diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:14:35 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:14:35 -0700 |
| commit | 740cd103bb29d0203173ecce16020df296ddb93e (patch) | |
| tree | 7837cfbbdc9021cb8816ce46da481fe5abb3988e /24826-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '24826-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/24826-h.htm | 9386 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/cover01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 32530 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/emblem.png | bin | 0 -> 1951 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs01.png | bin | 0 -> 37738 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs02.png | bin | 0 -> 30029 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs03.png | bin | 0 -> 35858 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs04.png | bin | 0 -> 39228 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs05.png | bin | 0 -> 19691 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs06.png | bin | 0 -> 29912 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs07.png | bin | 0 -> 22684 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/gs08.png | bin | 0 -> 26082 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/leaf.png | bin | 0 -> 206 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24826-h/images/tp01.png | bin | 0 -> 11225 bytes |
13 files changed, 9386 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/24826-h/24826-h.htm b/24826-h/24826-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24fcc67 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/24826-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9386 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hildegarde's Holiday, by Laura E. 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;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + 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%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + table.title {width: 426px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/tp01.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hildegarde's Holiday, by Laura E. 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: Hildegarde's Holiday + a story for girls + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Josephine Bruce + +Release Date: March 13, 2008 [EBook #24826] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 276px;"> +<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="276" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<h1>HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><div class='bbox'> +<h2>THE<br /> + +HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 25px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="25" height="20" alt="Leaf" title="Leaf" /> +</div> +<h3>By Laura E. Richards</h3> + +<div class='center'>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated,<br /> +per volume, $1.75</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 25px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="25" height="20" alt="Leaf" title="Leaf" /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Hildegarde and Margaret Books"> +<tr><td align='left'>Queen Hildegarde</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Holiday</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Home</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Neighbors</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hildegarde's Harvest</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Three Margarets</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Margaret Montfort</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peggy</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rita</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fernley House</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Merryweathers</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='center'> +<i>The above eleven volumes boxed as a set, $19.25</i><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 25px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="25" height="20" alt="Leaf" title="Leaf" /> +</div> +<div class='center'>L. C. PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.<br /> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/gs01.png" width="269" height="400" alt=""'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"" title=""'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<table class="title" summary="title"> +<tr><td align='center'><br /><br /><br /> + +<h3><i>THE HILDEGARDE SERIES</i></h3> + +<h1>Hildegarde's Holiday</h1> + +<h2>A STORY FOR GIRLS</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> + +<div class='center'>Author of<br /> +"The Margaret Series," "The Hildegarde Series,"<br /> +"Captain January," "Melody," "Five<br /> +Minute Stories," etc.<br /> +<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='center'><i>ILLUSTRATED</i><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 97px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="97" height="99" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> +<br /><br /> +<div class='center'>THE PAGE COMPANY<br /> +BOSTON :: PUBLISHERS<br /> +</div> +<br /><br /><br /><br /></td> +</tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<i><small>Copyright, 1891</small></i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Estes and Lauriat</span><br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +<small>Made in U. S. A.</small><br /><br /><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>THE COLONIAL PRESS</small><br /> +<small>C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.</small><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>To H. R.</i></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='left'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Introductory</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Wealthy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Orchard</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Doctors</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the River</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Morning Drive</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A "Story Evening</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Flower-Day</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Broken Flowers</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The House in the Wood</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Up in the Morning early"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benny</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Surprise</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Telemachus goes a-fishing</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Great Scheme</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Widow Brett</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Old Mr. Colt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Joyous Gard</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Do tell us about her, please!</span>'" (p. 128)</td><td align='right'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">And everything is right for supper, Martha?</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Do say it's all right, Jeremiah!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Then they hugged each other a little</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Don't you think we have enough flowers, Rosy?</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">So down plumped Hildegarde</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Oh, such a dee ole kitty!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Not a thing in the house!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCTORY.</h3> + + +<p>In a small waiting-room at Blank Hospital +a girl was walking up and down, with quick, +impatient steps. Every few minutes she +stopped to listen; then, hearing no sound, +she resumed her walk, with hands clasped +and lips set firmly together. She was evidently +in a state of high nervous excitement, +for the pupils of her eyes were so dilated that +they flashed black as night instead of gray; +and a bright red spot burned in either cheek. +In the corner, in an attitude of anxious dejection, +sat a small dog. He had tried fol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>lowing +his mistress at first, when she began +her walk, and finding that the promenade +took them nowhere and was very monotonous, +had tried to vary the monotony by +worrying her heels in a playful manner; +whereupon he had been severely reprimanded, +and sent into the corner, from +which he dared not emerge. He was trying, +with his usual lack of success, to fathom +the motives which prompted human beings +to such strange and undoglike actions, when +suddenly a door opened, and a lady and gentleman +came in. The girl sprang forward. +"Mamma!" she cried. "Doctor!"