. "His +father was a <i>real</i> smart man. There warn't no better hayin' hand in the +county than Loammi Chirk. And I'm in hopes Zerubbabel will do as well, +for he has <a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>a good friend in Farmer Hartley; no boy couldn't have a +better."</p> + +<p>Eminence in the profession of "haying" was not precisely what Hilda had +meant; but she said nothing.</p> + +<p>"And my poor girl here," Mrs. Chirk continued after a pause, "she sets +in her cheer hay-times and other times. You've heard of her misfortune, +Miss Graham?"</p> + +<p>Pink interposed quickly with a little laugh, though her brows contracted +slightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "Miss +Graham has heard all about me, and knows what a <i>very</i> important person +I am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought you +wanted to begin weaving this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I want +to give you a little ride before I go back to the farm. May she go, Mrs. +Chirk? It is such a beautiful day, I am sure the air will do her good. +Would you like it, Pink?"<a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></p> + +<p>Pink looked up with a flush of pleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh," she +said, "would I like it! But it's too much for you to do, Miss Graham."</p> + +<p>"An' with that beautiful dress on too!" cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get it +dusty on the wheel, I'm afraid. I don't think—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards the +door. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" she +added, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set my +heart on this."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its strings +under Pink's chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against its +extreme ugliness. "She shall not wear <i>that</i> again," said she to +herself, "if I can help it." But the sweet pale face looked out so +joyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocrat +relented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She would +<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>look like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head." And +then she laughed at the thought of a black japanned scuttle crowning +those fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so they +both went laughing out into the sunshine.<a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE LETTER.</h3> + + +<p>"Nurse Lucy," said Hildegarde that evening, as they sat in the porch +after tea, "why have you never told me about Pink Chirk,—about her +being a cripple, I mean? I had no idea of it till I went to see her +to-day. How terrible it is!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder that I haven't told you, dear!" replied Nurse Lucy, placidly. +"I suppose I am so used to Pink as she is, I forget that she ever was +like other people. She is a dear, good child,—his 'sermon,' Jacob calls +her. He says that whenever he feels impatient or put out, he likes to go +down and look at Pink, and hear her talk. 'It takes the crook right out +of me!' he says. Poor Jacob!"<a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a></p> + +<p>"But how did it happen?" asked Hilda. "She says she was only three years +when she—Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It is too dreadful. Tell me how +it happened."</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me, my dear!" said Dame Hartley, sadly. "Why should you hear +anything so painful? It would only haunt your mind as it haunted mine +for years after. The worst of it was, there was no need of it. Her +mother was a young, flighty, careless girl, and she didn't look after +her baby as she should have done. That is all you need know, Hilda, my +dear! Poor Susan Chirk! it took the flightiness out of her, and made her +the anxious, melancholy soul she has been ever since. Then Bubble was +born, and soon after her husband died, and since then she has had a hard +time to fend for herself. But Pink has never been any trouble to her, +only a help and a comfort; and her neighbors have done what they could +from time to time."</p> + +<p>Dame Hartley might have said that she and <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>her husband had kept this +desolate widow and her children from starvation through many a long +winter, and had given her the means of earning her daily bread in +summer; had clothed the children, and provided comforts for the crippled +girl. But this was not Nurse Lucy's way. The neighbors had done what +they could, she said; and now Bubble was earning good wages for a boy, +and was sure to get on well, being bright and industrious; and Mrs. +Chirk took in weaving to do for the neighbors, and went out sometimes to +work by the day; and so they were really getting on very well,—better +than one could have hoped.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde laid her head against the good Dame's shoulder and fell into +a brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed also in a thoughtful mood; and so the +two sat quietly in the soft twilight till the red glow faded in the +west, and left in its stead a single star, gleaming like a living jewel +in the purple sky. All the birds were asleep save the untiring +whippoorwill, who <a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>presented his plea for the castigation of the unhappy +William with ceaseless energy. A little night-breeze came up, and said +pleasant, soft things to the leaves, which rustled gently in reply, and +the crickets gave their usual evening concert, beginning with a movement +in G sharp, <i>allegro con moto</i>. Other sound there was none, until by and +by the noise of wheels was heard, and the click of old Nancy's hoofs; +and out of the gathering darkness Farmer Hartley appeared, just returned +from the village, whither he had gone to make arrangements about selling +his hay.</p> + +<p>"Wal, Marm Lucy," he said, cheerfully, throwing the reins on Nancy's +neck and jumping from the wagon, "is that you settin' thar? 'Pears to me +I see somethin' like a white apun gloomin' out o' the dark."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jacob," answered "Marm Lucy," "I am here, and so is Hilda. The +evening has been so lovely, we have not had the heart to light the +lamps, but have just been sitting here <a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>watching the sunset. We'll come +in now, though," she added, leading the way into the house. "You'll be +wanting some supper, my man. Or did ye stop at Cousin Sarah's?"</p> + +<p>"I stopped at Sary's," replied the farmer. "Ho! ho! yes, Sary gave me +some supper, though she warn't in no mood for seein' comp'ny, even her +own kin. Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin', sure enough!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what was the matter?" asked Dame Hartley, as she trimmed and +lighted the great lamp, and drew the short curtains of Turkey red cotton +across the windows. "Is Abner sick again!"</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't wonder if he was, by this time," replied the farmer; "but he +warn't at the beginnin' of it. I'll tell ye how 'twas;" and he sat down +in his great leather chair, and stretched his legs out comfortably +before him, while his wife filled his pipe and brought it to him,—a +little attention which she never forgot. "Sary, she bought a new bunnit +yisterday!" Farmer<a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a> Hartley continued, puffing away at the pipe. "She's +kind o' savin', ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucy nodded, with a knowing +air], and she hadn't had a new bunnit for ten years. (I d' 'no' 's she's +had one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "<i>I</i> never seed her with +one to my knowledge.) Wal, the gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' she +didn't look fit to go to meetin' in the old bunnit, so 't last she giv' +way, and went an' bought a new one. 'Twas one o' these newfangled +shapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin' Chinese, I reckon. Fan +Song! That was it!"</p> + +<p>"Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps?" asked Hilda, much amused.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said, warn't it?" said the farmer. "Fan Song, Fan +Chong,—wal, what's the odds? 'Twas a queer lookin' thing, anyhow, I +sh'd think, even afore it— Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showed it to +the gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchen +table, an' went upstairs to git some ribbons <a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>an' stuff to put on it. +She rummaged round consid'able upstairs, an' when she kum down, lo and +behold, the bunnit was gone! Wal, Sary hunted high, and she hunted low. +She called the gals, thinkin' they'd played a trick on her, an' hidden +it for fun. But they hadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched the house +from garrit to cellar; but they didn't find hide nor hair o' that +bunnit. At last Sary give it up, an' sot down out o' breath, an' mad +enough to eat somebody. 'It's been stole!' says she. 'Some ornery +critter kem along while I was upstairs,' says she, 'an' seed it lyin' +thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' says she. 'I'd like to get hold +of her!' says she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no more bunnits for <i>one</i> +while!' says she. I had come in by that time, an' she was tellin' me all +about it. Jest at that minute the door opened, and Abner kem sa'nterin' +in, mild and moony as usual 'Sary,' says he,—ho! ho! ho! it makes me +laugh to think on't,—'Sary,' says he, 'I wouldn't buy no more baskets +<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>without handles, ef I was you. They ain't convenient to kerry,' says +he. And with that he sets down on the table—that Fan Chong bunnit! He'd +been mixin' chicken feed in it, an' he'd held it fust by one side an' +then by the other, an' he'd dropped it in the mud too, I reckon, from +the looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin' thing in all your born +days as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked at +Abner, an' then at the bunnit agin; an' <i>then</i> she let fly."</p> + +<p>"Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. +"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> can't tell ye what she said," replied the farmer. "What did your +old cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An' yet +there was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hull +dictionary was flyin' round that room for about ten minutes,—Webster's +Unabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin' his +head up <a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>an' down, and openin' an' shettin' his mouth, as if he'd like +to say somethin' if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out of +breath that she couldn't say another word, an' hed to stop for a minute, +Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guess you're a little excited. Jacob an' me'll +go out an' take a look at the stock,' says he, 'and come back when +you're feelin' calmer.' An' he nods to me, an' out we both goes, before +Sary could git her breath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause I was +laughin' so inside 't I couldn't. Abner, he walked along kind o' solemn, +shakin' his head every little while, an' openin' an' shettin' his mouth. +When we got to the stable-door he looked at me a minute, and then he +said, 'The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I <i>thought</i> that was kind +of a curus lookin' basket, though!' and that was every word he said +about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife +say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?"<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></p> + +<p>"She warn't thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals +said, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she <i>would</i> have had a +headache,—but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search +in his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgotten +Huldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head."</p> + +<p>Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer +handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not +from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double +letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a +week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality. +There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate +pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume +which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton."</p> + +<p>With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, <a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>was still not quite +alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a +rose to his lips, and read as follows:—</p> + + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Saratoga</span>, July 20. +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dearest, sweetest Hilda</span>,—Can it be possible +that you have been away a whole month, and that I have not +written to you? I am awfully ashamed! but I have been so +<span class="smcap">too</span> busy, it has been out of the question. Papa +decided quite <i>suddenly</i> to come here instead of going to +Long Branch; and you can imagine the <i>frantic</i> amount of +work Mamma and I had to get ready. One has to dress so +<i>much</i> at Saratoga, you know; and we cannot just send an +order to <i>Paris</i>, as <i>you</i> do, my dear Queen, for all we +want, but have to <i>scratch round</i> (I know you don't allow +your subjects to use slang, but we <span class="smcap">do</span> scratch +round, and nothing else can express it), and get things made +here. I have a <i>lovely</i> pale blue Henrietta-cloth, made like +that rose-colored gown of yours that I admire so much, and +that you <span class="smcap">said</span> I might copy. Mamma says it was +<i>awfully</i> good of you, and that <i>she</i> wouldn't let any one +copy <i>her</i> French dresses if she had them; but I told her +you <i>were</i> awfully good, and that was why. Well, then I have +a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, and a +<i>lovely</i> pointed overskirt, copied from a Donovan dress of +Mamma's; and a dark-red surah,<a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a> and oh! a perfect +"frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; two <i>sweet</i> white +lawns, one trimmed with valenciennes (I <i>hate</i> valenciennes, +you know, but Mamma <i>will</i> make me have it, because she +thinks it is <i>jeune fille</i>!), and one with the new Russian +lace; and a pink sateen, and two or three light chambrays.</p> + +<p>But now I know you will be <i>dying</i> to hear about my hats; +for you always say that the hat <i>makes</i> the costume; and so +it <i>does</i>! Well, my dearest, I have <i>one</i> Redfern hat, and +<i>only</i> one. Mamma says I cannot expect to have more until I +come out, which is <i>bitter</i>. However, this one is a +<i>beauty</i>, and yet cost <i>only</i> thirty dollars. It goes well +with nearly all my dresses, and is <i>immensely</i> becoming, all +the girls say: very high, with long pointed wings and stiff +bows. <i>Simple</i>, my dear, doesn't <i>express</i> it! You know I +<span class="smcap">love</span> simplicity; but it is <i>Redferny</i> to a +<i>degree</i>, and <i>everybody</i> has noticed it.</p> + +<p>Well, my dearest Queen, here am I running on about myself, +as if I were not actually <span class="smcap">expiring</span> to hear about +you. What my feelings were when I called at your house on +that <i>fatal Tuesday</i> and was told that you had gone to spend +the summer on a <i>farm</i> in the <i>depths</i> of the country, +passes my <i>power</i> to tell. I could not ask your mother many +questions, for you know I am always a little bit +<span class="smcap">afraid</span> of her, though she is <i>perfectly lovely</i> to +me! She was very quiet and sweet, <i>as</i><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a> <i>usual</i>, and spoke +as if it were the most <i>natural</i> thing in the <i>world</i> for a +brilliant society girl (for that is what you <i>are</i>, Hilda, +even though you are only a school-girl; and you +<span class="smcap">never</span> can be anything else!) to spend her summer in +a wretched farm-house, among <i>pigs</i> and <i>cows</i> and dreadful +ignorant people. Of course, Hilda dearest, you know that my +admiration for your mother is <i>simply</i> <span class="smcap">immense</span>, and +that I would not for <i>worlds</i> say <i>one syllable</i> against her +judgment and that of your <i>military angel</i> of a father; but +I <span class="smcap">must</span> say it seemed to me <span class="smcap">more</span> than +strange. I assure you I hardly closed my eyes for several +nights, thinking of the <span class="smcap">misery</span> you must be +undergoing; for <i>I</i> <span class="smcap">know</span> you, Hildegarde! and the +thought of my proud, fastidious, high-bred Queen being +condemned to associate with <i>clowns</i> and <i>laborers</i> was +really <span class="smcap">more</span> than I could bear. Do write to me, +darling, and tell me <span class="smcap">how</span> you are enduring it. You +were <i>always</i> so sensitive; why, I can see your lip curl +<i>now</i>, when any of the girls did anything that was not <i>tout +à fait comme il faut</i>! and the <i>air</i> with which you used to +say, "The <i>little</i> things, my dear, are the <i>only</i> things!" +How <i>true</i> it is! I feel it more and more <i>every</i> day. So +<i>do</i> write <i>at once</i>, and let me know <i>all</i> about your dear +self. I picture you to myself sometimes, pale and thin, with +the "<i>white disdain</i>" that some poet or other speaks of, in +your face, but enduring all<a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a> the <span class="smcap">horrors</span> that you +must be subjected to with your <span class="smcap">own dignity</span>. Dearest +Hilda, you are <i>indeed</i> a <span class="smcap">heroine</span>!</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Always, darling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Your own deeply <i>devoted</i> and <i>sympathizing</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">M</span><span class="smcap">adge.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Hildegarde looked up after reading this letter, and, curiously enough, +her eyes fell directly on a little mirror which hung on the wall +opposite. In it she saw a rosy, laughing face, which smiled back +mischievously at her. There were dimples in the cheeks, and the gray +eyes were fairly dancing with life and joyousness. Where was the "white +disdain," the dignity, the pallor and emaciation? Could this be Madge's +Queen Hildegarde? Or rather, thought the girl, with a sudden revulsion +of feeling, could this Hildegarde ever have been the other? The form of +"the minx," long since dissociated from her thoughts and life, seemed to +rise, like Banquo's ghost, and stare at her with cold, disdainful eyes +and supercilious curl of the lip. Oh <span class="smcap">dear</span>! how dreadful it was +to have been so odious!<a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a> How could poor dear Papa and Mamma, bless them, +have endured her as they did, so patiently and sweetly? But they should +see when they came back! She had only just begun yet; but there were two +months still before her, and in that time what could she not do? They +should be surprised, those dear parents! And Madge—why, Madge would be +surprised too. Poor Madge! To think of her in Saratoga, prinking and +preening herself like a gay bird, in the midst of a whirl of dress and +diamonds and gayety, with no fields, no woods, no glen, no—no +<i>kitchen</i>! Hilda looked about the room which she had learned so to love, +trying to fancy Madge Everton in it; remembering, too, the bitterness of +her first feeling about it. The lamplight shone cheerily on the yellow +painted walls, the shining floor, the gleaming brass, copper, and china. +It lighted up the red curtains and made a halo round good Nurse Lucy's +head as she bent over her sewing; it played on the farmer's silver-bowed +<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>spectacles as he pored with knitted brows and earnest look over the +weekly paper which he had brought from the village. The good, kind +farmer! Hilda gazed at him as he sat all unconscious, and wondered why +she had not seen at once how handsome he really was. The broad forehead, +with its deep, thoughtful furrows; the keen, yet kindly blue eyes; the +"sable-silvered" hair and beard, which, if not exactly smooth, were +still so picturesque, so leonine; the firm, perhaps obstinate, mouth, +which could speak so wisely and smile so cordially,—all these combined +to make up what the newspapers would call a "singularly attractive +exterior." And "<i>Oh!</i> how good he has been to me!" thought Hilda. "I +believe he is the best man in the world, next to papa." Then she thought +of Madge again, and tried to fancy her in her Redfern hat,—pretty +Madge, with her black eyes and curly fringe, under the "simplicity" of +the heaven-aspiring wings and bows; and as she smiled at the image, +there <a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a>rose beside it the fair head of Pink Chirk, looking out like a +white rose from the depths of her dingy straw tunnel. Then she fancied +herself saying airily (she knew <i>just</i> how she used to say it), "The +<i>little</i> things, my dear, are the <i>only</i> things!" and then she laughed +aloud at the very funniness of it.</p> + +<p>"Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, looking up from his paper with a smile. +"What's all this? Are ye keepin' all the jokes to yerself, Huldy?"</p> + +<p>"It is only my letter that is so funny," replied Hilda. "I don't believe +it would seem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley, because you don't know +the writer. But have you finished your paper, and are you ready for +Robin Hood?"</p> + +<p>"Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the good farmer, laying aside his paper and +rubbing his hands with an air of pleasurable anticipation. "'Pears to me +we left that good-lookin' singin' chap—what was his name?"<a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></p> + +<p>"Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale. 'Pears to me we left him in +rayther a ticklish situation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it comes out all right!" cried Hilda, joyously, rising to fetch +the good brown book which she loved. "You will see in the next chapter +how delightfully Robin gets him out of the difficulty." She ran and +brought the book and drew her chair up to the table, and all three +prepared for an hour of solid enjoyment. "But before I begin," she said, +"I want you to promise, Farmer Hartley, to take me with you the next +time you go to the village. I <i>must</i> buy a hat for Pink Chirk."<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD CAPTAIN.</h3> + + +<p>"Let—me—see!" said Farmer Hartley, as he gathered up the reins and +turned old Nancy's head towards the village, while Hildegarde, on the +seat beside him, turned back to wave a merry farewell to Nurse Lucy, who +stood smiling in the porch. "Let—me—see! Hev you ben off the farm +before, Huldy, sence you kem here?"</p> + +<p>"Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily. "And I don't believe I should be +going now, Farmer Hartley, if it were not for Pink's hat. I promised +myself that she should not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. I +wonder why anything so hideous was ever invented."<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></p> + +<p>"A straw bunnit, do ye mean?" said the farmer; "somethin' like a long +sugar-scoop, or a tunnel like?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and coming down over her poor dear eyes +so that she cannot see anything, except for a few inches straight before +her."</p> + +<p>"Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "I remember when them bunnits was +considered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucy had one when she was a gal; I mind +it right well. A white straw it was, with blue ribbons on top of it. It +come close round her pooty face, an' I used to hev to sidle along and +get round in front of her before I could get a look at her. I hed +rayther a grudge agin the bunnit on that account; but I supposed it was +hahnsome, as everybody said so. I never see a bunnit o' that kind," he +continued, "without thinkin' o' Mis' Meeker an' 'Melia Tyson. I swan! it +makes me laugh now to think of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Who were they?" asked Hildegarde,<a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a> eagerly, for she delighted in the +farmer's stories. "Please tell me about them!"</p> + +<p>The farmer shook his head, as was his wont when he was about to relapse +into reminiscences, and gave old Nancy several thoughtful taps with the +whip, which she highly resented.</p> + +<p>"Ol' Mis' Meeker," he said, presently, "she was a character, she was! +She didn't belong hereabouts, but down South somewhere, but she was +cousin to Cephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife died, she came to stop +with him a spell, an' look out for his children. Three children there +was, little Cephas, an' Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was a peart, +lively little gal, with snappin' black eyes, an' consid'ble of a will of +her own; an' Mis' Meeker, she was pooty stout, an' she took things easy, +jest as they kem, an' let the children—an' 'Melia specially—do pooty +much as they'd a mind to. Wal, one day I happened in to see Cephas about +a pair o' steers I was thinkin' o' buyin'.<a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a> Cephas was out; but Mis' +Meeker said he'd be right in, she reckoned, an' asked me to take a cheer +an' wait. So I sot down, an' while I was waitin', in come 'Melia, an' +says she, 'Say, Aunt Cilly (Mis' Meeker's name was Priscilla)—Say, Aunt +Cilly, can I go down an' play with Eddie? He wants me to come, reel bad. +Can I, Aunt Cilly?' 'Not to-day, dearie,' says Mis' Meeker; 'you was +down to play with Eddie yesterday, an' I reckon that'll do for one +while!' she says. I looked at little 'Melia, an' her eyes was snappin' +like coals. She didn't say nothin', but she jest took an' shoved her +elbow right through the plate-glass winder. Ho! ho! Cephas had had his +house made over, an' he was real proud of his plate-glass winders. I d' +'no' how much they'd cost him, but 'twas a pooty good sum. An' she +shoved her elbow right through it and smashed it into shivers. I jumped +up, kind o' startled by the crash. But ol' Mis' Meeker, she jes' looked +up, as if she was a <i>leetle</i> bit surprised, but <a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>nothin' wuth +mentionin'. 'Why, honey!' says she, in her slow, drawlin' kind o' way, +'I didn't know ye wanted to go <i>that</i> bad! Put on yer bunnit, an' go an' +play with Eddie <i>this minute</i>!' says she. Ho! ho! ho! Them was her very +words. An' 'Melia, she tossed her bunnit on (one o' them straw Shakers +it was, an' that's what made me think o' the story), and jes' shook the +glass out'n her sleeve,—<i>I</i> d' 'no' why the child warn't cut to pieces, +but she didn't seem t' have got no hurt,—and made a face at her aunt, +an' off she went. That's the way them children was brought up."</p> + +<p>"Poor things!" cried Hilda. "What became of them, Farmer Hartley?"</p> + +<p>"'Melia, she run off an' married a circus feller," replied the farmer, +"an' the boys, I don't rightly know <i>what</i> become of 'em. They went out +West, I b'lieve; an' after 'Melia married, Cephas went out to jine 'em, +an' I ain't heerd nothin' of 'em for years."</p> + +<p>By this time they were rattling through the <a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>main street of the little +village, and presently stopped before an unpretending little shop, in +the window of which were displayed some rather forlorn-looking hats and +bonnets.</p> + +<p>"Here y'are, Huldy!" said the farmer, pointing to the shop with a +flourish of his whip. "Here's whar ye git the styles fust hand. Hev to +come from New York to Glenfield to git the reel thing, ye see."</p> + +<p>"I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightly from the wagon.</p> + +<p>"I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;" and with a kindly nod the +farmer drove away down the street.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde entered the dingy little shop with some misgivings, "I hope I +shall find <i>something</i> fresh!" she said to herself; "those things in the +window look as if they had been there since the Flood." She quickly made +friends with the brisk little milliner, and they were soon turning over +the meagre store of hats, trimmed and untrimmed.<a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a></p> + +<p>"This is <i>real</i> tasty!" said the little woman, lifting with honest pride +an alarming structure of green satin, which some straggling cock's +feathers were doing their best to hide.</p> + +<p>Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly, "Rather heavy for summer; don't +you think so? It would be better for a winter hat. What is this?" she +added, drawing from the farthest recesses of the box an untrimmed hat of +rough yellow straw. "I think perhaps this will do, Miss Bean."</p> + +<p>"Oh my land, no! you don't want <i>that</i>!" cried the little milliner, +aghast. "That's only common doin's, anyhow; and it's been in that box +three years. Them shapes ain't worn now."</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it is perfectly fresh, and I like +the shape. Just wait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean. May I rummage a +little among your drawers? I will not toss the things about."</p> + +<p>A piece of dotted mull and a bunch of soft <a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>pink roses rewarded her +search; and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded to +make the rough straw into so dainty and bewitching a thing that Miss +Bean sat fairly petrified with amazement on her little hair-cloth sofa +in the back shop. "Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't the beat of all! +It's the tastiest hat I ever see. You never told me you'd learned the +trade!"</p> + +<p>This last was rather reproachfully said; and Hilda, much amused, +hastened to reassure the good woman.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I never learned the trade," she said. "I take to it naturally, +I think; and I have watched my mother, who does it much better than I."</p> + +<p>"She must be a first-class trimmer, then!" replied Miss Bean, +emphatically. "Works in one o' them big houses in New York, I reckon, +don't she?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde laughed; but before she could reply, Miss Bean went on to +say: "Wal, you're <a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>a stranger to me, but you've got a pooty good +count'nance, an' ye kem with Farmer Hartley; that's reference enough." +She paused and reflected, while Hildegarde, putting the finishing +touches to the pretty hat, wondered what was coming. "I wasn't +calc'latin' to hire help this summer," continued the milliner; "but +you're so handy, and yer ma could give ye idees from time to time. So if +ye'd like a job, I d' 'no' but I'd like to hire ye."</p> + +<p>The heiress of all the Grahams wanted to laugh at this naïve proposal, +but good feeling and good manners alike forbade. She thanked Miss Bean +for her kind offer, and explained that she was only spending her school +vacation at Hartley Farm; that her time was fully occupied, etc., etc.</p> + +<p>The little milliner looked so disappointed that Hilda was seized with a +royal impulse, and offered to "go over" the hats in the window while she +waited for Farmer Hartley, and freshen them up a bit.<a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, I wish't ye would!" said poor Miss Bean. "Fact is, I ain't done +so well as I c'd wish this season. Folks is dretful 'fraid o' buyin' new +things nowadays."</p> + +<p>Then followed a series of small confidences on the hair-cloth sofa, +while Hilda's fingers flew about the forlorn hats and bonnets, changing +a ribbon here and a flower there, patting and poking, and producing +really marvellous results. Another tale of patient labor, suffering, +privation. An invalid mother and an "innocent" brother for this frail +little woman to support. Doctors' bills and hard times, and stingy +patrons who were "as 'fraid of a dollar-bill as if 'twas the small-pox." +Hilda's eyes filled with tears of sympathy, and one great drop fell on +the green satin hat, but was instantly covered by the wreath of ivy +which was replacing the staring cock's feathers.</p> + +<p>"Wal, I declare to gracious!" exclaimed Miss Bean. "You'd never know +that for the same hat, now, would ye? I thought 'twas <a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>han'some before, +but it's enough site han'somer now. I shouldn' wonder a mite if Mis' +Peasley bought that hat now. She's been kind o' hankerin' arter it, the +last two or three times she was in here; but every time she tried it on, +she'd say No, 'twas too showy, she guessed. Wal, I do say, you make a +gret mistake not goin' into the trade, for you're born to it, that's +plain. When a pusson's born to a thing, he's thrown away, you may say, +on anything else. What <i>was</i> you thinkin'—"</p> + +<p>But at this moment came a cheery call of "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde, +cutting short the little woman's profuse thanks and invitations to call +again, bade her a cordial good-by, and ran out to the wagon, carrying +her purchase neatly done up in brown paper.</p> + +<p>"Stiddy thar!" said the farmer, making room for her on the seat beside +him. "Look out for the ile-can, Huldy! Bought out the hull shop, hev ye? +Wal, I sh'll look for gret things the next few days. Huddup <a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>thar, +Nancy!" And they went jingling back along the street again.</p> + +<p>As they passed the queer little shops, with their antiquated signboards, +the farmer had something to say about each one. How Omnium Grabb here, +the grocer, missed his dried apples one morning, and how he accused his +chore-boy, who was his sister's son too, of having eaten them,—"As if +any livin' boy would pick out dried apples to eat, when he hed a hull +store to choose from!" and how the very next day a man coming to buy a +pair of boots, Omnium Grabb hooked down a pair from the ceiling, where +all the boots hung, and found them "chock full" of dried apples, which +the rats had been busily storing in them and their companion pairs.</p> + +<p>How Enoch Pillsbury, the "'pottecary, like t' ha' killed" Old Man Grout, +sending him writing fluid instead of the dark mixture for his +"dyspepsy."</p> + +<p>How Beulah Perkins, who lived over the <a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>dry-goods store, had been +bedridden for nineteen years, till the house where she was living caught +fire, "whereupon she jumped out o' bed an' grabbed an umbrella an' +opened it, an' ran down street in her red-flannel gownd, with the +umbrella over her head, shoutin', 'Somebody go save my bedstid! I ain't +stirred from it for nineteen years, an' I ain't never goin' to stir from +it agin. Somebody go save my bedstid!'"</p> + +<p>"And was it saved?" asked Hilda, laughing.</p> + +<p>"No," said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuth savin', nohow. Besides, if't +<i>hed</i> been, she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayed there. Hosy Grout, who +did her chores, kicked it into the fire; an' she was a well woman to the +day of her death."</p> + +<p>Now the houses straggled farther and farther apart, and at last the +village was fairly left behind. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and +quickened her pace a little, looking right and left with glances of +pleasure as the familiar <a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>fields ranged themselves along either side of +the road. Hilda too was glad to be in the free country again, and she +looked with delight at the banks of fern, the stone walls covered with +white starry clematis, and the tangle of blackberry vines which made the +pleasant road so fragrant and sweet. She was silent for some time. At +last she said, half timidly, "Farmer Hartley, you promised to tell me +more about your father some day. Don't you think this would be a good +time? I have been so much interested by what I have heard of him."</p> + +<p>"That's curus, now," said Farmer Hartley slowly, flicking the dust with +the long lash of his whip. "It's curus, Huldy, that you sh'd mention +Father jest now, 'cause I happened to be thinkin' of him myself that +very minute. Old Father," he added meditatively, "wal, surely, he <i>was</i> +a character, Father was. Folks about here," he said, turning suddenly to +Hilda and looking keenly at her, "think<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a> Father was ravin' crazy, or +mighty nigh it. But he warn't nothin' o' the sort. His mind was as keen +as a razor, an' as straight-edged, 'xcept jest on <i>one</i> subject. On +<i>that</i> he was, so to say, a little—wal—a little <i>tetched</i>."</p> + +<p>"And that was—?" queried Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Why, ye see, Huldy, Father had been a sea-farin' man all his days, an' +he'd seen all manner o' countries an' all manner o' folks; and 'tain't +to be wondered at ef he got a leetle bit confoosed sometimes between the +things he'd seen and the things he owned. Long'n short of it was, Father +thought he hed a kind o' treasure hid away somewhar, like them pirate +fellers used to hev. Ef they <i>did</i> hev it!" he added slowly. "I never +more'n half believed none o' them yarns; but Father, he thought <i>he</i> hed +it, an' no mistake. 'D'ye think I was five years coastin' round Brazil +for nothin'?' he says. 'There's di'monds in Brazil,' he says, 'whole +mines of 'em; an' there's <i>some</i> di'monds <i>out</i> o' Brazil too;' and then +he'd wink, and laugh out <a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>hearty, the way he used. He was always +laughin', Father was. An' when times was hard, he'd say to my mother, +'Wealthy, we won't sell the di'monds yet a while. Not this time, +Wealthy; but they're thar, you know, my woman, they're thar!' And when +my mother'd say, 'Whar to goodness be they, Thomas?' he'd only chuckle +an' laugh an' shake his head. Then thar was his story about the ruby +necklace. How we youngsters used to open our eyes at that! Believed it +too, every word of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh! what was it?" cried Hilda. "Tell me, and I will believe it too!"</p> + +<p>"He used to tell of a Malay pirate," said the farmer, "that he fit and +licked somewhere off in the South Seas,—when he sailed the 'Lively +Polly,' that was. She was a clipper, Father always said; an' he run +aboard the black fellers, and smashed their schooner, an' throwed their +guns overboard, an' demoralized 'em ginerally. They took to their boats +an' paddled off, what was left of 'em, an' he an'<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a> his crew sarched the +schooner, an' found a woman locked up in the cabin,—an Injin princess, +father said she was,—an' they holdin' her for ransom. Wal, Father found +out somehow whar she come from,—Javy, or Mochy, or some o' them places +out o' the spice-box,—an' he took her home, an' hunted up her parents +an' guardeens, an' handed her over safe an' sound. They—the +guardeens—was gret people whar they lived, an' they wanted to give +Father a pot o' money; but he said he warn't that kind. 'I'm a Yankee +skipper!' says he. ''Twas as good as a meal o' vittles to me to smash +that black feller!' says he. '<i>I</i> don't want no pay for it. An' as for +the lady, 'twas a pleasure to obleege her,' he says; 'an' I'd do it agin +<i>any</i> day in the week, <i>'xcept</i> Sunday, when I don't fight, ez a rewl, +when I kin help it.' Then the princess, she tried to kiss his hand; but +Father said he guessed that warn't quite proper, an' the guardeens +seemed to think so too. So then she took a ruby <a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>necklace off her neck +(she was all done up in shawls, Father said, an' silk, an' gold chains, +an' fur an' things, so 's 't he couldn' see nothin' but her eyes; but +they was better wuth seein' than any other woman's hull face that ever +<i>he</i> see), and gave it to him, an' made signs that he <i>must</i> keep that, +anyhow. Then she said somethin' to one o' the guardeens who spoke a +little Portuguese, Father understandin' it a little too, and he told +Father she said these was the drops of her blood he had saved, an' he +must keep it to remember her. Jest like drops of blood, he said the +rubies was, strung along on a gold chain. So he took it, an' said he +warn't likely to forget about it; an' then he made his bow, an' the +guardeens said he was their father, an' their mother, an' their +great-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an' made him stay to supper, an' he +didn't eat nothin' for a week arterward."</p> + +<p>The farmer paused, and Hildegarde drew a long breath, "<i>Oh!</i>" she cried, +"what a delightful story, Farmer Hartley! And you <a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>don't believe it? <i>I</i> +do, every word of it! I am <i>sure</i> it is true!"</p> + +<p>"Wal, ye see," said the farmer, meditatively; "Ef' t was true, what +become o' the necklace? That's what <i>I</i> say. Father believed it, sure +enough, and he thought he hed that necklace, as sure as you think you +hev that bunnit in yer hand. But 'twarn't never found, hide <i>nor</i> hair +of it."</p> + +<p>"Might he not have sold it?" Hilda suggested.</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No," he said, "he warn't that kind. +Besides, he thought to the day of his death that he hed it, sure enough. +'Thar's the princess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't ye forgit that, +Wealthy! Along with the di'monds, ye know.' And then he'd laugh like he +was fit to bust. Why, when he was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't he +couldn' speak plain, he called me to him, an' made signs he wanted to +tell me somethin'. I stooped down clost, an' he whispered somethin'; but +all I could hear was 'di'monds,' and 'dig,' and <a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>then in a minute 'twas +all over. Poor old Father! He'd been a good skipper, an' a good man all +his days."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, while Hilda pondered over the story, which she +could not make up her mind to disbelieve altogether.</p> + +<p>"Wal! wal! and here we are at the old farm agin!" said the farmer +presently, as old Nancy turned in at the yellow gate. "Here I've been +talkin' the everlastin' way home, ain't I? You must herry and git into +the house, Huldy, for <i>I</i> d' 'no' how the machine's managed to run +without ye all this time. I sha'n't take ye out agin ef I find anythin's +wrong."<a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>A PARTY OF PLEASURE.</h3> + + +<p>On a certain lovely afternoon the three happiest people in the world (so +they styled themselves, and they ought to know) were gathered together +in a certain spot, which was <i>next</i> to the prettiest spot in the world.</p> + +<p>"You should have had <i>the</i> prettiest, Pink," said Hilda, "but we could +not get your chair down into the glen, you know. My poor, dear Pink, you +have never seen the glen, have you?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Pink Chirk, cheerily. "But I have heard so much about it, +I really feel as if I had seen it, almost. And indeed I don't think it +<i>can</i> be much lovelier than this place."</p> + +<p>However that might be, the place they had <a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>chosen was certainly pretty +enough to satisfy any one. Not far from Mrs. Chirk's cottage was a +little pine-grove, easy of access, and with trees far enough apart to +allow the wheeled chair to pass between them. And in the grove, just in +a little open space where two or three trees had been cut away, was a +great black rock, with ferns growing in all its cracks and crannies, and +a tiny birch-tree waving like a green and white plume on its top. And at +the foot of the rock—oh, what a wonderful thing!—a slender thread of +crystal water came trickling out, as cold as ice and as clear as—as +itself; for nothing else could be so clear. Bubble had made a little +wooden trough to hold this fairy stream, and it gurgled along the trough +and tumbled over the end of it with as much agitation and consequence as +if it were the Niagara River in person. And under the rock and beside +the stream was a bank of moss and ferns most lovely to behold, most +luxurious to sit upon. On this bank sat<a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a> Queen Hildegarde, with Bubble +at her feet as usual; and beside her, in her chair, sat sweet Pink, +looking more like a white rose than ever, with her fresh white dimity +gown and her pretty hat. Hilda was very busy over a mysterious-looking +basket, from whose depths she now drew a large napkin, which she spread +on the smooth green moss. A plate of sandwiches came next, and some cold +chicken, and six of Dame Hartley's wonderful apple-turnovers.</p> + +<p>"Now, Bubble," said Hilda, "where are those birch-bark cups that you +made for us? I have brought nothing to drink out of."</p> + +<p>"I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy," cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity. +"I clean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall I—? would you?" and he made +sundry enigmatical signs to his sister.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly," said Pink; "of course."</p> + +<p>The boy ran off, and Hilda fell to twisting pine tassels together into a +kind of fantastic garland, while Pink looked on with beaming eyes.<a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a></p> + +<p>"Pink," said Hilda, presently, "how is it that you speak so differently +from Bubble and your mother,—so much better English, I mean? Have +you—but no; you told me you never went to school."</p> + +<p>"It was Faith," said Pink, with a look of tender sadness,—"Faith +Hartley. She wanted to be a teacher, and we studied together always. +Dear Faith! I wish you had known her, Miss Graham."</p> + +<p>"You promised not to call me Miss Graham again, Pink," said Hildegarde, +reproachfully. "It is absurd, and I won't have it."</p> + +<p>"Well, Hilda, then," said Pink, shyly. "I wish you had known Faith, +Hilda; you would have loved her very much, I know."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I should," said Hilda, warmly. "Tell me more about her. Why +did she want to teach when she was so happy at home?"</p> + +<p>"She loved children very much," said Pink, "and liked to be with them. +She thought that if she studied hard, she could teach them more <a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>than +the district school teachers about here generally do, and in a better +way. I think she would have done a great deal of good," she added, +softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>why</i> did she die?" cried Hilda. "She was so much needed! It broke +her father's heart, and her mother's, and almost yours, my Pink. Why was +it right for her to die?"</p> + +<p>"It <i>was</i> right, dear," said Pink, gently; "that is all we can know. +'Why' isn't answered in this world. My granny used to say,—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"'Never lie!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Never pry!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Never ask the reason why!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Hilda shook her head, and was about to reply earnestly; but at this +moment Bubble came bounding back with something in his arms,—something +covered with an old shawl; something alive, which did not like the +shawl, and which struggled, and made plaintive little noises, which the +boy tried vainly to repress.<a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a></p> + +<p>"Say, Miss Hildy," he cried, eagerly, "do ye like—be still, ye critter; +hesh, I tell ye!—do you like purps?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="miss" id="miss"></a><img src="./images/205.png" alt=""'SAY, MISS HILDY,—DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"" title=""'SAY, MISS HILDY,—DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"" /></div> +<div class='center'>"'SAY, MISS HILDY,—DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"</div> + +<p>"'Purps,' Bubble?" repeated Hilda, wonderingly. "What are they? And what +have you there,—your poor old cat? Let her go! For shame, you naughty +boy!"</p> + +<p>"Puppies, he means," whispered Pink.</p> + +<p>"'Cause if ye do," cried the breathless Bubble, still struggling with +his shrouded captive, "I've got one here as—Wal, thar! go 'long, ye +pesky critter, if ye <i>will</i>!" for the poor puppy had made one frantic +effort, and leaped from his arms to the ground, where it rolled over and +over, a red and green plaid mass, with a white tail sticking out of one +end. On being unrolled, it proved to be a little snow-white, curly +creature, with long ears and large, liquid eyes, whose pathetic glance +went straight to Hilda's heart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the little darling!" she cried, taking him up in her arms; "the +pretty, pretty <a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>creature! Is he really for me, Bubble? Thank you very +much. I shall love him dearly, I know."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad ye like him," said Bubble, looking highly gratified. "Hosy +Grout giv him an' another one to me yes'day, over 't the village. He was +goin' to drownd 'em, an' I wouldn' let him, an' he said I might hev 'em +ef I wanted 'em. I knew Pink would like to hev one, an' I thought mebbe +you liked critters, an' so—"</p> + +<p>"Good Bubble!" said Hilda, stroking the little dog's curly head. "And +what shall I call him, Pink? Let us each think of a name, and then +choose the best."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and then Bubble said, "Call him Scott, after the bold +Buckle-oh!"</p> + +<p>"Or Will, for 'the wily Belted Will,'" said Pink, who was as inveterate +a ballad-lover as her brother.</p> + +<p>"I think Jock is a good name," said Hildegarde,—"Jock o' Hazeldean, you +know. I <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>think I will call him Jock." The others assented, and the +puppy was solemnly informed of the fact, and received a chicken-bone in +honor of the occasion. Then the three friends ate their dinner, and very +merry they were over it. Hildegarde crowned Pink with the pine-tassel +wreath, and declared that she looked like a priestess of Diana.</p> + +<p>"No, she don't," said Bubble, looking up from his cold chicken; "she +looks like Lars Porsena of Clusium sot in his ivory cheer, on'y she +ain't f'erce enough. Hold up yer head, Pinky, an' look real savage, an' +I'll do Horatius at the Bridge."</p> + +<p>Pink did her best to look savage, and Zerubbabel stood up and delivered +"Horatius" with much energy and appropriate action, to the great +amusement of his audience. A stout stick, cut from a neighboring +thicket, served for the "good Roman steel;" and with this he cut and +slashed and stabbed with furious energy, reciting the lines meanwhile +with breathless <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>ferocity. He slew the "great Lord of Luna," and on the +imaginary body he—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Right firmly pressed his heel,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And thrice and four times tugged amain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Ere he wrenched out the steel."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>But when he cried—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"What noble Lucumo comes next</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">To taste our Roman cheer?