</p> + +<p>"It is all right, my dear," said the doctor, +quickly; while the lady, whose name was Mrs. +Grahame, took the girl in her arms quietly, +and kissed her. "It is all right; everything +has gone perfectly, and in a few days your +lovely friend will be better than she has ever +been since she was a baby."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hildegarde Grahame sat down, and leaning +her head on her mother's shoulder, burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" said the good doctor. "The +best thing you could do, my child! Do you +want to hear the rest now, or shall I leave +it for your mother to tell?"</p> + +<p>"Let her hear it all from you, Doctor," +said Mrs. Grahame. "It will do her more +good than anything else."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde looked up and nodded, and +smiled through her tears.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the cheerful physician, "Miss +Angel (her own name is an impossibility, and +does not belong to her) has really borne the +operation wonderfully. Marvellously!" he +repeated. "The constitution, you see, was +originally good. There was a foundation to +work upon; that means everything, in a +case like this. Now all that she requires is +to be built up,—built up! Beef tea, chicken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +broth, wine jelly, and as soon as practicable, +fresh air and exercise,—there is your programme, +Miss Hildegarde; I think I can +depend upon you to carry it out."</p> + +<p>The girl stretched out her hand, which he +grasped warmly. "Dear, good doctor!" she +said; whereupon the physician growled, and +went and looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"And how soon will she be able to walk?" +asked the happy Hildegarde, drying her eyes +and smiling through the joyful tears. "And +when may I see her, Doctor? and how does +she look, Mamma darling?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Place aux dames!</i>" said the Doctor. +"You may answer first, Mrs. Grahame, +though your question came last."</p> + +<p>"Dear, she looks like a white rose!" replied +Mrs. Grahame. "She is sleeping quietly, +with no trace of pain on her sweet face. Her +breathing is as regular as a baby's; all the +nurses are coming on tiptoe to look at her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +and they all say, 'Bless her!' when they +move away."</p> + +<p>"My turn now," said Dr. Flower. "You +may see her, Miss Hildegarde, the day after +to-morrow, if all goes well, as I am tolerably +sure it will; and she will be able to walk—well, +say in a month."</p> + +<p>"Oh! a month!" cried Hildegarde, dolefully. +"Do you mean that she cannot walk +at all till then, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Hilda!" said Mrs. Grahame, in +gentle protest. "Pink has not walked for +fourteen years, remember; surely a month +is a very short time for her to learn in."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said the girl, still looking +disappointed, however.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she will <i>begin</i> before that!" said Dr. +Flower. "She will begin in ten days, perhaps. +Little by little, you know,—a step at +a time. In a fortnight she may go out to +drive; in fact, carriage exercise will be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +very good thing for her. An easy carriage, +a gentle horse, a careful driver—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you best of doctors!" cried Hildegarde, +her face glowing again with delight. +"Mamma, is not that exactly what we want? +I do believe we can do it, after all. You see, +Doctor—Oh, tell him, Mammy dear! You +will tell him so much better."</p> + +<p>"Hildegarde has had a very delightful plan +for this summer, Doctor," said Mrs. Graham, +"ever since you gave us the happy hope +that this operation, after the year of treatment, +would restore our dear Rose to complete +health. A kinswoman of mine, a very +lovely old lady, who lives in Maine, spent a +part of last winter with us, and became much +interested in Rose,—or Pink, as we used to +call her."</p> + +<p>"But we <i>don't</i> call her so now, Mammy!" +cried Hildegarde, impetuously. "Rose is exactly +as much her own name, and she likes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +it much better; and even Bubble says it is +prettier. But I <i>didn't</i> mean to interrupt, +Mammy dear. Go on, please!"</p> + +<p>"So," continued Mrs. Grahame, smiling, +"Cousin Wealthy invited the two girls to +make her a long visit this summer, as soon +as Rose should be able to travel. I am sure +it would be a good thing for the child, if you +think the journey would not be too much +for her; for it is a lovely place where Cousin +Wealthy lives, and she would have the best +of care."</p> + +<p>"Capital!" cried Dr. Flower; "the very +thing! She <i>shall</i> be able to travel, my dear +madam. We will pack her in cotton wool if +necessary; but it will not be necessary. It +is now—let me see—May 10th; yes, +quite so! By the 15th of June you may +start on your travels, Miss Hildegarde. There +is a railway near your cousin's home, Mrs +Grahame?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" cried Hilda. "It goes quite +near, doesn't it, Mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Within two or three miles," said Mrs. +Grahame; "and the carriage road is very +good."</p> + +<p>"That is settled, then!" said Dr. Flower, +rising; "and a very good thing too. And +now I must go at once and tell the good +news to that bright lad, Miss Rose's brother. +He is at school, I think you said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Hildegarde. "He said he +would rather not know the exact day, since +he could not be allowed to help. Good Bubble! +he has been so patient and brave, +though I know he has thought of nothing +else day and night. Thank you, Doctor, +for being so kind as to let him know. +Good-by!"</p> + +<p>But when Dr. Flower went out into the +hall, he saw standing opposite the door a +boy, neatly dressed and very pale, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +burning eyes, which met his in an agony of +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"She is all right," said the physician, +quickly. "She is doing extremely well, and +will soon be able to walk like other people. +How upon earth did you know?" he added, +in some vexation, seeing that the sudden relief +from terrible anxiety was almost more +than the lad could bear. "What idiot told +you?"</p> + +<p>Bubble Chirk gave one great sob; but the +next moment he controlled himself. "Nobody +told me," he said; "I knew. I can't +tell you how, sir, but—I knew!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>MISS WEALTHY.</h3> + + +<p>It was the 17th of June, and Miss Wealthy +Bond was expecting her young visitors. +Twice she had gone over the house, with +Martha trotting at her heels, to see that +everything was in order, and now she was +making a third tour of inspection; not because +she expected to find anything wrong, +but because it was a pleasure to see that +everything was right.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy Bond was a very pretty old +lady, and was very well aware of the fact, +having been told so during seventy years. +"The Lord made me pleasant to look at," +she was wont to say, "and it is a great privi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>lege, +my dear; but it is also a responsibility." +She had lovely, rippling silver hair, and soft +blue eyes, and a complexion like a girl's. She +had put on to-day, for the first time, her summer +costume,—a skirt and jacket of striped +white dimity, open a little at the neck, with +a kerchief of soft white net inside. This kerchief +was fastened with quite the prettiest +brooch that ever was,—a pansy, made of +five deep, clear amethysts, set in a narrow +rim of chased gold. Miss Wealthy always +wore this brooch; for in winter it harmonized +as well with her gown of lilac cashmere +as it did in summer with the white dimity. +At her elbow stood Martha; it was her place +in life. She seldom had to be called; but +was always there when Miss Wealthy wanted +anything, standing a step back, but close beside +her beloved mistress. Martha carried +her aureole in her pocket, or somewhere else +out of sight; but she was a saint all the same.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +Her gray hair was smooth, and she wore +spectacles with silver rims, and a gray print +gown, with the sleeves invariably rolled up +to the elbows, except on Sundays, when she +put on her black cashmere, and spent the +afternoon in uneasy state.</p> + +<p>"I think the room looks very pretty, +Martha," said Miss Wealthy, for the tenth +time.</p> + +<p>"It does, Mam," replied Martha, as heartily +as if she had not heard the remark before. +"Proper nice it looks, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"You mended that little place in the curtain, +did you, Martha?"</p> + +<p>"I did, Mam. I don't think as you could +find it now, unless you looked very close."</p> + +<p>"And you put lavender and orange-flower +water in the bottles? Very well; then that's +all, I think."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 292px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.png" width="292" height="400" alt=""'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"" title=""'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"</span> +</div> + +<p>Miss Wealthy gave one more contented +look round the pretty room, with its gay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +rose-flowering chintz, its cool straw matting, +and comfortable cushioned window-seats, and +then drew the blinds exactly half-way down, +and left the room, Martha carefully closing +the door.</p> + +<p>In the cool, shady drawing-room all was in +perfect order too. There were flowers in the +tall Indian vases on the mantelpiece, a great +bowl of roses on the mosaic centre-table, and, +as usual, a bunch of pansies on the little +round table by the armchair in which Miss +Wealthy always sat. She established herself +there now, and took up her knitting with a +little sigh of contentment.</p> + +<p>"And everything is right for supper, Martha?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mam," said Martha. "A little +chicken-pie, Mam, and French potatoes, and +honey. I should be making the biscuit now, +Mam, if you didn't need me."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Martha," said the old lady, "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +don't need anything. We shall hear the +wheels when they come."</p> + +<p>She looked out of the window, across the +pleasant lawn, at the blue river, and seemed +for a moment as if she were going to ask +Martha whether that were all right. But +she said nothing, and the saint in gray print +trotted away to her kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Dear Martha!" said Miss Wealthy, settling +herself comfortably among her cushions. +"It is a great privilege to have Martha. I +do hope these dear girls will not put her out. +She grows a little set in her ways as she +grows older, my good Martha. I don't think +that blind is <i>quite</i> half-way down. It makes +the whole room look askew, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>She rose, and pulled the blind straight, +patted a tidy on the back of a chair, and +settled herself among her cushions again, +with another critical glance at the river. A +pause ensued, during which the old lady's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +needles clicked steadily; then, at last, the +sound of wheels was heard, and putting her +work down in exactly the same spot from +which she had taken it up, Miss Wealthy +went out on the piazza to welcome her young +guests.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde sprang lightly from the carriage, +and gave her hand to her companion +to help her out.</p> + +<p>"Dear Cousin Wealthy," she cried, "here +we are, safe and sound. I am coming to kiss +you in one moment. Carefully, Rose dear! +Lean on me, so! <i>there</i> you are! now take +my arm. Slowly, slowly! See, Cousin +Wealthy! see how well she walks! Isn't +it delightful?"</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed!" said the old lady, heartily, +kissing first the glowing cheek and then +the pale one, as the girls came up to her. +"And how do you do, my dears? I am +very glad indeed to see you. Rose, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +look so much better, I should hardly have +known you; and you, Hilda, look like June +itself. I must call Martha—" But Martha +was there, at her elbow. "Oh, Martha! +here are the young ladies."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde shook hands warmly with Martha, +and Rose gave one of her shy, sweet +smiles.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Hildegarde," said the old +lady; "and this is Miss Rose. Perhaps you +will take them up to their rooms now, Martha, +and Jeremiah can take the trunks up. +We will have supper, my dears, as soon as +you are ready; for I am sure you must be +hungry."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are as hungry as hunters, Cousin +Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "We shall +frighten you with our appetites, I fear. This +way, Martha? Yes, in one minute. Rose +dear, I will put my arm round you, and you +can take hold of the stair-rail. Slowly now!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>They ascended the stairs slowly, and Hildegarde +did not loose her hold of her friend +until she had seated her in a comfortable +easy-chair in the pretty chintz bedroom.</p> + +<p>"There, dear!" she said anxiously, stooping +to unfasten her cloak. "Are you very +dreadfully tired?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" replied Rose, cheerfully; "not +at all <i>dreadfully</i> tired, only comfortably. I +ache a little, of course, but—Oh, what a +pleasant room! And this chair is comfort +itself."</p> + +<p>"The window-seat for me!" cried Hildegarde, +tossing her hat on the bed, and then +leaning out of the window with both arms +on the sill. "Rose, don't move! I forbid +you to stir hand or foot. I will tell you +while you are resting. There is a river,—a +great, wide, beautiful river, just across the +lawn."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear," said quiet Rose, smiling,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +"you knew there was a river; your mother +told us so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Goose, I did know it," cried Hildegarde; +"but I had not seen it, and didn't +know what it was like. It is all blue, with +sparkles all over it, and little brown flurries +where the wind strikes it. There are willows +all along the edge—"</p> + +<p>"To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose.</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And +I think—Rose, I <i>do</i> see a boat-house! My +dear, this is bliss! We will bathe every +morning. You have never seen me dive, +Rose."</p> + +<p>"I have not," said Rose; "and it would +be a pity to do it out of the window, dear, +because in the first place I should only see +your heels as you went out, and in the +second—"</p> + +<p>"Peace, paltry soul!" cried Hilda. "Here +comes a scow, loaded with wood. The wood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +has been wet, and is all yellow and gleaming. +'Scow,'—what an absurd word! +'Barge' is prettier."</p> + +<p>"It sounds so like Shalott," said Rose; "I +must come and look too.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'By the margin, willow-veiled,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Slide the heavy barges, trailed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">By slow horses.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Yes, it is just like it!" cried Hildegarde. +"It is really a redeeming feature in you, +Rose, that you are so apt in your quotations. +Say the part about the river; that is exactly +like what I am looking at."</p> + +<p>"Do you say it!" said Rose, coming softly +forward, and taking her seat beside her friend. +"I like best to hear you."