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>the puppy, who had been watching the scene with kindling eyes, and ears +and tail of eager inquiry, could bear it no longer, but flung himself +valiantly into the breach, and barked defiance, dancing about in front +of Horatius and snapping furiously at his legs. Alas, poor puppy! He was +hailed as "Sextus," and bade "welcome" by the bold Roman, who forthwith +charged upon him, and drove him round and round the grove till he sought +safety and protection in the lap of Lars Porsena herself. Then the +bridge came down, and Horatius, climbing nimbly to the top of the rock, +apostrophized his Father Tiber, sheathed his good <a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>sword by his side +(<i>i.e.</i>, rammed his stick into and <i>through</i> his breeches pocket), and +with his jacket on his back plunged headlong in the tide, and swam +valiantly across the pine-strewn surface of the little glade.</p> + +<p>Bubble's performance was much applauded by the two girls, who, in the +characters of Lars Porsena and Mamilius, "Prince of the Latian name," +had surveyed the whole with dignified amazement. And when the boy, +exhausted with his heroic exertions, threw himself down on the +pine-needles and begged "Miss Hildy" to sing to them, she readily +consented, and sang "Jock o' Hazeldean" and "Come o'er the stream, +Charlie!" so sweetly that the little fat birds sat still on the branches +to listen. A faint glow stole into Pink's wan cheek, and her blue eyes +sparkled with pleasure; while Bubble bobbed his head, and testified his +delight by drumming with his heels on the ground and begging for more. +"A ballid now, Miss Hildy, please," he cried.<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a></p> + +<p>"Well," said Hildegarde, nothing loth, "what shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"One with some fightin' in it," replied Bubble, promptly.</p> + +<p>So Hildegarde began:—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Down Deeside cam Inverey,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whistling and playing;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He's lighted at Brackley gates</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At the day's dawing."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And went on to tell of the murder of "bonnie Brackley" and of the +treachery of his young wife:—</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"There's grief in the kitchen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And mirth in the ha';</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But the Baron o' Brackley</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is dead and awa'."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>So the ballad ended, leaving Bubble full of sanguinary desires anent the +descendants of the false Inverey. "I—I—I'd like jest to git holt o' +some o' them fellers!" he exclaimed. "They wouldn't go slaughterin' +round no gret amount when I'd finished with em', I tell ye!" And he +flourished his stick, and looked so fierce <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>that the puppy yelped +piteously, expecting another onslaught.</p> + +<p>"And now, Pink," said Hilda, "we have just time for a story before we go +home. Bubble has told me about your stories, and I want very much to +hear one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hilda, they are not worth telling twice!" protested Pink; "I just +make them for Bubble when he takes me out on Sunday. It's all I can do +for the dear lad."</p> + +<p>"Don't you mind her, Miss Hildy," said Bubble; "they're fustrate +stories, an' she tells 'em jest like p—'rithmetic. Go ahead, Pink! Tell +the one about the princess what looked in the glass all the time."</p> + +<p>So Pink, in her low, sweet voice, told the story of<br /><br /></p> + +<div class='center'><span class="smcap"><big>The Vain Princess.</big></span></div> + +<p>Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful that it was +a wonder to look at her. But she was also very vain; and her <a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>beauty was +of no use or pleasure to anybody, for she sat and looked in her mirror +all day long, and never thought of doing anything else.</p> + +<p>The mirror was framed in beaten gold, but the gold was not so bright as +her shining locks; and all about its rim great sapphires were set, but +they were dim and gray, compared with the blue of her lovely eyes. So +there she sat all day in a velvet chair, clad in a satin gown with +fringes of silver and pearl; and nobody in the world was one bit the +better for her or her beauty.</p> + +<p>Now, one day the princess looked at herself so long and so earnestly +that she fell fast asleep in her velvet chair, with the golden mirror in +her lap. While she slept, a gust of wind blew the casement window open, +and a rose that was growing on the wall outside peeped in. It was a poor +little feeble white rose, which had climbed up the wall in a straggling +fashion, and had no particular strength or beauty or sweetness. Every +one who saw it from the <a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>outside said, "What a wretched little plant! +Why is it not cut down?" and the rose trembled when it heard this, for +it was as fond of life as if it were beautiful, and it still hoped for +better days. Inside, no one thought about it at all; for the beautiful +princess never left her chair to open the window.</p> + +<p>Now, when the rose saw the princess it was greatly delighted, for it had +often heard of her marvellous beauty. It crept nearer and nearer, and +gazed at the golden wonder of her hair, her ivory skin under which the +blushes came and went as she slept, and her smiling lips. "Ah!" sighed +the rose, "if I had only a tinge of that lovely red, I should be finer +than all the other roses." And as it gazed, the thought came into its +mind: "Why should I not steal a little of this wondrous beauty? Here it +is of no use to anybody. If I had it, I would delight every one who +passed by with my freshness and sweetness, and people would be the +better for seeing a thing so lovely."<a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></p> + +<p>So the rose crept to the princess's feet, and climbed up over her satin +gown, and twined about her neck and arms, and about her lovely golden +head. And it stole the blush from her cheek, and the crimson from her +lips, and the gold from her hair. And the princess grew pale and paler; +but the rose blushed red and redder, and its golden heart made the room +bright, and its sweetness filled the air. It grew and grew, and now new +buds and leaves and blossoms appeared; and when at last it left the +velvet chair and climbed out of the casement again, it was a glorious +plant, such as had never before been seen. All the passers-by stopped to +look at it and admire it. Little children reached up to pluck the +glowing blossoms, and sick and weary people gained strength and courage +from breathing their delicious perfume. The world was better and happier +for the rose, and the rose knew it, and was glad.</p> + +<p>But when the princess awoke, she took up <a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>her golden mirror again, and +looking in it, saw a pale and wrinkled and gray-haired woman looking at +her. Then she shrieked, and flung the mirror on the ground, and rushed +out of her palace into the wide world. And wherever she went she cried, +"I am the beautiful princess! Look at me and see my beauty; for I will +show it to you now!" But nobody looked at her, for she was withered and +ugly; and nobody cared for her, because she was selfish and vain. So she +made no more difference in the world than she had made before. But the +rose is blossoming still, and fills the air with its sweetness.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"My Pink," said Hildegarde, tenderly, as she walked beside her friend's +chair on their homeward way, "you are shut up like the princess; but +instead of the rose stealing your sweetness, you have stolen the +sweetness of all the roses, and taken it into your prison with you."</p> + +<p>"I 'shut up,' Hilda?" cried Pink, opening <a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>wide eyes of wonder and +reproach. "Do you call <i>this</i> being shut up? See what I have had to-day! +Enough pleasure to think about for a year. And even without it,—even +before you came, Hilda,—why, I am the happiest girl in the world, and I +ought to be."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde stooped and kissed the pale forehead. "Yes, dear, I think you +are," she said; "but I should like you to have all the pleasant and +bright and lovely things in the world, my Pink."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have the best of them," said Pink Chirk, smiling +brightly,—"home and love, and friends and flowers. And as for the rest, +why, dear Hilda, what <i>is</i> the use in thinking about things one has +not?"</p> + +<p>After this, which was part of Pink's little code of philosophy, she fell +a-musing happily, while Hilda walked beside her in a kind of silent +rage, almost hating herself for the fulness of vigor, the superabundant +health and buoyancy, which she felt in every limb. She <a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>looked sidelong +at the transparent cheek, the wasted frame, the unearthly radiance of +the blue eyes. This girl was just her own age, and had never walked! It +could not, it <i>must</i> not, be so always. Thoughts thronged into her mind +of the great New York physicians and the wonders they had wrought. Might +it not be possible? Could not something be done? The blood coursed more +quickly through her veins, and she laid her hand on that of the crippled +girl with a sudden impulse of protection and tenderness.</p> + +<p>Pink Chirk looked up with a wondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde," she +said, "you look like the British warrior queen you told me about +yesterday. I was just thinking what a comfort it is to live now, instead +of in those dreadful murdering times that the ballads tell of."</p> + +<p>"I <i>druther</i> ha' lived then!" cried Bubble, from behind the chair. "If I +hed, I'd ha' got hold o' that Inverey feller."<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE WARRIOR QUEEN.</h3> + + +<p>Happily, happily, the days and weeks slipped by at Hartley Farm; and now +September was half gone, and in two weeks more Hilda's parents would +return. The letter had just arrived which fixed the date of their +homecoming and Hildegarde had carried it upstairs to feast on it in her +own room. She sat by the window in the little white rocking-chair, and +read the words over and over again. In two weeks—really in two little +weeks—she should see her mother again! It was too good to be true.</p> + +<p>"Dragons, do you hear?" she cried, turning towards the wash-handstand. +"You have seen my mother, Dragons, and she has washed her <a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>little +blessed face in your bowl. I should think that might have stopped your +ramping, if anything could. Or have you been waving your paws for joy +ever since? I may have been unjust to you, Dragons."</p> + +<p>The blue dragons, as usual, refused to commit themselves; and, as usual, +the gilt cherubs round the looking-glass were shocked at their rudeness, +and tried to atone for it by smiling as hard as they possibly could.</p> + +<p>"Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" said the happy girl, bending forward +to kiss one of them as she was brushing her hair. "<i>You</i> do not ramp and +glower when one tells you that one's mother is coming home. I know you +are glad, you dear old things!"</p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at the cherubs, a +thought struck her which sent a pang through her heart. The cherubs +would still smile, just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not all +delight, this great news. There was sorrow mingled with <a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a>the rapture. +Her heart was with her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeing +her mother's face, of hearing her father's voice, sent the blood dancing +through her veins. And yet—she must leave the farm; she must leave +Nurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss her. They loved her; ah! +how could they help it, when she loved them so much? And the pain came +again at her heart as she recalled the sad smile with which the farmer +had handed her this letter. "Good news for you, Huldy," he said, "but +bad for the rest of us, I reckon!" Had he had word also, or did he just +know that this was about the time they had meant to return? Oh, but she +would come out so often to the farm! Papa and mamma would be willing, +would wish her to come; and she could not live long at a time in town, +without refreshing herself with a breath of <i>real</i> air, country air. She +might have <i>wilted</i> along somehow for sixteen years; but she had never +been <i>really</i> alive—had she?—till this summer.<a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></p> + +<p>Pink and Bubble too! they would miss her almost as much. But that did +not trouble her, for she had a plan in her head for Pink and Bubble,—a +great plan, which was to be whispered to Papa <i>almost</i> the very moment +she saw him,—not quite <i>the</i> very moment, but the next thing to it. The +plan would please Nurse Lucy and the farmer too,—would please them +almost as much as it delighted her to think about it.</p> + +<p>Happy thought! She would go down now and tell the farmer about it. Nurse +Lucy was lying down with a bad headache, she knew; but the farmer was +still in the kitchen. She heard him moving about now, though he had said +he was going off to the orchard. She would steal in softly and startle +him, and then—</p> + +<p>Full of happy and loving thoughts, Hildegarde slipped quietly down the +stairs and across the hall, and peeped in at the kitchen-door to see +what the farmer was doing. He was at the farther end of the room, with +his back turned to her, stooping down over his <a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>desk. What was he doing? +What a singular attitude he was in! Then, all in a moment, Hilda's heart +seemed to stop beating, and her breath came thick and short; for she saw +that this man before her was not the farmer. The farmer had not long +elf-locks of black hair straggling over his coat-collar; he was not +round-shouldered or bow-legged; above all, he would not be picking the +lock of his own desk, for this was what the man before her was doing. +Silent as her own shadow, Hildegarde slipped back into the hall and +stood still a moment, collecting her thoughts. What should she do? Call +Dame Hartley? The "poor dear" was suffering much, and why should she be +disturbed? Run to find the farmer? She might have to run all over the +farm! No; she would attend to this herself. She was not in the least +afraid. She knew pretty well what ugly face would look up at her when +she spoke; for she felt sure that the slouching, ungainly figure was +that of Simon Hartley.<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a> Her heart burned with indignation against the +graceless, thankless churl who could rob the man on whose charity he had +been living for two years. She made a step forward, with words of +righteous wrath on her lips; then paused, as a new thought struck her. +This man was an absolute ruffian; and though she believed him to be an +absolute coward also, still he must know that she and Dame Hartley were +alone in the house. He must know also that the farmer was at some +distance, else he would not have ventured to do this. What should she +do? she asked herself again. She looked round her, and her eyes fell +upon the old horse-pistol which rested on a couple of hooks over the +door. The farmer had taken it down only a day or two before, to show it +to her and tell her its story. It was not loaded, but Simon did not know +that. She stepped lightly up on a chair, and in a moment had taken the +pistol down. It was a formidable-looking weapon, and Hildegarde surveyed +it <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>with much satisfaction as she turned once more to enter the kitchen. +Unloaded as it was, it gave her a feeling of entire confidence; and her +voice was quiet and steady as she said:</p> + +<p>"Simon Hartley, what are you doing to your uncle's desk?"</p> + +<p>The man started violently and turned round, his hands full of papers, +which he had taken from one of the drawers. He changed color when he saw +"the city gal," as he invariably termed Hilda, and he answered sullenly, +"Gitt'n someth'n for Uncle."</p> + +<p>"That is not true," said Hildegarde, quietly, "I have heard your uncle +expressly forbid you to go near that desk. Put those papers back!"</p> + +<p>The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyes shifting uneasily from her to +the desk and back again. "I guess I ain't goin' to take orders from no +gal!" he muttered, huskily.</p> + +<p>"Put those papers back!" repeated Hildegarde sternly, with a sudden +light in her gray <a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a>eyes which made the rascal step backward and thrust +the papers hurriedly into the drawer. After which he began to bluster, +as is the manner of cowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin' hectorin' +round with their airs an'—"</p> + +<p>"Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde, quietly.</p> + +<p>But Simon's sluggish blood was warmed by his little bluster, and he took +courage as he reflected that this was only a slight girl, and that no +one else was in the house except "Old Marm," and that many broad meadows +intervened between him and the farmer's stout arm. He would frighten her +a bit, and get the money after all.</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that!" he said, taking a step towards Hilda, with an +evil look in his red eyes. "I'll settle a little account with you fust, +my fine lady. I'll teach you to come spyin' round on me this way. Ye +ain't give me a civil word sence ye come here, an' I'll pay ye—"<a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a></p> + +<p>Here Simon stopped suddenly; for without a word Hildegarde had raised +the pistol (which he had not seen before, as her hand was behind her), +and levelled it full at his head, keeping her eyes steadily fixed on +him. With a howl of terror the wretch staggered back, putting up his +hands to ward off the expected shot.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot!" he gasped, while his color changed to a livid green. +"I—I didn't mean nothin', I swar I didn't, Miss Graham. I was +only—foolin'!" and he tried to smile a sickly smile; but his eyes fell +before the stern glance of the gray eyes fixed so unwaveringly on him.</p> + +<p>"Go to your room!" said Hilda, briefly. He hesitated. The lock clicked, +and the girl took deliberate aim.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin'!" shrieked the rascal, and began backing towards the door, +while Hilda followed step by step, still covering him with her deadly(!) +weapon. They crossed the kitchen and the back hall in this way, and +Simon stumbled <a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a>against the narrow stairs which led to his garret +room.</p> + +<p>"I dassn't turn round to g' up!" he whined; "ye'll shoot me in the +back." No answer; but the lock clicked again, more ominously than +before. He turned and fled up the stairs, muttering curses under his +breath. Hildegarde closed the door at the foot of the stairs, which +generally stood open, bolted it, and pushed a heavy table against it. +Then she went back into the kitchen, sat down in her own little chair, +and—laughed!</p> + +<p>Yes, laughed! The absurdity of the whole episode, the ruffian quaking +and fleeing before the empty pistol, her own martial fierceness and +sanguinary determination, struck her with irresistible force, and peal +after peal of silvery laughter rang through the kitchen. Perhaps it was +partly hysterical, for her nerves were unconsciously strung to a high +pitch; but she was still laughing, and still holding the terrible pistol +in her hand, when Dame Hart<a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>ley entered the kitchen, looking startled +and uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Dear Hilda," said the good woman, "what has been going on? I thought +surely I heard a man's voice here. And—why! good gracious, child! what +are you doing with that pistol?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde saw that there was nothing for it but to tell the simple +truth, which she did in as few words as possible, trying to make light +of the whole episode. But Dame Hartley was not to be deceived, and saw +at once the full significance of what had happened. She was deeply +moved. "My dear, brave child," she said, kissing Hilda warmly, "to think +of your facing that great villain and driving him away! The courage of +you! Though to be sure, any one could see it in your eyes, and your +father a soldier so many of his days too."</p> + +<p>"Oh! it was not I who frightened him," said honest Hilda, "it was the +old pistol." But Nurse Lucy only shook her head and kissed <a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>her again. +The thought of Simon's ingratitude and treachery next absorbed her mind, +and tears of anger stood in her kind blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"It was a black day for my poor man," she said, "when he brought that +fellow to the house. I mistrusted him from the first look at his sulky +face. A man who can't look you in the eyes,—well, there! that's my +opinion of him!"</p> + +<p>"Why did the farmer bring him here?" asked Hilda. "I have often +wondered."</p> + +<p>"Why, 'tis a long story, my dear," said Nurse Lucy, smoothing her apron +and preparing for a comfortable chat ("For," she said, "Simon will not +dare to stir from his room, even if he could get out, which he can't."). +"Of all his brothers, my husband loved his brother Simon best. He was a +handsome, clever fellow, Simon was. Don't you remember, my dear, Farmer +speaking of him one day when you first came here, and telling how he +wanted to be a gentleman; and I turned the <a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>talk when you asked what +became of him?" Hilda nodded assent "Well," Nurse Lucy continued, "that +was because no good came of him, and I knew it vexed Farmer to think on +it, let alone Simon's son being there. It was all through his wanting to +be a gentleman that Simon got into bad ways. Making friends with people +who had money, he got to thinking he must have it, or must make believe +he had it; so he spent all he had, and then—oh, dear!—he forged his +father's name, and the farm had to be mortgaged to get him out of +prison; and then he took to drinking, and went from bad to worse, and +finally died in misery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! it almost broke +Jacob's heart, that it did. He had tried, if ever man tried, to save his +brother; but 'twas of no use. It seemed as if he was <i>bound</i> to ruin +himself, and nothing could stop him. When he died, his wife (he married +her, thinking she had money, and it turned out she hadn't a penny) took +the child and went back to her own peo<a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>ple, and we heard nothing more +till about two years ago, when this boy came to Jacob with a letter from +his mother's folks. She was dead, and they said <i>they</i> couldn't do for +him any longer, and he didn't seem inclined to do for himself. Well, +that is the story, Hilda dear. He has been here ever since, and he has +been no comfort, no pleasure to us, I must say; but we have tried to do +our duty by him, and I hoped he might feel in his heart some gratitude +to his uncle, though he showed none in his actions. And now to think of +it! to think of it! How shall I tell my poor man?"</p> + +<p>"What was his mother like?" asked Hildegarde, trying to turn for the +moment the current of painful thought.</p> + +<p>Nurse Lucy gave a little laugh, even while wiping the tears from her +eyes. "Poor Eliza!" she said. "She was a good woman, but—well, there! +she had no <i>faculty</i>, as you may say. And homely! you never saw such a +homely woman, Hilda; for I don't believe <a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>there could be two in the +world. I never think of Eliza without remembering what Jacob said after +he saw her for the first time. He'd been over to see Simon; and when he +came back he walked into the kitchen and sat down, never saying a word, +but just shaking his head over and over again. 'What's the matter, +Jacob?' I said. 'Matter?' said he. 'Matter enough, Marm Lucy' (he's +always called me Marm Lucy, my dear, since the very day we were married, +though I wasn't <i>very</i> much older than you then). 'Simon's married,' he +said, 'and I've seen his wife.' Of course I was surprised, and I wanted +to know all about it. 'What sort of a girl is she?' I asked. 'Is she +pretty? What color is her hair?' But Jacob put up his hand and stopped +me. 'Thar!' he says, 'don't ask no questions, and I'll tell ye. Fust +place, she ain't no gal, no more'n yer Aunt Saleny is!' (that was a +maiden aunt of mine, dear, and well over forty at that time.) 'And what +does she <a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>look like?' 'Wal! D'ye ever see an old cedar fence-rail,—one +that had been chumped out with a blunt axe, and had laid out in the sun +and the wind and the snow and the rain till 'twas warped this way, and +shrunk that way, and twisted every way? Wal! Simon's wife looks as if +she had swallowed one o' them fence-rails, and <i>shrunk to it</i>! Dear, +dear! how I laughed. And 'twas true, my dear! It was just the way she +did look. Poor soul! she led a sad life; for when Simon found he'd made +a mistake about the money, there was no word too bad for him to fling at +her."</p> + +<p>At this moment Farmer Hartley's step was heard in the porch, and Nurse +Lucy rose hurriedly. "Don't say anything to him, Hilda dear," she +whispered,—"anything about Simon, I mean. I'll tell him to-morrow; but +I don't want to trouble him to-night. This is our Faith's +birthday,—seventeen year old she'd have been to-day; and it's been a +right hard day for Jacob! I'll tell him about it in the morning."<a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></p> + +<p>Alas! when morning came it was too late. The kitchen door was swinging +idly open; the desk was broken open and rifled; and Simon Hartley was +gone, and with him the savings of ten years' patient labor.<a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD MILL.</h3> + + +<p>It was a sad group that sat in the pleasant kitchen that bright +September morning. The good farmer sat before his empty desk, seeming +half stupefied by the blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him, while +his wife hung about him, reproaching herself bitterly for not having put +him on his guard the night before. Hildegarde moved restlessly about the +kitchen, setting things to rights, as she thought, though in reality she +hardly knew what she was doing, and had already carefully deposited the +teapot in the coal-hod, and laid the broom on the top shelf of the +dresser. Her heart was full of wrath and sorrow,—fierce anger against +the miserable wretch who had robbed his benefac<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>tor; sympathy for her +kind friends, brought thus suddenly from comfort to distress. For she +knew now that the money which Simon had stolen had been drawn from the +bank only two days before to pay off the mortgage on the farm.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't ha' minded the money," Farmer Hartley was saying, even now, +"if I'd ha' been savin' it jest to spend or lay by. I shouldn't ha' +minded, though 'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hev Simon's son take +it,—my brother Simon's son, as I allus stood by. But it's hard to let +the farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it's terrible hard!" and he bowed his +head upon his hands in a dejection which made his wife weep anew and +wring her hands.</p> + +<p>"But they will not take the farm from you, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda, +aghast. "They <i>cannot</i> do that, can they? Why, it was your father's, and +your grandfather's before him."</p> + +<p>"And <i>his</i> father's afore <i>him</i>!" said the farmer, looking up with a sad +smile on his kindly face.<a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a> "But that don't make no difference, ye see, +Hildy. Lawyer Clinch is a hard man, a terrible hard man; and he's always +wanted this farm. It's the best piece o' land in the hull township, an' +he wants it for a market farm."</p> + +<p>"But <i>why</i> did you mortgage it to him?" cried Hilda.</p> + +<p>"I didn't, my gal; I didn't!" said the farmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watch +over it ever sence Simon began to get into trouble,—reckon he knew +pooty well how things would come out; an' bimeby Jason Doble, as held +the mortgage, he up an' died, an' then Lawyer Clinch stepped in an' told +the 'xecutors how Jason owed him a big debt, but he didn't want to do +nothin' onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and call +it square. Th' executors was kind o' fool people, both on 'em—<i>I</i> d'no' +what possessed Jason Doble to choose them for 'xecutors, when he might +ha' hed the pick o' the State lunatic asylum an' got some fools as knew +something; but so<a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a> 'twas, an' I s'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv' +it to him, an' thanked him for takin' it; and he's waited an' waited, +hopin' to ketch me in a tight place,—an' now he's done it. An' that's +about all there is to it!" added Farmer Hartley, rising and pushing back +his massive gray hair. "An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an' mowlin' +over it. Thar's all Simon's work to be done, an' my own too. Huldy, my +gal!" he held out his honest brown hand to Hildegarde, who clasped it +affectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stay by Marm Lucy and chirk her +up a bit. 'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't no gal of her own +now to do for her. But ye've grown to be almost a daughter to us, Huldy. +God bless ye, child!"</p> + +<p>His voice faltered as he laid his other hand for a moment on the girl's +fair head; then, turning hastily away, he took up his battered straw hat +and went slowly out of the house, an older man, it might have been by +ten years, than he had been the night before.<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></p> + +<p>Right daughterly did Hilda show herself that day, and Faith herself +could hardly have been more tender and helpful. Feeling intuitively that +work was the best balm for a sore heart, she begged for Nurse Lucy's +help and advice in one and another item of household routine. Then she +bethought her of the churning, and felt that if this thing was to +befall, it could not have better befallen than on a Tuesday, when the +great blue churn stood ready in the dairy, and the cream lay thick and +yellow in the shining pans.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy. "If I hadn't forgotten my +butter in all this trouble! And it must be made, sorrow or smiles, as +the old saying is. Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will. Your face is +the only bright thing I can see this sad day."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="took" id="took"></a><img src="./images/227.png" alt=""EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."" title=""EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."" /></div> +<div class='center'>"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."</div> + +<p>So they went together into the cool dairy, where the light came in dimly +through the screen of clematis that covered the window; Hilda bared her +round white arms, and<a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a> Nurse Lucy pinned back her calico sleeves from a +pair that were still shapely, though brown, and each took a skimmer and +set earnestly to work. The process of skimming cream is in itself a +soothing, not to say an absorbing one. To push the thick, yellow +ripples, piling themselves upon the skimmer, across the pan; to see it +drop, like melted ivory, into the cream-bowl; to pursue floating cream +islands round and round the pale and mimic sea,—who can do this long, +and not be comforted in some small degree, even in the midst of heavy +sorrow? Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement when +the butter first splashes in the churn. So Nurse Lucy took heart, and +churned and pressed and moulded her butter; and though some tears fell +into it, it was none the worse for that.</p> + +<p>But as she stamped each ball with the familiar stamp, showing an +impossible cow with four lame legs—"How many more times," said the good +woman, "shall I use this stamp; <a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>and what kind of butter will they make +who come after me?" and her tears flowed again. "Lawyer Clinch keeps a +hired girl, and I never saw <i>real</i> good butter made by a hired girl. +They haven't the <i>feeling</i> for it; and there's feeling in butter-making +as much as in anything else."</p> + +<p>But here Hilda interposed, and gently hinted that there ought now to be +"feeling" about getting the farmer's dinner. "We must have the things he +likes best," she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eat +anything. I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; and +there is the fowl for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy."</p> + +<p>The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work to +be done. Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seen +Dame Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble had +brought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, with +a bottle of hot water at her <a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>and a bowl of cracked ice by her side,—it +was not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothing +songs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself. She +ran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting for +the village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, +of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search was +being made for the wretched Simon.</p> + +<p>When old Nancy had trotted away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat +down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, so +hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening +ruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary flash of hope that +made her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but the +hope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for the +Yosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatch +would reach him. She sighed, and <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>sank back on the bench with a hopeless +feeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had not +seen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually her +inseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, to +which he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was a +person who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was in +return to be loved desperately, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping, and +knocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one's +invitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from a +mistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jock +always sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door, +and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for the +sound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligently +forward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but only +<a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>waited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appeared +with her hat on, oh, the rapture! the shrieks and squeaks and leaps of +joy, the wrigglings of body and frantic waggings of tail that ensued!</p> + +<p>So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge of +his views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But now +it struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since last +night; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tail +against the door by way of reminder. Where could the little fellow be? +She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visited +the barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wont +to linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to see +Will," she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was very +possible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchanged +visits, sometimes acting as letter-carriers for their <a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>two mistresses, +Pink and Hilda. If Jock was at Pink's house, he would be well cared for, +and Bubble would—but here Hildegarde started, as a new perplexity +arose. Where <i>was</i> Bubble? They had actually forgotten the boy in the +confusion and trouble of the day. He had not certainly come to the +house, as he invariably did; and the farmer had not spoken of him when +he came in at noon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hilda thought, with fresh +alarm. If it should be so, Bubble could not leave her, for Mrs. Chirk +was nursing a sick woman two or three miles away, and there were no +other neighbors nearer than the farm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "and I +cannot go to you at once, for Nurse Lucy must not be left alone in her +trouble. I must wait, wait patiently till Farmer Hartley comes back."</p> + +<p>Patiently she tried to wait. She stole up to her room, and taking up one +of her best-beloved books, "The Household of Sir Thomas More,"<a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a> lost +herself for a while in the noble sorrows of Margaret Roper. But even +this could not hold her long in her restless frame of mind, so she went +downstairs again, and out into the soft, golden September air, and fell +to pacing up and down the gravel walk before the house like a slender, +white-robed sentinel. Presently there was a rustling in the bushes, then +a hasty, joyful bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greeted +Hildegarde with every demonstration of affection. "Jock! my own dear +little Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress her favorite. But as +she did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which was +bounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless patted +the little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad to +see him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where +is Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke" as well +as he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the <a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>well-known +name. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with a +peculiar action which at once attracted her attention. She took him up +in her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinned +securely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened the +note and read as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">Miss Hildy</span>, + +<p>Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to +me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned +on the fence and says he I've fixed your city gal up fine he +says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says +I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I +know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it +don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her +to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he. And then +he larf LAUGHED I was bound I'd get it Miss Hildy I don't +see why they spell a thing g and say it f and went away. And +I run after him to make him tell me what he d been up to and +climbin over the wall I ketched my foot on a stone and the +stone come down on my foot and me with it and I didn't know +anything till Simon had gone and my foot swoll up so s I +couldn't walk and I wouldnt a<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a> minded its hurtin Miss Hildy +but it s like there wornt no bones in it Pink says I sprante +it bad and I started to go over to the Farm on all fours to +tell ye but I didn't know anythin g agin and Pink made me +come back. We couldnt nether on us get hold of Will but now +we got him I hope he l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted to +write this for me but I druther write myself you aint punk +tuated it she says. She can punk tuate it herself better n I +can I an ti cip ate I says. From</p> + +<p class='right'> +<span class="smcap">Zerubbabel Chirk</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. I wisht I could get him out for ye Miss Hildy.</p></div> + +<p>If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda had no heart to see the fun. Her +tears flowed fast as she realized the fate of her pretty little pet and +playfellow. The vindictive wretch, too cowardly to face her again, had +taken his revenge upon the harmless little dog. All day long poor Jock +had been in that fearful place! He was still only a puppy, and she knew +he could not possibly get out if he had really been thrown into the pit +of the great wheel. But—and she gave a cry of pain as the thought +<a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>struck her—perhaps it was only his lifeless body that was lying there. +Perhaps the ruffian had killed him, and thrown him down there +afterwards. She started up and paced the walk hurriedly, trying to think +what she had best do. Her first impulse was to fly at once to the glen; +but that was impossible, as she must not, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. +No one was near: they were quite alone. Again she said, "I must wait; I +<i>must</i> wait till Farmer Hartley comes home." But the waiting was harder +now than it had been before. She could do nothing but pace up and down, +up and down, like a caged panther, stopping every few minutes to throw +back her head and listen for the longed-for sound,—the sound of +approaching wheels.</p> + +<p>Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilight +deepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the soft +night noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day died +away. But Hilda <a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>had ears for only one sound. At length, out of the +silence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint, +clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. There +was no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs, and with it was a dim +suggestion of a rattle, a jingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer was +coming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just coming +down the stairs. "The farmer is coming," she said, hastily; "he is +almost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back—" and she was +gone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question.</p> + +<p>Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, only +stopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to put +some matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully, +and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past the +cow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was so +familiar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blind<a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>fold; and +this was well for her, for in the dense shade of the beech-plantation it +was now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caught +the tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was something +ghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerves +had been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer full +control of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to the +dog and hurried on.</p> + +<p>Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade; down the +pine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwood +at the right, and the ruined mill looming black before her. Now came the +three broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Round +the corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping +her way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily, +so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must light +the lantern before she ventured down the long <a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>flight of steps. The +match spurted, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faint +light on the immediate space around her. It only made the outer darkness +seem more intense. But no matter, she could see two steps in front of +her; and holding the lantern steadily before her, she stepped carefully +down and down, until she stood on the firm greensward of the glen. Ah! +how different everything was now from its usual aspect. The green and +gold were turned into black upon black. The laughing, dimpling, +sun-kissed water was now a black, gloomy pool, beyond which the fall +shimmered white like a water-spirit (Undine,—or was it Kühleborn, the +malignant and vengeful sprite?). The firs stood tall and gaunt, closing +like a spectral guard about the ruined mill, and pointing their long, +dark fingers in silent menace at the intruder upon their evening repose. +Hildegarde shivered again, and held her lantern tighter, remembering how +Bubble had said that the glen <a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>was "a tormentin' spooky place after +dark." She looked fearfully about her as a low wind rustled the +branches. They bent towards her as if to clutch her; an angry whisper +seemed to pass from one to the other; and an utterly unreasoning terror +fell upon the girl. She stood for a moment as if paralyzed with fear, +when suddenly the little dog gave a sharp yelp, and leaped up on her +impatiently. The sound startled her into new terror; but in a moment the +revulsion came, and she almost laughed aloud. Here was she, a great +girl, almost a woman, cowering and shivering, while a tiny puppy, who +had hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on. She patted the dog, +and "taking herself by both ears," as she expressed it afterwards, +walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle of vines and +bushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into the +vault of the mill.</p> + +<p>A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wing +that brushed it. It <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>had a mouldy smell. Holding up the lantern, +Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening. A +gruesome place it was in which she found herself. Grim enough by +daylight, it was now doubly so; for the blackness seemed like something +tangible, some shapeless monster which was gathering itself together, +and shrinking back, inch by inch, as the little spark of light moved +forward. The gaunt beams, the jagged bits of iron, bent and twisted into +fantastic shapes, stretched and thrust themselves from every side, and +again the girl fancied them fleshless arms reaching out to clutch her. +But hark! was that a sound,—a faint sound from the farthest and darkest +corner, where the great wheel raised its toothed and broken round from +the dismal pit?</p> + +<p>"Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, "are you there?"</p> + +<p>A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tiny bark, answered her, and a faint +scratching was <a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>heard. In an instant all fear left Hilda, and she sprang +forward, holding the lantern high above her head, and calling out words +of encouragement and cheer. "Courage, Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missis +is here; Missis will save you! Speak to him, Will! tell him you are +here."</p> + +<p>"Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttling about in the darkness. "Wa-ow!" +replied a pitiful squeak from the depths of the wheel-pit. Hilda reached +the edge of the pit and looked down. In one corner was a little white +bundle, which moved feebly, and wagged a piteous tail, and squeaked with +faint rapture. Evidently the little creature was exhausted, perhaps +badly injured. How should she reach him? She threw the ray of light—oh! +how dim it was, and how heavy and close the darkness pressed!—on the +side of the pit, and saw that it was a rough and jagged wall, with +stones projecting at intervals. A moment's survey satisfied her. Setting +the lantern carefully at a little distance, <a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>and bidding Will "charge" +and be still, she began the descent, feeling the way carefully with her +feet, and grasping the rough stones firmly with her hands. Down! down! +while the huge wheel towered over her, and grinned with all its rusty +teeth to see so strange a sight. At last her feet touched the soft +earth; another instant, and she had Jock in her arms, and was fondling +and caressing him, and saying all sorts of foolish things to him in her +delight. But a cry of pain from the poor puppy, even in the midst of his +frantic though feeble demonstrations of joy, told her that all was not +right; and she found that one little leg hung limp, and was evidently +broken. How should she ever get him up? For a moment she stood +bewildered; and then an idea came to her, which she has always +maintained was the only really clever one she ever had. In her +pre-occupation of mind she had forgotten all day to take off the brown +holland apron which she had worn at her work in the morning, and <a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>it was +the touch of this apron which brought her inspiration. Quick as a flash +she had it off, and tied round her neck, pinned up at both ends to form +a bag. Then she stooped again to pick up Jock, whom she had laid +carefully down while she arranged the apron. As she did so, the feeble +ray from the lantern fell on a space where the ground had been scratched +up, evidently by the puppy's paws; and in that space something shone +with a dull glitter. Hildegarde bent lower, and found what seemed to be +a small brass handle, half covered with earth. She dug the earth away +with her hands, and pulled and tugged at the handle for some time +without success; but at length the sullen soil yielded, and she +staggered back against the wheel with a small metal box in her hands. No +time now to examine the prize, be it what it might. Into the apron bag +it went, and on top of it went the puppy, yelping dismally. Then slowly, +carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and <a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>limb, Hilda +reascended the wall. Oh, but it was hard work! Her hands were already +very sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half choked +her. Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped piteously, and +struggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressed +painfully against the back of her neck. The jutting stones were far +apart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reach +the next one. But the royal blood was fully up. Queen Hildegarde set her +teeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved with +steel. At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment had +dragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground. +She drew a long breath, and hastily untying the apron from her neck, +took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried the +lantern and the iron box. Will was jumping frantically about, and trying +to reach his brother puppy, who <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>responded with squeaks of joy to his +enraptured greeting.