</p> + +<p>And Hildegarde repeated in a low tone,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Willows whiten, aspens quiver,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Little breezes dusk and shiver</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Through the wave that runs forever</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">By the island in the river</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Flowing down to Camelot."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></div> + +<p>The two girls squeezed each other's hand +a little, and looked at the shining river, and +straightway forgot that there was anything +else to be done, till a sharp little tinkle roused +them from their dream.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Hildegarde. "Rose, how +<i>could</i> you let me go a-woolgathering? Just +look at my hair!"</p> + +<p>"And my hands!" said Rose, in dismay. +"And we said we were as hungry as hunters, +and would be down in a minute. What +will Miss Bond say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is all the river's fault," said Hildegarde, +splashing vigorously in the basin. +"It shouldn't be so lovely! Here, dear, +here is fresh water for you. Now the brush! +Let me just wobble your hair up for you, so. +There! now you are my pinkest Rose, and +I am all right too; so down we go."</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy had been seriously disturbed +when the girls did not appear promptly at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +sound of the tea-bell. She took her seat at +the tea-table and looked it over carefully. +"Punctuality is so important," she said, +half to herself and half to Martha, who had +just set down the teapot,—"That mat is +not <i>quite</i> straight, is it, Martha?—especially +in young people. I know it makes you +nervous, Martha,"—Martha did not look in +the least nervous,—"but it will probably not +happen again. If the butter were a <i>little</i> farther +this way! Thank you, Martha. Oh, +here you are, my dears! Sit down, pray! +You must be very hungry after—But +probably you felt the need of resting a little, +and to-morrow you will be quite fresh."</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't that, Cousin Wealthy," said +Hildegarde, frankly. "I am ashamed to say +that we were looking out of the window, and +the river was so lovely that we forgot all +about supper. Please forgive us this once, +for really we are pretty punctual generally.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +It is part of Papa's military code, you +know."</p> + +<p>"True, my dear, true!" said Miss Wealthy, +brightening up at once. "Your father is +very wise. Regular habits are a great privilege, +really. Will you have tea, Hilda dear, +or milk?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am +not to take tea till I am twenty-one, Cousin +Wealthy, nor coffee either."</p> + +<p>"And a very good plan," said Miss Wealthy, +approvingly. "Milk is the natural beverage—will +you cut that pie, dear, and help Rose, +and yourself?—for the young. When one +is older, however, a cup of tea is very comforting. +None for me, thank you, dear. I +have my little dish of milk-toast, but I +thought the pie would be just right for you +young people. Martha's pastry is so <i>very</i> +light that a small quantity of it is not +injurious."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rose!" said Hildegarde, in tones of +hushed rapture, "it is a chicken-pie, and +it is all for us. Hold your plate, favored +one of the gods! A river, a boat-house, and +chicken-pie! Cousin Wealthy, I am so glad +you asked us to come!"</p> + +<p>"Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, +looking up placidly from her milk-toast, +"Well, so am I!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE ORCHARD.</h3> + + +<p>Next morning, when breakfast was over, +Miss Wealthy made a little speech, giving +the two girls the freedom of the place.</p> + +<p>"You will find your own way about, my +dears," she said. "I will only give you +some general directions. The orchard is to +the right, beyond the garden. There is a +pleasant seat there under one of the apple-trees, +where you may like to sit. Beyond +that are the woods. On the other side of +the house is the barnyard, and the road +goes by to the village. You will find plenty +of flowers all about, and I hope you will +amuse yourselves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed we shall, Cousin Wealthy!" +cried Hildegarde. "It is delight enough +just to breathe this delicious air and look +at the river."</p> + +<p>They were sitting on the piazza, from +which the lawn sloped down to a great hedge +of Norway fir, just beyond which flowed the +broad blue stream of the Kennebec.</p> + +<p>"How about the river, Cousin Wealthy?" +asked Hildegarde, timidly. "I thought I +saw a boat-house through the trees. Could +we go out to row?"</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy seemed a little flurried by +the question. "My dear," she said, and +hesitated,—"my dear, have you—do your +parents allow you to go on the water? Can +you swim?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Hildegarde, "I can swim +very well, Cousin Wealthy,—at least, Papa +says I can; and I can row and paddle and +sail."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, not sail!" cried Miss Wealthy, with +an odd little catch in her breath,—"not sail, +my dear! I could not—I could not think +of that for a moment. But there is a row-boat," +she added, after a pause,—"a boat +which Jeremiah uses. If Jeremiah thinks +she is perfectly safe, you can go out, if +you feel quite sure your parents would +wish it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am very sure," said Hildegarde; +"for I asked Papa, almost the last thing before +we left. Thank you, Cousin Wealthy, so +much! We will be rather quiet this morning, +for Rose does not feel very strong; but +this afternoon perhaps we will try the boat. +Isn't there something I can do for you, +Cousin Wealthy? Can't I help Martha? I +can do all kinds of work,—can't I, Rose?—and +I love it!"</p> + +<p>But Martha had a young girl in the kitchen, +Miss Wealthy said, whom she was train<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>ing +to help her; and she herself had letters +to write and accounts to settle. So +the two girls sauntered off slowly, arm in +arm; Rose leaning on her friend, whose +strong young frame seemed able to support +them both.</p> + +<p>The garden was a very pleasant place, +with rhubarb and sunflowers, sweet peas +and mignonette, planted here and there +among the rows of vegetables, just as Jeremiah's +fancy suggested. Miss Wealthy's own +flower-beds, trim and gay with geraniums, +pansies, and heliotrope, were under the dining-room +windows; but somehow the girls liked +Jeremiah's garden best. Hildegarde pulled +some sweet peas, and stuck the winged blossoms +in Rose's fair hair, giving a fly-away +look to her smooth locks. Then she began +to sniff inquiringly. "Southernwood!" she +said,—"I smell southernwood somewhere, +Rose. Where is it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yonder," said Rose, pointing to a feathery +bush not far off.</p> + +<p>"Oh! and there is lavender too, Hilda! +Do you suppose we may pick some? I +do like to have a sprig of lavender in my +belt."</p> + +<p>At this moment Jeremiah appeared, wheeling +a load of turf. He was "long and lank +and brown as is the ribbed sea-sand," and Hildegarde +mentally christened him the Ancient +Mariner on the spot; but he smiled sadly and +said, "<i>Good</i>-mornin'," and seemed pleased +when the girls praised his garden. "Ee-yus!" +he said, with placid melancholy. "I've seen +wuss places. Minglin' the blooms with the +truck and herbs was my idee, as you may +say,—'livens up one, and sobers down the +other. <i>She</i> laughs at me, but she don't keer, +s'long as she has all she wants. Cut ye some +mignonette? That's very favoryte with me,—very +favoryte."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>He cut a great bunch of mignonette; and +Rose, proffering her request for lavender, received +a nosegay as big as she could hold in +both hands.</p> + +<p>"The roses is just comin' on," he said. +"Over behind them beans they are. A sight +o' roses there'll be in another week. Coreopsis +is pooty, too; that's down the other side +of the corn. Curus garding, folks thinks; +but, there, it's my idee, and she don't keer."</p> + +<p>Much amused, the girls thanked the melancholy +prophet, and wandered away into the +orchard, to find the seat that Miss Wealthy +had told them of.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a lovely, lovely orchard!" +cried Hildegarde, in delight; and indeed it +was a pretty place. The apple-trees were +old, and curiously gnarled and twisted, bending +this way and that, as apple-trees will. +The short, fine grass was like emerald; there +were no flowers at all, only green and brown,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +with the sunlight flickering through the +branches overhead. They found the seat, +which was curiously wedged into the double +trunk of the very patriarch of apple-trees.</p> + +<p>"Do look at him!" cried Hildegarde. "He +is like a giant with the rheumatism. Suppose +we call him Blunderbore. What does twist +them so, Rose? Look! there is one with a +trunk almost horizontal."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Rose, slowly. "Another +item for the ignorance list, Hilda. It +is growing appallingly long. I really <i>don't</i> +know why they twist so. In the forest they +grow much taller than in orchards, and go +straight up. Farmer Hartley has seen one +seventy feet high, he says."</p> + +<p>"Let us call it vegetable rheumatism!" +said Hildegarde. "How <i>is</i> your poor back +this morning, ma'am?" She addressed an +ancient tree with respectful sympathy; indeed, +it did look like an aged dame bent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +almost double. "Have you ever tried Pond's +Extract? I think I must really buy a gallon +or so for you. And as long as you must bend +over, you will not mind if I take a little walk +along your suffering spine, and sit on your +arm, will you?"</p> + +<p>She walked up the tree, and seated herself +on a branch which was crooked like a friendly +arm, making a very comfortable seat. "She's +a dear old lady, Rose!" she cried. "Doesn't +mind a bit, but thinks it rather does her good,—like +<i>massage</i>, you know. What do you +suppose her name is?"</p> + +<p>"Dame Crump would do, wouldn't it?" +replied Rose, looking critically at the venerable +dame.</p> + +<p>"Of course! and that ferocious old person +brandishing three arms over yonder must be +Croquemitaine,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Croquemitaine! Croquemitaine!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ne dinerai pas 'vec toi!'</span><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<div class='unindent'>I think they are rather a savage set,—don't +you, Rosy?—all except my dear Dame +Crump here."</div> + +<p>"I <i>know</i> they are," said Rose, in a low +voice. "Hush! the three witches are just +behind you, Hilda. Their skinny arms are +outstretched to clasp you! Fly, and save +yourself from the caldron!"</p> + +<p>"Avaunt!" cried Hilda, springing lightly +from Dame Crump's sheltering arm. "Ye +secret, black, and midnight hags, what is 't +ye do?"</p> + +<p>"A deed without a name!" muttered Rose, +in sepulchral tones.</p> + +<p>"I think it is, indeed!" cried Hildegarde, +laughing. "Poor old gouty things! they can +only claw the air, like Grandfather Smallweed, +and cannot take a single step to +clutch me."</p> + +<p>"Just like me, as I was a year ago," said +Rose, smiling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rose! how can you?" cried Hildegarde, +indignantly; "as if you had not always been +a white rosebush."</p> + +<p>"On wheels!" said Rose. "I often think +of my dear old chair, and wonder if it misses +me. Hildegarde dear!"</p> + +<p>"My lamb!" replied Hildegarde, sitting +down by her friend and giving her a little +hug.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could know how wonderful +it all is! I wish—no, I don't wish you +could be lame even for half an hour; but +I wish you could just <i>dream</i> that you were +lame, and then wake up and find everything +right again. Having always walked, you +cannot know the wonder of it. To think +that I can stand up—so! and walk—so! +actually one foot before the other, just like +other people. Oh! and I used to wonder +how they did it. I don't now understand +how 'four-leggers,' as Bubble calls them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +move so many things without getting mixed +up."</p> + +<p>"Dear Rose! you are happy, aren't you?" +exclaimed Hildegarde, with delight.</p> + +<p>"Happy!" echoed Rose, her sweet face +glowing like her own name-flower. "But +I was always happy, you know, dear. Now +it is happiness, with fairyland thrown in. I +am some wonderful creature, walking through +miracles; a kind of—Who was the fairy-knight +you were telling me about?"</p> + +<p>"Lohengrin?" said Hildegarde. "No, you +are more like Una, in the 'Faerie Queene.' +In fact, I think you <i>are</i> Una."</p> + +<p>"And then," continued Rose, "there is +another thing! At least, there are a thousand +other things, but one that I was thinking +of specially just now, when you named the +trees. That was only play to you; but, Hilda, +it used to be almost quite real for me,—that +sort of thing. Sitting there as I used,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +day after day, year after year, mostly alone,—for +mother and Bubble were always at work, +you know,—you cannot imagine how real +all the garden-people, as I called them, were +to me. Why, my Eglantine—I never told +you about Eglantine, Hilda!"</p> + +<p>"No, heartless thing! you never did," said +Hildegarde; "and you may tell me this instant. +A pretty friend you are, keeping +things from me in that way!"</p> + +<p>"She was a fair maiden," said Rose. "She +stood against the wall, just by my window. +She was very lovely and graceful, with long, +slender arms. Some people called her a +sweetbrier-bush. She was my most intimate +friend, and was always peeping in at +the window and calling me to come out. +When I came and sat close beside her in my +chair, she would bend over me, and tell me +all about her love-affairs, which gave her a +great deal of trouble."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor thing!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"She had two lovers," continued Rose, +dreamily, talking half to herself. "One was +Sir Scraggo de Cedar, a tall knight in rusty +armor, who stood very near her, and loved +her to distraction. But she cared nothing +for him, and had given her heart to the +South Wind,—the most fickle and tormenting +lover you can imagine. Sometimes he was +perfectly charming, and wooed her in the +most enchanting manner, murmuring soft +things in her ear, and kissing and caressing +her, till I almost fell in love with him myself. +Then he would leave her alone,—oh! for +days and days,—till she drooped, poor thing! +and was perfectly miserable. And then perhaps +he would come again in a fury, and +shake and beat her in the most frightful +manner, tearing her hair out, and sometimes +flinging her right into the arms of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +poor Sir Scraggo, who quivered with emotion, +but never took advantage of the +situation. I used to be <i>very</i> sorry for Sir +Scraggo."</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" cried Hildegarde, +warmly. "Couldn't you make her care for +the poor dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Rose. "She was very +self-willed, that gentle Eglantine, in spite of +her soft, pretty ways. There was no moving +her. She turned her back as nearly as she +could on Sir Scraggo, and bent farther and +farther toward the south, stretching her arms +out as if imploring her heartless lover to +stay with her. I fastened her back to the +wall once with strips of list, for she was spoiling +her figure by stooping so much; but she +looked so utterly miserable that I took them +off again. Dear Eglantine! I wonder if she +misses me."</p> + +<p>"I think she was rather a minx, do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +know?" said Hildegarde. "I prefer Sir +Scraggo myself."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Rose, "one respected Sir +Scraggo very much indeed; but he was <i>not</i> +beautiful, and all the De Cedars are pretty +stiff and formal. Then you must remember +he was older than Eglantine and I,—ever +and ever so much older."