</p> + +<p>"Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly. "Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! we +shall be at home soon now. Patience, little dog!" And Jock tried hard to +be patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball while +his mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with some +difficulty, laden with her triple burden.</p> + +<p>However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm as +fast as eager feet could carry them. Little thought had Hilda now of +spectral trees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully she hurried back, up the long +steps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing now +when the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tight +that he squeaked again. Now she saw the lights twinkling in the +farm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane and +barnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, <a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>breathless and exhausted, +but radiant. The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbed +and anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley, "we have been terribly frightened +about you. Jacob has been searching—But, good gracious, child!" she +added, breaking off hastily, "where have you been, and what have you +been doing to get yourself into such a state!"</p> + +<p>Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silent +astonishment. The girl's dress was torn and draggled, and covered with +great spots and splashes of black. Her face was streaked with dirt, her +fair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. Could this be Hilda, the +dainty, the spotless? But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, +though very pale, wore a look of triumphant delight.</p> + +<p>"I have found him!" she said, simply. "My little Jock! Simon threw him +into the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out. His <a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>leg +is broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy. Don't look so +frightened," she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wife +were fairly pale with horror; "it was not so <i>very</i> bad, after all." And +in as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble's note and of +her strange expedition.</p> + +<p>"My child! my child!" cried Dame Hartley, putting her arms round the +girl, and weeping as she did so. "How could you do such a fearful thing? +Think, if your foot had slipped you might be lying there now yourself, +in that dreadful place!" and she shuddered, putting back the tangle of +fair hair with trembling fingers.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you see, my foot <i>didn't</i> slip, Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, +gayly. "I wouldn't <i>let</i> it slip! And here I am safe and sound, so it's +really absurd for you to be frightened now, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Why in the name of the airthly didn't ye wait till I kem home, and let +me go down for <a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>ye?" demanded the farmer, who was secretly delighted +with the exploit, though he tried to look very grave.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I—I never thought of it!" said Hildegarde. "My only thought was to +get down there as quickly as possible. So I waited till I heard you +coming, for I didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone; and then—I went! +And I will not be scolded," she added quickly, "for I think I have made +a great discovery." She held one hand behind her as she spoke, and her +eyes sparkled as she fixed them on the farmer. "Dear Farmer Hartley," +she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to go +down often into the vault of the old mill?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy +of his, pokin' about thar. But what—"</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment! +Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell <a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>me that when he +was dying, your father said something about digging? Try to remember +just what he said!"</p> + +<p>The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look. +"What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, he +didn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he was +allus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fell +back on the piller, an' that was all."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebody +has been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we have +found—we have found—" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her hand +from behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried, +thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on her +knees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think—oh! I am +sure—that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly, +<i>please</i>!"<a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></p> + +<p>Now much agitated in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself to +the task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly, +and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rusted +hinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, and +slowly, unwillingly, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short and +quick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward to +look into the mysterious casket. What did she see?</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="it" id="it"></a><img src="./images/267.png" alt=""'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"" title=""'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"" /></div> +<div class='center'>"'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"</div> + +<p>At first nothing but a handkerchief,—a yellow silk handkerchief, of +curious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicely +inside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as he +said, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shaking +hand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look—and he fell back in his +chair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For the +diamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds,—<a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>some rough +and dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone the +brighter for their long imprisonment; some tinged with yellow or blue, +some with the clear white radiance which is seen in nothing else save a +dewdrop when the morning sun first strikes upon it. There they lay,—a +handful of stones, a little heap of shining crystals; but enough to pay +off the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and leave the farmer a rich man for +life.</p> + +<p>Dame Hartley was the first to rouse herself from the silent amaze into +which they had fallen. "Well, well!" she said, wiping her eyes, "the +ways of Providence are mysterious. To think of it, after all these +years! Why, Jacob! Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying, now that the +Lord, and this blessed child under Him, has taken away all your +trouble?"</p> + +<p>But the farmer, to his own great amazement, <i>was</i> crying. He sobbed +quietly once or twice, then cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes <a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>with +the old silk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father," he said, simply. "It seems +kind o' hard that nobody ever believed him, an' we let him die thinkin' +he was crazy. That takes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy, now I tell ye! +Seems like's if I'd been punished for not havin' faith, and now I git +the reward without havin' deserved it."</p> + +<p>"As if you <i>could</i> have reward enough!" cried Hildegarde, laying her +hand on his affectionately. "But, oh! do just look at them, dear Farmer +Hartley! Aren't they beautiful? But what is that peeping out of the +cotton-wool beneath? It is something red."</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cotton which lined the box, and drew +out—oh, wonderful! a chain of rubies! Each stone glowed like a living +coal as he held it up in the lamp-light. Were they rubies, or were they +drops of blood linked together by a thread of gold?</p> + +<p>"The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda.<a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a> "Oh, beautiful! beautiful! And +I <i>knew</i> it was true! I knew it all the time."</p> + +<p>The old man fixed a strange look, solemn and tender, on the girl as she +stood at his side, radiant and glowing with happiness. "She said—" his +voice trembled as he spoke, "that furrin woman—she said it was her +heart's blood as father had saved. And now it's still blood, Hildy, my +gal, our heart's blood, that goes out to you, and loves and blesses you +as if you were our own child come back from the dead." And drawing her +to him, he clasped the ruby chain round Hilda's neck.<a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE TREE-PARTY.</h3> + + +<p>Another golden day! But the days would all be golden now, thought +Hildegarde. "Oh, how different it is from yesterday!" she cried to Nurse +Lucy as she danced about the kitchen. "The sun shone yesterday, but it +did us no good. To-day it warms my heart, the good sunshine. And +yesterday the trees seemed to mock me, with all their scarlet and gold; +but to-day they are dressed up to celebrate our good fortune. Let us +call them in to rejoice with us, Nurse Lucy. Let us have a tree-party, +instead of a tea-party!"</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Dame Hartley, looking up with a puzzled smile, "what +<i>do</i> you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't mean to invite the whole forest <a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>to supper," said +Hildegarde, laughing. "But you shall see, Nurse Lucy; you shall see. +Just wait till this afternoon. I must run now over to Pink's, and tell +her all the wonderful things that have happened, and see how poor Bubble +is."</p> + +<p>Away she went like a flash, through the golden fields, down the lane, +where the maples made a flaming tent of scarlet over her head, bursting +suddenly like a whirlwind into the little cottage, where the brother and +sister, both now nearly helpless, sat waiting with pale and anxious +faces. At sight of her Pink uttered a cry of delight, while Bubble +flushed with pleasure; and both were about to pour out a flood of eager +questions, when Hilda laid her hand over Pink's mouth and made a sign to +the boy. "Two minutes to get my breath!" she cried, panting; "only two, +and then you shall hear all." She spent the two minutes in filling the +kettle and presenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that Dame +Hartley <a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>had sent him; then, sitting down by the invalid's chair, she +told from beginning to end the history of the past two days. The recital +was thrilling enough, and before it was over the pale cheeks were +crimson, and the two pairs of blue eyes blazed with excitement.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh!</i>" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless of +the sprained ankle. "Oh, I <i>say</i>, Miss Hildy! I dunno what <i>to</i> say! +Wouldn't <i>he</i> ha' liked it, though? My! 'twas jest like himself. Jes' +exactly what he'd ha' done."</p> + +<p>"What who would have done, Bubble?" asked Hilda, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy. "I was jest sayin' over the ballid +when I saw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink, say?"</p> + +<p>But Pink drew the stately head down towards her, and kissed the glowing +cheek, and whispered, "Queen Hildegarde! <i>my</i> queen!"</p> + +<p>The tears started to Hilda's eyes as she returned the kiss; but she +brushed them away, <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>and rose hastily, announcing her intention of +"setting things to rights" against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poor +dears!" she cried, "how did you manage yesterday? If I had only known, I +would have come and got dinner for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! we got on very well indeed," replied Pink, laughing, "though there +were one or two mishaps. Fortunately there was plenty of bread in the +cupboard, where we could easily reach it; and with that and the molasses +jug, we were in no danger of starvation. But Mother had left a +custard-pie on the upper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted a piece of it for +dinner. But neither of us cripples could get at it; and for a long time +we could think of no plan which would make it possible. At last Bubble +had a bright idea. You remember the big fork that Mother uses to take +pies out of the oven? Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, and +then, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of <a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a>course, +for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie. It +was a dreadful moment, Hilda! The pie slid easily on to the fork, and +for a moment all seemed to promise well; but the next minute, just as +Bubble began to lower it, he wavered on his one foot—only a little, but +enough to send the poor pie tumbling to the ground."</p> + +<p>"Poor pie!" cried Bubble. "Wal, I like that! Poor <i>me</i>, I sh'd say. I'd +had bread'n m'lasses three meals runnin', Miss Hildy. Now don't you +think that old pie might ha' come down straight?"</p> + +<p>"You should have seen his face, poor dear!" cried Pink. "He really +couldn't laugh—for almost two minutes."</p> + +<p>"Wal, I s'pose 'twas kind o' funny," the boy admitted, while Hilda +laughed merrily over the catastrophe. "But thar! when one's used to +standin' on two legs, it's dretful onhandy tryin' to stand on one. We'll +have bread and jam to-day," he added, with an <a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>affectionate glance at +the pot of marmalade, "and that's a good enough dinner for the Governor +o' the State."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you shall have more than that!" cried Hildegarde. "Nurse Lucy +does not need me before dinner, so I will get your dinner for you."</p> + +<p>So the active girl made up the fire anew, swept the floor, dusted tables +and chairs, and made the little room look tidy and cheerful, as Pink +loved to see it. Then she ran down to the cellar, and reappeared with a +basket of potatoes and a pan of rosy apples.</p> + +<p>"Now we will perform a trio!" she said. "Pink, you shall peel and core +the apples for apple-sauce, and Bubble shall pare the potatoes, while I +make biscuit and gingerbread."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, she rolled up her sleeves and set busily to work; the +others followed her example, and fingers and tongues moved ceaselessly, +in cheerful emulation of each other.<a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a></p> + +<p>"I'd like to git hold o' Simon Hartley!" said Bubble, slicing vengefully +at a big potato. "I wish't he was this tater, so I do! <i>I'd</i> skin him! +Yah! ornery critter! An' him standin' thar an' grinnin' at me over the +wall, an' I couldn't do nothin'! Seemed's though I sh'd <i>fly</i>, Miss +Hildy, it did; an' then not to be able to crawl even! I sw—I tell ye, +now, I didn't like that."</p> + +<p>"Poor Bubble!" said Hilda, compassionately, "I'm sure you didn't. And +did he really start to crawl over to the farm, Pink?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed he did!" replied Pink. "Nothing that I could say would keep him +from trying it; so I bandaged his ankle as well as I could, and off he +started. But he fainted twice before he got to the gate, so there was +nothing for it but to crawl back again, and—have the knees of his +trousers mended."</p> + +<p>"Dear boy!" said Hilda, patting the curly head affectionately. "Good, +faithful boy! I shall think a great deal more of it, Bubble, <a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>than if +you had been able to walk all the way. And, after all," she added, "I am +glad I had to do it myself,—go down to the mill, I mean. It is +something to remember! I would not have missed it."</p> + +<p>"No more wouldn't I!" cried Bubble, enthusiastically. "I'd ha' done it +for ye twenty times, ye know that, Miss Hildy; but I druther ha' hed you +do it;" and Hildegarde understood him perfectly.</p> + +<p>The simple meal prepared and set out, Hilda bade farewell to her two +friends, and flitted back to the farm. Mrs. Chirk was to return in the +evening, so she felt no further anxiety about them.</p> + +<p>She found the farmer just returned from the village in high spirits. +Squire Gaylord had examined the diamonds, pronounced them of great +value, and had readily advanced the money to pay off the mortgage, +taking two or three large stones as security. Lawyer Clinch had +reluctantly received his money, and relin<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>quished all claim upon +Hartley's Glen, though with a very bad grace.</p> + +<p>"He kind o' insinuated that the di'monds had prob'ly ben stole by Father +<i>or</i> me, he couldn't say which; and he said somethin' about inquirin' +into the matter. But Squire Gaylord shut him up pooty quick, by sayin' +thar was more things than that as might be inquired into, and if he +began, others might go on; and Lawyer Clinch hadn't nothin' more to say +after that."</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, and everything "redded up," Hildegarde sent Dame +Hartley upstairs to take a nap, and escorted the farmer as far as the +barn on his way to the turnip-field. Then, "the coast being clear," she +said to herself, "we will prepare for the tree-party."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, arming herself with a stout pruning-knife, she took her way +to the "wood-lot," which lay on the north side of the house. The +splendor of the trees, which were now in full autumnal glory, gave Hilda +a sort of rap<a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>ture as she approached them. What had she ever seen so +beautiful as this,—the shifting, twinkling myriads of leaves, blazing +with every imaginable shade of color above the black, straight trunks; +the deep, translucent blue of the sky bending above; the golden light +which transfused the whole scene; the crisp freshness of the afternoon +air? She wanted to sing, to dance, to do everything that was joyous and +free. But now she had work to do. She visited all her favorite +trees,—the purple ash, the vivid, passionate maples, the oaks in their +sober richness of murrey and crimson. On each and all she levied +contributions, cutting armful after armful, and carried them to the +house, piling them in splendid heaps on the shed-floor. Then, after +carefully laying aside a few specially perfect branches, she began the +work of decoration. Over the chimney-piece she laid great boughs of +maple, glittering like purest gold in the afternoon light, which +streamed broadly in through the <a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>windows. Others—scarlet, pink, dappled +red, and yellow—were placed over the windows, the doors, the dresser. +She filled the corners with stately oak-boughs, and made a bower of the +purple ash in the bow-window,—Faith's window. Then she set the +tea-table with the best china, every plate and dish resting on a mat of +scarlet leaves, while a chain of yellow ones outlined the shining square +board. A tiny scarlet wreath encircled the tea-kettle, and even the +butter-dish displayed its golden balls beneath an arch of flaming +crimson. This done, she filled a great glass bowl with purple-fringed +asters and long, gleaming sprays of golden-rod, and setting it in the +middle of the table, stood back with her head a little on one side and +surveyed the general effect.</p> + +<p>"Good!" was her final comment; "very good! And now for my own part."</p> + +<p>She gathered in her apron the branches first selected, and carried them +up to her own room, <a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>where she proceeded to strip off the leaves and to +fashion them into long garlands. As her busy fingers worked, her +thoughts flew hither and thither, bringing back the memories of the past +few days. Now she stood in the kitchen, pistol in hand, facing the +rascal Simon Hartley; and she laughed to think how he had shaken and +cowered before the empty weapon. Now she was in the vault of the ruined +mill, with a thousand horrors of darkness pressing on her, and only the +tiny spark of light in her lantern to keep off the black and shapeless +monsters. Now she thought of the kind farmer, with a throb of pity, as +she recalled the hopeless sadness of his face the night before. Just the +very night before, only a few hours; and now how different everything +was! Her heart gave a little happy thrill to think that she, Hilda, the +"city gal," had been able to help these dear friends in their trouble. +They loved her already, she knew that; they would love her more now. Ah! +and they <a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a>would miss her all the more, now that she must leave them so +soon.</p> + +<p>Then, like a flash, her thoughts reverted to the plan she had been +revolving in her mind two days before, before all these strange things +had happened. It was a delightful little plan! Pink was to be sent to a +New York hospital,—the very best hospital that could be found; and +Hildegarde hoped—she thought—she felt almost sure that the trouble +could be greatly helped, if not cured altogether. And then, when Pink +was well, or at least a great, great deal better, she was to come and +live at the farm, and help Nurse Lucy, and sing to the farmer, and be +all the comfort—no, not all, but nearly the comfort that Faith would +have been if she had lived. And Bubble—yes! Bubble must go to +school,—to a good school, where his bright, quick mind should learn +everything there was to learn. Papa would see to that, Hilda knew he +would. Bubble would delight Papa! And then he would go <a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>to college, and +by and by become a famous doctor, or a great lawyer, or—oh! Bubble +could be anything he chose, she was sure of it.</p> + +<p>So the girl's happy thoughts flew on through the years that were to +come, weaving golden fancies even as her fingers were weaving the gay +chains of shining leaves; but let us hope the fancy-chains, airy as they +were, were destined to become substantial realities long after the +golden wreaths had faded.</p> + +<p>But now the garlands were ready, and none too soon; for the shadows were +lengthening, and she heard Nurse Lucy downstairs, and Farmer Hartley +would be coming in soon to his tea. She took from a drawer her one white +frock, the plain lawn which had once seemed so over-plain to her, and +with the wreaths of scarlet and gold she made a very wonderful thing of +it. Fifteen minutes' careful work, and Hilda stood looking at her image +in the glass, well pleased and a little surprised; for she had <a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>been too +busy of late to think much about her looks, and had not realized how sun +and air and a free, out-door life had made her beauty blossom and glow +like a rose in mid-June. With a scarlet chaplet crowning her fair locks, +bands of gold about waist and neck and sleeves, and the whole skirt +covered with a fantastic tracery of mingled gold and fire, she was a +vision of almost startling loveliness. She gave a little happy laugh. +"Dear old Farmer!" she said, "he likes to see me fine. I think this will +please him." And light as a thistledown, the girl floated downstairs and +danced into the kitchen just as Farmer Hartley entered it from the other +side.</p> + +<p>"Highty-tighty!" cried the good man, "what's all this? Is there a fire? +Everything's all ablaze! Why, Hildy! bless my soul!" He stood in silent +delight, looking at the lovely figure before him, with its face of rosy +joy and its happy, laughing eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's a tree-party," explained Hildegarde, <a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>taking his two hands and +leading him forward. "I'm part of it, you see, Farmer Hartley. Do you +like it? Is it pretty? It's to celebrate our good fortune," she added; +and putting her arm in the old man's, she led him about the room, +pointing out the various decorations, and asking his approval.</p> + +<p>Farmer Hartley admired everything greatly, but in an absent way, as if +his mind were preoccupied with other matters. He turned frequently +towards the door, as if he expected some one to follow him. "All for +me?" he kept asking. "All for me and Marm Lucy, Hildy? Ye—ye ain't +expectin' nobody else to tea, now?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hilda, wondering. "Of course not. Who else is there to come? +Bubble has sprained his ankle, you know, and Pink—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said the farmer, still with that backward +glance at the door. And then, as he heard some noise in the yard, he +added hurriedly: "At the same <a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>time, ye know, Hildy, people do sometimes +drop in to tea—kind o' onexpected-like, y' understand. And—and—all +this pretty show might—might seem to—indicate, ye see—"</p> + +<p>"Jacob Hartley? what are you up to?" demanded Nurse Lucy, rather +anxiously, as she stood at the shed-door watching him intently. "Does +your head feel dizzy? You'd better go and lie down; you've had too much +excitement for a man of—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy?" cried the farmer, with a sigh of relief that +was half a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tell Hildy that folks does sometimes +drop in—onexpected-like—folks from a <i>con</i>sid'able distance sometimes. +Why, I've known 'em—" But here he stopped suddenly. And as Hilda, +expecting she knew not what, stood with hands clasped together, and +beating heart, the door was thrown open and a strong, cheery voice +cried, "Well, General!" Another moment, and she was clasped in her +father's arms.<a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_LAST_WORD" id="THE_LAST_WORD"></a>THE LAST WORD.</h2> + + +<p>The lovely autumn is gone, and winter is here. Mr. and Mrs. Graham have +long since been settled at home, and Hildegarde is with them. How does +it fare with her, the new Hildegarde, under the old influences and amid +the old surroundings? For answer, let us take the word of her oldest +friend,—the friend who "<i>knows</i> Hildegarde!" Madge Everton has just +finished a long letter to Helen McIvor, who is spending the winter in +Washington, and there can be no harm in our taking a peep into it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"You ask me about Hilda Graham; but, <i>alas!</i> I have +<span class="smcap">nothing</span> pleasant to tell. My dear, Hilda is simply +<span class="smcap">lost</span> to us! It is all the result of that <i>dreadful</i> +summer spent among <i>swineherds</i>. You know what the Bible +says! I don't know exactly <i>what</i>, but some<a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a>thing <i>terrible</i> +about that sort of thing. Of course it is <i>partly</i> her +mother's influence as well. I have always <span class="smcap">dreaded</span> +it for Hilda, who is so <i>sensitive</i> to <i>impressions</i>. Why, I +remember, as far back as the first year that we were at Mme. +Haut-Ton's, Mrs. Graham saying to Mamma, 'I wish we could +interest our girls a little in <i>sensible</i> things!' My dear, +she meant <i>hospitals</i> and <i>soup-kitchens</i> and things! And +Mamma said (you know Mamma isn't in the <i>least</i> afraid of +Mrs. Graham, though I confess I <span class="smcap">am</span>!), 'My <i>dear</i> +Mrs. Graham, if there is <i>one</i> thing Society will +<span class="smcap">not</span> tolerate, it is a <i>sensible</i> woman. Our girls +might as well have the small-pox at once, and be done with +it.' Wasn't it <i>clever</i> of Mamma? And Mrs. Graham just +<span class="smcap">looked</span> at her as if she were a <i>camel</i> from +<i>Barnum's</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well, poor Hildegarde is sensible enough <i>now</i> to satisfy +<i>even</i> her mother. Ever since she came home from that +<i>odious</i> place, it has been one round of hospitals and +tenement-houses and <i>sloughs of horror</i>. I don't mean that +she has given up school, for she is studying harder than +ever; but out of school she is simply <i>swallowed up</i> by +these wretched things. I have remonstrated with her <i>almost</i> +on my <span class="smcap">knees</span>. 'Hildegarde,' I said one day, 'do you +<span class="smcap">realize</span> that you are practically <i>giving up</i> your +<i>whole</i> <span class="smcap">life</span>? If you once <i>lose your place</i> in +Society among those of your <i>own age</i> and <i>position</i>, you +NEVER can regain it. Do you<a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a> <span class="smcap">realize</span> this, Hilda? +for I feel it a <span class="smcap">solemn duty</span> to <i>warn</i> you!' My +dear, she actually <span class="smcap">laughed</span>! and only said, 'Dear +Madge, I have only just begun to have any life!' And that +was <i>all</i> I could get out of her, for just then some one +came in. But even <i>this</i> is not <i>the worst</i>! Oh, Helen! she +has some of the <i>creatures</i> whom she saw this summer, +actually <i>staying</i> in the house,—in <span class="smcap">that</span> house, +which we used to call Castle Graham, and were almost afraid +to enter ourselves, so stately and beautiful it was! There +are two of these creatures,—a girl about our age, some sort +of dreadful cripple, who goes about in a bath-chair, and a +freckled imp of a boy. The girl is at —— Hospital for +treatment, but spends <i>every Sunday</i> at the Grahams', and +Hilda devotes <i>most</i> of her spare time to her. The boy is at +school,—one of the <i>best</i> schools in the city. 'But <i>who</i> +are these people?' I hear you cry. My dear! they are simply +<i>ignorant paupers</i>, who were Hilda's constant companions +through that <i>disastrous summer</i>. Now their mother is dead, +and the people with whom Hilda stayed have adopted them. The +boy is to be a doctor, and the girl is going to get well, +Dr. George says. (<i>He</i> calls her a beautiful and interesting +creature; but you know what <i>that</i> means. <i>Any diseased</i> +creature is beautiful to <i>him</i>!) Well, and <span class="smcap">these</span>, +my dear Helen, are Hilda Graham's <span class="smcap">friends</span>, for whom +she has <i>deserted</i> her <span class="smcap">old</span> <i>ones</i>! for though she +is <i>unchanged</i> towards me when I see her, I hardly<a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a> ever +<i>do</i> see her. She cares nothing for <i>my</i> pursuits, and I +certainly have <span class="smcap">no</span> intention of joining in <i>hers</i>. I +met her the other day on <i>Fifth Avenue</i>, walking beside that +<i>odious</i> bath-chair, which the freckled boy was pushing. She +looked so <i>lovely</i> (for she is prettier than ever, with a +fine color and eyes like <i>stars</i>), and was talking so +earnestly, and walking somehow as if she were treading on +air, it sent a <span class="smcap">pang</span> through my heart. I just paused +an instant (for though I <i>trust</i> I am not <span class="smcap">snobbish</span>, +Helen, still, I <i>draw the line</i> at bath-chairs, and will +<i>not</i> be seen standing by one), and said in a low tone, +meant <i>only</i> for <i>her ear</i>, 'Ah! has <i>Queen Hildegarde</i> come +to <i>this</i>?' My dear, she only <span class="smcap">laughed</span>! But that +<i>girl</i>, that cripple, looked up with a smile and a sort of +flash over her face, and said, just as if she <i>knew</i> me, +'Yes, Miss Everton! the Queen has come to her kingdom!'"</p></div> + + +<h2>THE END</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a></p> +<h2>Selections from</h2> +<h2>The Page Company's</h2> +<h2>Books for Young People</h2> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>THE BLUE BONNET SERIES</h3> + +<p><i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> $1.75</p> + + +<div><b>A TEXAS BLUE BONNET</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs</span>.</p> + +<p>"The book's heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, +honest, lively girlishness."—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read</span>.</p> + +<p>"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."—<i>Boston +Transcript.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards</span>.</p> + +<p>"It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many +human touches."—<i>Boston Globe.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards</span>.</p> + +<p>"It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens."—<i>New +York Sun.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>BLUE BONNET—DÉBUTANTE</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span>.</p> + +<p>An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS</b></div> + +<p>By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span>.</p> + +<p>"The author's intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader an +interesting story of the heroine's war activities."—<i>Pittsburgh +Leader.</i><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div><b>ONLY HENRIETTA</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">By Lela Horn Richards.</span></p> + +<p>Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90</p> + +<p>"It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl—a +story in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth of +delicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of young +and old."—<i>Pittsburgh Leader.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE: A Sequel to "Only Henrietta"</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">By Lela Horn Richards.</span></p> + +<p>Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90</p> + +<p>"One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. The +life of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in the +narrative to balance the delightful characterization."—<i>Providence +Journal.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE YOUNG KNIGHT</b></div> + +<p>By I.M.B. of K.</p> + +<p>Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75</p> + +<p>The clash of broad-sword on buckler, the twanging of bow-strings and the +cracking of spears splintered by whirling maces resound through this +stirring tale of knightly daring-do.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE YOUNG CAVALIERS</b></div> + +<p>By I.M.B. of K.</p> + +<p>Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75</p> + +<p>"There have been many scores of books written about the Charles Stuarts +of England, but never a merrier and more pathetic one than 'The Young +Cavaliers.'"—<i>Family Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"The story moves quickly, and every page flashes a new thrill before the +reader, with plenty of suspense and excitement. There is valor, +affection, romance, chivalry and humor in this fascinating +tale."—<i>Kansas City Kansan.</i><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES</h2> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Alice E. Allen</span></h4> + +<div class='center'><i>Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume</i> $1.50</div> + + +<div><b>JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY</b></div> + +<p>These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, +combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from young +people for these two particular tales.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy</b></div> + +<p>"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human +nature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings."—<i>New York +Standard.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL</b></div> + +<p>A sequel to "Joe, the Circus boy," and "The Martie Twins."<br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS: +Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl.</b></div> + +<p>"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins her +little folk right down to this life of ours, in which she ranges +vigorously and delightfully."—<i>Boston Ideas.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch</b></div> + +<p>"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells them +stories that never fail to charm."—<i>Madison Courier.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>MARJORY'S DISCOVERY</b></div> + +<p>This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable and +original as any of the other creations of this writer of charming +stories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy +minded Joe and sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the +entire summer, in which all of the characters of the previous +MARJORY-JOE stories participate, and their happy times are delightfully +depicted.<a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES</h2> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Harrison Adams</span></h4> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Young Pioneer Series"> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i></td><td align='left'>$1.65</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, Clearing the Wilderness.</span></p> + +<p>"Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the +young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer +ancestors and the early days of the Republic."—<i>Boston Globe.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, On the Trail of the Iroquois.</span></p> + +<p>"The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interesting +but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which +these days of self-reliance and trial produced."—<i>American Tourist, +Chicago.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, The Homestead in the Wilderness.</span></p> + +<p>"The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."—<i>New York +Sun.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, In the Country of the Sioux.</span></p> + +<p>"Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, true +to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for +boys."—<i>Watchman Examiner, New York City.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, Lost in the Land of Wonders.</span></p> + +<p>"There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well +told."—<i>Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA;</b></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest.</span></p> + +<p>"The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable +historical information."—<i>Boston Herald.</i><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>THE FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES</h2> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Harriet Lummis Smith</span></h4> + +<div class='center'><i>Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume</i> +$1.75<br /><br /></div> + + +<div><b>THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE</b></div> + +<p>"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knits +hearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle to +try carrying them out, and most of all it proves that in daily life, +threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the +most ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger +than the most thrilling fiction."—<i>Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young +People's Weekly, Chicago.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION</b></div> + +<p>"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. +It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten the +day."—<i>Utica, N.Y., Observer.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS</b></div> + +<p>"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, +natural development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone."—<i>The +Christian Register, Boston.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE</b></div> + +<p>"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most +delightful narrative, especially for young people. It will also make the +older readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live +again in the days of their youth."—<i>Troy Budget.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY</b></div> + +<p>"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesome +incidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion and +leader."—<i>World of Books.</i></p> + +<p>"It possesses a plot of much merit and through its 324 pages it weaves a +tale of love and of adventure which ranks it among the best books for +girls."—<i>Cohoe-American.</i><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES</h2> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Charles H.L. Johnston</span></h4> + +<div class='center'><i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> $2.00</div> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS</b></div> + +<p>"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers +with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."—<i>New York +Sun.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS</b></div> + +<p>"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of +battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whites +for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United States +History."—<i>New York Marine Journal.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS SCOUTS</b></div> + +<p>"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys +and young men."—<i>New London Day.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA</b></div> + +<p>"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, +stirring the blood with thrilling force."-<i>Pittsburgh Post.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER</b></div> + +<p>"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a +book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual +adventure."—<i>Cleveland Leader.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA</b></div> + +<p>"The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures of +which the world has known."—<i>Brooklyn Daily Eagle.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR</b></div> + +<p>Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory.</p> + +<p>"The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its unreality. +The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history of the World +War."—<i>Rochester Post Express.</i><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a><br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES (Con.)</h2> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Edwin Wildman</span></h4> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—First Series</b></div> + +<p>"Are these stories interesting? Let a boy read them; and tell +you."—<i>Boston Transcript.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—Second Series</b></div> + +<p>"As fascinating as fiction are these biographies, which emphasize their +humble beginning and drive home the truth that just as every soldier of +Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every American +youngster carries potential success under his hat."—<i>New York World.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution to +the Monroe Doctrine)</b></div> + +<p>"How can one become acquainted with the histories of some of the famous +men of the United States? A very good way is to read 'The Founders of +America,' by Edwin Wildman, wherein the life stories of fifteen men who +founded our country are told"—<i>New York Post.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War +to Today)</b></div> + +<p>"An informing, interesting and inspiring book for boys."—<i>Presbyterian +Banner.</i></p> + +<p>" ... Is a book that should be read by every boy in the whole +country...."—<i>Atlanta Constitution.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS</b></div> + +<p>With a complete index.</p> + +<h4>By <span class="smcap">Charles Lee Lewis</span></h4> + +<div class='center'><i>Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis</i></div> + +<p>"Professor Lewis does not make the mistake of bringing together simply a +collection of biographical sketches. In connection with the life of John +Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and other famous naval officers, he groups +the events of the period in which the officer distinguished himself, and +combines the whole into a colorful and stirring narrative."—<i>Boston +Herald.</i><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Evaleen Stein Stories"> +<tr><td align='left'>Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, with a jacket in color</td> +<td align='right'>$1.65</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div><b>THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER</b></div> + +<p>This story happened many hundreds of years ago in the quaint Flemish +city of Bruges and concerns a little girl named Karen, who worked at +lace-making with her aged grandmother.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK</b></div> + +<p>"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir +the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so +admirably told by this author."—<i>Louisville Daily Courier.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE</b></div> + +<p>"The story should be one of the influences in the life of every child to +whom good stories can be made to appeal."—<i>Public Ledger.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY</b></div> + +<p>"This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth of interest +coupled with enlivening descriptions of the country where its scenes are +laid and of the people thereof"—<i>Wilmington Every Evening.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY</b></div> + +<p>"The stories are music in prose—they are like pearls on a chain of +gold—each word seems exactly the right word in the right place; the +stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed."—<i>The +Lafayette Leader.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div><b>PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night</b></div> + +<p>"This retelling of an old Twelfth Night romance is a creation almost as +perfect as her 'Christmas Porringer.'"—<i>Lexington Herald.</i><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Queen Hildegarde, by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + +***** This file should be named 16473-h.htm or 16473-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/7/16473/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Queen Hildegarde + +Author: Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16473] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + +QUEEN HILDEGARDE + +BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + + * * * * * + +Each 1 volume, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1.75 + + Star Bright + Captain January + +The above volumes boxed as a set, $3.50 + + +STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS + +Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated + + Five Minute Stories $1.75 + More Five Minute Stories 1.75 + Three Minute Stories 1.75 + A Happy Little Time 1.75 + Four Feet, Two Feet, No Feet 2.75 + When I Was Your Age 1.75 + + +THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES + + Captain January $1.00 + Melody 1.00 + +Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents + + Jim of Hellas + Marie + Rosin the Beau + Snow-white + Narcissa + "Some Day" + Nautilus + Isla Heron + The Little Master + + Captain January--_Baby Peggy Edition_ $2.50 + + +HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES + +Each, one volume, illustrated, $1.75 + + Queen Hildegarde + Hildegarde's Holiday + Hildegarde's Home + Hildegarde's Neighbors + Hildegarde's Harvest + Three Margarets + Margaret Montfort + Peggy + Rita + Fernley House + The Merryweathers + +The above eleven volumes are also boxed as a set, $19.25 + + * * * * * + + Honor Bright $1.75 + Honor Bright's New Adventure 1.75 + The Armstrongs 1.50 + The Green Satin Gown 1.50 + + * * * * * + + L.C. PAGE & COMPANY (Inc.) + 53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. + +[Illustration: "SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS."] + + + + +_THE HILDEGARDE SERIES_ + +Queen Hildegarde + +A STORY FOR GIRLS + +BY + +LAURA E. RICHARDS + +Author of + +"The Margaret Series," "The Hildegarde Series," "Captain January," +"Melody," "Five Minute Stories," etc. + +_ILLUSTRATED_ + +[Illustration] + +THE PAGE COMPANY BOSTON . PUBLISHERS + + _Copyright, 1889, by_ + THE PAGE COMPANY + Copyright renewed, 1917 + + Made in U.S.A. + + Thirty-second Impression, August, 1927 + + THE COLONIAL PRESS + C.H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U.S.A. + + + + + TO + + MY BELOVED SISTER, + + =Maud Howe Elliott.= + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM 9 + + II. DAME AND FARMER 31 + + III. THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR 49 + + IV. THE NEW HILDA 73 + + V. THE BLUE PLATTER 94 + + VI. HARTLEY'S GLEN 111 + + VII. PINK CHIRK 135 + +VIII. THE LETTER 160 + + IX. THE OLD CAPTAIN 178 + + X. A PARTY OF PLEASURE 198 + + XI. THE WARRIOR QUEEN 218 + + XII. THE OLD MILL 237 + +XIII. THE TREE-PARTY 272 + + THE LAST WORD 289 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + PAGE + +"SHE GLANCED INTO THE LONG CHEVAL-GLASS" + (_See page 32_) _Frontispiece_ + +"SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM" 47 + +"SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS" 89 + +"SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS" 117 + +"THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE" 155 + +"'SAY, MISS HILDY,--DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'" 205 + +"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK" 227 + +"'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'" 267 + + + + +QUEEN HILDEGARDE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM. + + +"And have you decided what is to become of Hilda?" asked Mrs. Graham. + +"Hilda?" replied her husband, in a tone of surprise, "Hilda? why, she +will go with us, of course. What else should become of the child? She +will enjoy the trip immensely, I have no doubt." + +Mrs. Graham sighed and shook her head. "I fear that is impossible, dear +George!" she said. "To tell the truth, I am a little anxious about +Hilda; she is not at all well. I don't mean that she is actually _ill_," +she added quickly, as Mr. Graham looked up in alarm, "but she seems +languid and dispirited, has no appetite, and is inclined to be +fretful,--an unusual thing for her." + +"Needs a change!" said Mr. Graham, shortly. "Best thing for her. Been +studying too hard, I suppose, and eating caramels. If I could discover +the man who invented that pernicious sweetmeat, I would have him +hanged!--hanged, madam!" + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't, dear!" said his wife, laughing softly; "I think +his life would be quite safe. But about Hilda now! She _does_ need a +change, certainly; but is the overland journey in July just the right +kind of change for her, do you think?" + +Mr. Graham frowned, ran his fingers through his hair, drummed on the +table, and then considered his boots attentively. "Well--no!" he said at +last, reluctantly. "I--suppose--not. But what _can_ we do with her? Send +her to Fred and Mary at the seashore?" + +"To sleep in a room seven by twelve, and be devoured by mosquitoes, and +have to wear 'good clothes' all the time?" returned Mrs. Graham. +"Certainly not." + +"Aunt Emily is going to the mountains," suggested Mr. Graham, +doubtfully. + +"Yes," replied his wife, "with sixteen trunks, a maid, a footman, and +three lapdogs! _That_ would _never_ do for Hilda." + +"You surely are not thinking of leaving her alone here with the +servants?" + +The lady shook her head. "No, dear; such poor wits as Heaven granted me +are not yet entirely gone, thank you!" + +Mr. Graham rose from his chair and flung out both arms in a manner +peculiar to him when excited. "Now, now, now, Mildred!" he said +impressively, "I have always said that you were a good woman, and I +shall continue to assert the same; but you have powers of tormenting +that could not be surpassed by the most heartless of your sex. It is +perfectly clear, even to my darkened mind, that you have some plan for +Hilda fully matured and arranged in that scheming little head of yours; +so what is your object in keeping me longer in suspense? Out with it, +now! What are you--for of course I am in reality only a cipher (a +tolerably large cipher) in the sum--what are you, the commander-in-chief, +going to do with Hilda, the lieutenant-general? If you will kindly +inform the orderly-sergeant, he will act accordingly, and endeavor to +do his duty." + +Pretty Mrs. Graham laughed again, and looked up at the six-feet-two of +sturdy manhood standing on the hearth-rug, gazing at her with eyes which +twinkled merrily under the fiercely frowning brows. "You are a very +_dis_orderly-sergeant, dear!" she said. "Just look at your hair! It +looks as if all the four winds had been blowing through it--" + +"Instead of all the ten fingers _going_ through it," interrupted her +husband. "Never mind my hair; that is not the point. +_What_--do--you--propose--to--do--with--your daughter--Hildegarde, or +Hildegardis, as it should properly be written?" + +"Well, dear George," said the commander-in-chief (she was a very small +woman and a very pretty one, though she had a daughter "older than +herself," as her husband said; and she wore a soft lilac gown, and had +soft, wavy brown hair, and was altogether very pleasant to look +at)--"well, dear George, the truth is, I _have_ a little plan, which I +should like very much to carry out, if you fully approve of it." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Graham, tossing his "tempestuous locks" again, "ho! I +thought as much. _If_ I approve, eh, little madam? Better say, whether I +approve or not." + +So saying, the good-natured giant sat himself down again, and listened +while his wife unfolded her plan; and what the plan was, we shall see by +and by. Meanwhile let us take a peep at Hilda, or Hildegardis, as she +sits in her own room, all unconscious of the plot which is hatching in +the parlor below. She is a tall girl of fifteen. Probably she has +attained her full height, for she looks as if she had been growing too +fast; her form is slender, her face pale, with a weary look in the large +gray eyes. It is a delicate, high-bred face, with a pretty nose, +slightly "tip-tilted," and a beautiful mouth; but it is half-spoiled by +the expression, which is discontented, if not actually peevish. If we +lifted the light curling locks of fair hair which lie on her forehead, +we should see a very decided frown on a broad white space which ought to +be absolutely smooth. Why should a girl of fifteen frown, especially a +girl so "exceptionally fortunate" as all her friends considered Hilda +Graham? Certainly her surroundings at this moment are pretty enough to +satisfy any girl. The room is not large, but it has a sunny bay-window +which seems to increase its size twofold. In re-furnishing it a year +before, her father had in mind Hilda's favorite flower, the +forget-me-not, and the room is simply a bower of forget-me-nots. +Scattered over the dull olive ground of the carpet, clustering and +nodding from the wall-paper, peeping from the folds of the curtains, the +forget-me-nots are everywhere. Even the creamy surface of the toilet-jug +and bowl, even the ivory backs of the brushes that lie on the +blue-covered toilet table, bear each its cluster of pale-blue blossoms; +while the low easy-chair in which the girl is reclining, and the pretty +sofa with its plump cushions inviting to repose, repeat the same tale. +The tale is again repeated, though in a different way, by a scroll +running round the top of the wall, on which in letters of blue and gold +is written at intervals: "Ne m'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!" "Non +ti scordar!" and the same sentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin, +Greek, and Hebrew, of all which tongues the fond father possessed +knowledge. + +Is not this indeed a bower, wherein a girl ought to be happy? the bird +in the window thinks his blue and gold cage the finest house in the +world, and sings as heartily and cheerily as if he had been in the wide +green forest; but his mistress does not sing. She sits in the +easy-chair, with a book upside-down in her lap, and frowns,--actually +frowns, in a forget-me-not bower! There is not much the matter, really. +Her head aches, that is all. Her German lesson has been longer and +harder than usual, and her father was quite right about the caramels; +there is a box of them on the table now, within easy reach of the slim +white hand with its forget-me-not ring of blue turquoises. (I do not +altogether agree with Mr. Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but I +should heartily like to burn all his wares. Fancy a great mountain of +caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glaces piled up in Union +Square, for example, and blazing away merrily,--that is, if the things +would burn, which is more than doubtful. How the maidens would weep and +wring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled and fed the +flames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it is +a pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do you +see?) + +As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parents +were concocting. She knew that her father was obliged to go to San +Francisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousin +who had recently died there, and that her mother and--as she +supposed--herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to the +widow, an invalid with three little children. As to the idea of her +being left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journey +without his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her only +child, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the day +of her birth,--such a thought never came into Hilda's mind. Wherever her +parents went she went, as a matter of course. So it had always been, and +so without doubt it always would be. She did not care specially about +going to California at this season of the year,--in fact she had told +her bosom friend, Madge Everton, only the day before, that it was +"rather a bore," and that she should have preferred to go to Newport. +"But what would you?" she added, with the slightest shrug of her pretty +shoulders. "Papa and mamma really must go, it appears; so of course I +must go too." + +"A bore!" repeated Madge energetically, replying to the first part of +her friend's remarks. "Hilda, what a _very_ singular girl you are! Here +I, or Nelly, or _any_ of the other girls would give both our ears, and +our front teeth too, to make such a trip; and just because you _can_ go, +you sit there and call it 'a bore!'" And Madge shook her black curls, +and opened wide eyes of indignation and wonder at our ungrateful +heroine. "I only wish," she added, "that you and I could be changed into +each other, just for this summer." + +"I wish--" began Hilda; but she checked herself in her response to the +wish, as the thought of Madge's five brothers rose in her mind (Hilda +could not endure boys!), looked attentively at the toe of her little +bronze slipper for a few moments, and then changed the subject by +proposing a walk. "Console yourself with the caramels, my fiery Madge," +she said, pushing the box across the table, "while I put on my boots. We +will go to Maillard's and get some more while we are out. His caramels +are decidedly better than Huyler's; don't you think so!" + +A very busy woman was pretty Mrs. Graham during the next two weeks. +First she made an expedition into the country "to see an old friend," +she said, and was gone two whole days. And after that she was out every +morning, driving hither and thither, from shop to dressmaker, from +dressmaker to milliner, from milliner to shoemaker. + +"It is a sad thing," Mr. Graham would say, when his wife fluttered in +to lunch, breathless and exhausted and half an hour late (she, the most +punctual of women!),--"it is a sad thing to have married a comet by +mistake, thinking it was a woman. How did you find the other planets +this morning, my dear? Is it true that Saturn has lost one of his rings? +and has the Sun recovered from his last attack of spots? I really fear," +he would add, turning to Hilda, "that this preternatural activity in +your comet-parent portends some alarming change in the--a--atmospheric +phenomena, my child. I would have you on your guard!" and then he would +look at her and sigh, shake his head, and apply himself to the cold +chicken with melancholy vigor. + +Hilda thought nothing of her father's remarks,--papa was always talking +nonsense, and she thought she always understood him perfectly. It did +occur to her, however, to wonder at her mother's leaving her out on all +her shopping expeditions. Hilda rather prided herself on her skill in +matching shades and selecting fabrics, and mamma was generally glad of +her assistance in all such matters. However, perhaps it was only +under-clothing and house-linen, and such things that she was buying. All +that was the prosy part of shopping. It was the poetry of it that Hilda +loved,--the shimmer of silk and satin, the rich shadows in velvet, the +cool, airy fluttering of lawn and muslin and lace. So the girl went on +her usual way, finding life a little dull, a little tiresome, and most +people rather stupid, but everything on the whole much as usual, if her +head only would not ache so; and it was without a shadow of suspicion +that she obeyed one morning her mother's summons to come and see her in +her dressing-room. + +Mr. Graham always spoke of his wife's dressing-room as "the citadel." It +was absolutely impregnable, he said. In the open field of the +drawing-room or the broken country of the dining-room it might be +possible--he had never known such a thing to occur, but still it _might_ +be possible--for the commander-in-chief to sustain a defeat; but once +intrenched behind the walls of the citadel, horse, foot, and dragoons +might storm and charge upon her, but they could not gain an inch. Not an +inch, sir! True it was that Mrs. Graham always felt strongest in this +particular room. She laughed about it, but acknowledged the fact. Here, +on the wall, hung a certain picture which was always an inspiration to +her. Here, on the shelf above her desk, were the books of her heart, the +few tried friends to whom she turned for help and counsel when things +puzzled her. (Mrs. Graham was never disheartened. She didn't believe +there was such a word. She was only "puzzled" sometimes, until she saw +her way and her duty clear before her, and then she went straight +forward, over a mountain or through a stone wall, as the case might +be.) Here, in the drawer of her little work-table, were some relics,--a +tiny, half-worn shoe, a little doll, a sweet baby face laughing from an +ivory frame: the insignia of her rank in the great order of sorrowing +mothers; and these, perhaps, gave her that great sympathy and tenderness +for all who were in trouble which drew all sad hearts towards her. + +And so, on this occasion, the little woman had sat for a few moments +looking at the pictured face on the wall, with its mingled majesty and +sweetness; had peeped into the best-beloved of all books, and said a +little prayer, as was her wont when "puzzled," before she sent the +message to Hilda,--for she knew that she must sorely hurt and grieve the +child who was half the world to her; and though she did not flinch from +the task, she longed for strength and wisdom to do it in the kindest and +wisest way. + +"Hilda, dear," she said gently, when they were seated together on the +sofa, hand in hand, with each an arm round the other's waist, as they +loved best to sit,--"Hilda, dear, I have something to say that will not +please you; something that may even grieve you very much at first." She +paused, and Hilda rapidly reviewed in her mind all the possibilities +that she could think of. Had anything happened to the box of French +dresses which was on its way from Paris? Had a careless servant broken +the glass of her fernery again? Had Aunt Emily been saying disagreeable +things about her, as she was apt to do? She was about to speak, but at +that moment, like a thunderbolt, the next words struck her ear: "We have +decided not to take you with us to California." Amazed, wounded, +indignant, Hilda could only lift her great gray eyes to meet the soft +violet ones which, full of unshed tears, were fixed tenderly upon her. +Mrs. Graham continued: "Your father and I both feel, my darling, that +this long, fatiguing journey, in the full heat of summer, would be the +worst possible thing for you. You have not been very well lately, and it +is most important that you should lead a quiet, regular, healthy life +for the next few months. We have therefore made arrangements to leave +you--" + +But here Hilda could control herself no longer. "Mamma! mamma!" she +cried. "How can you be so unkind, so cruel? Leave me--you and papa both? +Why, I shall die! Of course I shall die, all alone in this great house. +I thought you loved me!" and she burst into tears, half of anger, half +of grief, and sobbed bitterly. + +"Dear child!" said Mrs. Graham, smoothing the fair hair lovingly, "if +you had heard me out, you would have seen that we had no idea of leaving +you alone, or of leaving you in this house either. You are to stay +with--" + +"Not with Aunt Emily!" cried the girl, springing to her feet with +flashing eyes. "Mamma, I would rather beg in the streets than stay with +Aunt Emily. She is a detestable, ill-natured, selfish woman." + +"Hildegarde," said Mrs. Graham gravely, "be silent!" There was a moment +of absolute stillness, broken only by the ticking of the little crystal +clock on the mantelpiece, and then Mrs. Graham continued: "I must ask +you not to speak again, my daughter, until I have finished what I have +to say; and even then, I trust you will keep silence until you are able +to command yourself. You are to stay with my old nurse, Mrs. Hartley, at +her farm near Glenfield. She is a very kind, good woman, and will take +the best possible care of you. I went to the farm myself last week, and +found it a lovely place, with every comfort, though no luxuries, save +the great one of a free, healthy, natural life. There, my Hilda, we +shall leave you, sadly indeed, and yet feeling that you are in good and +loving hands. And I feel very sure," she added in a lighter tone, "that +by the time we return, you will be a rosy-cheeked country lass, strong +and hearty, with no more thought of headaches, and no wrinkle in your +forehead." As she ceased speaking, Mrs. Graham drew the girl close to +her, and kissed the white brow tenderly, murmuring: "God bless my +darling daughter! If she knew how her mother's heart aches at parting +with her!" But Hilda did not know. She was too angry, too bewildered, +too deeply hurt, to think of any one except herself. She felt that she +could not trust herself to speak, and it was in silence, and without +returning her mother's caress, that she rose and sought her own room. + +Mrs. Graham looked after her wistfully, tenderly, but made no effort to +call her back. The tears trembled in her soft blue eyes, and her lip +quivered as she turned to her work-table; but she said quietly to +herself: "Solitude is a good medicine. The child will do well, and I +know that I have chosen wisely for her." + +Bitter tears did Hildegarde shed as she flung herself face downward on +her own blue sofa. Angry thoughts surged through her brain. Now she +burned with resentment at the parents who could desert her,--their only +child; now she melted into pity for herself, and wept more and more as +she pictured the misery that lay before her. To be left +alone--_alone!_--on a squalid, wretched farm, with a dirty old woman, a +woman who had been a servant,--she, Hildegardis Graham, the idol of her +parents, the queen of her "set" among the young people, the proudest and +most exclusive girl in New York, as she had once (and not with +displeasure) heard herself called! + +What would Madge Everton, what would all the girls say! How they would +laugh, to hear of Hilda Graham living on a farm among pigs and hens and +dirty people! Oh! it was intolerable; and she sprang up and paced the +floor, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. + +The thought of opposing the plan did not occur to her. Mrs. Graham's +rule, gentle though it was, was not of the flabby, nor yet of the +elastic sort. Her decisions were not hastily arrived at; but once made, +they were final and abiding. "You might just as well try to oppose the +Gulf Stream!" Mr. Graham would say. "They do it sometimes with icebergs, +and what is the result? In a few days the great clumsy things are bowing +and scraping and turning somersaults, and fairly jostling each other in +their eagerness to obey the guidance of the insidious current. Insidious +Current, will you allow a cup of coffee to drift in my direction? I +shall be only too happy to turn a somersault if it will afford +you--thanks!--the smallest gratification." + +So Hildegarde's first lessons had been in obedience and in truthfulness; +and these were fairly well learned before she began her ABC. And so she +knew now, that she might storm and weep as she would in her own room, +but that the decree was fixed, and that unless the skies fell, her +summer would be passed at Hartley's Glen. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +DAME AND FARMER. + + +When the first shock was over, Hilda was rather glad than otherwise to +learn that there was to be no delay in carrying out the odious plan. +"The sooner the better," she said to herself. "I certainly don't want to +see any of the girls again, and the first plunge will be the worst of +it." + +"What clothes am I to take?" she asked her mother, in a tone which she +mentally denominated "quiet and cold," though possibly some people might +have called it "sullen." + +"Your clothes are already packed, dear," replied Mrs. Graham; "you have +only to pack your dressing-bag, to be all ready for the start to-morrow. +See, here is your trunk, locked and strapped, and waiting for the +porter's shoulder;" and she showed Hilda a stout, substantial-looking +trunk, bearing the initials H.G. + +"But, mamma," Hilda began, wondering greatly, "my dresses are all +hanging in my wardrobe." + +"Not all of them, dear!" said her mother, smiling. "Hark! papa is +calling you. Make haste and go down, for dinner is ready." + +Wondering more and more, Hildegarde made a hasty toilet, putting on the +pretty pale blue cashmere dress which her father specially liked, with +silk stockings to match, and dainty slippers of bronze kid. As she +clasped the necklace of delicate blue and silver Venetian beads which +completed the costume, she glanced into the long cheval-glass which +stood between the windows, and could not help giving a little approving +nod to her reflection. Though not a great beauty, Hildegarde was +certainly a remarkably pretty and even distinguished-looking girl; and +"being neither blind nor a fool," she soliloquized, "where is the harm +in acknowledging it?" But the next moment the thought came: "What +difference will it make, in a stupid farm-house, whether I am pretty or +not? I might as well be a Hottentot!" and with the "quiet and cold" look +darkening over her face, she went slowly down stairs. + +Her father met her with a kiss and clasp of the hand even warmer than +usual. + +"Well, General!" he said, in a voice which insisted upon being cheery, +"marching orders, eh? Marching orders! Break up camp! boot, saddle, to +horse and away! Forces to march in different directions, by order of the +commander-in-chief." But the next moment he added, in an altered tone: +"My girl, mamma knows best; remember that! She is right in this move, as +she generally is. Cheer up, darling, and let us make the last evening a +happy one!" + +Hilda tried to smile, for who _could_ be angry with papa? She made a +little effort, and the father and mother made a great one,--_how_ great +she could not know; and so the evening passed, better than might have +been expected. + +The evening passed, and the night, and the next day came; and it was +like waking from a strange dream when Hilda found herself in a railway +train, with her father sitting beside her, and her mother's farewell +kiss yet warm on her cheek, speeding over the open country, away from +home and all that she held most dear. Her dressing-bag, with her +umbrella neatly strapped to it, was in the rack overhead, the check for +her trunk in her pocket. Could it all be true? She tried to listen while +her father told her of the happy days he had spent on his grandfather's +farm when he was a boy; but the interest was not real, and she found it +hard to fix her mind on what he was saying. What did she care about +swinging on gates, or climbing apple-trees, or riding unruly colts! She +was not a boy, nor even a tomboy. When he spoke of the delights of +walking in the country through woodland and meadow, her thoughts strayed +to Fifth Avenue, with its throng of well-dressed people, the glittering +equipages rolling by, the stately houses on either side, through whose +shining windows one caught glimpses of the splendors within; and to the +Park, with its shady alleys and well-kept lawns. Could there be any +walking so delightful as that which these afforded? Surely not! Ah! +Madge and Helen were probably just starting for their walk now. Did they +know of her banishment? would they laugh at the thought of Queen +Hildegardis vegetating for three months at a wretched-- + +"Glenfield!" The brakeman's voice rang clear and sharp through the car. +Hilda started, and seized her father's hand convulsively. + +"Papa!" she whispered, "O papa! don't leave me here; take me home! I +cannot bear it!" + +"Come, my child!" said Mr. Graham, speaking low, and with an odd catch +in his voice; "that is not the way to go into action. Remember, this is +your first battle. So, eyes front! charge bayonets! quick step! forward, +_march_!" + +The train had stopped. They were on the platform. Mr. Graham led Hilda +up to a stout, motherly-looking woman, who held out her hand with a +beaming smile. + +"Here is my daughter, Mrs. Hartley!" he said, hastily. "You will take +good care of her, I know. My darling, good-by! I go on to Dashford, and +home by return train in an hour. God bless you, my Hilda! Courage! Up, +Guards, and at them! Remember Waterloo!" and he was gone. The engine +shrieked an unearthly "Good-by!" and the train rumbled away, leaving +Hilda gazing after it through a mist which only her strong will +prevented from dissolving in tears. + +"Well, my dear," said Dame Hartley's cheery voice, "your papa's gone, +and you must not stand here and fret after him. Here is old Nancy +shaking her head, and wondering why she does not get home to her dinner. +Do you get into the cart, and I will get the station-master to put your +trunk in for us." + +Hilda obeyed in silence; and climbing into the neat wagon, took her seat +and looked about her while Dame Hartley bustled off in search of the +station-master. There was not very much to look at at Glenfield station. +The low wooden building with its long platform stood on a bare spot of +ground, from which the trees all stood back, as if to mark their +disapproval of the railway and all that belonged to it. The sandy soil +made little attempt to produce vegetation, but put out little humps of +rock occasionally, to show what it could do. Behind, a road led off into +the woods, hiding itself behind the low-hanging branches of chestnut and +maple, ash and linden trees. That was all. Now that the train was gone, +the silence was unbroken save by the impatient movements of the old +white mare as she shook the flies off and rattled the jingling harness. + +Hilda was too weary to think. She had slept little the night before, and +the suddenness of the recent changes confused her mind and made her feel +as if she were some one else, and not herself at all. She sat patiently, +counting half-unconsciously each quiver of Nancy's ears. But now Dame +Hartley came bustling back with the station-master, and between the two, +Hilda's trunk was hoisted into the cart. Then the good woman climbed in +over the wheel, settled her ample person on the seat and gathered up the +reins, while the station-master stood smoothing the mare's mane, ready +for a parting word of friendly gossip. + +"Jacob pooty smart!" he asked, brushing a fly from Nancy's shoulder. + +"Only middling," was the reply. "He had a touch o' rheumatiz, that last +spell of wet weather, and it seems to hang on, kind of. Ketches him in +the joints and the small of his back if he rises up suddin." + +"I know! I know!" replied the station-master, with eager interest. "Jest +like my spells ketches me; on'y I have it powerful bad acrost my +shoulders, too. I been kerryin' a potato in my pocket f'r over and above +a week now, and I'm in hopes 't'll cure me." + +"A potato in your pocket!" exclaimed Dame Hartley. "Reuel Slocum! what +_do_ you mean?" + +"Sounds curus, don't it?" returned Mr. Slocum. "But it's a fact that +it's a great cure for rheumatiz. A grea-at cure! Why, there's Barzillay +Smith, over to Peat's Corner, has kerried a potato in his pocket for +five years,--not the same potato, y' know; changes 'em when they begin +to sprout,--and he hesn't hed a touch o' rheumatism all that time. Not a +touch! tol' me so himself." + +"Had he ever hed it before?" asked Dame Hartley. + +"I d'no as he hed," said Mr. Slocum, "But his father hed; an' his +granf'ther before him. So ye see--" + +But here Hilda uttered a long sigh of weariness and impatience; and Dame +Hartley, with a penitent glance at her, bade good-morning to the victim +of rheumatism, gave old Nancy a smart slap with the reins, and drove off +down the wood-road. + +"My dear child," she said to Hilda as they jogged along, "I ought not to +have kept you waiting so long, and you tired with your ride in the cars. +But Reuel Slocum lives all alone here, and he does enjoy a little chat +with an old neighbor more than most folks; so I hope you'll excuse me." + +"It is of no consequence, thank you," murmured Hildegarde, with cold +civility. She did not like to be called "my dear child," to begin with; +and besides, she was very weary and heartsick, and altogether miserable. +But she tried to listen, as the good woman continued to talk in a +cheery, comfortable tone, telling her how fond she had always been of +"Miss Mildred," as she called Mrs. Graham, and how she had the care of +her till she was almost a woman grown, and never would have left her +then if Jacob Hartley hadn't got out of patience. + +"And to think how you've grown, Hilda dear! You don't remember it, of +course, but this isn't the first time you have been at Hartley's Glen. A +sweet baby you were, just toddling about on the prettiest little feet I +ever saw, when your mamma brought you out here to spend a month with old +Nurse Lucy. And your father came out every week, whenever he could get +away from his business. What a fine man he is, to be sure! And he and my +husband had rare times, shooting over the meadows, and fishing, and the +like." + +They were still in the wood-road, now jolting along over ridges and +hummocks, now ploughing through stretches of soft, sandy soil. Above and +on either side, the great trees interlaced their branches, sometimes +letting them droop till they brushed against Hilda's cheek, sometimes +lifting them to give her a glimpse of cool vistas of dusky green, shade +within shade,--moss-grown hollows, where the St. John's-wort showed its +tarnished gold, and white Indian pipe gleamed like silver along the +ground; or stony beds over which, in the time of the spring rains, +little brown brooks ran foaming and bubbling down through the woods. The +air was filled with the faint cool smell of ferns, and on every side +were great masses of them,--clumps of splendid ostrich-ferns, waving +their green plumes in stately pride; miniature forests of the graceful +brake, beneath whose feathery branches the wood-mouse and other tiny +forest-creatures roamed secure; and in the very road-way, trampled under +old Nancy's feet, delicate lady-fern, and sturdy hart's-tongue, and a +dozen other varieties, all perfect in grace and sylvan beauty. Hilda was +conscious of a vague delight, through all her fatigue and distress How +beautiful it was; how cool and green and restful! If she must stay in +the country, why could it not be always in the woods, where there was no +noise, nor dust, nor confusion? + +Her revery was broken in upon by Dame Hartley's voice crying cheerily,-- + +"And here we are, out of the woods at last! Cheer up, my pretty, and let +me show you the first sight of the farm. It's a pleasant, heartsome +place, to my thinking." + +The trees opened left and right, stepping back and courtesying, like +true gentlefolks as they are, with delicate leaf-draperies drooping low. +The sun shone bright and hot on a bit of hard, glaring yellow road, and +touched more quietly the roofs and chimneys of an old yellow farm-house +standing at some distance from the road, with green rolling meadows on +every side, and a great clump of trees mounting guard behind it. A low +stone wall, with wild-roses nodding over it, ran along the roadside for +some way, and midway in it was a trim, yellow-painted gate, which stood +invitingly open, showing a neat drive-way, shaded on either side by +graceful drooping elms. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and quickened her +pace into a very respectable trot, as if she already smelt her oats. +Dame Hartley shook her own comfortable shoulders and gave a little sigh +of relief, for she too was tired, and glad to get home. But Hilda +tightened her grasp on the handle of her dressing-bag, and closed her +eyes with a slight shiver of dislike and dread. She would not look at +this place. It was the hateful prison where she was to be shut up for +three long, weary, dismal months. The sun might shine on it, the trees +might wave, and the wild-roses open their slender pink buds; it would be +nothing to her. She hated it, and nothing, nothing, _nothing_ could +_ever_ make her feel differently. Ah! the fixed and immovable +determination of fifteen,--does later life bring anything like it? + +But now the wagon stopped, and Hilda must open her eyes, whether she +would or no. In the porch, under the blossoming clematis, stood a tall, +broad-shouldered man, dressed in rough homespun, who held out his great +brown hand and said in a gruff, hearty voice,-- + +"Here ye be, eh? Thought ye was never comin'. And this is little miss, +is it? Howdy, missy? Glad to see ye! Let me jump ye out over the wheel!" + +But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;" and barely touching the proffered +hand, sprang lightly to the ground. + +"Now, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley, "let's see you give a jump like +that. 'Tain't so long, seems to me, sence ye used to be as spry as a +hoppergrass." + +Dame Hartley laughed, and climbed leisurely down from the cart. "Never +mind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spry enough yet to take care of you, if I +can't jump as well as I used." + +"This missy's trunk?" continued the farmer. "Let me see! What's missy's +name now? Huldy, ain't it! Little Huldy! 'Pears to me that's what they +used to call ye when ye was here before." + +"My name is Hildegardis Graham!" said Hilda in her most icy +manner,--what Madge Everton used to call her +Empress-of-Russia-in-the-ice-palace-with-the-mercury-sixty-degrees-below-zero +manner. + +"Huldy Gardies!" repeated Farmer Hartley. "Well, that's a comical name +now! Sounds like Hurdy-gurdys, doosn't it? Where did Mis' Graham pick up +a name like that, I wonder? But I reckon Huldy'll do for me, 'thout the +Gardies, whatever they be." + +"Come, father," said Dame Hartley, "the child's tired now, an' I guess +she wants to go upstairs. If you'll take the trunk, we'll follow ye." + +The stalwart farmer swung the heavy trunk up on his shoulder as lightly +as if it were a small satchel, and led the way into the house and up the +steep, narrow staircase. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE PRISONER OF DESPAIR. + + +As she followed in angry silence, Hilda had a glimpse through a +half-open door of a cosey sitting-room; while another door, standing +fully open at the other end of the little hall, showed, by a blaze of +scarlet tiger-lilies and yellow marigolds, where the garden lay. And now +the farmer opened a door and set down the trunk with a heavy thump; and +Dame Hartley, taking the girl's hand, led her forward, saying: "Here, my +dear, here is your own little room,--the same that your dear mamma slept +in when she was here! And I hope you'll be happy in it, Hilda dear, and +get all the good we wish for you while you're here!" Hilda bowed +slightly, feeling unable to speak; and the good woman continued: "You +must be hungry as well as tired, travelling since morning. It's near our +dinner-time. Or shall I bring ye up something now,--a cup o' tea and a +cooky, eh? Or would you like solid victuals better?" + +"Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not at all hungry; I could not possibly +eat anything. My head aches badly!" she added, nervously forestalling +her hostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cup of tea later, thank you! I +should like to rest now. And I shall not want any dinner." + +"Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when you have rested a bit," said Dame +Hartley, smoothing the girl's fair hair with a motherly touch, and not +seeming to notice her angry shrinking away. "It's the best thing you can +do, to lie down and take a good nap; then you'll wake up fresh as a +lark, and ready to enjoy yourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring up your +tea in an hour or so." And with a parting nod and smile, the good woman +departed, leaving Hilda, like the heroine of a three-volume novel, +"alone with her despair." + +Very tragic indeed the maiden looked as she tossed off her hat and flung +herself face downward on the bed, refusing to cast even a glance at the +cell which was to be her hateful prison. "For of course I shall spend my +time here!" she said to herself. "They may send me here, keep me here +for years, if they will; but they cannot make me associate with these +people." And she recalled with a shudder the gnarled, horny hand which +she had touched in jumping from the cart,--she had never felt anything +like it; the homely speech, and the nasal twang with which it was +delivered; the uncouth garb (good stout butternut homespun!) and unkempt +hair and beard of the "odious old savage," as she mentally named Farmer +Hartley. + +After all, however, Hilda was only fifteen; and after a few minutes, +Curiosity began to wake; and after a short struggle with Despair, it +conquered, and she sat up on the bed and looked about her. + +It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright, clean, fresh little room, all +white and blue. White walls, white bedstead, with oh! such snowy +coverings, white dimity curtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ball +fringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaint +looking-glass framed with fat gilt cherubs, all apparently trying to +fold their wings in such a way as to enable them to get a peep at +themselves in the mirror, and not one succeeding. Then there was a low +rocking-chair, and another chair of the high-backed order, and a tall +chest of drawers, all painted white, and a wash-hand-stand with a set of +dark-blue crockery on it which made the victim of despair open her eyes +wide. Hilda had a touch of china mania, and knew a good thing when she +saw it; and this deep, eight-sided bowl, this graceful jug with the +quaint gilt dragon for a handle, these smaller jugs, boxes, and dishes, +all of the same pattern, all with dark-blue dragons (no cold "Canton" +blue, but a rich, splendid ultramarine), large and small, prancing and +sprawling on a pale buff ground,--what were these things doing in the +paltry bedroom of a common farm-house? Hilda felt a new touch of +indignation at "these people" for presuming to have such things in their +possession. + +When her keen eyes had taken in everything, down to the neat rag-carpet +on the floor, the girl bethought her of her trunk. She might as well +unpack it. Her head could not ache worse, whatever she did; and now that +that little imp Curiosity was once awake, he prompted her to wonder what +the trunk contained. None of the dresses she had been wearing, she was +sure of that; for they were all hanging safely in her wardrobe at home. +What surprise had mamma been planning? Well, she would soon know. +Hastily unlocking the trunk, she lifted out one tray after another and +laid them on the bed. In the first were piles of snowy collars and +handkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen, with no lace or embroidery; a +broad-brimmed straw hat with a simple wreath of daisies round it; +another hat, a small one, of rough gray felt, with no trimming at all, +save a narrow scarlet ribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; a couple of +white aprons, and one of brown holland, with long sleeves. The next tray +was filled with dresses,--dresses which made Hilda's eyes open wide +again, as she laid them out, one by one, at full length. There was a +dark blue gingham with a red stripe, a brown gingham dotted with yellow +daisies, a couple of light calicoes, each with a tiny figure or flower +on it, a white lawn, and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel. All these +dresses, and among them all not an atom of trimming. No sign of an +overskirt, no ruffle or puff, plaiting or ruching, no "Hamburg" or +lace,--nothing! Plain round waists, neatly stitched at throat and +wrists; plain round skirts, each with a deep hem, and not so much as a +tuck by way of adornment. + +Hildegarde drew a deep breath, and looked at the simple frocks with +kindling eyes and flushing cheeks. These were the sort of dresses that +her mother's servants wore at home. Why was she condemned to wear them +now,--she, who delighted in soft laces and dainty embroideries and the +clinging draperies which she thought suited her slender, pliant figure +so well? Was it a part of this whole scheme; and was the object of the +scheme to humiliate her, to take away her self-respect, her proper +pride? + +Mechanically, but carefully, as was her wont, Hilda hung the despised +frocks in the closet, put away the hats, after trying them on and +approving of them, in spite of herself ("Of course," she said, "mamma +_could_ not get an ugly hat, if she tried!"), and then proceeded to take +out and lay in the bureau drawers the dainty under-clothing which filled +the lower part of the trunk. Under all was a layer of books, at sight +of which Hilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!" she said, "I shall +not be quite alone;" for she saw at a glance that here were some old and +dear friends. Lovingly she took them up, one by one: "Romances of the +Middle Ages," Percy's "Reliques," "Hereward," and "Westward, Ho!" and, +best-beloved of all, the "Adventures of Robin Hood," by grace of Howard +Pyle made into so strong an enchantment that the heart thrills even at +sight of its good brown cover. And here was her Tennyson and her +Longfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, and the "Book of Golden Deeds." Verily +a goodly company, such as might even turn a prison into a palace. But +what was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, this +white leather case, with--ah! Hilda--with blue forget-me-nots delicately +painted on it? Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring. Her +mother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes looked lovingly into +hers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, +seemed almost to quiver as if in life. So kind, so loving, so faithful, +so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joy +or to comfort one's grief,--her own dear, dear mother! A mist came +before the girl's eyes. She gazed at the miniature till she could no +longer see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, she +burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would +break. No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged and indignant +"prisoner," only Hilda,--Hilda who wanted her mother! + +Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,--which was the very best thing she +could have done. By and by Dame Hartley peeped softly in, and seeing the +child lying "all in a heap," as she said to herself, with her pretty +hair all tumbled about, brought a shawl and covered her carefully up, +and went quietly away. + +"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, +like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better,--though I fear it +will be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, +Miss Mildred, dear!" + +Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summer +twilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start +from a dream of home. + +"Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For one +moment she stared in amazement at the strange room, with its unfamiliar +furnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as a +knock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said: + +"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. +Will you come down with me?" + +"Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not--I +haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!" + +"Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. +"You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. +Come down just as you are, there's a dear!" + +Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands +in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon +pitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little +curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she +followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably +resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a +great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, +and very, very hungry,--and oh, how good something did smell! + +Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at Hartley +Farm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of a +modern stove in the back kitchen, while the great fireplace, with the +crane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as a +rule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming, +and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between the +iron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at Hartley +Farm,--wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south and +west; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century of +scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side of +the room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held a +goodly array of polished pewter and brass, shining glass, and curious +old china and crockery. Overhead were dark, heavy rafters, relieved by +the gleam of yellow "crook-neck" squashes, bunches of golden corn, and +long festoons of dried apples. In one window stood the good dame's +rocking-chair, with its gay patchwork cushion; and her Bible, +spectacles, and work-basket lay on the window-seat beside it. In +another was a huge leather arm-chair, which Hilda rightly supposed to be +the farmer's, and a wonderful piece of furniture, half desk, half chest +of drawers, with twisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-holes and tiny +drawers, and I don't know what else. The third window Hilda thought was +the prettiest of all. It faced the west, and the full glory of sunset +was now pouring through the clustering vines which partly shaded it. The +sash was open, and a white rose was leaning in and nodding in a friendly +way, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, +both of quaint and graceful fashion, stood in the recess; and on the +window-seat stood some flowering-plants in pretty blue and white pots. + +"I suppose _I_ am expected to sit there!" said Hilda to herself. "As if +I should sit down in a kitchen!" But all the while she knew in her heart +of hearts that this was one of the most attractive rooms she had ever +seen, and that that particular corner was pretty enough and picturesque +enough for a queen to sit in. You are not to think that she saw all +these things at the first glance; far from it. There was something else +in the room which claimed the immediate attention of our heroine, and +that was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered with +good things,--cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, a +great brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rolls +piled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled with +rich, creamy milk. Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine of +fifteen! But alas! at the head of this inviting table sat Farmer +Hartley, the "odious savage," in his rough homespun coat, with his hair +still very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and the +broad, horny hands were scrupulously clean). With a slight shudder Hilda +took the seat which Dame Hartley offered her. + +"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon with +a cheery smile, "here ye be, eh? Rested after yer journey, be ye?" + +"Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly. + +"Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on her +plate. "An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey? That's right! +It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, +unless it's soft custard. I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler. +Haw! haw!" + +Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined to pay no attention to the +vulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster. It was hard enough to eat +with a steel fork, without being further tormented. But the farmer +seemed determined to drag her into conversation. + +"How's yer ha-alth in gineral, Huldy? Pooty rugged, be ye? Seems to me +ye look kin' o' peaked." + +"I am quite well!" It was Queen Hildegarde who spoke now, in icy tones; +but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious host. + +"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used ter +things, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We're short-handed +now, and a smart, likely gal kin be a sight o' help. There's the cows +ter milk--the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and _she_ only +kicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her." + +Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in the +farmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her. The angry blood +surged up even to the roots of her hair; but she disdained to reply, and +continued to crumble her bread in silence. + +"Father, what ails you?" said kind Dame Hartley. "Why can't you let the +child alone? She's tired yet, and she doesn't understand your joking +ways.--Don't you mind the farmer, dear, one bit; his heart's in the +right place, but he do love to tease." + +But the good woman's gentle words were harder to bear, at that moment, +than her husband's untimely jesting. Hilda's heart swelled high. She +felt that in another moment the tears must come; and murmuring a word of +excuse, she hastily pushed back her chair and left the room. + +An hour after, Hilda was sitting by the window of her own room, looking +listlessly out on the soft summer evening, and listening to the +melancholy cry of the whippoorwill, when she heard voices below. The +farmer was sitting with his pipe in the vine-clad porch just under the +window; and now his wife had joined him, after "redding up" the kitchen, +and giving orders for the next morning to the tidy maidservant. + +"Well, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley's gruff, hearty voice, "now thet +you have your fine bird, I sh'd like to know what you're a-goin' to do +with her. She's as pretty as a pictur, but a stuck-up piece as ever I +see. Don't favor her mother, nor father either, as I can see." + +"Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with a sigh, "I fear she will have a +hard time of it before she comes to herself. But I promised Miss Mildred +that I would try my best; and you said you would help me, Jacob." + +"So I did, and so I will!" replied the farmer. "But tell me agin, what +was Miss Mildred's idee? I got the giner'l drift of it, but I can't seem +to put it together exactly. I didn't s'pose the gal was _this_ kind, +anyhow." + +"She told me," Dame Hartley said, "that this child--her only one, Jacob! +you know what that means--was getting into ways she didn't like. Going +about with other city misses, who cared for nothing but pleasure, and +who flattered and petted her because of her beauty and her pretty, proud +ways (and maybe because of her father's money too; though Miss Mildred +didn't say that), she was getting to think too much of herself, and to +care too much for fine dresses and sweetmeats and idle chatter about +nothing at all." (How Hilda's cheeks burned as she remembered the long +seances in her room, she on the sofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, with +the box of Huyler's or Maillard's best always between them! Had they +ever talked of anything "worth the while," as mamma would say? She +remembered mamma's coming in upon them once or twice, with her sweet, +grave face. She remembered, too, a certain uneasy feeling she had had +for a moment--only for a moment--when the door closed behind her mother. +But Madge had laughed, and said, "Isn't your mother perfectly sweet? She +doesn't mind a bit, does she?" and she had answered, "Oh, no!" and had +forgotten it in the account of Helen McIvor's new bonnet.) "And then +Miss Mildred said, 'I had meant to take her into the country with me +this summer, and try to show the child what life really means, and let +her learn to know her brothers and sisters in the different walks of +this life, and how they live, and what they do. I want her to see for +herself what a tiny bit of the world, and what a silly, useless, gilded +bit, is the little set of fashionable girls whom she has chosen for her +friends. But this sudden call to California has disarranged all my +plans. I cannot take her with me there, for the child is not well, and +country air and quiet are necessary for her bodily health. And so, Nurse +Lucy,' she says, 'I want _you_ to take my child, and do by her as you +did by me!' + +"'Oh! Miss Mildred,' I said, 'do you think she can be happy or contented +here? I'll do my best; I'm sure you know that! But if she's as you say, +she is a very different child to what you were, Miss Mildred dear.' + +"'She will not be happy at first,' says Miss Mildred. 'But she has a +really noble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I am very sure that it will triumph +over the follies and faults which are on the outside.' + +"And then she kissed me, the dear! and came up and helped me set the +little room to rights, and kissed the pillows, sweet lady, and cried +over them a bit. Ah me! 