</p> + +<p>"That does make a difference," said Hildegarde. +"Who were some other of your +garden people, you funniest Rose?"</p> + +<p>"There was Old Moneybags!" replied +Rose. "How I did detest that old man! He +was a hideous old thorny cactus, all covered +with warts and knobs and sharp spines. +Dear mother was very proud of him, and she +was always hoping he would blossom, but +he never did. He lived in the house in +winter, but in spring Mother set him out in +the flower-bed, just beside the double buttercup. +So when the buttercup blossomed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +with its lovely yellow balls, I played that +Old Moneybags, who was an odious old miser, +was counting his gold. Then, when the +petals dropped, he piled his money in little +heaps, and finally he buried it. He wasn't +very interesting, Old Moneybags, but the +buttercups were lovely. Then there were +Larry Larkspur and Miss Poppy. I wonder—No! +I don't believe you would."</p> + +<p>"What I like about your remarks," said +Hildegarde, "is that they are so clear. What +do you mean by believing I wouldn't? I +tell you I would!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Rose, laughing and blushing, +"it really isn't anything; only—well, +I made a little rhyme about Larry Larkspur +and Miss Poppy one summer. I thought of +it just now; and first I wondered if it would +amuse you, and then I decided it wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> decided, forsooth!" cried Hildegarde. +"'"Who are you?" said the cater<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>pillar.' +I will hear about Larry Larkspur, if +you please, without more delay."</p> + +<p>"It really <i>isn't</i> worth hearing!" said Rose. +"Still, if you want it you shall have it; so +listen!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wears a cap of purple gay;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Trim and handy little dandy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Straight and smirk he stands alway.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saw the Poppy blooming fair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Loved her for her scarlet satin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Loved her for her fringèd hair.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sent a message by the night-wind:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Wilt thou wed me, lady gay?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For the heart of Larry Larkspur</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beats and burns for thee alway.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"When the morning 'gan to brighten,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eager glanced he o'er the bed.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Lo! the Poppy's leaves had fallen;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bare and brown her ugly head.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sore amazed stood Larry Larkspur,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his heart with grief was big.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">'Woe is me! she was so lovely,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who could guess she wore a wig?'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Hildegarde was highly delighted with the +verses, and clamored for more; but at this +moment some one was seen coming toward +them through the trees. The some one +proved to be Martha, with her sleeves +rolled up, beaming mildly through her spectacles. +She carried a tray, on which were +two glasses of creamy milk and a plate of +freshly baked cookies. Such cookies! crisp +and thin, with what Martha called a "pale +bake" on them, and just precisely the right +quantity of ginger.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rose doesn't look over and above +strong," she explained, as the girls exclaimed +with delight, "and 't would be a pity for her +to eat alone. The cookies is fresh, and maybe +they're pretty good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Martha," said Hildegarde, as she nibbled +a cooky, "you are a saint! Where do you +keep your aureole, for I am sure you have +one?"</p> + +<p>"There's a pair of 'em, Miss Hilda," replied +Martha. "They build every year in +the big elm by the back door, and they do +sing beautiful."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE DOCTORS.</h3> + + +<p>"My dears," said Miss Wealthy, as they sat +down to dinner,—the bell rang on the stroke +of one, and the girls were both ready and +waiting in the parlor, which pleased the dear +old lady very much,—"my dears, when I +made the little suggestions this morning as +to how you should amuse yourselves, I entirely +forgot to mention Dr. Abernethy. I +cannot imagine how I should have forgotten +it, but Martha assures me that I did. Dr. +Abernethy is entirely at your service in the +mornings, but I generally require him for an +hour in the afternoon. I am sure Rose will be +the better for his treatment; and I trust you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +will both find him satisfactory, though possibly +he may seem to you a little slow, for he +is not so young as he once was."</p> + +<p>"Dr.—Oh, Cousin Wealthy!" exclaimed +Hildegarde, in dismay. "But we are perfectly +well! At least—of course, Rose is +not strong yet; but she is gaining strength +every day, and we have Dr. Flower's directions. +Indeed, we don't need any doctor."</p> + +<p>Cousin Wealthy smiled. She enjoyed a +little joke as much as any one, and Dr. Abernethy +was one of her standing jokes.</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear," she said, "that you +will be very glad to avail yourself of the +Doctor's services when once you know him. +Indeed, I shall make a point of your seeing +him once a day, as a rule." Then, seeing +that both girls were thoroughly mystified, +she added: "Dr. Abernethy is a very distinguished +physician. He gives no medicine, +his invariable prescription being a little gentle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +exercise. He lives—in the stable, my dears, +and he has four legs and a tail."</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh! Cousin Wealthy, how could you +frighten us so!" cried Hildegarde. "You must +be kissed immediately, as a punishment." +She flew around the table, and kissed the +soft cheek, like a crumpled blush rose. "A +horse! How delightful! Rose, we were +wishing that we might drive, weren't we? +And what a funny, nice name! Dr. Abernethy! +He was a great English doctor, +wasn't he? And I was wondering if +some stupid country doctor had stolen his +name."</p> + +<p>"I had rather a severe illness a few years +ago," said Miss Wealthy, "and when I was +recovering from it my physician advised me +to try driving regularly, saying that he +should resign in favor of Dr. Horse. So I +bought this excellent beast, and named him +Dr. Abernethy, after the famous physician,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +whom I had seen once in London, when I +was a little girl."</p> + +<p>"It was he who used to do such queer +things, wasn't it?" said Hildegarde. "Did +he do anything strange when you saw him, +Cousin Wealthy?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing really strange," said Miss +Wealthy, "though it seemed so to me then. +He came to see my mother, who was ill, +and bolted first into the room where I sat +playing with my doll.</p> + +<p>"'Who's this? who's this?' he said, in a +very gruff voice. 'Little girl! Humph! +Tooth-ache, little girl?'</p> + +<p>"'No, sir,' I answered faintly, being frightened +nearly out of my wits.</p> + +<p>"'Head-ache, little girl?'</p> + +<p>"'No, sir.'</p> + +<p>"'Stomach-ache, little girl?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, no, sir!'</p> + +<p>"'Then take that!' and he thrust a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +paper of chocolate drops into my hand, and +stumped out of the room as quickly as he +had come in. I thought he was an ogre +at first; for I was only seven years old, and +had just been reading 'Jack and the Beanstalk;' +but the chocolate drops reassured +me."