'tis hard parting from our children, even for a +little while, that it is." + +Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Then she said: "And so, here the child +is, for good or for ill, and we must do our very best by her, Jacob, you +as well as I. What ailed you to-night, to tease her so at supper? I +thought shame of you, my man." + +"Well, Marm Lucy," said the farmer, "I don't hardly know what ailed me. +But I tell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry for me, and I thought +laughin' was better nor t'other. To see that gal a-settin' there, with +her pretty head tossed up, and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twas an +honor to the vittles to put them in her mouth; and to think of my +maid--" He stopped abruptly, and rising from the bench, began to pace up +and down the garden-path. His wife joined him after a moment, and the +two walked slowly to and fro together, talking in low tones, while the +soft summer darkness gathered closer and closer, and the pleasant +night-sounds woke, cricket and katydid and the distant whippoorwill +filling the air with a cheerful murmur. + +Long, long sat Hildegarde at the window, thinking more deeply than she +had ever thought in her life before. Different passions held her young +mind in control while she sat motionless, gazing into the darkness with +wide-open eyes. First anger burned high, flooding her cheek with hot +blushes, making her temples throb and her hands clench themselves in a +passion of resentment. But to this succeeded a mood of deep sadness, of +despair, as she thought; though at fifteen one knows not, happily, the +meaning of despair. + +Was this all true? Was she no better, no wiser, than the silly girls of +her set? She had always felt herself so far above them mentally; they +had always so frankly acknowledged her supremacy; she knew she was +considered a "very superior girl:" was it true that her only superiority +lay in possessing powers which she never chose to exert? And then came +the bitter thought: "What have I ever done to prove myself wiser than +they?" Alas for the answer! Hilda hid her face in her hands, and it was +shame instead of anger that now sent the crimson flush over her cheeks. +Her mother despised her! Her mother--perhaps her father too! They loved +her, of course; the tender love had never failed, and would never fail. +They were proud of her too, in a way. And yet they despised her; they +must despise her! How could they help it? Her mother, whose days were a +ceaseless round of work for others, without a thought of herself; her +father, active, energetic, business-like,--what must her life seem to +them? How was it that she had never seen, never dreamed before, that she +was an idle, silly, frivolous girl? The revelation came upon her with +stunning force. These people too, these coarse country people, despised +her and laughed at her! The thought was more than she could bear. She +sprang up, feeling as if she were suffocating, and walked up and down +the little room with hurried and nervous steps. Then suddenly there came +into her mind one sentence of her mother's that Dame Hartley had +repeated: "Hilda has a really noble nature--" What was the rest? +Something about triumphing over the faults and follies which lay +outside. Had her mother really said that? Did she believe, trust in, her +silly daughter? The girl stood still, with clasped hands and bowed head. +The tumult within her seemed to die away, and in its place something was +trembling into life, the like of which Hilda Graham had never known, +never thought of, before; faint and timid at first, but destined to gain +strength and to grow from that one moment,--a wish, a hope, finally a +resolve. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE NEW HILDA. + + +The morning came laughing into Hilda's room, and woke her with such a +flash of sunshine and trill of bird-song that she sprang up smiling, +whether she would or no. Indeed, she felt happier than she could have +believed to be possible. The anger, the despair, even the +self-humiliation and anguish of repentance, were gone with the night. +Morning was here,--a new day and a new life. "Here is the new +Hildegarde!" she cried as she plunged her face into the clear, sparkling +water. "Do you see me, blue dragons? Shake paws, you foolish creatures, +and don't stand ramping and glaring at each other in that way! Here is a +new girl come to see you. The old one was a minx,--do you hear, +dragons?" The dragons heard, but were too polite to say anything; and as +for not ramping, why they had ramped and glared for fifty years, and had +no idea of making a change at their time of life. + +The gilt cherubs round the little mirror were more amiable, and smiled +cheerfully at Hilda as she brushed and braided her hair, and put on the +pretty blue gingham frock. "We have no clothes ourselves," they seemed +to say, "but we appreciate good ones when we see them!" Indeed, the +frock fitted to perfection. "And after all," said the new Hilda as she +twirled round in front of the glass, "what _is_ the use of an +overskirt?" after which astounding utterance, this young person +proceeded to do something still more singular. After a moment's +hesitation she drew out one of the white aprons which she had scornfully +laid in the very lowest drawer only twelve hours before, tied it round +her slender waist, and then, with an entirely satisfied little nod at +the mirror, she tripped lightly downstairs and into the kitchen. Dame +Hartley was washing dishes at the farther end of the room, in her neat +little cedar dish-tub, with her neat little mop; and she nearly dropped +the blue and white platter from her hands when she heard Hilda's +cheerful "Good morning, Nurse Lucy!" and, turning, saw the girl smiling +like a vision of morning. + +"My dear," she cried, "sure I thought you were fast asleep still. I was +going up to wake you as soon as I had done my dishes. And did you sleep +well your first night at Hartley's Glen?" + +"Oh, yes! I slept very sound indeed," said Hilda, lightly. And then, +coming close up to Dame Hartley, she said in an altered tone, and with +heightened color: "Nurse Lucy, I did not behave well last night, and I +want to tell you that I am sorry. I am not like mamma, but I want to +grow a little like her, if I can, and you must help me, please!" + +Her voice faltered, and good Nurse Lucy, laying down her mop, took the +slender figure in her motherly arms, from which it did not now shrink +away. + +"My lamb!" she said; "Miss Mildred's own dear child! You look liker your +blessed mother this minute than I ever thought you would. Help you? That +I will, with all my heart!--though I doubt if you need much help, coming +to yourself so soon as this. Well, well!" + +"Coming to herself!" It was the same phrase the good dame had used the +night before, and it struck Hilda's mind with renewed force. Yes, she +had come to herself,--her new self, which was to be so different from +the old. How strange it all was! What should she do now, to prove the +new Hilda and try her strength? Something must be done at once; the time +for folded hands and listless revery was gone by. + +"Shall I--may I help you to get breakfast?" she asked aloud, rather +timidly. + +"Breakfast? Bless you, honey, we had breakfast two hours ago. We farmers +are early birds, you know. But you can lay a plate and napkin for +yourself, if you like, while I drop a couple of fresh eggs and toast a +bit of bacon for you. Do you like bacon, then?" + +Rather disappointed at the failure of her first attempt to be useful, +Hilda laid the snowy napkin on the shining table, and chose a pretty +blue and white plate from the well-stocked shelves of the dresser. + +"And now open that cupboard, my lamb," said her hostess, "and you'll +find the loaf, and a piece of honeycomb, and some raspberries. I'll +bring a pat of butter and some milk from the dairy, where it's all cool +for you." + +"Raspberries!" cried Hilda. "Oh, how delightful! Why, the dew is still +on them, Nurse Lucy! And how pretty they look, with the cool green +leaves round them!" + +"Ay!" said the good woman, "Jacob brought them in not ten minutes ago. +He thought you would like them fresh from the bushes." + +Hilda's cheek rivalled the raspberries in bloom as she bent over them to +inhale their fragrance. The farmer had picked these himself for +her,--had probably left his work to do so; and she had called him an +odious old savage, and an unkempt monster, and--oh dear! decidedly, the +old Hilda was a very disagreeable girl. But here were the eggs, each +blushing behind its veil of white, and here was the milk, and a little +firm nugget in a green leaf, which was too beautiful to be butter, and +yet too good to be anything else. And the new Hilda might eat her +breakfast with a thankful heart, and did so. The white rose nodded to +her from the west window much more cordially than it had done the night +before. It even brought out a little new bud to take a peep at the girl +who now smiled, instead of scowling across the room. The vines rustled +and shook, and two bright black eyes peeped between the leaves. +"Tweet!" said the robin, ruffling his scarlet waistcoat a little. "When +you have quite finished your worms, you may come out, and I will show +you the garden. There are cherries!" and away he flew, while Hilda +laughed and clapped her hands, for she had understood every word. + +"May I go out into the garden?" she asked, when she had finished her +breakfast and taken her first lesson in dish-washing, in spite of Dame +Hartley's protest. "And isn't there something I can do there, please? I +want to work; I don't want to be idle any longer." + +"Well, honey," replied the dame, "there are currants to pick, if you +like such work as that. I am going to make jelly to-morrow; and if you +like to begin the picking, I will come and help you when my bread is out +of the oven." + +Gladly Hilda flew up to her room for the broad-leaved hat with the +daisy-wreath; and then, taking the wide, shallow basket which Dame +Hartley handed her, she fairly danced out of the door, over the bit of +green, and into the garden. + +Ah! the sweet, heartsome country garden that this was,--the very thought +of it is a rest and a pleasure. Straight down the middle ran a little +gravel path, with a border of fragrant clove-pinks on either side, +planted so close together that one saw only the masses of pale pink +blossoms resting on their bed of slender silvery leaves. And over the +border! Oh the wealth of flowers, the blaze of crimson and purple and +gold, the bells that swung, the spires that sprang heavenward, the +clusters that nodded and whispered together in the morning breeze! Here +were ranks upon ranks of silver lilies, drawn up in military fashion, +and marshalled by clumps of splendid tiger-lilies,--the drum-majors of +the flower-garden. Here were roses of every sort, blushing and paling, +glowing in gold and mantling in crimson. And the carnations showed their +delicate fringes, and the geraniums blazed, and the heliotrope +languished, and the "Puritan pansies" lifted their sweet faces and +looked gravely about, as if reproving the other flowers for their +frivolity; while shy Mignonette, thinking herself well hidden behind her +green leaves, still made her presence known by the exquisite perfume +which all her gay sisters would have been glad to borrow. + +Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking and playing; and through all went +Hildegarde, her heart filled with a new delight, feeling as if she had +never lived before. She talked to the flowers. She bent and kissed the +damask rose, which was too beautiful to pluck. She put her cheek against +a lily's satin-silver petals, and started when an angry bee flew out and +buzzed against her nose. But where were the currant-bushes? Ah! there +they were,--a row of stout green bushes, forming a hedge at the bottom +of the garden. + +Hilda fell busily to work, filling her basket with the fine, ruddy +clusters. "How beautiful they are!" she thought, holding up a bunch so +that the sunlight shone through it. "And these pale, pinky golden ones, +which show all the delicate veins inside. Really, I _must_ eat this fat +bunch; they are like fairy grapes! The butler fay comes and picks a +cluster every evening, and carries it on a lily-leaf platter to the +queen as she sits supping on honey-cakes and dew under the damask +rose-bush." + +While fingers and fancy were thus busily employed, Hilda was startled by +the sound of a voice which seemed to come from beyond the +currant-bushes, very near her. She stood quite still and listened. + +"A-g, ag," said the voice; "g-l-o-m, glom,--agglom; e-r er,--agglomer; +a-t-e, ate,--agglomerate." There was a pause, and then it began again: +"A-g, ag; g-l-o-m, glom," etc. + +Hilda's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down her +basket, she cautiously parted the leaves and peeped through. She hardly +knew what she expected to see. What she did see was a boy about ten +years old, in a flannel shirt and a pair of ragged breeches, busily +weeding a row of carrots; for this was the vegetable garden, which lay +behind the currant-bushes. On one side of the boy was a huge heap of +weeds; on the other lay a tattered book, at which he glanced from time +to time, though without leaving his work. "A-n, an," he was now saying; +"t-i, ti,--anti; c-i-p, cip,--anticip; a-t-e, ate,--anti_cip_ate. 'To +expect.' Well! that _is_ a good un. Why can't they _say_ expect, 'stead +o' breakin' their jawsen with a word like that? Anti_cip_-ate! Well, I +swan! I hope he enjoyed eatin' it. Sh'd think 't'd ha giv' him the +dyspepsy, anyhow." + +At this Hilda could contain herself no longer, but burst into a merry +peal of laughter; and as the boy started up with staring eyes and open +mouth, she pushed the bushes aside and came towards him. "I am sorry I +laughed," she said, not unkindly. "You said that so funnily, I couldn't +help it. You did not pronounce the word quite right, either. It is +an_ti_cipate, not antic_ip_-ate." + +[Illustration: "SHE PUSHED THE BUSHES ASIDE AND CAME TOWARDS HIM"] + +The boy looked half bewildered and half grateful. "An_ti_cipate!" he +repeated, slowly. "Thanky, miss! it's a onreasonable sort o' word, +'pears ter me." And he bent over his carrots again. + +But Hilda did not return to her currant-picking. She was interested in +this freckled, tow-headed boy, wrestling with four-syllabled words while +he worked. + +"Why do you study your lesson out here?" she asked, sitting down on a +convenient stump, and refreshing herself with another bunch of white +currants. "Couldn't you learn it better indoors?" + +"Dunno!" replied the boy. "Ain't got no time ter stay indoors." + +"You might learn it in the evening!" suggested Hilda. + +"I can't keep awake evenin's," said the boy, simply. "Hev to be up at +four o'clock to let the cows out, an' I git sleepy, come night. An' I +like it here too," he added. "I can l'arn 'em easier, weedin'; take ten +weeds to a word." + +"Ten weeds to a word?" repeated Hilda. "I don't understand you." + +"Why," said the boy, looking up at her with wide-open blue eyes, "I take +a good stiff word (I like 'em stiff, like that an--an_ti_cipate feller), +and I says it over and over while I pull up ten weeds,--big weeds, o' +course, pusley and sich. I don't count chickweed. By the time the weeds +is up, I know the word, I've larned fifteen this spell!" and he glanced +proudly at his tattered spelling-book as he tugged away at a mammoth +root of pusley, which stretched its ugly, sprawling length of fleshy +arms on every side. + +Hilda watched him for some moments, many new thoughts revolving in her +head. How many country boys were there who taught themselves in this +way? How many, among the clever girls at Mademoiselle Haut-ton's +school, had this sort of ambition to learn, of pride in learning? Had +she, the best scholar in her class, had it? She had always known her +lessons, because they were easy for her to learn, because she had a +quick eye and ear, and a good memory. She could not help learning, +Mademoiselle said. But this,--this was something different! + +"What is your name?" she asked, with a new interest. + +"Bubble Chirk," replied the freckled boy, with one eye on his book, and +the other measuring a tall spire of pigweed, towards which he stretched +his hand. + +"WHAT!" cried Hilda, in amazement. + +"Bubble Chirk!" said the boy. "Kin' o' curus name, ain't it? The hull of +it's Zerubbabel Chirk; but most folks ain't got time to say all that. It +trips you up, too, sort o'. Bubble's what they call me; 'nless it's +Bub." + +The contrast between the boy's earnest and rather pathetic face, and +his absurdly volatile name, was almost too much for Hilda's gravity. But +she checked the laugh which rose to her lips, and asked: "Don't you go +to school at all, Bubble? It is a pity that you shouldn't, when you are +so fond of study." + +"Gin'lly go for a spell in the winter," replied Bubble. "They ain't no +school in summer, y' know. Boys hes to work, round here. Mam ain't got +nobody but me 'n Pink, sence father died." + +"Who is Pink?" asked Hilda, gently. + +"My sister," replied Bubble. "Thet ain't _her_ real name, nuther. Mam +hed her christened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein' so fond o' roses, Mam +was; but we don't call her nothin' only Pink." + +"Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself. "What a name! What can a girl +be like who is called Pink Chirk?" + +But now Bubble seemed to think that it was his turn to ask questions. "I +reckon you're the gal that's come to stay at Mr. Hartley's?" he said in +an interrogative tone. + +Hilda's brow darkened for a moment at the word "gal," which came with +innocent frankness from the lips of the ragged urchin before her. But +the next moment she remembered that it was only the old Hilda who cared +about such trifles; so she answered pleasantly enough: + +"Yes, I am staying at Mr. Hartley's. I only came yesterday, but I am to +stay some time." + +"And what mought _your_ name be?" inquired Master Chirk. + +"Hildegardis Graham." It was gently said, in a very different voice from +that which had answered Farmer Hartley in the same words the night +before; but it made a startling impression on Bubble Chirk. + +"Hildy--" he began; and then, giving it up, he said simply: "Well, I +swan! Do ye kerry all that round with ye all the time?" + +Hilda laughed outright at this. + +"Oh, no!" she said; "I am called Hilda generally." + +"But you kin spell the hull of it?" asked the boy anxiously. + +"Yes, certainly!" Bubble's eager look subsided into one of mingled awe +and admiration. + +"Reckon ye must know a heap," he said, rather wistfully. "Wish't I did!" + +Hilda looked at him for a moment without speaking. Her old self was +whispering to her. "Take care what you do!" it said. "This is a coarse, +common, dirty boy. He smells of the stable; his hair is full of hay; his +hands are beyond description. What have you in common with such a +creature? He has not even the sense to know that he is your inferior." +"I don't care!" said the new Hilda. "I know what mamma would do if she +were here, and I shall do it,--or try to do it, at least. Hold your +tongue, you supercilious minx!" + +"Bubble," she said aloud, "would you like me to teach you a little, +while I am here? I think perhaps I could help you with your lessons." + +The boy looked up with a sudden flash in his blue eyes, while his face +grew crimson with pleasure. + +"Would I like it?" he cried eagerly. But the next moment the glow faded, +and he looked awkwardly down at his ragged book and still more ragged +clothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arn that way," he muttered in +confusion. + +"Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly. "There must be _some_ hour in the day +when you can be spared. I shall speak to Farmer Hartley about it. Don't +look at your clothes, you foolish boy," she continued, with a touch of +Queen Hildegardis' quality, yet with a kindly intonation which was new +to that potentate. "I am not going to teach your clothes. _You_ are not +your clothes!" cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself, and a little +flushed with her recent victory over the "minx." The boy's face +brightened again. + +"That's so!" he said, joyously; "that's what Pink says. But I didn't +s'pose _you'd_ think so," he added, glancing bashfully at the delicate, +high-bred face, with its flashing eyes and imperial air. + +"I _do_ think so!" said Hilda. "So that is settled, and we will have our +first lesson to-morrow. What would you--" + +"Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear?" called Dame Hartley's voice from +the other side of the currant-bush-hedge. And catching up her basket, +and bidding a hasty good-by to her new acquaintance and future scholar, +Hildegarde darted back through the bushes. + +Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her a few moments, with kindling eyes and +open mouth of wonder and admiration. + +"Wall!" he said finally, after a pause of silent meditation, "I swan! I +reelly do! I swan to man!" and fell to weeding again as if his life +depended on it. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE BLUE PLATTER. + + + "Merry it is in the green forest, + Among the leaves green!" + +Thus sang Hildegarde as she sat in the west window, busily stringing her +currants. She had been thinking a great deal about Bubble Chirk, making +plans for his education, and wondering what his sister Pink was like. He +reminded her, she could not tell why, of the "lytel boy" who kept fair +Alyce's swine, in her favorite ballad of "Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, +and William of Cloudeslee;" and the words of the ballad rose half +unconsciously to her lips as she bent over the great yellow bowl, heaped +with scarlet and pale-gold clusters. + + "Merry it is in the green forest, + Among the leaves green, + Whenas men hunt east and west + With bows and arrowes keen, + + "For to raise the deer out of their denne,-- + Such sights have oft been seen; + As by three yemen of the north countree: + By them it is, I mean. + + "The one of them hight Adam Bell, + The other Clym o' the Clough; + The third was Willyam of Cloudeslee,-- + An archer good enough. + + "They were outlawed for venison, + These yemen every one. + They swore them brethren on a day + To English wood for to gone. + + "Now lythe and listen, gentylmen, + That of myrthes loveth to hear!" + +At this moment the door opened, and Farmer Hartley entered, taking off +his battered straw hat as he did so, and wiping his forehead with a red +bandanna handkerchief. Hilda looked up with a pleasant smile, meaning to +thank him for the raspberries which he had gathered for her breakfast; +but to her utter astonishment the moment his eyes fell upon her he gave +a violent start and turned very pale; then, muttering something under +his breath, he turned hastily and left the room. + +"Oh! what is the matter?" cried Hilda, jumping up from her chair. "What +have I done, Nurse Lucy? I have made the farmer angry, somehow. Is this +his chair? I thought--" + +"No, no, honey dear!" said Nurse Lucy soothingly. "Sit ye down; sit ye +down! You have done nothing. I'm right glad of it," she added, with a +tone of sadness in her pleasant voice. "Seeing as 'tis all in God's +wisdom, Jacob must come to see it so; and 'tis no help, but a deal of +hindrance, when folks set aside chairs and the like, and see only them +that's gone sitting in them." Then, seeing Hilda's look of bewilderment, +she added, laying her hand gently on the girl's soft hair: "You see, +dear, we had a daughter of our own this time last year. Our only one she +was, and just about your age,--the light of our eyes, our Faith. She +was a good girl, strong and loving and heartsome, and almost as pretty +as yourself, Hilda dear; but the Father had need of her, so she was +taken from us for a while. It was cruel hard for Jacob; cruel, cruel +hard. He can't seem to see, even now, that it was right, or it wouldn't +have been so. And so I can tell just what he felt, coming in just now, +sudden like, and seeing you sitting in Faith's chair. Like as not he +forgot it all for a minute, and thought it was herself. She had a blue +dress that he always liked, and she'd sit here and sing, and the sun +coming in on her through her own window there, as she always called it: +like a pretty picture she was, our Faith." + +"Oh!" cried Hilda, taking the brown, motherly hand in both of hers, "I +am so very, very sorry, dear Nurse Lucy! I did not know! I will never +sit here again. I thought--" + +But she was ashamed to say what she had thought,--that this chair and +table had been set for her to tempt her to sit down "in a kitchen!" She +could hear herself say it as she had said it last night, with a world of +scornful emphasis. How long it seemed since last night; how much older +she had grown! And yet--and yet somehow she felt a great deal younger. + +All this passed through her mind in a moment; but Nurse Lucy was petting +her, and saying: "Nay, dearie; nay, child! This is just where I want you +to sit. 'Twill be a real help to Farmer, once he is used to it. Hark! I +hear him coming now. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sit still where +ye are." + +[Illustration: "SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."] + +Hilda obeyed, though her heart beat painfully; and she bent in real +distress over the currants as Farmer Hartley once more entered the room. +She hardly knew what she feared or expected; but her relief was great +when he bade her a quiet but cheerful "Good-day!" and crossing the +room, sat down in his great leather arm-chair. + +"Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, Jacob!" said the good dame, +cheerily; "I've only to lay the table and dish the mutton." + +"Oh! let me help," cried Hilda, springing up and setting her bowl of +currants on the window-sill. + +So between the two the snowy cloth was laid, and the blue plates and the +shining knives and forks laid out. Then they all sat down, and the +little maid-servant came too, and took her place at the end of the +table; and presently in came a great loutish-looking fellow, about one +or two and twenty, with a great shock of sandy hair and little +ferret-eyes set too near together, whom Dame Hartley introduced as her +nephew. He sat down too, and ate more than all the rest of them put +together. At sight of this man, who gobbled his food noisily, and +uttered loud snorts between the mouthfuls, the old Hilda awoke in full +force. She could _not_ endure this; mamma never could have intended it! +The Hartleys were different, of course. She was willing to acknowledge +that she had been in the wrong about them; but this lout, this oaf, this +villainous-looking churl,--to expect a lady to sit at the same table +with him: it was too much! She would ask if she might not dine in her +own room after this, as apparently it was only at dinner that this +"creature" made his appearance. + +Farmer Hartley had been very silent since he came in, but now he seemed +to feel that he must make an effort to be sociable, so he said kindly, +though gravely,-- + +"I see ye're lookin' at that old dish, Huldy. 'Tis a curus old piece, +'n' that's a fact. Kin ye read the motter on it?" + +Hilda had not been _looking_ at the dish, though her eyes had been +unconsciously fixed upon it, and she now bent forward to examine it. It +was an oblong platter, of old blue and white crockery. In the middle +(which was now visible, as the "creature" had just transferred the last +potato to his own plate, stabbing it with his knife for that purpose) +was a quaint representation of a mournful-looking couple, clad in +singularly ill-fitting aprons of fig-leaves. The man was digging with a +spade, while the woman sat at a spinning-wheel placed dangerously near +the edge of the deep ditch which her husband had already dug. Round the +edge ran an inscription, which, after some study, Hilda made out to be +the old distich: + + "When Adam delved, and Eve span, + Where was then the gentleman?" + +Hilda burst out laughing in spite of her self. + +"Oh, it is wonderful!" she cried. "Who ever heard of Eve with a +spinning-wheel? Where did this come from, Farmer Hartley? I am sure it +must have a history." + +"Wa-al," said the farmer, smiling, "I d'no ez 't' hes so to speak a +hist'ry, an' yit there's allays somethin' amoosin' to me about that +platter. My father was a sea-farin' man most o' his life, an' only came +to the farm late in life, 'count of his older brother dyin', as owned +it. Well, he'd picked up a sight o' queer things in his voyages, father +had; he kep' some of 'em stowed away in boxes, and brought 'em out from +time to time, ez he happened to think of 'em. Wa-al, we young uns growed +up (four of us there was, all boys, and likely boys too, if I do say +it), and my brother Simon, who was nex' to me, he went to college. He +was a clever chap, Simon was, an' nothin' would do for _him_ but he must +be a gentleman. + +"'Jacob kin stick to the farm an' the mill; if he likes,' says he, 'an' +Tom kin go to sea, an' William kin be a minister,--'t's all he's good +fer, I reckon; but _I'm_ goin' ter be a _gentleman_!' says Simon. He +said it in father's hearin' one day, an' father lay back in his cheer +an' laughed; he was allays laughin', father was. An' then he went off +upstairs, an' we heard him rummagin' about among his boxes up in the +loft-chamber. We dassn't none of us tech them boxes, we boys, though we +warn't afeard of nothin' else in the world, only father. Presently he +comes down again, still a-laughin', an' kerryin' that platter in his +hand. He sets it down afore Simon, an' says he, 'Wealthy,' says he (that +was my mother), 'Wealthy,' says he, 'let Simon have his victuals off o' +this platter every day, d'ye hear? The' ain't none other that's good +enough for him!' an' then he laughed again, till he fairly shook, an' +Simon looked black as thunder, an' took his hat an' went out. An' so +after Simon went to college, every time he come home for vacation and +set down to table with his nose kind o' turned up, like he was too good +to set with his own kith and kin, father 'ud go an git the old blue +platter and set it afore him, an' say, 'Here's _your_ dish, Simon; been +diggin' any lately, my son?' and then lay back in his cheer and laugh." + +"And did Simon become--a--a gentleman?" asked Hilda, taking her own +little lesson very meekly, in her desire to know more. + +Farmer Hartley's brow clouded instantly, and the smile vanished from his +lips. "Poor Simon!" he said, sadly. "He might ha' been anythin' he +liked, if he'd lived and--been fortunate." + +"Simon Hartley is dead, Hilda dear," interposed Dame Hartley, gently; +"he died some years ago. Will you have some of your own currants, my +dear?--Hilda has been helping me a great deal, Father," she added, +addressing her husband. "I don't know how I should have got all my +currants picked without her help." + +"Has she so?" exclaimed the farmer, fixing his keen gray eyes on the +girl. "Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, we sh'll hev her milkin' that +cow soon, after all; hey, Huldy?" + +Hildegarde looked up bravely, with a little smile. "I will try," she +said, cheerfully, "if you will risk the milk, Farmer Hartley." + +The old farmer returned her smile with one so bright and kind and genial +that somehow the ice bent, then cracked, and then broke. The old Hilda +shrank into so small a space that there was really very little left of +her, and the new Hilda rose from table feeling that she had gained a new +friend. + +So it came to pass that about an hour later our heroine was walking +beside the farmer on the way to the barnyard, talking merrily, and +swinging the basket which she was going to fill with eggs. "But how +shall I find them," she asked, "if the hens hide them away so +carefully?" + +"Oh, you'll hear 'em scrattlin' round!" replied the farmer. "They're +gret fools, hens are,--greter than folks, as a rule; an' that is sayin' +a good deal." + +They crossed the great sunny barn-yard, and paused at the barn-door, +while Hilda looked in with delight. A broad floor, big enough for a +ballroom, with towering walls of fragrant hay on either side reaching +up to the rafters; great doors open at the farther end, showing a snatch +of blue, radiant sky, and a lovely wood-road winding away into deep +thickets of birch and linden; dusty, golden, cobwebby sunbeams slanting +down through the little windows, and touching the tossed hay-piles into +gold; and in the middle, hanging by iron chains from the great central +beam, a swing, almost big enough for a giant,--such was the barn at +Hartley Farm; as pleasant a place, Hilda thought, as she had ever seen. + +"Waal, Huldy, I'll leave ye heer," said the farmer; "ye kin find yer way +home, I reckon." + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Hilda. "But stop one moment, please, Farmer +Hartley. I want to know--will you please--may I teach Bubble Chirk a +little?" The farmer gave a low whistle of surprise; but Hilda went on +eagerly: "I found him studying, this morning, while he was weeding the +garden,--oh! studying so hard, and yet not neglecting his work for a +minute. He seems a very bright boy, and it is a pity he should not have +a good education. Could you spare him, do you think, for an hour every +day?" She stopped, while the farmer looked at her with a merry twinkle +in his eye. + +"You teach Bubble Chirk!" he said. "Why, what would your fine friends +say to that, Miss Huldy? Bubble ain't nothin' but a common farm-boy, if +he _is_ bright; an' I ain't denyin' that he is." + +"I don't know what they would say," said Hildegarde, blushing hotly, +"and I don't care, either! I know what mamma would do in my place; and +so do you, Farmer Hartley!" she added, with a little touch of +indignation. + +"Waal, I reckon I do!" said Farmer Hartley. "And I know who looks like +her mother, this minute, though I never thought she would. Yes!" he +said, more seriously, "you shall teach Bubble Chirk, my gal; and it's my +belief 'twill bring you a blessin' as well as him. Ye are yer mother's +darter, after all. Shall I give ye a swing now, before I go; or are ye +too big to swing!" + +"I--don't--know!" said Hildegarde, eying the swing wistfully. "Am I too +big, I wonder?" + +"Yer ma warn't, when she was here three weeks ago!" said the farmer. "She +just sot heer and took a good solid swing, for the sake of old times, +she said." + +"Then I will take one for the sake of new times!" cried Hilda, running +to the swing and seating herself on its broad, roomy seat. "For the sake +of this new time, which I know is going to be a happy one, give me three +_good_ pushes, please, Farmer Hartley, and then I can take care of +myself." + +One! two! three! up goes Queen Hildegarde, up and up, among the dusty, +cobwebby sunbeams, which settle like a crown upon her fair head. Down +with a rush, through the sweet, hay-scented air; then up again, +startling the swallows from under the eaves, and making the staid and +conservative old hens frantic with anxiety. Up and down, in broad, free +sweeps, growing slower now, as the farmer left her and went to his work. +How perfect it was! Did the world hold anything else so delightful as +swinging in a barn? She began to sing, for pure joy, a little song that +her mother had made for her when she was a little child, and used to +swing in the garden at home. And Farmer Hartley, with his hand on the +brown heifer's back, paused with a smile and a sigh as he heard the +girl's sweet fresh voice ring out gladly from the old barn. This was the +song she sang:-- + + If I were a fairy king + (Swinging high, swinging low), + I would give to you a ring + (Swinging, oh!) + With a diamond set so bright + That the shining of its light + Should make morning of the night + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + Should make morning of the night + (Swinging, oh!). + + On each ringlet as it fell + (Swinging high, swinging low) + I would tie a golden bell + (Swinging, oh!); + And the golden bells would chime + In a little merry rhyme, + In the merry morning time + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + In the happy morning time + (Swinging, oh!). + + You should wear a satin gown + (Swinging high, swinging low), + All with ribbons falling down + (Swinging, oh!). + And your little twinkling feet, + O my Pretty and my Sweet! + Should be shod with silver neat + (Swinging high, swinging low)-- + Shod with silver slippers neat + (Swinging, oh!). + + But I'm not a fairy, Pet + (Swinging high, swinging low), + Am not even a king, as yet + (Swinging, oh!). + So all that I can do + Is to kiss your little shoe, + And to make a queen of you + (Swinging high, swinging low), + Make a fairy queen of you + (Swinging, oh!). + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +HARTLEY'S GLEN. + + +How many girls, among all the girls who may read this little book, have +seen with their own eyes Hartley's Glen? Not one, perhaps, save Brynhild +and the Rosicrucian, for whom the book is written. But the others must +try to see it with my eyes, for it is a fair place and a sweet as any on +earth. Behind the house, and just under the brow of the little hill that +shelters it, a narrow path dips down to the right, and goes along for a +bit, with a dimpled clover-meadow on the one hand, and a stone wall, all +warm with golden and red-brown lichens, on the other. Follow this, and +you come to a little gateway, beyond which is a thick plantation of +larches, with one grim old red cedar keeping watch over them. If he +regards you favorably, you may pass on, down the narrow path that winds +among the larches, whose feathery finger-tips brush your cheek and try +to hold you back, as if they willed not that you should go farther, to +see the wonders which they can never behold. + +But you leave them behind, and come out into the sunshine, in a little +green glade which might be the ballroom of the fairy queen. On your +right, gleaming through clumps of alder and black birch, is a pond,--the +home of cardinal flowers and gleaming jewel-weed; a little farther on, a +thicket of birch and maple, from which comes a musical sound of falling +water. Follow this sound, keeping to the path, which winds away to the +left. Stop! now you may step aside for a moment, and part the heavy +hanging branches, and look, where the water falls over a high black +wall, into a sombre pool, shut in by fantastic rocks, and shaded from +all sunshine by a dense fringe of trees. This is the milldam, and the +pond above is no natural one, but the enforced repose and outspreading +of a merry brown brook, which now shows its true nature, and escaping +from the gloomy pool, runs scolding and foaming down through a +wilderness of rocks and trees. You cannot follow it there,--though I +have often done so in my barefoot days,--so come back to the path again. +There are pines overhead now, and the ground is slippery with the fallen +needles, and the air is sweet--ah! how sweet!--with their warm +fragrance. See! here is the old mill itself, now disused and falling to +decay. Here the path becomes a little precipice, and you must scramble +as best you can down two or three rough steps, and round the corner of +the ruined mill. This is a millstone, this great round thing like a +granite cheese, half buried in the ground; and here is another, which +makes a comfortable seat, if you are tired. + +But there is a fairer resting-place beyond. Round this one more corner, +now, and down,--carefully, carefully!--down this long stairway, formed +of rough slabs of stone laid one below the other. Shut your eyes now for +a moment, and let me lead you forward by the hand. And now--now open the +eyes wide, wide, and look about you. In front, and under the windows of +the old mill, the water comes foaming and rushing down over a rocky fall +some sixty feet high, and leaps merrily into a second pool. No sombre, +black gulf this, like the one above, but a lovely open circle, half in +broad sunshine, half dappled with the fairy shadows of the boughs and +ferns that bend lovingly over it. So the little brook is no longer +angry, but mingles lovingly with the deep water of the pool, and then +runs laughing and singing along the glen on its way down to the sea. On +one side of this glen the bank rises abruptly some eighty feet, its +sides clothed with sturdy birches which cling as best they may to the +rocky steep. On the other stretches the little valley, a narrow strip of +land, but with turf as fine as the Queen's lawn, and trees that would +proudly grace Her Majesty's park,--tall Norway firs, raising their +stately forms and pointing their long dark fingers sternly at the +intruders on their solitude; graceful birches; and here and there a +whispering larch or a nodding pine. The other wall of the valley, or +glen, is less precipitous, and its sides are densely wooded, and fringed +with barberry bushes and climbing eglantine. + +And between these two banks, and over this green velvet carpet, and +among these dark fir-trees,--ah! how the sun shines. Nowhere else in the +whole land does he shine so sweetly, for he knows that his time there is +short, and that the high banks will shut him out from that green, +pleasant place long before he must say good-night to the more +common-place fields and hill-sides. So here his beams rest right +lovingly, making royal show of gold on the smooth grass, and of diamonds +on the running water, and of opals and topazes and beryls where the +wave comes curling over the little fall. + +And now, amid all this pomp and play of sun and of summer, what is this +dash of blue that makes a strange, though not a discordant, note in our +harmony of gold and green? And what is that round, whitish object which +is bobbing up and down with such singular energy? Why, the blue is +Hildegarde's dress, if you must know; and the whitish object is the head +of Zerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee; and the energy with which said +head is bobbing is the energy of determination and of study. Hilda and +Bubble have made themselves extremely comfortable under the great +ash-tree which stands in the centre of the glen. The teacher has curled +herself up against the roots of the tree, and has a piece of work in her +hands; but her eyes are wandering dreamily over the lovely scene before +her, and she looks as if she were really too comfortable to move even a +finger. The scholar lies at her feet, face downwards, his chin +propped on his hands, his head bobbing up and down. The silence is only +broken by the noise of the waterfall and the persistent chirping of some +very cheerful little bird. + +Presently the boy raised his head and cried joyfully, "I've fetched him, +Miss Hildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!" Whereupon he stood up, and +assuming a military attitude, submitted to a severe geographical +catechising, and came off with flying colors. + +"That was a very good recitation," said Hilda, approvingly, as she laid +the book down. "You shall have another ballad to-day as a reward. But, +Bubble," she added, rather seriously, "I do wish you would not use so +much slang. It is so senseless! Now what did you mean by saying 'just +like pie,' in speaking of your lesson just now?" + +"Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" said Bubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no use +in your tellin' me you don't know what pie is." + +"Of course I know what pie is, you silly boy!" said Hilda, laughing. +"But what has pie to do with your geography lesson?" + +"That's so!" murmured the boy, apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it! +I won't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'like blazes,' instead." + +"You needn't say 'like' anything!" cried Hilda, laughing again; "just +say, I know my lesson 'well,' or 'thoroughly.' There are plenty of +_real_ words, Bubble, that have as much meaning as the slang ones, and +often a great deal more." + +"That's so," said Bubble, with an air of deep conviction. "I'll try not +to talk no more slang, Miss Hildy. I will, I swan!" + +"But, Bubble, you must not say 'I swan' either; that is _abominable_ +slang." + +Bubble looked very blank. "Why, what _shall_ I say?" he asked, simply. +"Pink won't let me say 'I swow,' 'cause it's vulgar; an' if I say 'by' +anything, Ma says it's swearin',--an' I can't swear, nohow!" + +"Of course not," said Hilda. "But why _must_ you say anything, +Bubble,--anything of that sort, I mean?" + +"Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin say ezackly _why_, Miss Hildy; +but--but--wal, I swan! I mean, I--I don't mean I swan--but--there now! +You see how 'tis, Miss Hildy. Things don't seem to hev no taste to 'em, +without you say _somethin'_." + +"Let me think," said Hilda. "Perhaps I can think of something that will +sound better." + +"I might say, 'Gee Whittekers!'" suggested Bubble, brightening up a +little. "I know some fellers as says that." + +"I don't think that would do," replied Hilda, decidedly. "What does it +mean?" + +"Don't mean nothing as I knows on," said the boy; "but it sounds kind o' +hahnsome, don't it?" + +Hilda shook her head with a smile. She did not think "Gee Whittekers" a +"hahnsome" expression. + +"Bubble," she said after a few moments' reflection, during which her +scholar watched her anxiously, "I have an idea. If you _must_ say +'something,' beside what you actually have to say, let it be something +that will remind you of your lessons; then it may help you to remember +them. Instead of Gee--what is it?--Gee Whittekers, say Geography, or +Spelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of 'I swan,' say 'I study!' What do +you think of this plan?" + +"Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I like +fustrate! Ge-_o_graphy! Why, that sounds just like pie! I--I don't mean +that, Miss Hildy. I didn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o' slipped +out, ye know." Bubble paused, and hung his head in much confusion. + +"Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly. "Of course you cannot make the change +all at once, Bubble. But little by little, if you really think about it, +you will bring it about. Next week," she added, "I think we must begin +upon grammar. You are doing very well indeed in spelling and geography, +and pretty well in arithmetic; but your grammar, Bubble, is simply +frightful." + +"Be it?" said Bubble, resignedly. "I want to know!" + +"And now," said the young instructress, rising, and shaking out her +crumpled frock, "that is enough for to-day, Bubble. We must be going +home soon; but first, I want to take a peep at the lower part of the old +mill, that you told me about yesterday. You have been in there, you say? +And how did you get in?" + +"I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity, and leading +the way towards the mill. "I'll show ye the very place, Miss Hildy. +'Tain't easy to get in, and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow; but I +kin git in, jist like--like 'rithmetic!" + +"Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughing merrily. "That is very well for a +beginning. How long is it since the mill was used?" she asked, looking +up at the frowning walls of rough, dark stone, covered with moss and +lichens. + +"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller," replied Bubble +Chirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' at +the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', +jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' made +the mill pay well. But his eldest son, that kem after him, warn't no +great shakes, an' he let the mill go to wrack and ruin, an' jes' stayed +on the farm. An' then he died, an' Cap'n Hartley came (that's the +farmer's father, ye know), an' he was kind o' crazy, and didn't care +about the mill either, an' so there it stayed. + +"This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy, breaking off suddenly, and +plunging into the tangled thicket of shrubs and brambles that hid the +base of the mill. "Thar! ye see that hole? That's whar I get in. Wait +till I clear away the briers a bit! Thar! now ye kin look in." + +The "hole" was a square opening, a couple of feet from the ground, and +large enough for a person of moderate size to creep through. Hildegarde +stooped down and looked in. At first she saw nothing but utter +blackness; but presently her eyes became accustomed to the place, and +the feeble light which struggled in past her through the opening, +revealed strange objects which rose here and there from the vast pit of +darkness,--fragments of rusty iron, bent and twisted into unearthly +shapes; broken beams, their jagged ends sticking out like stiffly +pointing fingers; cranks, and bits of hanging chain; and on the side +next the water, a huge wheel, rising apparently out of the bowels of the +earth, since the lower part of it was invisible. A cold, damp air seemed +to rise from the earth. Hilda shivered and drew back, looking rather +pale. "What a _dreadful_ place!" she cried. "It looks like a dungeon of +the Inquisition. I think you were very brave to go in there, Bubble. I +am sure _I_ should not dare to go; it looks so spectral and frightful." + +"Hy Peters stumped me to go," said Bubble, simply, "so o' course I went. +Most of the boys dassent. And it ain't bad, after the fust time. They do +say it's haunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'." + +"Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing back still farther from the black +opening. "By--by what, Bubble?" + +"Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "He used to go rooklin' round in there +when he was alive, folks say, and some thinks his sperit haunts there +now." + +"Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, with a laugh which did not sound quite +natural. "Of course you don't believe any such foolishness as that, +Bubble. But what did the old--old gentleman--want there when he was +alive? I can't imagine any one going in there for pleasure." + +"Dunno, I'm sure!" replied Bubble. "Father, he come down here one day, +after blackberries, when he was a boy. He hearn a noise in there, an' +went an' peeked in, an' there was the ol' Cap'n pokin' about with his +big stick in the dirt. He looked up an' saw father, an' came at him with +his stick up, roarin' like a mad bull, father said. An' he cut an' run, +father did, an' he hearn the ol' Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'd +have a fit. Crazy as a loon, I reckon the Cap'n was, though none of his +folks thought so, Ma says." + +He let the wild briers fly back about the gloomy opening, and they +stepped back on the smooth greensward again. Ah, how bright and warm the +sunshine was, after that horrible black pit! Hilda shivered again at the +thought of it, and then laughed at her own cowardice. She turned and +gazed at the waterfall, creaming and curling over the rocks, and making +such a merry, musical jest of its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely, +lovely!" she cried, kissing her hand to it. "Bubble, do you know that +Hartley's Glen is without exception the most beautiful place in the +world?" + +"No, miss! Be it really?" asked Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays thought +'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn't know't was all that." + +"Well, it is," said Hilda. "It is all that, and more; and I love it! But +now, Bubble," she added, "we must make haste, for the farmer will be +wanting you, and I have a dozen things to do before tea." + +"Yes, miss," said Bubble, but without his usual alacrity. + +Hilda saw a look of disappointment in his honest blue eyes, and asked +what was the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!" said Zerubbabel, sadly. + +"Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!" said Hildegarde. "But you shall +have it; I will tell it to you as we walk back to the farm. Which one +will you have,--or shall I tell you a new one?" + +The blue eyes sparkled with the delight of anticipation. "Oh, please!" +he cried; "the one about the bold Buckle-oh!" + +Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauld Buccleugh?" she repeated. "Oh! you +mean 'Kinmont Willie.' Yes, indeed, you shall have that. It is one of my +favorite ballads, and I am glad you like it." + +"Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he whangs the table, and says do +they think his helmet's an old woman's bunnit, an' all the rest of +it,--I tell ye that's _some_, Miss Hildy!" + +"You have the spirit of the verse, Bubble," said Hilda, laughing softly; +"but the words are not _quite_ right." And she repeated the splendid, +ringing words of Buccleugh's indignant outcry: + + "Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch, + Or my lance a wand o' the willow-tree, + Or my arm a lady's lily hand, + That an English lord should lightly me? + + "And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, + Against the truce of Border tide, + And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh + Is warden here o' the Scottish side? + + "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, + Withouten either dread or fear, + And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh + Can back a steed or shake a spear?" + +Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up and down in his excitement "Oh! but +begin again at the beginning, _please_, Miss Hildy," he cried. + +So Hilda, nothing loth, began at the beginning; and as they walked +homeward, recited the whole of the noble old ballad, which if any +girl-reader does not know, she may find it in any collection of Scottish +ballads. + +"And the best of it is, Bubble," said Hilda, "that it is all +true,--every word of it; or nearly every word." + +"I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still much excited. "They couldn't make +lies sound like that, ye know! You kind o' _know_ it's true, and it goes +right through yer, somehow. When did it happen, Miss Hildy?" + +"Oh! a long time ago," said Hildegarde; "near the end of the sixteenth +century. I forget just the very year, but it was in the reign of Queen +Elizabeth. She was very angry at Buccleugh's breaking into Carlisle +Castle, which was an English castle, you see, and carrying off Lord +Scroope's prisoner; and she sent word to King James of Scotland that he +must give up Buccleugh to her to punish as she saw fit. King James +refused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first to +break the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but at +length he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, +and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent to +London and brought before the great, haughty English queen. But he was +just as haughty as she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked down +on him from her throne (she was very stately, you know, and she wore a +crown, and a great stiff ruff, and her dress was all covered with gold +and precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake such a +desperate and presumptuous enterprise. And Buccleugh--O Bubble, I +always liked this so much!--Buccleugh just looked her full in the face, +and said, 'What is it a man dare not do?' Now Queen Elizabeth liked +nothing so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased her. She +turned to one of her ministers and said, 'With ten thousand such men our +brother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe.' And so +she let him go, just because he was so brave and so handsome." + +Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd ben +alive then!" he said. + +"Why, Bubble?" asked Hilda, much amused; "what would you have done?" + +"I'd ha' killed Lord Scroope!" he cried,--"him and the hull kit of 'em. +Besides," he added, "I'd like t' ha' lived then jest ter see +_him_,--jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what _I_ call a man!" +And Queen Hildegardis fully agreed with him. + +They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked: "If that king was +her brother, why did she treat him so kind o' ugly? My sister don't act +that way." + +"What--oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!" said Hilda, laughing. "King James +was not her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing more." + +"You _said_ she said 'brother,'" persisted the boy. + +"So I did," replied Hilda. "You see, it was the fashion, and is still, +for kings and queens to _call_ each other brother and sister, whether +they were really related to each other or not." + +"But I thought they was always fightin'," objected Bubble. "I've got a +hist'ry book to home, an' in that it says they fit like time whenever +they got a chance." + +"So they did," said Hilda. "But they called each other 'our royal +brother' and 'our beloved sister;' and they were always paying each +other fine compliments, and saying how much they loved each other, even +in the middle of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could." + +"Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind o folks they must ha' been. Well, I +must go, Miss Hildy," he added, reluctantly. "I've had a splendid time, +an' I'm _real_ obleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn that story by heart, +'bout the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! _She_'d like +it--oh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like--I mean jest like spellin'! +Good by, Miss Hildy!" And Bubble ran off to bring home the cows, his +little heart swelling high with scorn of kings and queens, and with a +fervor of devotion to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +PINK CHIRK. + + +One lovely morning Hildegarde stood at the back door, feeding the fowls. +She wore her brown gingham frock with the yellow daisies on it, and the +daisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she held a great yellow bowl full +of yellow corn. So bright a picture she made that Farmer Hartley, +driving the oxen afield, stopped for pure pleasure to look at her. +Around her the ducks and hens were fighting and squabbling, quacking, +clucking, and gobbling, and she flung the corn in golden showers on +their heads and backs, making them nearly frantic with greedy anxiety. + +[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."] + +"Wal, Huldy," said the farmer, leaning against Bright's massive side, +"you look pooty slick in that gown, I must say. I reckon thar ain't no +sech gown as _that_ on Fifth Avenoo, hey?" + +"Indeed, I don't believe there is, Farmer Hartley," replied Hilda, +laughing merrily; "at least I never saw one like it. It _is_ pretty, I +think, and _so_ comfortable! And where are you going this morning with +the mammoths?" + +"Down to the ten-acre lot," replied the farmer. "The men are makin' hay +thar to-day. Jump into the riggin' and come along," he added. "Ye kin +hev a little ride, an' see the hay-makin'. Pooty sight 'tis, to my +thinkin'." + +"May I?" cried Hilda, eagerly. "I am sure these fowls have had enough. +Go away now, you greedy creatures! There, you shall have all there is!" +and she emptied the bowl over the astonished dignitaries of the +barn-yard, laid it down on the settle in the porch, and jumped gayly +into the "rigging," as the great hay-cart was called. + +"Haw, Bright! hoish, Star!" said the farmer, touching one and then the +other of the great black oxen lightly with his goad. The huge beasts +swayed from side to side, and finally succeeded in getting themselves +and the cart in motion, while the farmer walked leisurely beside them, +tapping and poking them occasionally, and talking to them in that mystic +language which only oxen and their drivers understand. Down the sweet +country lane they went, with the willows hanging over them, and the +daisies and buttercups and meadow-sweet running riot all over the banks. +Hilda stood up in the cart and pulled off twigs from the willows as she +passed under them, and made garlands, which the farmer obediently put +over the oxen's necks. She hummed little snatches of song, and chatted +gayly with her kind old host; for the world was very fair, and her heart +was full of summer and sunshine. + +"And have you always lived here, Farmer Hartley?" she asked. "All your +life, I mean?" + +"No, not all my life," replied the farmer, "though pooty nigh it. I was +ten year old when my uncle died, and father left sea-farin', and kem +home to the farm to live. Before that we'd lived in different places, +movin' round, like. We was at sea a good deal, sailin' with father when +he went on pleasant voyages, to the West Indies, or sich. But sence then +I ain't ben away much. I don't seem to find no pleasanter place than the +old farm, somehow." + +"I don't believe there _is_ any pleasanter place in the world!" said +Hilda, warmly. "I am sure I have never been so happy anywhere as I have +here." + +Farmer Hartley looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "Ye've changed yer +views some, Huldy, hain't ye, sence the fust day ye kem heer? I didn't +never think, then, as I'd be givin' you rides in the hay-riggin', sech a +fine young lady as you was." + +Hilda gave him an imploring glance, while the blood mounted to her +temples. "Please, Farmer Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please try +to forget that first day. It isn't my views that have changed," she +added, "it is I myself. I don't--I really don't _think_ I am the same +girl who came here a month ago." + +"No, my gal," said the farmer, heartily, "I don't think ye are." He +walked along in silence for a few minutes, and then said, "'Tis curus +how folks kin sometimes change 'emselves, one way or the other. 'Tain't +so with critturs; 't least so fur's I've obsarved. The way they're born, +that way they'll stay. Now look at them oxen! When they was young +steers, hardly more'n calves, I began to train them critturs. An' from +the very fust go-off they tuk their cue an' stuck to it. Star, thar, +would lay out, and shake his head, an' pull for all he was wuth, as if +there was nothin' in the world to do _but_ pull; and Bright, he'd wait +till Star was drawin' good an' solid, an' then he'd as much as say, 'Oh! +you kin pull all that, kin ye? Well, stick to it, my boy, an' I'll +manage to trifle along with the rest o' the load.' Wo-_hoish_, Star! +haw, Bright! git up, ye old humbug! You're six year old now, an' you +ain't changed a mite in four years, though I've drove you stiddy, and +tried to spare the other every time." + +The green lane broke off suddenly, and such a blaze of sunlight flashed +upon them that Hilda involuntarily raised her hand to shield her eyes. +The great meadow lay open before them, an undulating plain of gold. The +haycocks looked dull and gray-green upon it; but where the men were +tossing the hay with their long wooden rakes, it flashed pale-golden in +the sunlight, and filled the air with flying gleams. Also the air was +filled with the sweetness of the hay, and every breath was a delight. +Hilda stood speechless with pleasure, and the old farmer watched her +glowing face with kindly gratification. + +"Pooty sightly, ain't it?" he said. And then, in a graver tone, and +removing his battered straw hat, "I don't never seem to see the glory +of the Lord no plainer than in a hay-field, a day like this. Yes, sir! +if a man can't be a Christian on a farm in summer, he can't be it +nowhere. Amen!" and Farmer Hartley put on his hat and proceeded +straightway to business. "Now, Huldy," he said, "here ye be! I'm goin' +to load up this riggin', an' ye kin stay round here a spell, if ye like, +an' run home _when_ ye like. Ye kin find the way, I reckon?" + +"Oh, yes!" said Hilda; "yes, indeed! But I shall stay here for a while, +and watch you. And mayn't I toss the hay too a little?" + +But her courage failed when she found that to do this she must mingle +with the crowd of strange haymakers; and besides, among them she saw the +clumsy form and shock head of Caliban, as she had secretly named the +clownish and surly nephew of her good host. This fellow was the one +bitter drop in Hilda's cup. Everything else she had learned to like, in +the month which had passed since she came to Hartley's Glen. The farmer +and his wife she loved as they deserved to be loved. The little +maidservant was her adoring slave, and secretly sewed her boot-buttons +on, and mended her stockings, as some small return for the lessons in +crochet and fancy knitting that she had received from the skilful white +fingers which were a perpetual marvel to her. But Simon Hartley remained +what she had at first thought him,--a sullen, boorish churl. He was a +malevolent churl too, Hildegarde thought; indeed she was sure of it. She +had several times seen his eyes fixed on his uncle with a look of +positive hatred; and though Farmer Hartley was persistently kind and +patient with him, trying often to draw him into conversation, and make +him join in the pleasant evening talks which they all enjoyed, his +efforts were unsuccessful. The fellow came in, gobbled his food, and +then went off, if his work was over, to hide himself in his own room. +Hilda was quite sure that Nurse Lucy liked this oaf no better than she +herself did, though the good woman never spoke impatiently or unkindly +to him,--and indeed it would be difficult for any one to like him, she +thought, except possibly his own mother. + +Our Queen took presently her seat on a right royal throne of fragrant +hay, and gave herself up to the full delight of the summer morning, and +of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," as she had instantly named the +shining yellow plain, which more prosaic souls knew as "the ten-acre +lot." The hay rustled pleasantly as she nestled down in it, and made a +little penthouse over her head, to keep off the keen, hot sun-arrows. +There was a great oak-tree too, which partly shaded this favored +haycock, and on one of its branches a squirrel came running out, and +then sat up and looked at Hildegarde with bright, inquisitive eyes. A +maiden, all brown and gold, on a golden haycock! What strange apparition +was this? Had she come for acorns? Did she know about the four young +ones in the snug little house in the hollow just above the first branch! +Perhaps--dreadful thought!--she had heard of the marvellous beauty of +the four young ones, and had come to steal them. "Chip!" whisk! and +Madam Squirrel was off up the branch like a streak of brown lightning, +with its tail up. + +Hilda laughed at the squirrel's alarm, and then turned her attention to +a large green grasshopper who seemed to demand it. He had alighted on +her knee, and now proceeded to exhibit his different points before her +admiring gaze with singular gravity and deliberation. First he slowly +opened his wings, to show the delicate silvery gauze of the under-wings; +then as slowly closed them, demonstrating the perfect fit of his whole +wing-costume and the harmony of its colors. He next extended one leg, +calling her attention to its remarkable length and muscular +proportions. Then, lest she should think he had but one, he extended +the other; and then gave a vigorous hop with both of them, to show her +that he did not really need wings, but could get on perfectly well +without them. Finally he rubbed himself all over with his long antennae, +and then, pointing them full at her, and gazing at her with calm and +dispassionate eyes, he said plainly enough: "And now, Monster, what have +_you_ to show _me_?" + +Hildegarde was wondering how she could best dispel the scorn with which +this majestic insect evidently regarded her, when suddenly something new +appeared on her gown,--something black, many-legged, hairy, most +hideous; something which ran swiftly but stealthily, with a motion which +sent a thrill of horror through her veins. She started up with a little +shriek, shaking off the unlucky spider as if it had been the Black Death +in concrete. Then she looked round with flaming cheeks, to see if her +scream had been heard by the hay-makers. No, they were far away, and +too busy to take heed of her. But the charm was broken. Queen Hildegarde +had plenty of courage of a certain sort, but she could _not_ face a +spider. The golden throne had become a "siege perilous," and she +abdicated in favor of the grasshopper and his black and horrent visitor. + +What should she do now? The charm of the morning had made her idle and +drowsy, and she did not feel like going home to help Nurse Lucy in +making the butter, though she often did so with right good-will. She +looked dreamily around, her eyes wandering here and there over the great +meadow and the neat stone walls which bounded it. Presently she spied +the chimneys and part of the red roof of a little cottage which peeped +from a thick clump of trees just beyond the wall. Who lived in that +cottage, Hilda wondered. Why should she not go and see? She was very +thirsty, and there she might get a glass of water. Oh! perhaps it was +Bubble's cottage, where he and his mother and his sister Pink lived. Now +she thought of it, Bubble had told her that he lived "over beyont the +ten-acre lot;" of course this must be the place. Slowly she walked +across the meadow and climbed the wall, wondering a good deal about the +people whom she was going to see. She had often meant to ask Bubble more +about his sister with the queer name; but the lesson-hour was so short, +and there were always so many questions for Bubble to ask and for her to +answer besides the regular lesson, that she always forgot it till too +late. Pink Chirk! what could a girl be like with such a name as that? +Hilda fancied her a stout, buxom maiden, with very red cheeks and very +black eyes--yes, certainly, the eyes must be black! Her hair--well, one +could not be so sure about her hair; but there was no doubt about her +wearing a pink dress and a blue checked apron. And she must be smiling, +bustling, and energetic. Yes! Hilda had the picture of her complete in +her mind. She wondered that this active, stirring girl never came up to +the farm; but of course she must have a great deal of work to do at +home. + +By this time Hildegarde had reached the cottage; and after a moment's +hesitation she knocked softly at the green-painted door. No one came to +open the door, but presently she heard a clear, pleasant voice from +within saying, "Open the door and come in, please!" Following this +injunction, she entered the cottage and found herself directly in the +sitting-room, and face to face with its occupant. This was a girl of her +own age, or perhaps a year older, who sat in a wheeled chair by the +window. She was very fair, with almost flaxen hair, and frank, pleasant +blue eyes. She was very pale, very thin; the hands that lay on her lap +were almost transparent; but--she wore a pink calico dress and a blue +checked apron. Who could this be? and whoever it was, why did she sit +still when a visitor and a stranger came in? The pale girl made no +attempt to rise, but she met Hilda's look of surprise and inquiry with a +smile which broke like sunshine over her face, making it for the moment +positively beautiful. "How do you do?" she said, holding out her thin +hand. "I am sure you must be Miss Hilda Graham, and I am Bubble's sister +Pink. + +[Illustration: "THE PALE GIRL MADE NO ATTEMPT TO RISE."] + +"Please sit down," she added. "I am so _very_ glad to see you. I have +wanted again and again to thank you for all your kindness to my Bubble, +but I didn't know when I should have a chance. Did Bubble show you the +way?" + +Hildegarde was so astonished, so troubled, so dismayed that she hardly +knew what she was saying or doing. She took the slender fingers in her +own for an instant, and then sat down, saying hastily: "Oh, no! I--I +found my way alone. I was not sure of its being your cottage, though I +thought it must be from what Bubble told me." She paused; and then, +unable to keep back longer the words which sprang to her lips, she said: +"I fear you have been ill, you are so pale. I hope it has not been +serious. Bubble did not tell me--" + +Pink Chirk looked up with her bright, sweet smile. "Oh, no! I have not +been ill," she said. "I am always like this. I cannot walk, you know, +but I am very well indeed." + +"You cannot walk?" stammered Hilda. + +The girl saw her look of horror, and a faint color stole into her wan +cheek. "Did not Bubble tell you?" she asked, gently; and then, as Hilda +shook her head, "It is such a matter of course to him," she said; "he +never thinks about it, I suppose, dear little fellow. I was run over +when I was three years old, and I have never been able to walk since." + +Hildegarde could not speak. The thought of anything so dreadful, so +overwhelming as this, coming so suddenly, too, upon her, seemed to take +away her usually ready speech, and she was dumb, gazing at the cheerful +face before her with wide eyes of pity and wonderment. But Pink Chirk +did not like to be pitied, as a rule; and she almost laughed at her +visitor's horror-stricken face. + +"You mustn't look so!" she cried. "It's very kind of you to be sorry, +but it isn't as if I were really _ill_, you know. I can _almost_ stand +on one foot,--that is, I can bear enough weight on it to get from my bed +to my chair without help. That is a _great_ thing! And then when I am +once in my chair, why I can go almost anywhere. Farmer Hartley gave me +this chair," she added, looking down at it, and patting the arm +tenderly, as if it were a living friend; "isn't it a beauty?" + +It was a pretty chair, made of cherry wood, with cushions of +gay-flowered chintz; and Hilda, finding her voice again, praised it +warmly. "This is its summer dress," said Pink, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure. "Underneath, the cushions are covered with soft crimson cloth, +oh, so pretty, and so warm-looking! I am always glad when it's time to +take the chintz covers off. And yet I am always glad to put them on +again," she added, "for the chintz is pretty too, I think: and besides, +I know then that summer is really come." + +"You like summer best?" asked Hilda. + +"Oh, yes!" she replied. "In winter, of course, I can't go out; and +sometimes it seems a little long, when Bubble is away all day,--not +very, you know, but just a little. But in summer, oh, then I am so +happy! I can go all round the place by myself, and sit out in the +garden, and feed the chickens, and take care of the flowers. And then on +Sunday Bubble always gives me a good ride along the road. My chair moves +very easily,--only see!" She gave a little push, and propelled herself +half way across the little room. + +At this moment the inner door opened, and Mrs. Chirk appeared,--a +slender, anxious-looking woman, with hair prematurely gray. She greeted +Hilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for her +kindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy, Miss Graham," she said, +"sence you begun givin' him lessons. He used to fret and worrit 'cause +there warn't no school, and he couldn't ha' gone to it if there was. +Pinkrosia learned him what she could; but we hain't many books, you see. +But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetry +at the top of his lungs,--jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What +was that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old +black hen nigh to death?" + +"'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!'" murmured +Pink, with a smile. + +"Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk. "He was lookin' out of the window +and pumpin' at the same time, an' spoutin' them verses too. And all of a +sudden he cries out, 'Ther's the brood of dark My Hen, scratchin' up the +sweet peas. Upon them with the lance!' And he lets go the pump-handle, +and it flies up and hits the shelf and knocks off two plates and a cup, +and Bubble, he's off with the mop-handle, chasin' the old black hen and +makin' believe run her through, till she e'enamost died of fright. Well, +there, it give me a turn; it reelly did!" She paused rather sadly, +seeing that her hearers were both overcome with laughter. + +"I--I am very sorry, Mrs. Chirk, that the plates were broken," said +Hilda; "but it must have been extremely funny. Poor old hen! she must +have been frightened, certainly. Do you know," she added, "I think +Bubble is a _remarkably_ bright boy. I am very sure that he will make a +name for himself, if only he can have proper training." + +"Presume likely!" said Mrs. Chirk, with melancholy satisfaction. "His +father was a _real_ smart man. There warn't no better hayin' hand in the +county than Loammi Chirk. And I'm in hopes Zerubbabel will do as well, +for he has a good friend in Farmer Hartley; no boy couldn't have a +better." + +Eminence in the profession of "haying" was not precisely what Hilda had +meant; but she said nothing. + +"And my poor girl here," Mrs. Chirk continued after a pause, "she sets +in her cheer hay-times and other times. You've heard of her misfortune, +Miss Graham?" + +Pink interposed quickly with a little laugh, though her brows contracted +slightly, as if with pain. "Oh, yes, Mother dear!" she said; "Miss +Graham has heard all about me, and knows what a _very_ important person +I am. But where is the yarn that I was to wind for you? I thought you +wanted to begin weaving this afternoon." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Hildegarde. "Never mind the yarn just now, Pink! I want +to give you a little ride before I go back to the farm. May she go, Mrs. +Chirk? It is such a beautiful day, I am sure the air will do her good. +Would you like it, Pink?" + +Pink looked up with a flush of pleasure on her pale cheek. "Oh," she +said, "would I like it! But it's too much for you to do, Miss Graham." + +"An' with that beautiful dress on too!" cried Mrs. Chirk. "You'd get it +dusty on the wheel, I'm afraid. I don't think--" + +"Oh yes, you do!" cried Hilda, gayly, pushing the chair towards the +door. "Bring her hat, please, Mrs. Chirk. I always have my own way!" she +added, with a touch of the old imperiousness, "and I have quite set my +heart on this." + +Mrs. Chirk meekly brought a straw sun-bonnet, and Hilda tied its strings +under Pink's chin, every fibre within her mutely protesting against its +extreme ugliness. "She shall not wear _that_ again," said she to +herself, "if I can help it." But the sweet pale face looked out so +joyously from the dingy yellow tunnel that the stern young autocrat +relented. "After all, what does it matter?" she thought. "She would +look like an angel, even with a real coal-scuttle on her head." And +then she laughed at the thought of a black japanned scuttle crowning +those fair locks; and Pink laughed because Hilda laughed; and so they +both went laughing out into the sunshine. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE LETTER. + + +"Nurse Lucy," said Hildegarde that evening, as they sat in the porch +after tea, "why have you never told me about Pink Chirk,--about her +being a cripple, I mean? I had no idea of it till I went to see her +to-day. How terrible it is!" + +"I wonder that I haven't told you, dear!" replied Nurse Lucy, placidly. +"I suppose I am so used to Pink as she is, I forget that she ever was +like other people. She is a dear, good child,--his 'sermon,' Jacob calls +her. He says that whenever he feels impatient or put out, he likes to go +down and look at Pink, and hear her talk. 'It takes the crook right out +of me!' he says. Poor Jacob!" + +"But how did it happen?" asked Hilda. "She says she was only three years +when she--Oh, think of it, Nurse Lucy! It is too dreadful. Tell me how +it happened." + +"Don't ask me, my dear!" said Dame Hartley, sadly. "Why should you hear +anything so painful? It would only haunt your mind as it haunted mine +for years after. The worst of it was, there was no need of it. Her +mother was a young, flighty, careless girl, and she didn't look after +her baby as she should have done. That is all you need know, Hilda, my +dear! Poor Susan Chirk! it took the flightiness out of her, and made her +the anxious, melancholy soul she has been ever since. Then Bubble was +born, and soon after her husband died, and since then she has had a hard +time to fend for herself. But Pink has never been any trouble to her, +only a help and a comfort; and her neighbors have done what they could +from time to time." + +Dame Hartley might have said that she and her husband had kept this +desolate widow and her children from starvation through many a long +winter, and had given her the means of earning her daily bread in +summer; had clothed the children, and provided comforts for the crippled +girl. But this was not Nurse Lucy's way. The neighbors had done what +they could, she said; and now Bubble was earning good wages for a boy, +and was sure to get on well, being bright and industrious; and Mrs. +Chirk took in weaving to do for the neighbors, and went out sometimes to +work by the day; and so they were really getting on very well,--better +than one could have hoped. + +Hildegarde laid her head against the good Dame's shoulder and fell into +a brown study. Nurse Lucy seemed also in a thoughtful mood; and so the +two sat quietly in the soft twilight till the red glow faded in the +west, and left in its stead a single star, gleaming like a living jewel +in the purple sky. All the birds were asleep save the untiring +whippoorwill, who presented his plea for the castigation of the unhappy +William with ceaseless energy. A little night-breeze came up, and said +pleasant, soft things to the leaves, which rustled gently in reply, and +the crickets gave their usual evening concert, beginning with a movement +in G sharp, _allegro con moto_. Other sound there was none, until by and +by the noise of wheels was heard, and the click of old Nancy's hoofs; +and out of the gathering darkness Farmer Hartley appeared, just returned +from the village, whither he had gone to make arrangements about selling +his hay. + +"Wal, Marm Lucy," he said, cheerfully, throwing the reins on Nancy's +neck and jumping from the wagon, "is that you settin' thar? 'Pears to me +I see somethin' like a white apun gloomin' out o' the dark." + +"Yes, Jacob," answered "Marm Lucy," "I am here, and so is Hilda. The +evening has been so lovely, we have not had the heart to light the +lamps, but have just been sitting here watching the sunset. We'll come +in now, though," she added, leading the way into the house. "You'll be +wanting some supper, my man. Or did ye stop at Cousin Sarah's?" + +"I stopped at Sary's," replied the farmer. "Ho! ho! yes, Sary gave me +some supper, though she warn't in no mood for seein' comp'ny, even her +own kin. Poor Sary! she was in a dretful takin', sure enough!" + +"Why, what was the matter?" asked Dame Hartley, as she trimmed and +lighted the great lamp, and drew the short curtains of Turkey red cotton +across the windows. "Is Abner sick again!" + +"Shouldn't wonder if he was, by this time," replied the farmer; "but he +warn't at the beginnin' of it. I'll tell ye how 'twas;" and he sat down +in his great leather chair, and stretched his legs out comfortably +before him, while his wife filled his pipe and brought it to him,--a +little attention which she never forgot. "Sary, she bought a new bunnit +yisterday!" Farmer Hartley continued, puffing away at the pipe. "She's +kind o' savin', ye know, Sary is [Nurse Lucy nodded, with a knowing +air], and she hadn't had a new bunnit for ten years. (I d' 'no' 's she's +had one for twenty!" he added in parenthesis; "_I_ never seed her with +one to my knowledge.) Wal, the gals was pesterin' her, an' sayin' she +didn't look fit to go to meetin' in the old bunnit, so 't last she giv' +way, and went an' bought a new one. 'Twas one o' these newfangled +shapes. What was it Lizy called it? Somethin' Chinese, I reckon. Fan +Song! That was it!" + +"Fanchon, wasn't it, perhaps?" asked Hilda, much amused. + +"That's what I said, warn't it?" said the farmer. "Fan Song, Fan +Chong,--wal, what's the odds? 'Twas a queer lookin' thing, anyhow, I +sh'd think, even afore it-- Wal, I'm comin' to that. Sary showed it to +the gals, and they liked it fust-rate; then she laid it on the kitchen +table, an' went upstairs to git some ribbons an' stuff to put on it. +She rummaged round consid'able upstairs, an' when she kum down, lo and +behold, the bunnit was gone! Wal, Sary hunted high, and she hunted low. +She called the gals, thinkin' they'd played a trick on her, an' hidden +it for fun. But they hadn't, an' they all set to an' sarched the house +from garrit to cellar; but they didn't find hide nor hair o' that +bunnit. At last Sary give it up, an' sot down out o' breath, an' mad +enough to eat somebody. 'It's been stole!' says she. 'Some ornery +critter kem along while I was upstairs,' says she, 'an' seed it lyin' +thar on the table, an' kerried it off!' says she. 'I'd like to get hold +of her!' says she; 'I guess she wouldn't steal no more bunnits for _one_ +while!' says she. I had come in by that time, an' she was tellin' me all +about it. Jest at that minute the door opened, and Abner kem sa'nterin' +in, mild and moony as usual 'Sary,' says he,--ho! ho! ho! it makes me +laugh to think on't,--'Sary,' says he, 'I wouldn't buy no more baskets +without handles, ef I was you. They ain't convenient to kerry,' says +he. And with that he sets down on the table--that Fan Chong bunnit! He'd +been mixin' chicken feed in it, an' he'd held it fust by one side an' +then by the other, an' he'd dropped it in the mud too, I reckon, from +the looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin' thing in all your born +days as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked at +Abner, an' then at the bunnit agin; an' _then_ she let fly." + +"Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. +"What did she say?" + +"_I_ can't tell ye what she said," replied the farmer. "What did your +old cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An' yet +there was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hull +dictionary was flyin' round that room for about ten minutes,--Webster's +Unabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin' his +head up an' down, and openin' an' shettin' his mouth, as if he'd like +to say somethin' if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out of +breath that she couldn't say another word, an' hed to stop for a minute, +Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guess you're a little excited. Jacob an' me'll +go out an' take a look at the stock,' says he, 'and come back when +you're feelin' calmer.' An' he nods to me, an' out we both goes, before +Sary could git her breath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause I was +laughin' so inside 't I couldn't. Abner, he walked along kind o' solemn, +shakin' his head every little while, an' openin' an' shettin' his mouth. +When we got to the stable-door he looked at me a minute, and then he +said, 'The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I _thought_ that was kind +of a curus lookin' basket, though!' and that was every word he said +about it." + +"Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife +say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?" + +"She warn't thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals +said, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she _would_ have had a +headache,--but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search +in his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgotten +Huldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head." + +Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer +handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not +from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double +letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a +week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality. +There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate +pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume +which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton." + +With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quite +alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a +rose to his lips, and read as follows:-- + + + SARATOGA, July 20. + + MY DEAREST, SWEETEST HILDA,--Can it be possible + that you have been away a whole month, and that I have not + written to you? I am awfully ashamed! but I have been so + TOO busy, it has been out of the question. Papa + decided quite _suddenly_ to come here instead of going to + Long Branch; and you can imagine the _frantic_ amount of + work Mamma and I had to get ready. One has to dress so + _much_ at Saratoga, you know; and we cannot just send an + order to _Paris_, as _you_ do, my dear Queen, for all we + want, but have to _scratch round_ (I know you don't allow + your subjects to use slang, but we DO scratch + round, and nothing else can express it), and get things made + here. I have a _lovely_ pale blue Henrietta-cloth, made like + that rose-colored gown of yours that I admire so much, and + that you SAID I might copy. Mamma says it was + _awfully_ good of you, and that _she_ wouldn't let any one + copy _her_ French dresses if she had them; but I told her + you _were_ awfully good, and that was why. Well, then I have + a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, and a + _lovely_ pointed overskirt, copied from a Donovan dress of + Mamma's; and a dark-red surah, and oh! a perfect + "frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; two _sweet_ white + lawns, one trimmed with valenciennes (I _hate_ valenciennes, + you know, but Mamma _will_ make me have it, because she + thinks it is _jeune fille_!), and one with the new Russian + lace; and a pink sateen, and two or three light chambrays. + + But now I know you will be _dying_ to hear about my hats; + for you always say that the hat _makes_ the costume; and so + it _does_! Well, my dearest, I have _one_ Redfern hat, and + _only_ one. Mamma says I cannot expect to have more until I + come out, which is _bitter_. However, this one is a + _beauty_, and yet cost _only_ thirty dollars. It goes well + with nearly all my dresses, and is _immensely_ becoming, all + the girls say: very high, with long pointed wings and stiff + bows. _Simple_, my dear, doesn't _express_ it! You know I + LOVE simplicity; but it is _Redferny_ to a + _degree_, and _everybody_ has noticed it. + + Well, my dearest Queen, here am I running on about myself, + as if I were not actually EXPIRING to hear about + you. What my feelings were when I called at your house on + that _fatal Tuesday_ and was told that you had gone to spend + the summer on a _farm_ in the _depths_ of the country, + passes my _power_ to tell. I could not ask your mother many + questions, for you know I am always a little bit + AFRAID of her, though she is _perfectly lovely_ to + me! She was very quiet and sweet, _as_ _usual_, and spoke + as if it were the most _natural_ thing in the _world_ for a + brilliant society girl (for that is what you _are_, Hilda, + even though you are only a school-girl; and you + NEVER can be anything else!) to spend her summer in + a wretched farm-house, among _pigs_ and _cows_ and dreadful + ignorant people. Of course, Hilda dearest, you know that my + admiration for your mother is _simply_ IMMENSE, and + that I would not for _worlds_ say _one syllable_ against her + judgment and that of your _military angel_ of a father; but + I MUST say it seemed to me MORE than + strange. I assure you I hardly closed my eyes for several + nights, thinking of the MISERY you must be + undergoing; for _I_ KNOW you, Hildegarde! and the + thought of my proud, fastidious, high-bred Queen being + condemned to associate with _clowns_ and _laborers_ was + really MORE than I could bear. Do write to me, + darling, and tell me HOW you are enduring it. You + were _always_ so sensitive; why, I can see your lip curl + _now_, when any of the girls did anything that was not _tout + a fait comme il faut_! and the _air_ with which you used to + say, "The _little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" + How _true_ it is! I feel it more and more _every_ day. So + _do_ write _at once_, and let me know _all_ about your dear + self. I picture you to myself sometimes, pale and thin, with + the "_white disdain_" that some poet or other speaks of, in + your face, but enduring all the HORRORS that you + must be subjected to with your OWN DIGNITY. Dearest + Hilda, you are _indeed_ a HEROINE! + + Always, darling, + Your own deeply _devoted_ and _sympathizing_ + MADGE. + + +Hildegarde looked up after reading this letter, and, curiously enough, +her eyes fell directly on a little mirror which hung on the wall +opposite. In it she saw a rosy, laughing face, which smiled back +mischievously at her. There were dimples in the cheeks, and the gray +eyes were fairly dancing with life and joyousness. Where was the "white +disdain," the dignity, the pallor and emaciation? Could this be Madge's +Queen Hildegarde? Or rather, thought the girl, with a sudden revulsion +of feeling, could this Hildegarde ever have been the other? The form of +"the minx," long since dissociated from her thoughts and life, seemed to +rise, like Banquo's ghost, and stare at her with cold, disdainful eyes +and supercilious curl of the lip. Oh DEAR! how dreadful it was +to have been so odious! How could poor dear Papa and Mamma, bless them, +have endured her as they did, so patiently and sweetly? But they should +see when they came back! She had only just begun yet; but there were two +months still before her, and in that time what could she not do? They +should be surprised, those dear parents! And Madge--why, Madge would be +surprised too. Poor Madge! To think of her in Saratoga, prinking and +preening herself like a gay bird, in the midst of a whirl of dress and +diamonds and gayety, with no fields, no woods, no glen, no--no +_kitchen_! Hilda looked about the room which she had learned so to love, +trying to fancy Madge Everton in it; remembering, too, the bitterness of +her first feeling about it. The lamplight shone cheerily on the yellow +painted walls, the shining floor, the gleaming brass, copper, and china. +It lighted up the red curtains and made a halo round good Nurse Lucy's +head as she bent over her sewing; it played on the farmer's silver-bowed +spectacles as he pored with knitted brows and earnest look over the +weekly paper which he had brought from the village. The good, kind +farmer! Hilda gazed at him as he sat all unconscious, and wondered why +she had not seen at once how handsome he really was. The broad forehead, +with its deep, thoughtful furrows; the keen, yet kindly blue eyes; the +"sable-silvered" hair and beard, which, if not exactly smooth, were +still so picturesque, so leonine; the firm, perhaps obstinate, mouth, +which could speak so wisely and smile so cordially,--all these combined +to make up what the newspapers would call a "singularly attractive +exterior." And "_Oh!_ how good he has been to me!" thought Hilda. "I +believe he is the best man in the world, next to papa." Then she thought +of Madge again, and tried to fancy her in her Redfern hat,--pretty +Madge, with her black eyes and curly fringe, under the "simplicity" of +the heaven-aspiring wings and bows; and as she smiled at the image, +there rose beside it the fair head of Pink Chirk, looking out like a +white rose from the depths of her dingy straw tunnel. Then she fancied +herself saying airily (she knew _just_ how she used to say it), "The +_little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!" and then she laughed +aloud at the very funniness of it. + +"Hut! tut!" said Farmer Hartley, looking up from his paper with a smile. +"What's all this? Are ye keepin' all the jokes to yerself, Huldy?" + +"It is only my letter that is so funny," replied Hilda. "I don't believe +it would seem so funny to you, Farmer Hartley, because you don't know +the writer. But have you finished your paper, and are you ready for +Robin Hood?" + +"Wal, I am, Huldy!" said the good farmer, laying aside his paper and +rubbing his hands with an air of pleasurable anticipation. "'Pears to me +we left that good-lookin' singin' chap--what was his name?" + +"Allan-a-Dale!" said Hilda, smiling. + +"Ah!" said the farmer; "Allan-a-Dale. 'Pears to me we left him in +rayther a ticklish situation." + +"Oh, but it comes out all right!" cried Hilda, joyously, rising to fetch +the good brown book which she loved. "You will see in the next chapter +how delightfully Robin gets him out of the difficulty." She ran and +brought the book and drew her chair up to the table, and all three +prepared for an hour of solid enjoyment. "But before I begin," she said, +"I want you to promise, Farmer Hartley, to take me with you the next +time you go to the village. I _must_ buy a hat for Pink Chirk." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE OLD CAPTAIN. + + +"Let--me--see!" said Farmer Hartley, as he gathered up the reins and +turned old Nancy's head towards the village, while Hildegarde, on the +seat beside him, turned back to wave a merry farewell to Nurse Lucy, who +stood smiling in the porch. "Let--me--see! Hev you ben off the farm +before, Huldy, sence you kem here?" + +"Not once!" replied Hilda, cheerily. "And I don't believe I should be +going now, Farmer Hartley, if it were not for Pink's hat. I promised +myself that she should not wear that ugly straw sun-bonnet again. I +wonder why anything so hideous was ever invented." + +"A straw bunnit, do ye mean?" said the farmer; "somethin' like a long +sugar-scoop, or a tunnel like?" + +"Yes, just that!" said Hilda; "and coming down over her poor dear eyes +so that she cannot see anything, except for a few inches straight before +her." + +"Wal!" said the farmer, meditatively, "I remember when them bunnits was +considered reel hahnsome. Marm Lucy had one when she was a gal; I mind +it right well. A white straw it was, with blue ribbons on top of it. It +come close round her pooty face, an' I used to hev to sidle along and +get round in front of her before I could get a look at her. I hed +rayther a grudge agin the bunnit on that account; but I supposed it was +hahnsome, as everybody said so. I never see a bunnit o' that kind," he +continued, "without thinkin' o' Mis' Meeker an' 'Melia Tyson. I swan! it +makes me laugh now to think of 'em." + +"Who were they?" asked Hildegarde, eagerly, for she delighted in the +farmer's stories. "Please tell me about them!" + +The farmer shook his head, as was his wont when he was about to relapse +into reminiscences, and gave old Nancy several thoughtful taps with the +whip, which she highly resented. + +"Ol' Mis' Meeker," he said, presently, "she was a character, she was! +She didn't belong hereabouts, but down South somewhere, but she was +cousin to Cephas Tyson, an' when Cephas' wife died, she came to stop +with him a spell, an' look out for his children. Three children there +was, little Cephas, an' Myrick, an' 'Melia. 'Melia, she was a peart, +lively little gal, with snappin' black eyes, an' consid'ble of a will of +her own; an' Mis' Meeker, she was pooty stout, an' she took things easy, +jest as they kem, an' let the children--an' 'Melia specially--do pooty +much as they'd a mind to. Wal, one day I happened in to see Cephas about +a pair o' steers I was thinkin' o' buyin'. Cephas was out; but Mis' +Meeker said he'd be right in, she reckoned, an' asked me to take a cheer +an' wait. So I sot down, an' while I was waitin', in come 'Melia, an' +says she, 'Say, Aunt Cilly (Mis' Meeker's name was Priscilla)--Say, Aunt +Cilly, can I go down an' play with Eddie? He wants me to come, reel bad. +Can I, Aunt Cilly?' 'Not to-day, dearie,' says Mis' Meeker; 'you was +down to play with Eddie yesterday, an' I reckon that'll do for one +while!' she says. I looked at little 'Melia, an' her eyes was snappin' +like coals. She didn't say nothin', but she jest took an' shoved her +elbow right through the plate-glass winder. Ho! ho! Cephas had had his +house made over, an' he was real proud of his plate-glass winders. I d' +'no' how much they'd cost him, but 'twas a pooty good sum. An' she +shoved her elbow right through it and smashed it into shivers. I jumped +up, kind o' startled by the crash. But ol' Mis' Meeker, she jes' looked +up, as if she was a _leetle_ bit surprised, but nothin' wuth +mentionin'. 'Why, honey!' says she, in her slow, drawlin' kind o' way, +'I didn't know ye wanted to go _that_ bad! Put on yer bunnit, an' go an' +play with Eddie _this minute_!' says she. Ho! ho! ho! Them was her very +words. An' 'Melia, she tossed her bunnit on (one o' them straw Shakers +it was, an' that's what made me think o' the story), and jes' shook the +glass out'n her sleeve,--_I_ d' 'no' why the child warn't cut to pieces, +but she didn't seem t' have got no hurt,--and made a face at her aunt, +an' off she went. That's the way them children was brought up." + +"Poor things!" cried Hilda. "What became of them, Farmer Hartley?" + +"'Melia, she run off an' married a circus feller," replied the farmer, +"an' the boys, I don't rightly know _what_ become of 'em. They went out +West, I b'lieve; an' after 'Melia married, Cephas went out to jine 'em, +an' I ain't heerd nothin' of 'em for years." + +By this time they were rattling through the main street of the little +village, and presently stopped before an unpretending little shop, in +the window of which were displayed some rather forlorn-looking hats and +bonnets. + +"Here y'are, Huldy!" said the farmer, pointing to the shop with a +flourish of his whip. "Here's whar ye git the styles fust hand. Hev to +come from New York to Glenfield to git the reel thing, ye see." + +"I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightly from the wagon. + +"I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;" and with a kindly nod the +farmer drove away down the street. + +Hildegarde entered the dingy little shop with some misgivings, "I hope I +shall find _something_ fresh!" she said to herself; "those things in the +window look as if they had been there since the Flood." She quickly made +friends with the brisk little milliner, and they were soon turning over +the meagre store of hats, trimmed and untrimmed. + +"This is _real_ tasty!" said the little woman, lifting with honest pride +an alarming structure of green satin, which some straggling cock's +feathers were doing their best to hide. + +Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly, "Rather heavy for summer; don't +you think so? It would be better for a winter hat. What is this?" she +added, drawing from the farthest recesses of the box an untrimmed hat of +rough yellow straw. "I think perhaps this will do, Miss Bean." + +"Oh my land, no! you don't want _that_!" cried the little milliner, +aghast. "That's only common doin's, anyhow; and it's been in that box +three years. Them shapes ain't worn now." + +"Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it is perfectly fresh, and I like +the shape. Just wait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean. May I rummage a +little among your drawers? I will not toss the things about." + +A piece of dotted mull and a bunch of soft pink roses rewarded her +search; and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded to +make the rough straw into so dainty and bewitching a thing that Miss +Bean sat fairly petrified with amazement on her little hair-cloth sofa +in the back shop. "Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't the beat of all! +It's the tastiest hat I ever see. You never told me you'd learned the +trade!" + +This last was rather reproachfully said; and Hilda, much amused, +hastened to reassure the good woman. + +"Indeed, I never learned the trade," she said. "I take to it naturally, +I think; and I have watched my mother, who does it much better than I." + +"She must be a first-class trimmer, then!" replied Miss Bean, +emphatically. "Works in one o' them big houses in New York, I reckon, +don't she?" + +Hildegarde laughed; but before she could reply, Miss Bean went on to +say: "Wal, you're a stranger to me, but you've got a pooty good +count'nance, an' ye kem with Farmer Hartley; that's reference enough." +She paused and reflected, while Hildegarde, putting the finishing +touches to the pretty hat, wondered what was coming. "I wasn't +calc'latin' to hire help this summer," continued the milliner; "but +you're so handy, and yer ma could give ye idees from time to time. So if +ye'd like a job, I d' 'no' but I'd like to hire ye." + +The heiress of all the Grahams wanted to laugh at this naive proposal, +but good feeling and good manners alike forbade. She thanked Miss Bean +for her kind offer, and explained that she was only spending her school +vacation at Hartley Farm; that her time was fully occupied, etc., etc. + +The little milliner looked so disappointed that Hilda was seized with a +royal impulse, and offered to "go over" the hats in the window while she +waited for Farmer Hartley, and freshen them up a bit. + +"Well, I wish't ye would!" said poor Miss Bean. "Fact is, I ain't done +so well as I c'd wish this season. Folks is dretful 'fraid o' buyin' new +things nowadays." + +Then followed a series of small confidences on the hair-cloth sofa, +while Hilda's fingers flew about the forlorn hats and bonnets, changing +a ribbon here and a flower there, patting and poking, and producing +really marvellous results. Another tale of patient labor, suffering, +privation. An invalid mother and an "innocent" brother for this frail +little woman to support. Doctors' bills and hard times, and stingy +patrons who were "as 'fraid of a dollar-bill as if 'twas the small-pox." +Hilda's eyes filled with tears of sympathy, and one great drop fell on +the green satin hat, but was instantly covered by the wreath of ivy +which was replacing the staring cock's feathers. + +"Wal, I declare to gracious!" exclaimed Miss Bean. "You'd never know +that for the same hat, now, would ye? I thought 'twas han'some before, +but it's enough site han'somer now. I shouldn' wonder a mite if Mis' +Peasley bought that hat now. She's been kind o' hankerin' arter it, the +last two or three times she was in here; but every time she tried it on, +she'd say No, 'twas too showy, she guessed. Wal, I do say, you make a +gret mistake not goin' into the trade, for you're born to it, that's +plain. When a pusson's born to a thing, he's thrown away, you may say, +on anything else. What _was_ you thinkin'--" + +But at this moment came a cheery call of "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde, +cutting short the little woman's profuse thanks and invitations to call +again, bade her a cordial good-by, and ran out to the wagon, carrying +her purchase neatly done up in brown paper. + +"Stiddy thar!" said the farmer, making room for her on the seat beside +him. "Look out for the ile-can, Huldy! Bought out the hull shop, hev ye? +Wal, I sh'll look for gret things the next few days. Huddup thar, +Nancy!" And they went jingling back along the street again. + +As they passed the queer little shops, with their antiquated signboards, +the farmer had something to say about each one. How Omnium Grabb here, +the grocer, missed his dried apples one morning, and how he accused his +chore-boy, who was his sister's son too, of having eaten them,--"As if +any livin' boy would pick out dried apples to eat, when he hed a hull +store to choose from!" and how the very next day a man coming to buy a +pair of boots, Omnium Grabb hooked down a pair from the ceiling, where +all the boots hung, and found them "chock full" of dried apples, which +the rats had been busily storing in them and their companion pairs. + +How Enoch Pillsbury, the "'pottecary, like t' ha' killed" Old Man Grout, +sending him writing fluid instead of the dark mixture for his +"dyspepsy." + +How Beulah Perkins, who lived over the dry-goods store, had been +bedridden for nineteen years, till the house where she was living caught +fire, "whereupon she jumped out o' bed an' grabbed an umbrella an' +opened it, an' ran down street in her red-flannel gownd, with the +umbrella over her head, shoutin', 'Somebody go save my bedstid! I ain't +stirred from it for nineteen years, an' I ain't never goin' to stir from +it agin. Somebody go save my bedstid!'" + +"And was it saved?" asked Hilda, laughing. + +"No," said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuth savin', nohow. Besides, if't +_hed_ been, she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayed there. Hosy Grout, who +did her chores, kicked it into the fire; an' she was a well woman to the +day of her death." + +Now the houses straggled farther and farther apart, and at last the +village was fairly left behind. Old Nancy pricked up her ears and +quickened her pace a little, looking right and left with glances of +pleasure as the familiar fields ranged themselves along either side of +the road. Hilda too was glad to be in the free country again, and she +looked with delight at the banks of fern, the stone walls covered with +white starry clematis, and the tangle of blackberry vines which made the +pleasant road so fragrant and sweet. She was silent for some time. At +last she said, half timidly, "Farmer Hartley, you promised to tell me +more about your father some day. Don't you think this would be a good +time? I have been so much interested by what I have heard of him." + +"That's curus, now," said Farmer Hartley slowly, flicking the dust with +the long lash of his whip. "It's curus, Huldy, that you sh'd mention +Father jest now, 'cause I happened to be thinkin' of him myself that +very minute. Old Father," he added meditatively, "wal, surely, he _was_ +a character, Father was. Folks about here," he said, turning suddenly to +Hilda and looking keenly at her, "think Father was ravin' crazy, or +mighty nigh it. But he warn't nothin' o' the sort. His mind was as keen +as a razor, an' as straight-edged, 'xcept jest on _one_ subject. On +_that_ he was, so to say, a little--wal--a little _tetched_." + +"And that was--?" queried Hilda. + +"Why, ye see, Huldy, Father had been a sea-farin' man all his days, an' +he'd seen all manner o' countries an' all manner o' folks; and 'tain't +to be wondered at ef he got a leetle bit confoosed sometimes between the +things he'd seen and the things he owned. Long'n short of it was, Father +thought he hed a kind o' treasure hid away somewhar, like them pirate +fellers used to hev. Ef they _did_ hev it!" he added slowly. "I never +more'n half believed none o' them yarns; but Father, he thought _he_ hed +it, an' no mistake. 