</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed +Rose. "And was he a very good doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, wonderful!" replied Miss Wealthy. +"People came from all parts of the world +to consult him, and he could not even go +out in the street without being clutched by +some anxious patient. They used to tell +a funny story about an old woman's catching +him in this way one day, when he was in +a great hurry,—but he was always in a +hurry,—and pouring out a long string of +symptoms, so fast that the doctor could not +get in a word edgewise. At last he shouted +'Stop!' so loud that all the people in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +street turned round to stare. The old lady +stopped in terror, and Dr. Abernethy bade +her shut her eyes and put her tongue out; +then, when she did so, he walked off, and +left her standing there in the middle of the +sidewalk with her tongue out. I don't know +whether it is true, though."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope it is!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. +"It is too funny not to be true."</p> + +<p>"We had a very queer doctor at Glenfield +some years ago," said Rose. "He must have +been just the opposite of Dr. Abernethy. He +was very tall and very slow, and spoke with +the queerest drawl, using always the longest +words he could find. I never shall forget +his coming to our house once when Bubble +had the measles. He had come a day +or two before, but I had not seen him. +This time, however, I was in the room. +He sat down by the bed, and began stroking +his long chin. It was the longest chin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +I ever saw, nearly as long as the rest of +his face.</p> + +<p>"'And is there any amelioration of the +symptoms this morning?' he asked Mother,—'ame-e-lioration?' +(He was very fond of +repeating any word that he thought sounded +well.)</p> + +<p>"Poor dear mother hadn't the faintest idea +what amelioration was; and she stammered +and colored, and said she hadn't noticed any, +and didn't <i>think</i> the child had it. But luckily +I was in the 'Fifth Reader' then, and had +happened to have 'amelioration' in my spelling-lesson +only a few days before; so I spoke +up and said, 'Oh, yes, Dr. Longman, he is a +great deal better, and he is really hungry +to-day.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' said Dr. Longman, 'craves food, +does he?—cra-aves food!'</p> + +<p>"Just then Bubble's patience gave out. +He was getting better, and it made him <i>so</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +cross, poor dear! he snapped out, in his +funny way, 'I've got a bile comin' on my +nose, and it hurts like fury!'</p> + +<p>"Dr. Longman stooped forward, put on his +spectacles, and looked at the boil carefully. +'Ah!' he said, 'furunculus,—furunculus! +Is it—ah—is it excru-ciating?'</p> + +<p>"I can't describe the way in which he pronounced +the last word. As he said it, he +dropped his head, and looked over his spectacles +at Bubble in a way that was perfectly +irresistible. Bubble gave a sort of howl, and +disappeared under the bedclothes; and I had +a fit of coughing, which made Mother very +anxious. Dear mother! she never could see +anything funny about Dr. Longman."</p> + +<p>At this moment Martha entered, bringing +the dessert,—a wonderful almond-pudding, +such as only Martha could make. She stopped +a moment, holding the door as if to prevent +some one's coming in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here's the Doctor wants terrible to come +in, Mam!" she said. "Will I let him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly," said Miss Wealthy, smiling. +"Let the good Doctor in!"</p> + +<p>The girls looked up in amazement, half expecting +to see a horse's head appear in the +doorway; but instead, a majestic black +"coon" cat, with waving feathery tail and +large yellow eyes, walked solemnly in, and +seeing the two strangers, stopped to observe +them.</p> + +<p>"My dears, this is the other Doctor!" said +Miss Wealthy, bending to caress the new-comer +"Dr. Samuel Johnson, at your service. +He is one of the most important +members of the family. Doctor, I hope +you will be very friendly to these young +ladies, and not take one of your absurd +dislikes to either of them. All depends +upon the first impression, my dears!" she +added, in an undertone, to the girls. "He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +is forming his opinion now, and nothing +will ever alter it."</p> + +<p>Quite a breathless pause ensued; while the +magnificent cat stood motionless, turning his +yellow eyes gravely from one to the other +of the girls. At length Hildegarde could +not endure his gaze any longer, and she said +hastily but respectfully, "Yes, sir! I <i>have</i> +read 'Pilgrim's Progress,' I assure you!—read +it through and through, a number of +times, and love it dearly."</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson instantly advanced, and rubbing +his head against her dress, purred +loudly. He then went round to Rose, who +sat opposite, and made the same demonstration +of good-will to her.</p> + +<p>"Dear pussy!" said Rose, stroking him +gently, and scratching him behind one ear +in a very knowing manner.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy drew a long breath of satisfaction. +"It is all right," she said. "Martha,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +he is delighted with the young ladies. +Dear Doctor! he shall have some almond-pudding +at once. Bring me his saucer, +please, Martha!"</p> + +<p>Martha brought a blue saucer; but Miss +Wealthy looked at it with surprise and +disapproval.</p> + +<p>"That is not the Doctor's saucer, Martha," +she said. "Is it possible that you have +forgotten? He has <i>always</i> had the odd yellow +saucer ever since he was a kitten."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mam," said Martha, gently. +"Jenny broke the yellow saucer this morning, +Mam, as she was washing it after the +Doctor's breakfast. I'm very sorry it should +have happened, Mam."</p> + +<p>"<i>Broke the yellow saucer!</i>" cried Miss +Wealthy. Her voice was as soft as ever, but +Hildegarde and Rose both felt as if the Russians +had entered Constantinople. There +was a moment of dreadful silence, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +Miss Wealthy tried to smile, and began to +help to the almond-pudding. "Yes, I am +sure you are sorry, Martha!" she said;—"Hilda, +my dear, a little pudding?—and +probably Jenny is sorry too. You like the +sauce, dear, don't you? We think Martha's +almond-pudding one of her best. I should +not have minded so much if it had been +any other, but this was an odd one, and +seemed so appropriate, on account of Hogarth's +'Industrious Apprentice' done in +brown on the inside. Is it quite sweet +enough for you, my dear Rose?"</p> + +<p>This speech was somewhat bewildering; +but after a moment Rose succeeded in separating +the part that belonged to her, and +said that the pudding was most delicious.</p> + +<p>"Jenny broke a cup last winter, did she +not, Martha?" asked Miss Wealthy.</p> + +<p>"A very small cup, Mam," replied Martha, +deprecatingly. "That's all she has broken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +since she came. She's young, you know, +Mam; and she says the saucer just slipped +out of her hand, and fell on the bricks."</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy shivered a little, as if she +heard the crash of the broken china. "I +cannot remember that you have broken +anything, Martha," she said, "in thirty years; +and you were young when you came to me. +But we will not say anything more, and I +dare say Jenny will be more careful in future. +The pudding is very good, Martha; and that +will do, thank you." Martha withdrew, and +Miss Wealthy turned to the girls with a sad +little smile. "Martha is very exact," she +said. "A thing of this sort troubles her extremely. +Very methodical, my good Martha!"</p> + +<p>"Hildegarde," said Rose, wishing to turn +the subject and cheer the spirits of their +kind hostess, "what did you mean, just now, +by telling Dr. Johnson that you had read +'Pilgrim's Progress'? I am much puzzled!