'D'ye think I was five years coastin' round Brazil +for nothin'?' he says. 'There's di'monds in Brazil,' he says, 'whole +mines of 'em; an' there's _some_ di'monds _out_ o' Brazil too;' and then +he'd wink, and laugh out hearty, the way he used. He was always +laughin', Father was. An' when times was hard, he'd say to my mother, +'Wealthy, we won't sell the di'monds yet a while. Not this time, +Wealthy; but they're thar, you know, my woman, they're thar!' And when +my mother'd say, 'Whar to goodness be they, Thomas?' he'd only chuckle +an' laugh an' shake his head. Then thar was his story about the ruby +necklace. How we youngsters used to open our eyes at that! Believed it +too, every word of it." + +"Oh! what was it?" cried Hilda. "Tell me, and I will believe it too!" + +"He used to tell of a Malay pirate," said the farmer, "that he fit and +licked somewhere off in the South Seas,--when he sailed the 'Lively +Polly,' that was. She was a clipper, Father always said; an' he run +aboard the black fellers, and smashed their schooner, an' throwed their +guns overboard, an' demoralized 'em ginerally. They took to their boats +an' paddled off, what was left of 'em, an' he an' his crew sarched the +schooner, an' found a woman locked up in the cabin,--an Injin princess, +father said she was,--an' they holdin' her for ransom. Wal, Father found +out somehow whar she come from,--Javy, or Mochy, or some o' them places +out o' the spice-box,--an' he took her home, an' hunted up her parents +an' guardeens, an' handed her over safe an' sound. They--the +guardeens--was gret people whar they lived, an' they wanted to give +Father a pot o' money; but he said he warn't that kind. 'I'm a Yankee +skipper!' says he. ''Twas as good as a meal o' vittles to me to smash +that black feller!' says he. '_I_ don't want no pay for it. An' as for +the lady, 'twas a pleasure to obleege her,' he says; 'an' I'd do it agin +_any_ day in the week, _'xcept_ Sunday, when I don't fight, ez a rewl, +when I kin help it.' Then the princess, she tried to kiss his hand; but +Father said he guessed that warn't quite proper, an' the guardeens +seemed to think so too. So then she took a ruby necklace off her neck +(she was all done up in shawls, Father said, an' silk, an' gold chains, +an' fur an' things, so 's 't he couldn' see nothin' but her eyes; but +they was better wuth seein' than any other woman's hull face that ever +_he_ see), and gave it to him, an' made signs that he _must_ keep that, +anyhow. Then she said somethin' to one o' the guardeens who spoke a +little Portuguese, Father understandin' it a little too, and he told +Father she said these was the drops of her blood he had saved, an' he +must keep it to remember her. Jest like drops of blood, he said the +rubies was, strung along on a gold chain. So he took it, an' said he +warn't likely to forget about it; an' then he made his bow, an' the +guardeens said he was their father, an' their mother, an' their +great-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an' made him stay to supper, an' he +didn't eat nothin' for a week arterward." + +The farmer paused, and Hildegarde drew a long breath, "_Oh!_" she cried, +"what a delightful story, Farmer Hartley! And you don't believe it? _I_ +do, every word of it! I am _sure_ it is true!" + +"Wal, ye see," said the farmer, meditatively; "Ef' t was true, what +become o' the necklace? That's what _I_ say. Father believed it, sure +enough, and he thought he hed that necklace, as sure as you think you +hev that bunnit in yer hand. But 'twarn't never found, hide _nor_ hair +of it." + +"Might he not have sold it?" Hilda suggested. + +Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No," he said, "he warn't that kind. +Besides, he thought to the day of his death that he hed it, sure enough. +'Thar's the princess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't ye forgit that, +Wealthy! Along with the di'monds, ye know.' And then he'd laugh like he +was fit to bust. Why, when he was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't he +couldn' speak plain, he called me to him, an' made signs he wanted to +tell me somethin'. I stooped down clost, an' he whispered somethin'; but +all I could hear was 'di'monds,' and 'dig,' and then in a minute 'twas +all over. Poor old Father! He'd been a good skipper, an' a good man all +his days." + +He was silent for a time, while Hilda pondered over the story, which she +could not make up her mind to disbelieve altogether. + +"Wal! wal! and here we are at the old farm agin!" said the farmer +presently, as old Nancy turned in at the yellow gate. "Here I've been +talkin' the everlastin' way home, ain't I? You must herry and git into +the house, Huldy, for _I_ d' 'no' how the machine's managed to run +without ye all this time. I sha'n't take ye out agin ef I find anythin's +wrong." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A PARTY OF PLEASURE. + + +On a certain lovely afternoon the three happiest people in the world (so +they styled themselves, and they ought to know) were gathered together +in a certain spot, which was _next_ to the prettiest spot in the world. + +"You should have had _the_ prettiest, Pink," said Hilda, "but we could +not get your chair down into the glen, you know. My poor, dear Pink, you +have never seen the glen, have you?" + +"No," answered Pink Chirk, cheerily. "But I have heard so much about it, +I really feel as if I had seen it, almost. And indeed I don't think it +_can_ be much lovelier than this place." + +However that might be, the place they had chosen was certainly pretty +enough to satisfy any one. Not far from Mrs. Chirk's cottage was a +little pine-grove, easy of access, and with trees far enough apart to +allow the wheeled chair to pass between them. And in the grove, just in +a little open space where two or three trees had been cut away, was a +great black rock, with ferns growing in all its cracks and crannies, and +a tiny birch-tree waving like a green and white plume on its top. And at +the foot of the rock--oh, what a wonderful thing!--a slender thread of +crystal water came trickling out, as cold as ice and as clear as--as +itself; for nothing else could be so clear. Bubble had made a little +wooden trough to hold this fairy stream, and it gurgled along the trough +and tumbled over the end of it with as much agitation and consequence as +if it were the Niagara River in person. And under the rock and beside +the stream was a bank of moss and ferns most lovely to behold, most +luxurious to sit upon. On this bank sat Queen Hildegarde, with Bubble +at her feet as usual; and beside her, in her chair, sat sweet Pink, +looking more like a white rose than ever, with her fresh white dimity +gown and her pretty hat. Hilda was very busy over a mysterious-looking +basket, from whose depths she now drew a large napkin, which she spread +on the smooth green moss. A plate of sandwiches came next, and some cold +chicken, and six of Dame Hartley's wonderful apple-turnovers. + +"Now, Bubble," said Hilda, "where are those birch-bark cups that you +made for us? I have brought nothing to drink out of." + +"I'll fetch 'em, Miss Hildy," cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity. +"I clean forgot 'em. Say, Pink, shall I--? would you?" and he made +sundry enigmatical signs to his sister. + +"Yes, certainly," said Pink; "of course." + +The boy ran off, and Hilda fell to twisting pine tassels together into a +kind of fantastic garland, while Pink looked on with beaming eyes. + +"Pink," said Hilda, presently, "how is it that you speak so differently +from Bubble and your mother,--so much better English, I mean? Have +you--but no; you told me you never went to school." + +"It was Faith," said Pink, with a look of tender sadness,--"Faith +Hartley. She wanted to be a teacher, and we studied together always. +Dear Faith! I wish you had known her, Miss Graham." + +"You promised not to call me Miss Graham again, Pink," said Hildegarde, +reproachfully. "It is absurd, and I won't have it." + +"Well, Hilda, then," said Pink, shyly. "I wish you had known Faith, +Hilda; you would have loved her very much, I know." + +"I am sure I should," said Hilda, warmly. "Tell me more about her. Why +did she want to teach when she was so happy at home?" + +"She loved children very much," said Pink, "and liked to be with them. +She thought that if she studied hard, she could teach them more than +the district school teachers about here generally do, and in a better +way. I think she would have done a great deal of good," she added, +softly. + +"Oh! _why_ did she die?" cried Hilda. "She was so much needed! It broke +her father's heart, and her mother's, and almost yours, my Pink. Why was +it right for her to die?" + +"It _was_ right, dear," said Pink, gently; "that is all we can know. +'Why' isn't answered in this world. My granny used to say,-- + + "'Never lie! + Never pry! + Never ask the reason why!'" + +Hilda shook her head, and was about to reply earnestly; but at this +moment Bubble came bounding back with something in his arms,--something +covered with an old shawl; something alive, which did not like the +shawl, and which struggled, and made plaintive little noises, which the +boy tried vainly to repress. + +[Illustration: "'SAY, MISS HILDY,--DO YOU LIKE PURPS?'"] + +"Say, Miss Hildy," he cried, eagerly, "do ye like--be still, ye critter; +hesh, I tell ye!--do you like purps?" + +"'Purps,' Bubble?" repeated Hilda, wonderingly. "What are they? And what +have you there,--your poor old cat? Let her go! For shame, you naughty +boy!" + +"Puppies, he means," whispered Pink. + +"'Cause if ye do," cried the breathless Bubble, still struggling with +his shrouded captive, "I've got one here as--Wal, thar! go 'long, ye +pesky critter, if ye _will_!" for the poor puppy had made one frantic +effort, and leaped from his arms to the ground, where it rolled over and +over, a red and green plaid mass, with a white tail sticking out of one +end. On being unrolled, it proved to be a little snow-white, curly +creature, with long ears and large, liquid eyes, whose pathetic glance +went straight to Hilda's heart. + +"Oh, the little darling!" she cried, taking him up in her arms; "the +pretty, pretty creature! Is he really for me, Bubble? Thank you very +much. I shall love him dearly, I know." + +"I'm glad ye like him," said Bubble, looking highly gratified. "Hosy +Grout giv him an' another one to me yes'day, over 't the village. He was +goin' to drownd 'em, an' I wouldn' let him, an' he said I might hev 'em +ef I wanted 'em. I knew Pink would like to hev one, an' I thought mebbe +you liked critters, an' so--" + +"Good Bubble!" said Hilda, stroking the little dog's curly head. "And +what shall I call him, Pink? Let us each think of a name, and then +choose the best." + +There was a pause, and then Bubble said, "Call him Scott, after the bold +Buckle-oh!" + +"Or Will, for 'the wily Belted Will,'" said Pink, who was as inveterate +a ballad-lover as her brother. + +"I think Jock is a good name," said Hildegarde,--"Jock o' Hazeldean, you +know. I think I will call him Jock." The others assented, and the +puppy was solemnly informed of the fact, and received a chicken-bone in +honor of the occasion. Then the three friends ate their dinner, and very +merry they were over it. Hildegarde crowned Pink with the pine-tassel +wreath, and declared that she looked like a priestess of Diana. + +"No, she don't," said Bubble, looking up from his cold chicken; "she +looks like Lars Porsena of Clusium sot in his ivory cheer, on'y she +ain't f'erce enough. Hold up yer head, Pinky, an' look real savage, an' +I'll do Horatius at the Bridge." + +Pink did her best to look savage, and Zerubbabel stood up and delivered +"Horatius" with much energy and appropriate action, to the great +amusement of his audience. A stout stick, cut from a neighboring +thicket, served for the "good Roman steel;" and with this he cut and +slashed and stabbed with furious energy, reciting the lines meanwhile +with breathless ferocity. He slew the "great Lord of Luna," and on the +imaginary body he-- + + "Right firmly pressed his heel, + And thrice and four times tugged amain, + Ere he wrenched out the steel." + +But when he cried-- + + "What noble Lucumo comes next + To taste our Roman cheer?" + +the puppy, who had been watching the scene with kindling eyes, and ears +and tail of eager inquiry, could bear it no longer, but flung himself +valiantly into the breach, and barked defiance, dancing about in front +of Horatius and snapping furiously at his legs. Alas, poor puppy! He was +hailed as "Sextus," and bade "welcome" by the bold Roman, who forthwith +charged upon him, and drove him round and round the grove till he sought +safety and protection in the lap of Lars Porsena herself. Then the +bridge came down, and Horatius, climbing nimbly to the top of the rock, +apostrophized his Father Tiber, sheathed his good sword by his side +(_i.e._, rammed his stick into and _through_ his breeches pocket), and +with his jacket on his back plunged headlong in the tide, and swam +valiantly across the pine-strewn surface of the little glade. + +Bubble's performance was much applauded by the two girls, who, in the +characters of Lars Porsena and Mamilius, "Prince of the Latian name," +had surveyed the whole with dignified amazement. And when the boy, +exhausted with his heroic exertions, threw himself down on the +pine-needles and begged "Miss Hildy" to sing to them, she readily +consented, and sang "Jock o' Hazeldean" and "Come o'er the stream, +Charlie!" so sweetly that the little fat birds sat still on the branches +to listen. A faint glow stole into Pink's wan cheek, and her blue eyes +sparkled with pleasure; while Bubble bobbed his head, and testified his +delight by drumming with his heels on the ground and begging for more. +"A ballid now, Miss Hildy, please," he cried. + +"Well," said Hildegarde, nothing loth, "what shall it be?" + +"One with some fightin' in it," replied Bubble, promptly. + +So Hildegarde began:-- + + "Down Deeside cam Inverey, + Whistling and playing; + He's lighted at Brackley gates + At the day's dawing." + +And went on to tell of the murder of "bonnie Brackley" and of the +treachery of his young wife:-- + + "There's grief in the kitchen, + And mirth in the ha'; + But the Baron o' Brackley + Is dead and awa'." + +So the ballad ended, leaving Bubble full of sanguinary desires anent the +descendants of the false Inverey. "I--I--I'd like jest to git holt o' +some o' them fellers!" he exclaimed. "They wouldn't go slaughterin' +round no gret amount when I'd finished with em', I tell ye!" And he +flourished his stick, and looked so fierce that the puppy yelped +piteously, expecting another onslaught. + +"And now, Pink," said Hilda, "we have just time for a story before we go +home. Bubble has told me about your stories, and I want very much to +hear one." + +"Oh, Hilda, they are not worth telling twice!" protested Pink; "I just +make them for Bubble when he takes me out on Sunday. It's all I can do +for the dear lad." + +"Don't you mind her, Miss Hildy," said Bubble; "they're fustrate +stories, an' she tells 'em jest like p--'rithmetic. Go ahead, Pink! Tell +the one about the princess what looked in the glass all the time." + +So Pink, in her low, sweet voice, told the story of + + +THE VAIN PRINCESS. + +Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful that it was +a wonder to look at her. But she was also very vain; and her beauty was +of no use or pleasure to anybody, for she sat and looked in her mirror +all day long, and never thought of doing anything else. + +The mirror was framed in beaten gold, but the gold was not so bright as +her shining locks; and all about its rim great sapphires were set, but +they were dim and gray, compared with the blue of her lovely eyes. So +there she sat all day in a velvet chair, clad in a satin gown with +fringes of silver and pearl; and nobody in the world was one bit the +better for her or her beauty. + +Now, one day the princess looked at herself so long and so earnestly +that she fell fast asleep in her velvet chair, with the golden mirror in +her lap. While she slept, a gust of wind blew the casement window open, +and a rose that was growing on the wall outside peeped in. It was a poor +little feeble white rose, which had climbed up the wall in a straggling +fashion, and had no particular strength or beauty or sweetness. Every +one who saw it from the outside said, "What a wretched little plant! +Why is it not cut down?" and the rose trembled when it heard this, for +it was as fond of life as if it were beautiful, and it still hoped for +better days. Inside, no one thought about it at all; for the beautiful +princess never left her chair to open the window. + +Now, when the rose saw the princess it was greatly delighted, for it had +often heard of her marvellous beauty. It crept nearer and nearer, and +gazed at the golden wonder of her hair, her ivory skin under which the +blushes came and went as she slept, and her smiling lips. "Ah!" sighed +the rose, "if I had only a tinge of that lovely red, I should be finer +than all the other roses." And as it gazed, the thought came into its +mind: "Why should I not steal a little of this wondrous beauty? Here it +is of no use to anybody. If I had it, I would delight every one who +passed by with my freshness and sweetness, and people would be the +better for seeing a thing so lovely." + +So the rose crept to the princess's feet, and climbed up over her satin +gown, and twined about her neck and arms, and about her lovely golden +head. And it stole the blush from her cheek, and the crimson from her +lips, and the gold from her hair. And the princess grew pale and paler; +but the rose blushed red and redder, and its golden heart made the room +bright, and its sweetness filled the air. It grew and grew, and now new +buds and leaves and blossoms appeared; and when at last it left the +velvet chair and climbed out of the casement again, it was a glorious +plant, such as had never before been seen. All the passers-by stopped to +look at it and admire it. Little children reached up to pluck the +glowing blossoms, and sick and weary people gained strength and courage +from breathing their delicious perfume. The world was better and happier +for the rose, and the rose knew it, and was glad. + +But when the princess awoke, she took up her golden mirror again, and +looking in it, saw a pale and wrinkled and gray-haired woman looking at +her. Then she shrieked, and flung the mirror on the ground, and rushed +out of her palace into the wide world. And wherever she went she cried, +"I am the beautiful princess! Look at me and see my beauty; for I will +show it to you now!" But nobody looked at her, for she was withered and +ugly; and nobody cared for her, because she was selfish and vain. So she +made no more difference in the world than she had made before. But the +rose is blossoming still, and fills the air with its sweetness. + + * * * * * + +"My Pink," said Hildegarde, tenderly, as she walked beside her friend's +chair on their homeward way, "you are shut up like the princess; but +instead of the rose stealing your sweetness, you have stolen the +sweetness of all the roses, and taken it into your prison with you." + +"I 'shut up,' Hilda?" cried Pink, opening wide eyes of wonder and +reproach. "Do you call _this_ being shut up? See what I have had to-day! +Enough pleasure to think about for a year. And even without it,--even +before you came, Hilda,--why, I am the happiest girl in the world, and I +ought to be." + +Hildegarde stooped and kissed the pale forehead. "Yes, dear, I think you +are," she said; "but I should like you to have all the pleasant and +bright and lovely things in the world, my Pink." + +"Well, I have the best of them," said Pink Chirk, smiling +brightly,--"home and love, and friends and flowers. And as for the rest, +why, dear Hilda, what _is_ the use in thinking about things one has +not?" + +After this, which was part of Pink's little code of philosophy, she fell +a-musing happily, while Hilda walked beside her in a kind of silent +rage, almost hating herself for the fulness of vigor, the superabundant +health and buoyancy, which she felt in every limb. She looked sidelong +at the transparent cheek, the wasted frame, the unearthly radiance of +the blue eyes. This girl was just her own age, and had never walked! It +could not, it _must_ not, be so always. Thoughts thronged into her mind +of the great New York physicians and the wonders they had wrought. Might +it not be possible? Could not something be done? The blood coursed more +quickly through her veins, and she laid her hand on that of the crippled +girl with a sudden impulse of protection and tenderness. + +Pink Chirk looked up with a wondering smile. "Why, Hildegarde," she +said, "you look like the British warrior queen you told me about +yesterday. I was just thinking what a comfort it is to live now, instead +of in those dreadful murdering times that the ballads tell of." + +"I _druther_ ha' lived then!" cried Bubble, from behind the chair. "If I +hed, I'd ha' got hold o' that Inverey feller." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE WARRIOR QUEEN. + + +Happily, happily, the days and weeks slipped by at Hartley Farm; and now +September was half gone, and in two weeks more Hilda's parents would +return. The letter had just arrived which fixed the date of their +homecoming and Hildegarde had carried it upstairs to feast on it in her +own room. She sat by the window in the little white rocking-chair, and +read the words over and over again. In two weeks--really in two little +weeks--she should see her mother again! It was too good to be true. + +"Dragons, do you hear?" she cried, turning towards the wash-handstand. +"You have seen my mother, Dragons, and she has washed her little +blessed face in your bowl. I should think that might have stopped your +ramping, if anything could. Or have you been waving your paws for joy +ever since? I may have been unjust to you, Dragons." + +The blue dragons, as usual, refused to commit themselves; and, as usual, +the gilt cherubs round the looking-glass were shocked at their rudeness, +and tried to atone for it by smiling as hard as they possibly could. + +"Such dear, sympathetic cherubs!" said the happy girl, bending forward +to kiss one of them as she was brushing her hair. "_You_ do not ramp and +glower when one tells you that one's mother is coming home. I know you +are glad, you dear old things!" + +And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at the cherubs, a +thought struck her which sent a pang through her heart. The cherubs +would still smile, just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not all +delight, this great news. There was sorrow mingled with the rapture. +Her heart was with her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeing +her mother's face, of hearing her father's voice, sent the blood dancing +through her veins. And yet--she must leave the farm; she must leave +Nurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss her. They loved her; ah! +how could they help it, when she loved them so much? And the pain came +again at her heart as she recalled the sad smile with which the farmer +had handed her this letter. "Good news for you, Huldy," he said, "but +bad for the rest of us, I reckon!" Had he had word also, or did he just +know that this was about the time they had meant to return? Oh, but she +would come out so often to the farm! Papa and mamma would be willing, +would wish her to come; and she could not live long at a time in town, +without refreshing herself with a breath of _real_ air, country air. She +might have _wilted_ along somehow for sixteen years; but she had never +been _really_ alive--had she?--till this summer. + +Pink and Bubble too! they would miss her almost as much. But that did +not trouble her, for she had a plan in her head for Pink and Bubble,--a +great plan, which was to be whispered to Papa _almost_ the very moment +she saw him,--not quite _the_ very moment, but the next thing to it. The +plan would please Nurse Lucy and the farmer too,--would please them +almost as much as it delighted her to think about it. + +Happy thought! She would go down now and tell the farmer about it. Nurse +Lucy was lying down with a bad headache, she knew; but the farmer was +still in the kitchen. She heard him moving about now, though he had said +he was going off to the orchard. She would steal in softly and startle +him, and then-- + +Full of happy and loving thoughts, Hildegarde slipped quietly down the +stairs and across the hall, and peeped in at the kitchen-door to see +what the farmer was doing. He was at the farther end of the room, with +his back turned to her, stooping down over his desk. What was he doing? +What a singular attitude he was in! Then, all in a moment, Hilda's heart +seemed to stop beating, and her breath came thick and short; for she saw +that this man before her was not the farmer. The farmer had not long +elf-locks of black hair straggling over his coat-collar; he was not +round-shouldered or bow-legged; above all, he would not be picking the +lock of his own desk, for this was what the man before her was doing. +Silent as her own shadow, Hildegarde slipped back into the hall and +stood still a moment, collecting her thoughts. What should she do? Call +Dame Hartley? The "poor dear" was suffering much, and why should she be +disturbed? Run to find the farmer? She might have to run all over the +farm! No; she would attend to this herself. She was not in the least +afraid. She knew pretty well what ugly face would look up at her when +she spoke; for she felt sure that the slouching, ungainly figure was +that of Simon Hartley. Her heart burned with indignation against the +graceless, thankless churl who could rob the man on whose charity he had +been living for two years. She made a step forward, with words of +righteous wrath on her lips; then paused, as a new thought struck her. +This man was an absolute ruffian; and though she believed him to be an +absolute coward also, still he must know that she and Dame Hartley were +alone in the house. He must know also that the farmer was at some +distance, else he would not have ventured to do this. What should she +do? she asked herself again. She looked round her, and her eyes fell +upon the old horse-pistol which rested on a couple of hooks over the +door. The farmer had taken it down only a day or two before, to show it +to her and tell her its story. It was not loaded, but Simon did not know +that. She stepped lightly up on a chair, and in a moment had taken the +pistol down. It was a formidable-looking weapon, and Hildegarde surveyed +it with much satisfaction as she turned once more to enter the kitchen. +Unloaded as it was, it gave her a feeling of entire confidence; and her +voice was quiet and steady as she said: + +"Simon Hartley, what are you doing to your uncle's desk?" + +The man started violently and turned round, his hands full of papers, +which he had taken from one of the drawers. He changed color when he saw +"the city gal," as he invariably termed Hilda, and he answered sullenly, +"Gitt'n someth'n for Uncle." + +"That is not true," said Hildegarde, quietly, "I have heard your uncle +expressly forbid you to go near that desk. Put those papers back!" + +The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyes shifting uneasily from her to +the desk and back again. "I guess I ain't goin' to take orders from no +gal!" he muttered, huskily. + +"Put those papers back!" repeated Hildegarde sternly, with a sudden +light in her gray eyes which made the rascal step backward and thrust +the papers hurriedly into the drawer. After which he began to bluster, +as is the manner of cowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin' hectorin' +round with their airs an'--" + +"Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde, quietly. + +But Simon's sluggish blood was warmed by his little bluster, and he took +courage as he reflected that this was only a slight girl, and that no +one else was in the house except "Old Marm," and that many broad meadows +intervened between him and the farmer's stout arm. He would frighten her +a bit, and get the money after all. + +"We'll see about that!" he said, taking a step towards Hilda, with an +evil look in his red eyes. "I'll settle a little account with you fust, +my fine lady. I'll teach you to come spyin' round on me this way. Ye +ain't give me a civil word sence ye come here, an' I'll pay ye--" + +Here Simon stopped suddenly; for without a word Hildegarde had raised +the pistol (which he had not seen before, as her hand was behind her), +and levelled it full at his head, keeping her eyes steadily fixed on +him. With a howl of terror the wretch staggered back, putting up his +hands to ward off the expected shot. + +"Don't shoot!" he gasped, while his color changed to a livid green. +"I--I didn't mean nothin', I swar I didn't, Miss Graham. I was +only--foolin'!" and he tried to smile a sickly smile; but his eyes fell +before the stern glance of the gray eyes fixed so unwaveringly on him. + +"Go to your room!" said Hilda, briefly. He hesitated. The lock clicked, +and the girl took deliberate aim. + +"I'm goin'!" shrieked the rascal, and began backing towards the door, +while Hilda followed step by step, still covering him with her deadly(!) +weapon. They crossed the kitchen and the back hall in this way, and +Simon stumbled against the narrow stairs which led to his garret +room. + +"I dassn't turn round to g' up!" he whined; "ye'll shoot me in the +back." No answer; but the lock clicked again, more ominously than +before. He turned and fled up the stairs, muttering curses under his +breath. Hildegarde closed the door at the foot of the stairs, which +generally stood open, bolted it, and pushed a heavy table against it. +Then she went back into the kitchen, sat down in her own little chair, +and--laughed! + +Yes, laughed! The absurdity of the whole episode, the ruffian quaking +and fleeing before the empty pistol, her own martial fierceness and +sanguinary determination, struck her with irresistible force, and peal +after peal of silvery laughter rang through the kitchen. Perhaps it was +partly hysterical, for her nerves were unconsciously strung to a high +pitch; but she was still laughing, and still holding the terrible pistol +in her hand, when Dame Hartley entered the kitchen, looking startled +and uneasy. + +"Dear Hilda," said the good woman, "what has been going on? I thought +surely I heard a man's voice here. And--why! good gracious, child! what +are you doing with that pistol?" + +Hildegarde saw that there was nothing for it but to tell the simple +truth, which she did in as few words as possible, trying to make light +of the whole episode. But Dame Hartley was not to be deceived, and saw +at once the full significance of what had happened. She was deeply +moved. "My dear, brave child," she said, kissing Hilda warmly, "to think +of your facing that great villain and driving him away! The courage of +you! Though to be sure, any one could see it in your eyes, and your +father a soldier so many of his days too." + +"Oh! it was not I who frightened him," said honest Hilda, "it was the +old pistol." But Nurse Lucy only shook her head and kissed her again. +The thought of Simon's ingratitude and treachery next absorbed her mind, +and tears of anger stood in her kind blue eyes. + +"It was a black day for my poor man," she said, "when he brought that +fellow to the house. I mistrusted him from the first look at his sulky +face. A man who can't look you in the eyes,--well, there! that's my +opinion of him!" + +"Why did the farmer bring him here?" asked Hilda. "I have often +wondered." + +"Why, 'tis a long story, my dear," said Nurse Lucy, smoothing her apron +and preparing for a comfortable chat ("For," she said, "Simon will not +dare to stir from his room, even if he could get out, which he can't."). +"Of all his brothers, my husband loved his brother Simon best. He was a +handsome, clever fellow, Simon was. Don't you remember, my dear, Farmer +speaking of him one day when you first came here, and telling how he +wanted to be a gentleman; and I turned the talk when you asked what +became of him?" Hilda nodded assent "Well," Nurse Lucy continued, "that +was because no good came of him, and I knew it vexed Farmer to think on +it, let alone Simon's son being there. It was all through his wanting to +be a gentleman that Simon got into bad ways. Making friends with people +who had money, he got to thinking he must have it, or must make believe +he had it; so he spent all he had, and then--oh, dear!--he forged his +father's name, and the farm had to be mortgaged to get him out of +prison; and then he took to drinking, and went from bad to worse, and +finally died in misery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! it almost broke +Jacob's heart, that it did. He had tried, if ever man tried, to save his +brother; but 'twas of no use. It seemed as if he was _bound_ to ruin +himself, and nothing could stop him. When he died, his wife (he married +her, thinking she had money, and it turned out she hadn't a penny) took +the child and went back to her own people, and we heard nothing more +till about two years ago, when this boy came to Jacob with a letter from +his mother's folks. She was dead, and they said _they_ couldn't do for +him any longer, and he didn't seem inclined to do for himself. Well, +that is the story, Hilda dear. He has been here ever since, and he has +been no comfort, no pleasure to us, I must say; but we have tried to do +our duty by him, and I hoped he might feel in his heart some gratitude +to his uncle, though he showed none in his actions. And now to think of +it! to think of it! How shall I tell my poor man?" + +"What was his mother like?" asked Hildegarde, trying to turn for the +moment the current of painful thought. + +Nurse Lucy gave a little laugh, even while wiping the tears from her +eyes. "Poor Eliza!" she said. "She was a good woman, but--well, there! +she had no _faculty_, as you may say. And homely! you never saw such a +homely woman, Hilda; for I don't believe there could be two in the +world. I never think of Eliza without remembering what Jacob said after +he saw her for the first time. He'd been over to see Simon; and when he +came back he walked into the kitchen and sat down, never saying a word, +but just shaking his head over and over again. 'What's the matter, +Jacob?' I said. 'Matter?' said he. 'Matter enough, Marm Lucy' (he's +always called me Marm Lucy, my dear, since the very day we were married, +though I wasn't _very_ much older than you then). 'Simon's married,' he +said, 'and I've seen his wife.' Of course I was surprised, and I wanted +to know all about it. 'What sort of a girl is she?' I asked. 'Is she +pretty? What color is her hair?' But Jacob put up his hand and stopped +me. 'Thar!' he says, 'don't ask no questions, and I'll tell ye. Fust +place, she ain't no gal, no more'n yer Aunt Saleny is!' (that was a +maiden aunt of mine, dear, and well over forty at that time.) 'And what +does she look like?' 'Wal! D'ye ever see an old cedar fence-rail,--one +that had been chumped out with a blunt axe, and had laid out in the sun +and the wind and the snow and the rain till 'twas warped this way, and +shrunk that way, and twisted every way? Wal! Simon's wife looks as if +she had swallowed one o' them fence-rails, and _shrunk to it_! Dear, +dear! how I laughed. And 'twas true, my dear! It was just the way she +did look. Poor soul! she led a sad life; for when Simon found he'd made +a mistake about the money, there was no word too bad for him to fling at +her." + +At this moment Farmer Hartley's step was heard in the porch, and Nurse +Lucy rose hurriedly. "Don't say anything to him, Hilda dear," she +whispered,--"anything about Simon, I mean. I'll tell him to-morrow; but +I don't want to trouble him to-night. This is our Faith's +birthday,--seventeen year old she'd have been to-day; and it's been a +right hard day for Jacob! I'll tell him about it in the morning." + +Alas! when morning came it was too late. The kitchen door was swinging +idly open; the desk was broken open and rifled; and Simon Hartley was +gone, and with him the savings of ten years' patient labor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD MILL. + + +It was a sad group that sat in the pleasant kitchen that bright +September morning. The good farmer sat before his empty desk, seeming +half stupefied by the blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him, while +his wife hung about him, reproaching herself bitterly for not having put +him on his guard the night before. Hildegarde moved restlessly about the +kitchen, setting things to rights, as she thought, though in reality she +hardly knew what she was doing, and had already carefully deposited the +teapot in the coal-hod, and laid the broom on the top shelf of the +dresser. Her heart was full of wrath and sorrow,--fierce anger against +the miserable wretch who had robbed his benefactor; sympathy for her +kind friends, brought thus suddenly from comfort to distress. For she +knew now that the money which Simon had stolen had been drawn from the +bank only two days before to pay off the mortgage on the farm. + +"I shouldn't ha' minded the money," Farmer Hartley was saying, even now, +"if I'd ha' been savin' it jest to spend or lay by. I shouldn't ha' +minded, though 'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hev Simon's son take +it,--my brother Simon's son, as I allus stood by. But it's hard to let +the farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it's terrible hard!" and he bowed his +head upon his hands in a dejection which made his wife weep anew and +wring her hands. + +"But they will not take the farm from you, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda, +aghast. "They _cannot_ do that, can they? Why, it was your father's, and +your grandfather's before him." + +"And _his_ father's afore _him_!" said the farmer, looking up with a sad +smile on his kindly face. "But that don't make no difference, ye see, +Hildy. Lawyer Clinch is a hard man, a terrible hard man; and he's always +wanted this farm. It's the best piece o' land in the hull township, an' +he wants it for a market farm." + +"But _why_ did you mortgage it to him?" cried Hilda. + +"I didn't, my gal; I didn't!" said the farmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watch +over it ever sence Simon began to get into trouble,--reckon he knew +pooty well how things would come out; an' bimeby Jason Doble, as held +the mortgage, he up an' died, an' then Lawyer Clinch stepped in an' told +the 'xecutors how Jason owed him a big debt, but he didn't want to do +nothin' onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and call +it square. Th' executors was kind o' fool people, both on 'em--_I_ d'no' +what possessed Jason Doble to choose them for 'xecutors, when he might +ha' hed the pick o' the State lunatic asylum an' got some fools as knew +something; but so 'twas, an' I s'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv' +it to him, an' thanked him for takin' it; and he's waited an' waited, +hopin' to ketch me in a tight place,--an' now he's done it. An' that's +about all there is to it!" added Farmer Hartley, rising and pushing back +his massive gray hair. "An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an' mowlin' +over it. Thar's all Simon's work to be done, an' my own too. Huldy, my +gal!" he held out his honest brown hand to Hildegarde, who clasped it +affectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stay by Marm Lucy and chirk her +up a bit. 'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't no gal of her own +now to do for her. But ye've grown to be almost a daughter to us, Huldy. +God bless ye, child!" + +His voice faltered as he laid his other hand for a moment on the girl's +fair head; then, turning hastily away, he took up his battered straw hat +and went slowly out of the house, an older man, it might have been by +ten years, than he had been the night before. + +Right daughterly did Hilda show herself that day, and Faith herself +could hardly have been more tender and helpful. Feeling intuitively that +work was the best balm for a sore heart, she begged for Nurse Lucy's +help and advice in one and another item of household routine. Then she +bethought her of the churning, and felt that if this thing was to +befall, it could not have better befallen than on a Tuesday, when the +great blue churn stood ready in the dairy, and the cream lay thick and +yellow in the shining pans. + +"Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy. "If I hadn't forgotten my +butter in all this trouble! And it must be made, sorrow or smiles, as +the old saying is. Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will. Your face is +the only bright thing I can see this sad day." + +[Illustration: "EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."] + +So they went together into the cool dairy, where the light came in dimly +through the screen of clematis that covered the window; Hilda bared her +round white arms, and Nurse Lucy pinned back her calico sleeves from a +pair that were still shapely, though brown, and each took a skimmer and +set earnestly to work. The process of skimming cream is in itself a +soothing, not to say an absorbing one. To push the thick, yellow +ripples, piling themselves upon the skimmer, across the pan; to see it +drop, like melted ivory, into the cream-bowl; to pursue floating cream +islands round and round the pale and mimic sea,--who can do this long, +and not be comforted in some small degree, even in the midst of heavy +sorrow? Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement when +the butter first splashes in the churn. So Nurse Lucy took heart, and +churned and pressed and moulded her butter; and though some tears fell +into it, it was none the worse for that. + +But as she stamped each ball with the familiar stamp, showing an +impossible cow with four lame legs--"How many more times," said the good +woman, "shall I use this stamp; and what kind of butter will they make +who come after me?" and her tears flowed again. "Lawyer Clinch keeps a +hired girl, and I never saw _real_ good butter made by a hired girl. +They haven't the _feeling_ for it; and there's feeling in butter-making +as much as in anything else." + +But here Hilda interposed, and gently hinted that there ought now to be +"feeling" about getting the farmer's dinner. "We must have the things he +likes best," she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eat +anything. I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; and +there is the fowl for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy." + +The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work to +be done. Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seen +Dame Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble had +brought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, with +a bottle of hot water at her and a bowl of cracked ice by her side,--it +was not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothing +songs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself. She +ran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting for +the village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, +of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search was +being made for the wretched Simon. + +When old Nancy had trotted away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat +down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, so +hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening +ruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary flash of hope that +made her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but the +hope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for the +Yosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatch +would reach him. She sighed, and sank back on the bench with a hopeless +feeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had not +seen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually her +inseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, to +which he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was a +person who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was in +return to be loved desperately, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping, and +knocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one's +invitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from a +mistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jock +always sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door, +and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for the +sound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligently +forward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but only +waited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appeared +with her hat on, oh, the rapture! the shrieks and squeaks and leaps of +joy, the wrigglings of body and frantic waggings of tail that ensued! + +So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge of +his views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But now +it struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since last +night; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tail +against the door by way of reminder. Where could the little fellow be? +She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visited +the barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wont +to linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to see +Will," she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was very +possible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchanged +visits, sometimes acting as letter-carriers for their two mistresses, +Pink and Hilda. If Jock was at Pink's house, he would be well cared for, +and Bubble would--but here Hildegarde started, as a new perplexity +arose. Where _was_ Bubble? They had actually forgotten the boy in the +confusion and trouble of the day. He had not certainly come to the +house, as he invariably did; and the farmer had not spoken of him when +he came in at noon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hilda thought, with fresh +alarm. If it should be so, Bubble could not leave her, for Mrs. Chirk +was nursing a sick woman two or three miles away, and there were no +other neighbors nearer than the farm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "and I +cannot go to you at once, for Nurse Lucy must not be left alone in her +trouble. I must wait, wait patiently till Farmer Hartley comes back." + +Patiently she tried to wait. She stole up to her room, and taking up one +of her best-beloved books, "The Household of Sir Thomas More," lost +herself for a while in the noble sorrows of Margaret Roper. But even +this could not hold her long in her restless frame of mind, so she went +downstairs again, and out into the soft, golden September air, and fell +to pacing up and down the gravel walk before the house like a slender, +white-robed sentinel. Presently there was a rustling in the bushes, then +a hasty, joyful bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greeted +Hildegarde with every demonstration of affection. "Jock! my own dear +little Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress her favorite. But as +she did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which was +bounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless patted +the little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad to +see him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where +is Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke" as well +as he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the well-known +name. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with a +peculiar action which at once attracted her attention. She took him up +in her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinned +securely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened the +note and read as follows:-- + + MISS HILDY, + + Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to + me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned + on the fence and says he I've fixed your city gal up fine he + says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says + I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I + know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it + don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her + to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he. And then + he larf LAUGHED I was bound I'd get it Miss Hildy I don't + see why they spell a thing g and say it f and went away. And + I run after him to make him tell me what he d been up to and + climbin over the wall I ketched my foot on a stone and the + stone come down on my foot and me with it and I didn't know + anything till Simon had gone and my foot swoll up so s I + couldn't walk and I wouldnt a minded its hurtin Miss Hildy + but it s like there wornt no bones in it Pink says I sprante + it bad and I started to go over to the Farm on all fours to + tell ye but I didn't know anythin g agin and Pink made me + come back. We couldnt nether on us get hold of Will but now + we got him I hope he l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted to + write this for me but I druther write myself you aint punk + tuated it she says. She can punk tuate it herself better n I + can I an ti cip ate I says. From + + ZERUBBABEL CHIRK + + P.S. I wisht I could get him out for ye Miss Hildy. + +If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda had no heart to see the fun. Her +tears flowed fast as she realized the fate of her pretty little pet and +playfellow. The vindictive wretch, too cowardly to face her again, had +taken his revenge upon the harmless little dog. All day long poor Jock +had been in that fearful place! He was still only a puppy, and she knew +he could not possibly get out if he had really been thrown into the pit +of the great wheel. But--and she gave a cry of pain as the thought +struck her--perhaps it was only his lifeless body that was lying there. +Perhaps the ruffian had killed him, and thrown him down there +afterwards. She started up and paced the walk hurriedly, trying to think +what she had best do. Her first impulse was to fly at once to the glen; +but that was impossible, as she must not, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. +No one was near: they were quite alone. Again she said, "I must wait; I +_must_ wait till Farmer Hartley comes home." But the waiting was harder +now than it had been before. She could do nothing but pace up and down, +up and down, like a caged panther, stopping every few minutes to throw +back her head and listen for the longed-for sound,--the sound of +approaching wheels. + +Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilight +deepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the soft +night noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day died +away. But Hilda had ears for only one sound. At length, out of the +silence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint, +clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. There +was no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs, and with it was a dim +suggestion of a rattle, a jingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer was +coming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just coming +down the stairs. "The farmer is coming," she said, hastily; "he is +almost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back--" and she was +gone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question. + +Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, only +stopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to put +some matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully, +and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past the +cow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was so +familiar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blindfold; and +this was well for her, for in the dense shade of the beech-plantation it +was now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caught +the tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was something +ghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerves +had been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer full +control of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to the +dog and hurried on. + +Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade; down the +pine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwood +at the right, and the ruined mill looming black before her. Now came the +three broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Round +the corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping +her way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily, +so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must light +the lantern before she ventured down the long flight of steps. The +match spurted, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faint +light on the immediate space around her. It only made the outer darkness +seem more intense. But no matter, she could see two steps in front of +her; and holding the lantern steadily before her, she stepped carefully +down and down, until she stood on the firm greensward of the glen. Ah! +how different everything was now from its usual aspect. The green and +gold were turned into black upon black. The laughing, dimpling, +sun-kissed water was now a black, gloomy pool, beyond which the fall +shimmered white like a water-spirit (Undine,--or was it Kuehleborn, the +malignant and vengeful sprite?). The firs stood tall and gaunt, closing +like a spectral guard about the ruined mill, and pointing their long, +dark fingers in silent menace at the intruder upon their evening repose. +Hildegarde shivered again, and held her lantern tighter, remembering how +Bubble had said that the glen was "a tormentin' spooky place after +dark." She looked fearfully about her as a low wind rustled the +branches. They bent towards her as if to clutch her; an angry whisper +seemed to pass from one to the other; and an utterly unreasoning terror +fell upon the girl. She stood for a moment as if paralyzed with fear, +when suddenly the little dog gave a sharp yelp, and leaped up on her +impatiently. The sound startled her into new terror; but in a moment the +revulsion came, and she almost laughed aloud. Here was she, a great +girl, almost a woman, cowering and shivering, while a tiny puppy, who +had hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on. She patted the dog, +and "taking herself by both ears," as she expressed it afterwards, +walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle of vines and +bushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into the +vault of the mill. + +A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wing +that brushed it. It had a mouldy smell. Holding up the lantern, +Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening. A +gruesome place it was in which she found herself. Grim enough by +daylight, it was now doubly so; for the blackness seemed like something +tangible, some shapeless monster which was gathering itself together, +and shrinking back, inch by inch, as the little spark of light moved +forward. The gaunt beams, the jagged bits of iron, bent and twisted into +fantastic shapes, stretched and thrust themselves from every side, and +again the girl fancied them fleshless arms reaching out to clutch her. +But hark! was that a sound,--a faint sound from the farthest and darkest +corner, where the great wheel raised its toothed and broken round from +the dismal pit? + +"Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, "are you there?" + +A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tiny bark, answered her, and a faint +scratching was heard. In an instant all fear left Hilda, and she sprang +forward, holding the lantern high above her head, and calling out words +of encouragement and cheer. "Courage, Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missis +is here; Missis will save you! Speak to him, Will! tell him you are +here." + +"Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttling about in the darkness. "Wa-ow!" +replied a pitiful squeak from the depths of the wheel-pit. Hilda reached +the edge of the pit and looked down. In one corner was a little white +bundle, which moved feebly, and wagged a piteous tail, and squeaked with +faint rapture. Evidently the little creature was exhausted, perhaps +badly injured. How should she reach him? She threw the ray of light--oh! +how dim it was, and how heavy and close the darkness pressed!--on the +side of the pit, and saw that it was a rough and jagged wall, with +stones projecting at intervals. A moment's survey satisfied her. Setting +the lantern carefully at a little distance, and bidding Will "charge" +and be still, she began the descent, feeling the way carefully with her +feet, and grasping the rough stones firmly with her hands. Down! down! +while the huge wheel towered over her, and grinned with all its rusty +teeth to see so strange a sight. At last her feet touched the soft +earth; another instant, and she had Jock in her arms, and was fondling +and caressing him, and saying all sorts of foolish things to him in her +delight. But a cry of pain from the poor puppy, even in the midst of his +frantic though feeble demonstrations of joy, told her that all was not +right; and she found that one little leg hung limp, and was evidently +broken. How should she ever get him up? For a moment she stood +bewildered; and then an idea came to her, which she has always +maintained was the only really clever one she ever had. In her +pre-occupation of mind she had forgotten all day to take off the brown +holland apron which she had worn at her work in the morning, and it was +the touch of this apron which brought her inspiration. Quick as a flash +she had it off, and tied round her neck, pinned up at both ends to form +a bag. Then she stooped again to pick up Jock, whom she had laid +carefully down while she arranged the apron. As she did so, the feeble +ray from the lantern fell on a space where the ground had been scratched +up, evidently by the puppy's paws; and in that space something shone +with a dull glitter. Hildegarde bent lower, and found what seemed to be +a small brass handle, half covered with earth. She dug the earth away +with her hands, and pulled and tugged at the handle for some time +without success; but at length the sullen soil yielded, and she +staggered back against the wheel with a small metal box in her hands. No +time now to examine the prize, be it what it might. Into the apron bag +it went, and on top of it went the puppy, yelping dismally. Then slowly, +carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and limb, Hilda +reascended the wall. Oh, but it was hard work! Her hands were already +very sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half choked +her. Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped piteously, and +struggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressed +painfully against the back of her neck. The jutting stones were far +apart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reach +the next one. But the royal blood was fully up. Queen Hildegarde set her +teeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved with +steel. At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment had +dragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground. +She drew a long breath, and hastily untying the apron from her neck, +took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried the +lantern and the iron box. Will was jumping frantically about, and trying +to reach his brother puppy, who responded with squeaks of joy to his +enraptured greeting. + +"Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly. "Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! we +shall be at home soon now. Patience, little dog!" And Jock tried hard to +be patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball while +his mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with some +difficulty, laden with her triple burden. + +However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm as +fast as eager feet could carry them. Little thought had Hilda now of +spectral trees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully she hurried back, up the long +steps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing now +when the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tight +that he squeaked again. Now she saw the lights twinkling in the +farm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane and +barnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, breathless and exhausted, +but radiant. The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbed +and anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered. + +"Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley, "we have been terribly frightened +about you. Jacob has been searching--But, good gracious, child!" she +added, breaking off hastily, "where have you been, and what have you +been doing to get yourself into such a state!" + +Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silent +astonishment. The girl's dress was torn and draggled, and covered with +great spots and splashes of black. Her face was streaked with dirt, her +fair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. Could this be Hilda, the +dainty, the spotless? But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, +though very pale, wore a look of triumphant delight. + +"I have found him!" she said, simply. "My little Jock! Simon threw him +into the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out. His leg +is broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy. Don't look so +frightened," she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wife +were fairly pale with horror; "it was not so _very_ bad, after all." And +in as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble's note and of +her strange expedition. + +"My child! my child!" cried Dame Hartley, putting her arms round the +girl, and weeping as she did so. "How could you do such a fearful thing? +Think, if your foot had slipped you might be lying there now yourself, +in that dreadful place!" and she shuddered, putting back the tangle of +fair hair with trembling fingers. + +"Ah, but you see, my foot _didn't_ slip, Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, +gayly. "I wouldn't _let_ it slip! And here I am safe and sound, so it's +really absurd for you to be frightened now, my dear!" + +"Why in the name of the airthly didn't ye wait till I kem home, and let +me go down for ye?" demanded the farmer, who was secretly delighted +with the exploit, though he tried to look very grave. + +"Oh! I--I never thought of it!" said Hildegarde. "My only thought was to +get down there as quickly as possible. So I waited till I heard you +coming, for I didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone; and then--I went! +And I will not be scolded," she added quickly, "for I think I have made +a great discovery." She held one hand behind her as she spoke, and her +eyes sparkled as she fixed them on the farmer. "Dear Farmer Hartley," +she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to go +down often into the vault of the old mill?" + +"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy +of his, pokin' about thar. But what--" + +"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment! +Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell me that when he +was dying, your father said something about digging? Try to remember +just what he said!" + +The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look. +"What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, he +didn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he was +allus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fell +back on the piller, an' that was all." + +"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebody +has been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we have +found--we have found--" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her hand +from behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried, +thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on her +knees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think--oh! I am +sure--that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly, +_please_!" + +[Illustration: "'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"] + +Now much agitated in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself to +the task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly, +and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rusted +hinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, and +slowly, unwillingly, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short and +quick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward to +look into the mysterious casket. What did she see? + +At first nothing but a handkerchief,--a yellow silk handkerchief, of +curious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicely +inside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as he +said, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shaking +hand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look--and he fell back in his +chair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For the +diamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds,--some rough +and dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone the +brighter for their long imprisonment; some tinged with yellow or blue, +some with the clear white radiance which is seen in nothing else save a +dewdrop when the morning sun first strikes upon it. There they lay,--a +handful of stones, a little heap of shining crystals; but enough to pay +off the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and leave the farmer a rich man for +life. + +Dame Hartley was the first to rouse herself from the silent amaze into +which they had fallen. "Well, well!" she said, wiping her eyes, "the +ways of Providence are mysterious. To think of it, after all these +years! Why, Jacob! Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying, now that the +Lord, and this blessed child under Him, has taken away all your +trouble?" + +But the farmer, to his own great amazement, _was_ crying. He sobbed +quietly once or twice, then cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes with +the old silk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father," he said, simply. "It seems +kind o' hard that nobody ever believed him, an' we let him die thinkin' +he was crazy. That takes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy, now I tell ye! +Seems like's if I'd been punished for not havin' faith, and now I git +the reward without havin' deserved it." + +"As if you _could_ have reward enough!" cried Hildegarde, laying her +hand on his affectionately. "But, oh! do just look at them, dear Farmer +Hartley! Aren't they beautiful? But what is that peeping out of the +cotton-wool beneath? It is something red." + +Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cotton which lined the box, and drew +out--oh, wonderful! a chain of rubies! Each stone glowed like a living +coal as he held it up in the lamp-light. Were they rubies, or were they +drops of blood linked together by a thread of gold? + +"The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful! And +I _knew_ it was true! I knew it all the time." + +The old man fixed a strange look, solemn and tender, on the girl as she +stood at his side, radiant and glowing with happiness. "She said--" his +voice trembled as he spoke, "that furrin woman--she said it was her +heart's blood as father had saved. And now it's still blood, Hildy, my +gal, our heart's blood, that goes out to you, and loves and blesses you +as if you were our own child come back from the dead." And drawing her +to him, he clasped the ruby chain round Hilda's neck. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE TREE-PARTY. + + +Another golden day! But the days would all be golden now, thought +Hildegarde. "Oh, how different it is from yesterday!" she cried to Nurse +Lucy as she danced about the kitchen. "The sun shone yesterday, but it +did us no good. To-day it warms my heart, the good sunshine. And +yesterday the trees seemed to mock me, with all their scarlet and gold; +but to-day they are dressed up to celebrate our good fortune. Let us +call them in to rejoice with us, Nurse Lucy. Let us have a tree-party, +instead of a tea-party!" + +"My dear," said Dame Hartley, looking up with a puzzled smile, "what +_do_ you mean?" + +"Oh! I don't mean to invite the whole forest to supper," said +Hildegarde, laughing. "But you shall see, Nurse Lucy; you shall see. +Just wait till this afternoon. I must run now over to Pink's, and tell +her all the wonderful things that have happened, and see how poor Bubble +is." + +Away she went like a flash, through the golden fields, down the lane, +where the maples made a flaming tent of scarlet over her head, bursting +suddenly like a whirlwind into the little cottage, where the brother and +sister, both now nearly helpless, sat waiting with pale and anxious +faces. At sight of her Pink uttered a cry of delight, while Bubble +flushed with pleasure; and both were about to pour out a flood of eager +questions, when Hilda laid her hand over Pink's mouth and made a sign to +the boy. "Two minutes to get my breath!" she cried, panting; "only two, +and then you shall hear all." She spent the two minutes in filling the +kettle and presenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that Dame +Hartley had sent him; then, sitting down by the invalid's chair, she +told from beginning to end the history of the past two days. The recital +was thrilling enough, and before it was over the pale cheeks were +crimson, and the two pairs of blue eyes blazed with excitement. + +"_Oh!_" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless of +the sprained ankle. "Oh, I _say_, Miss Hildy! I dunno what _to_ say! +Wouldn't _he_ ha' liked it, though? My! 'twas jest like himself. Jes' +exactly what he'd ha' done." + +"What who would have done, Bubble?" asked Hilda, laughing. + +"Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy. "I was jest sayin' over the ballid +when I saw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink, say?" + +But Pink drew the stately head down towards her, and kissed the glowing +cheek, and whispered, "Queen Hildegarde! _my_ queen!" + +The tears started to Hilda's eyes as she returned the kiss; but she +brushed them away, and rose hastily, announcing her intention of +"setting things to rights" against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poor +dears!" she cried, "how did you manage yesterday? If I had only known, I +would have come and got dinner for you." + +"Oh! we got on very well indeed," replied Pink, laughing, "though there +were one or two mishaps. Fortunately there was plenty of bread in the +cupboard, where we could easily reach it; and with that and the molasses +jug, we were in no danger of starvation. But Mother had left a +custard-pie on the upper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted a piece of it for +dinner. But neither of us cripples could get at it; and for a long time +we could think of no plan which would make it possible. At last Bubble +had a bright idea. You remember the big fork that Mother uses to take +pies out of the oven? Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, and +then, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of course, +for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie. It +was a dreadful moment, Hilda! The pie slid easily on to the fork, and +for a moment all seemed to promise well; but the next minute, just as +Bubble began to lower it, he wavered on his one foot--only a little, but +enough to send the poor pie tumbling to the ground." + +"Poor pie!" cried Bubble. "Wal, I like that! Poor _me_, I sh'd say. I'd +had bread'n m'lasses three meals runnin', Miss Hildy. Now don't you +think that old pie might ha' come down straight?" + +"You should have seen his face, poor dear!" cried Pink. "He really +couldn't laugh--for almost two minutes." + +"Wal, I s'pose 'twas kind o' funny," the boy admitted, while Hilda +laughed merrily over the catastrophe. "But thar! when one's used to +standin' on two legs, it's dretful onhandy tryin' to stand on one. We'll +have bread and jam to-day," he added, with an affectionate glance at +the pot of marmalade, "and that's a good enough dinner for the Governor +o' the State." + +"Indeed, you shall have more than that!" cried Hildegarde. "Nurse Lucy +does not need me before dinner, so I will get your dinner for you." + +So the active girl made up the fire anew, swept the floor, dusted tables +and chairs, and made the little room look tidy and cheerful, as Pink +loved to see it. Then she ran down to the cellar, and reappeared with a +basket of potatoes and a pan of rosy apples. + +"Now we will perform a trio!" she said. "Pink, you shall peel and core +the apples for apple-sauce, and Bubble shall pare the potatoes, while I +make biscuit and gingerbread." + +Accordingly, she rolled up her sleeves and set busily to work; the +others followed her example, and fingers and tongues moved ceaselessly, +in cheerful emulation of each other. + +"I'd like to git hold o' Simon Hartley!" said Bubble, slicing vengefully +at a big potato. "I wish't he was this tater, so I do! _I'd_ skin him! +Yah! ornery critter! An' him standin' thar an' grinnin' at me over the +wall, an' I couldn't do nothin'! Seemed's though I sh'd _fly_, Miss +Hildy, it did; an' then not to be able to crawl even! I sw--I tell ye, +now, I didn't like that." + +"Poor Bubble!" said Hilda, compassionately, "I'm sure you didn't. And +did he really start to crawl over to the farm, Pink?" + +"Indeed he did!" replied Pink. "Nothing that I could say would keep him +from trying it; so I bandaged his ankle as well as I could, and off he +started. But he fainted twice before he got to the gate, so there was +nothing for it but to crawl back again, and--have the knees of his +trousers mended." + +"Dear boy!" said Hilda, patting the curly head affectionately. "Good, +faithful boy! I shall think a great deal more of it, Bubble, than if +you had been able to walk all the way. And, after all," she added, "I am +glad I had to do it myself,--go down to the mill, I mean. It is +something to remember! I would not have missed it." + +"No more wouldn't I!" cried Bubble, enthusiastically. "I'd ha' done it +for ye twenty times, ye know that, Miss Hildy; but I druther ha' hed you +do it;" and Hildegarde understood him perfectly. + +The simple meal prepared and set out, Hilda bade farewell to her two +friends, and flitted back to the farm. Mrs. Chirk was to return in the +evening, so she felt no further anxiety about them. + +She found the farmer just returned from the village in high spirits. +Squire Gaylord had examined the diamonds, pronounced them of great +value, and had readily advanced the money to pay off the mortgage, +taking two or three large stones as security. Lawyer Clinch had +reluctantly received his money, and relinquished all claim upon +Hartley's Glen, though with a very bad grace. + +"He kind o' insinuated that the di'monds had prob'ly ben stole by Father +_or_ me, he couldn't say which; and he said somethin' about inquirin' +into the matter. But Squire Gaylord shut him up pooty quick, by sayin' +thar was more things than that as might be inquired into, and if he +began, others might go on; and Lawyer Clinch hadn't nothin' more to say +after that." + +When dinner was over, and everything "redded up," Hildegarde sent Dame +Hartley upstairs to take a nap, and escorted the farmer as far as the +barn on his way to the turnip-field. Then, "the coast being clear," she +said to herself, "we will prepare for the tree-party." + +Accordingly, arming herself with a stout pruning-knife, she took her way +to the "wood-lot," which lay on the north side of the house. The +splendor of the trees, which were now in full autumnal glory, gave Hilda +a sort of rapture as she approached them. What had she ever seen so +beautiful as this,--the shifting, twinkling myriads of leaves, blazing +with every imaginable shade of color above the black, straight trunks; +the deep, translucent blue of the sky bending above; the golden light +which transfused the whole scene; the crisp freshness of the afternoon +air? She wanted to sing, to dance, to do everything that was joyous and +free. But now she had work to do. She visited all her favorite +trees,--the purple ash, the vivid, passionate maples, the oaks in their +sober richness of murrey and crimson. On each and all she levied +contributions, cutting armful after armful, and carried them to the +house, piling them in splendid heaps on the shed-floor. Then, after +carefully laying aside a few specially perfect branches, she began the +work of decoration. Over the chimney-piece she laid great boughs of +maple, glittering like purest gold in the afternoon light, which +streamed broadly in through the windows. Others--scarlet, pink, dappled +red, and yellow--were placed over the windows, the doors, the dresser. +She filled the corners with stately oak-boughs, and made a bower of the +purple ash in the bow-window,--Faith's window. Then she set the +tea-table with the best china, every plate and dish resting on a mat of +scarlet leaves, while a chain of yellow ones outlined the shining square +board. A tiny scarlet wreath encircled the tea-kettle, and even the +butter-dish displayed its golden balls beneath an arch of flaming +crimson. This done, she filled a great glass bowl with purple-fringed +asters and long, gleaming sprays of golden-rod, and setting it in the +middle of the table, stood back with her head a little on one side and +surveyed the general effect. + +"Good!" was her final comment; "very good! And now for my own part." + +She gathered in her apron the branches first selected, and carried them +up to her own room, where she proceeded to strip off the leaves and to +fashion them into long garlands. As her busy fingers worked, her +thoughts flew hither and thither, bringing back the memories of the past +few days. Now she stood in the kitchen, pistol in hand, facing the +rascal Simon Hartley; and she laughed to think how he had shaken and +cowered before the empty weapon. Now she was in the vault of the ruined +mill, with a thousand horrors of darkness pressing on her, and only the +tiny spark of light in her lantern to keep off the black and shapeless +monsters. Now she thought of the kind farmer, with a throb of pity, as +she recalled the hopeless sadness of his face the night before. Just the +very night before, only a few hours; and now how different everything +was! Her heart gave a little happy thrill to think that she, Hilda, the +"city gal," had been able to help these dear friends in their trouble. +They loved her already, she knew that; they would love her more now. Ah! +and they would miss her all the more, now that she must leave them so +soon. + +Then, like a flash, her thoughts reverted to the plan she had been +revolving in her mind two days before, before all these strange things +had happened. It was a delightful little plan! Pink was to be sent to a +New York hospital,--the very best hospital that could be found; and +Hildegarde hoped--she thought--she felt almost sure that the trouble +could be greatly helped, if not cured altogether. And then, when Pink +was well, or at least a great, great deal better, she was to come and +live at the farm, and help Nurse Lucy, and sing to the farmer, and be +all the comfort--no, not all, but nearly the comfort that Faith would +have been if she had lived. And Bubble--yes! Bubble must go to +school,--to a good school, where his bright, quick mind should learn +everything there was to learn. Papa would see to that, Hilda knew he +would. Bubble would delight Papa! And then he would go to college, and +by and by become a famous doctor, or a great lawyer, or--oh! Bubble +could be anything he chose, she was sure of it. + +So the girl's happy thoughts flew on through the years that were to +come, weaving golden fancies even as her fingers were weaving the gay +chains of shining leaves; but let us hope the fancy-chains, airy as they +were, were destined to become substantial realities long after the +golden wreaths had faded. + +But now the garlands were ready, and none too soon; for the shadows were +lengthening, and she heard Nurse Lucy downstairs, and Farmer Hartley +would be coming in soon to his tea. She took from a drawer her one white +frock, the plain lawn which had once seemed so over-plain to her, and +with the wreaths of scarlet and gold she made a very wonderful thing of +it. Fifteen minutes' careful work, and Hilda stood looking at her image +in the glass, well pleased and a little surprised; for she had been too +busy of late to think much about her looks, and had not realized how sun +and air and a free, out-door life had made her beauty blossom and glow +like a rose in mid-June. With a scarlet chaplet crowning her fair locks, +bands of gold about waist and neck and sleeves, and the whole skirt +covered with a fantastic tracery of mingled gold and fire, she was a +vision of almost startling loveliness. She gave a little happy laugh. +"Dear old Farmer!" she said, "he likes to see me fine. I think this will +please him." And light as a thistledown, the girl floated downstairs and +danced into the kitchen just as Farmer Hartley entered it from the other +side. + +"Highty-tighty!" cried the good man, "what's all this? Is there a fire? +Everything's all ablaze! Why, Hildy! bless my soul!" He stood in silent +delight, looking at the lovely figure before him, with its face of rosy +joy and its happy, laughing eyes. + +"It's a tree-party," explained Hildegarde, taking his two hands and +leading him forward. "I'm part of it, you see, Farmer Hartley. Do you +like it? Is it pretty? It's to celebrate our good fortune," she added; +and putting her arm in the old man's, she led him about the room, +pointing out the various decorations, and asking his approval. + +Farmer Hartley admired everything greatly, but in an absent way, as if +his mind were preoccupied with other matters. He turned frequently +towards the door, as if he expected some one to follow him. "All for +me?" he kept asking. "All for me and Marm Lucy, Hildy? Ye--ye ain't +expectin' nobody else to tea, now?" + +"No," said Hilda, wondering. "Of course not. Who else is there to come? +Bubble has sprained his ankle, you know, and Pink--" + +"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" said the farmer, still with that backward +glance at the door. And then, as he heard some noise in the yard, he +added hurriedly: "At the same time, ye know, Hildy, people do sometimes +drop in to tea--kind o' onexpected-like, y' understand. And--and--all +this pretty show might--might seem to--indicate, ye see--" + +"Jacob Hartley? what are you up to?" demanded Nurse Lucy, rather +anxiously, as she stood at the shed-door watching him intently. "Does +your head feel dizzy? You'd better go and lie down; you've had too much +excitement for a man of--" + +"Oh, you thar, Marm Lucy?" cried the farmer, with a sigh of relief that +was half a chuckle, "Now, thar! you tell Hildy that folks does sometimes +drop in--onexpected-like--folks from a _con_sid'able distance sometimes. +Why, I've known 'em--" But here he stopped suddenly. And as Hilda, +expecting she knew not what, stood with hands clasped together, and +beating heart, the door was thrown open and a strong, cheery voice +cried, "Well, General!" Another moment, and she was clasped in her +father's arms. + + + + +THE LAST WORD. + + +The lovely autumn is gone, and winter is here. Mr. and Mrs. Graham have +long since been settled at home, and Hildegarde is with them. How does +it fare with her, the new Hildegarde, under the old influences and amid +the old surroundings? For answer, let us take the word of her oldest +friend,--the friend who "_knows_ Hildegarde!" Madge Everton has just +finished a long letter to Helen McIvor, who is spending the winter in +Washington, and there can be no harm in our taking a peep into it. + + "You ask me about Hilda Graham; but, _alas!_ I have + NOTHING pleasant to tell. My dear, Hilda is simply + LOST to us! It is all the result of that _dreadful_ + summer spent among _swineherds_. You know what the Bible + says! I don't know exactly _what_, but something _terrible_ + about that sort of thing. Of course it is _partly_ her + mother's influence as well. I have always DREADED + it for Hilda, who is so _sensitive_ to _impressions_. Why, I + remember, as far back as the first year that we were at Mme. + Haut-Ton's, Mrs. Graham saying to Mamma, 'I wish we could + interest our girls a little in _sensible_ things!' My dear, + she meant _hospitals_ and _soup-kitchens_ and things! And + Mamma said (you know Mamma isn't in the _least_ afraid of + Mrs. Graham, though I confess I AM!), 'My _dear_ + Mrs. Graham, if there is _one_ thing Society will + NOT tolerate, it is a _sensible_ woman. Our girls + might as well have the small-pox at once, and be done with + it.' Wasn't it _clever_ of Mamma? And Mrs. Graham just + LOOKED at her as if she were a _camel_ from + _Barnum's_. + + "Well, poor Hildegarde is sensible enough _now_ to satisfy + _even_ her mother. Ever since she came home from that + _odious_ place, it has been one round of hospitals and + tenement-houses and _sloughs of horror_. I don't mean that + she has given up school, for she is studying harder than + ever; but out of school she is simply _swallowed up_ by + these wretched things. I have remonstrated with her _almost_ + on my KNEES. 'Hildegarde,' I said one day, 'do you + REALIZE that you are practically _giving up_ your + _whole_ LIFE? If you once _lose your place_ in + Society among those of your _own age_ and _position_, you + NEVER can regain it. Do you REALIZE this, Hilda? + for I feel it a SOLEMN DUTY to _warn_ you!' My + dear, she actually LAUGHED! and only said, 'Dear + Madge, I have only just begun to have any life!' And that + was _all_ I could get out of her, for just then some one + came in. But even _this_ is not _the worst_! Oh, Helen! she + has some of the _creatures_ whom she saw this summer, + actually _staying_ in the house,--in THAT house, + which we used to call Castle Graham, and were almost afraid + to enter ourselves, so stately and beautiful it was! There + are two of these creatures,--a girl about our age, some sort + of dreadful cripple, who goes about in a bath-chair, and a + freckled imp of a boy. The girl is at ---- Hospital for + treatment, but spends _every Sunday_ at the Grahams', and + Hilda devotes _most_ of her spare time to her. The boy is at + school,--one of the _best_ schools in the city. 'But _who_ + are these people?' I hear you cry. My dear! they are simply + _ignorant paupers_, who were Hilda's constant companions + through that _disastrous summer_. Now their mother is dead, + and the people with whom Hilda stayed have adopted them. The + boy is to be a doctor, and the girl is going to get well, + Dr. George says. (_He_ calls her a beautiful and interesting + creature; but you know what _that_ means. _Any diseased_ + creature is beautiful to _him_!) Well, and THESE, + my dear Helen, are Hilda Graham's FRIENDS, for whom + she has _deserted_ her OLD _ones_! for though she + is _unchanged_ towards me when I see her, I hardly ever + _do_ see her. She cares nothing for _my_ pursuits, and I + certainly have NO intention of joining in _hers_. I + met her the other day on _Fifth Avenue_, walking beside that + _odious_ bath-chair, which the freckled boy was pushing. She + looked so _lovely_ (for she is prettier than ever, with a + fine color and eyes like _stars_), and was talking so + earnestly, and walking somehow as if she were treading on + air, it sent a PANG through my heart. I just paused + an instant (for though I _trust_ I am not SNOBBISH, + Helen, still, I _draw the line_ at bath-chairs, and will + _not_ be seen standing by one), and said in a low tone, + meant _only_ for _her ear_, 'Ah! has _Queen Hildegarde_ come + to _this_?' My dear, she only LAUGHED! But that + _girl_, that cripple, looked up with a smile and a sort of + flash over her face, and said, just as if she _knew_ me, + 'Yes, Miss Everton! the Queen has come to her kingdom!'" + + +THE END + + + + +Selections from The Page Company's Books for Young People + + * * * * * + +THE BLUE BONNET SERIES + +_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.75 + + +A TEXAS BLUE BONNET + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS. + +"The book's heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, +honest, lively girlishness."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ + + +BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ. + +"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_Boston +Transcript._ + + +BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many +human touches."--_Boston Globe._ + + +BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE + +By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens."--_New +York Sun._ + + +BLUE BONNET--DEBUTANTE + +By LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet. + + +BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS + +By LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +"The author's intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader an +interesting story of the heroine's war activities."--_Pittsburgh +Leader._ + + +ONLY HENRIETTA + +BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90 + +"It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl--a +story in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth of +delicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of young +and old."--_Pittsburgh Leader._ + + +HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE: A Sequel to "Only Henrietta" + +BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.90 + +"One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. The +life of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in the +narrative to balance the delightful characterization."--_Providence +Journal._ + + +THE YOUNG KNIGHT + +By I.M.B. of K. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 + +The clash of broad-sword on buckler, the twanging of bow-strings and the +cracking of spears splintered by whirling maces resound through this +stirring tale of knightly daring-do. + + +THE YOUNG CAVALIERS + +By I.M.B. of K. + +Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 + +"There have been many scores of books written about the Charles Stuarts +of England, but never a merrier and more pathetic one than 'The Young +Cavaliers.'"--_Family Herald._ + +"The story moves quickly, and every page flashes a new thrill before the +reader, with plenty of suspense and excitement. There is valor, +affection, romance, chivalry and humor in this fascinating +tale."--_Kansas City Kansan._ + + + + +THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES + +By ALICE E. ALLEN + +_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 + + +JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY + +These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, +combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from young +people for these two particular tales. + + +THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy + +"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human +nature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings."--_New York +Standard._ + + +MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL + +A sequel to "Joe, the Circus boy," and "The Martie Twins." + + +MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS +Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl. + +"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins her +little folk right down to this life of ours, in which she ranges +vigorously and delightfully."--_Boston Ideas._ + + +MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch + +"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells them +stories that never fail to charm."--_Madison Courier._ + + +MARJORY'S DISCOVERY + +This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable and +original as any of the other creations of this writer of charming +stories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy +minded Joe and sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the +entire summer, in which all of the characters of the previous +MARJORY-JOE stories participate, and their happy times are delightfully +depicted. + + + + +THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES + +By HARRISON ADAMS + +_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65 + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; +OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS. + +"Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the +young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer +ancestors and the early days of the Republic."--_Boston Globe._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; +OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS. + +"The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interesting +but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which +these days of self-reliance and trial produced."--_American Tourist, +Chicago._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; +OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS. + +"The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."--_New York +Sun._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; +OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX. + +"Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, true +to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for +boys."--_Watchman Examiner, New York City._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; +OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS. + +"There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well +told."--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn._ + + +THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; +OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST. + +"The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable +historical information."--_Boston Herald._ + + + + +THE FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES + +By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH + +_Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume_ +$1.75 + + +THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE + +"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knits +hearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle to +try carrying them out, and most of all it proves that in daily life, +threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the +most ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger +than the most thrilling fiction."--_Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young +People's Weekly, Chicago._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION + +"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. +It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten the +day."--_Utica, N.Y., Observer._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS + +"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, +natural development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone."--_The +Christian Register, Boston._ + + +THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE + +"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most +delightful narrative, especially for young people. It will also make the +older readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live +again in the days of their youth."--_Troy Budget._ + + +PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY + +"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesome +incidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion and +leader."--_World of Books._ + +"It possesses a plot of much merit and through its 324 pages it weaves a +tale of love and of adventure which ranks it among the best books for +girls."--_Cohoe-American._ + + + + +FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES + +By CHARLES H.L. JOHNSTON + +_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $2.00 + + +FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS + +"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers +with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."--_New York +Sun._ + + +FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS + +"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of +battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whites +for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United States +History."--_New York Marine Journal._ + + +FAMOUS SCOUTS + +"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys +and young men."--_New London Day._ + + +FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA + +"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, +stirring the blood with thrilling force."-_Pittsburgh Post._ + + +FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER + +"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a +book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual +adventure."--_Cleveland Leader._ + + +FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA + +"The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures of +which the world has known."--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._ + + +FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR + +Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory. + +"The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its unreality. +The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history of the World +War."--_Rochester Post Express._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES (Con.) + +By EDWIN WILDMAN + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--First Series + +"Are these stories interesting? Let a boy read them; and tell +you."--_Boston Transcript._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--Second Series + +"As fascinating as fiction are these biographies, which emphasize their +humble beginning and drive home the truth that just as every soldier of +Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every American +youngster carries potential success under his hat."--_New York World._ + + +THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution to +the Monroe Doctrine) + +"How can one become acquainted with the histories of some of the famous +men of the United States? A very good way is to read 'The Founders of +America,' by Edwin Wildman, wherein the life stories of fifteen men who +founded our country are told"--_New York Post._ + + +FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War +to Today) + +"An informing, interesting and inspiring book for boys."--_Presbyterian +Banner._ + +" ... Is a book that should be read by every boy in the whole +country...."--_Atlanta Constitution._ + + +FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS + +With a complete index. + +By CHARLES LEE LEWIS + +_Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis_ + +"Professor Lewis does not make the mistake of bringing together simply a +collection of biographical sketches. In connection with the life of John +Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and other famous naval officers, he groups +the events of the period in which the officer distinguished himself, and +combines the whole into a colorful and stirring narrative."--_Boston +Herald._ + + +STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN + +Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, with a jacket in +color $1.65 + + +THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER + +This story happened many hundreds of years ago in the quaint Flemish +city of Bruges and concerns a little girl named Karen, who worked at +lace-making with her aged grandmother. + + +GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK + +"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir +the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so +admirably told by this author."--_Louisville Daily Courier._ + + +A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE + +"The story should be one of the influences in the life of every child to +whom good stories can be made to appeal."--_Public Ledger._ + + +THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY + +"This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth of interest +coupled with enlivening descriptions of the country where its scenes are +laid and of the people thereof"--_Wilmington Every Evening._ + + +WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY + +"The stories are music in prose--they are like pearls on a chain of +gold--each word seems exactly the right word in the right place; the +stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed."--_The +Lafayette Leader._ + + +PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night + +"This retelling of an old Twelfth Night romance is a creation almost as +perfect as her 'Christmas Porringer.'"--_Lexington Herald._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Queen Hildegarde, by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN HILDEGARDE *** + +***** This file should be named 16473.txt or 16473.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/7/16473/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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