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hildegarde laughed. "Oh!" she said, +"he understood, but I will explain for your +benefit. When I was a little girl I was not +inclined to like 'Pilgrim's Progress' at first. +I thought it rather dull, and liked the Fairy +Book better. I said so to Papa one day; and +instead of replying, he went to the bookcase, +and taking down Boswell's 'Life of Johnson,' +he read me a little story. I think I can say +it in the very words of the book, they made +so deep an impression on me: 'Dr. Johnson +one day took Bishop Percy's little +daughter on his knee, and asked her what +she thought of 'Pilgrim's Progress.' The +child answered that she had not read it. +'No!' replied the Doctor; 'then I would +not give one farthing for you!' And he +set her down, and took no further notice +of her.' When Papa explained to me," continued +Hildegarde, laughing, "what a great +man Dr. Johnson was, it seemed to me very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +dreadful that he should think me, or another +little girl like me, not worth a farthing. +So I set to work with right good-will at +'Pilgrim's Progress;' and when I was once +fairly <i>in</i> the story, of course I couldn't put +it down till I had finished it."</p> + +<p>"Your father is a very sensible man," said +Miss Wealthy, approvingly. "'Pilgrim's Progress' +is an important part of a child's education, +certainly! Let me give you a little +more pudding, Hilda, my dear! No! nor +you, Rose? Then, if the Doctor is ready, +suppose we go into the parlor."</p> + +<p>They found the parlor very cool and +pleasant, with the blinds, as usual, drawn +half-way down. Miss Wealthy drew one +blind half an inch lower, compared it with +the others, and pushed it up an eighth of +an inch.</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do with yourselves +this afternoon, girlies?" she asked, set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>tling +herself in her armchair, and smelling +of her pansies, which, as usual, stood on the +little round table at her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Rose must go and lie down at once!" +said Hildegarde, decidedly. "She must lie +down for two hours every day at first, Dr. +Flower says, and one hour by and by, when +she is a great deal stronger. And I—oh, +I shall read to her a little, till she begins to +be sleepy, and then I shall write to Mamma +and wander about. This is such a <i>happy</i> +place, Cousin Wealthy! One does not need +to do anything in particular; it is enough +just to be alive and well." Then she remembered +her manners, and added: "But +isn't there something I can do for you, +Cousin Wealthy? Can't I write some notes +for you,—I often write notes for Mamma,—or +wind some worsted, or do something useful? +I have been playing all day, you +know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy looked pleased. "Thank +you, my dear!" she said warmly. "I shall +be very glad of your help sometimes; but +to-day I really have nothing for you to do, +and besides, I think the first day ought +to be all play. If you can make yourself +happy in this quiet place, that is all I shall +ask of you to-day. I shall probably take a +little nap myself, as I often do after dinner, +sitting here in my chair."</p> + +<p>Obeying Hildegarde's imperative nod, Rose +left her seat by the window, half reluctantly, +and moved slowly toward the door. "It +seems wicked to lie down on such a day!" +she murmured; "but I suppose I must."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she heard a faint, a very faint +sigh from Miss Wealthy. Feeling instinctively +that something was wrong, she turned +and saw that the tidy on the back of the +chair she had been sitting in had slipped +down. She went back quickly, straightened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +it, patted it a little, and then with an apologetic +glance and smile at the old lady, went +to join Hildegarde.</p> + +<p>"A very sweet, well-mannered girl!" was +Miss Wealthy's mental comment, as her eyes +rested contentedly on the smooth rectangular +lines of the tidy. "Two of the sweetest girls, +in fact, that I have seen for a good while. +Mildred has brought up her daughter extremely +well; and when one thinks of it, +she herself has developed in a most extraordinary +manner. A most notable and useful +woman, Mildred! Who would have thought +it?"</p> + +<p>Rose slept in the inner bedroom, which +opened directly out of Hildegarde's, with a +curtained doorway between. It was a pretty +room, and very appropriate for Rose, as there +were roses on the wall-paper and on the soft +gray carpet. Here the ex-invalid, as she +began to call herself, lay down on the cool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +white bed, in the pretty summer wrapper of +white challis, dotted with rosebuds, which +had been Mrs. Grahame's parting present. +Hildegarde put a light shawl over her, and +then sat down on the window-seat.</p> + +<p>"Shall I read or sing, Rosy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! but are you quite sure you don't +want to do something else, dear?" asked +Rose.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely sure!" said Hildegarde. +"Quite positively sure!"</p> + +<p>"Then," said Rose, "sing that pretty lullaby +that you found in the old song-book the +other day. So pretty! it is the one that +Patient Grissil sings to her babies, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>So Hilda sang, as follows:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Smiles awake you when you rise.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And I will sing a lullaby.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Rock them, rock them, lullaby.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You are care, and care must keep you.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And I will sing a lullaby.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Rock them, rock them, lullaby.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Hildegarde glanced at the bed, and saw +that Rose's eyes were just closing. Still +humming the last lines of the lullaby, she +cast about in her mind for something else; +and there came to her another song of quaint +old Thomas Dekker, which she loved even +more than the other. She sang softly,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O sweet Content!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexèd?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O Punishment!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Dost laugh to see how fools are vexèd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To add to golden numbers golden numbers?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O sweet Content!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O Punishment!</span><br /> +Then he that patiently Want's burden bears<br /> +No burden bears, but is a king, a king.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Once more Hildegarde glanced at the bed; +then, rising softly and still humming the +lovely refrain, she slipped out of the room; +for Rose, the "sweet content" resting like +sunshine on her face, was asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE RIVER.</h3> + + +<p>Hildegarde went softly downstairs, and +stood in the doorway for a few minutes, +looking about her. The house was very +still; nothing seemed to be stirring, or even +awake, except herself. She peeped into the +parlor, and saw Cousin Wealthy placidly +sleeping in her easy-chair. At her feet, on +a round hassock, lay Dr. Johnson, also sleeping +soundly. "It is the enchanted palace," +said Hildegarde to herself; "only the princess +has grown old in the hundred years,—but +so prettily old!—and the prince would +have to be a stately old gentleman to match +her." She went out on the lawn; still there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +was no sound, save the chirping of grasshoppers +and crickets. It was still the golden +prime of a perfect June day; what would be +the most beautiful thing to do where all was +beauty? Read, or write letters? No! that +she could do when the glory had begun to +fade. She walked about here and there,—"just +enjoying herself," she said. She +touched the white heads of the daisies; but +did not pick them, because they looked so +happy. She put her arms round the most +beautiful elm-tree, and gave it a little hug, +just to thank it for being so stately and +graceful, and for bending its branches over +her so lovingly. Then a butterfly came fluttering +by. It was a Camberwell Beauty, +and Hildegarde followed it about a little as +it hovered lazily from one daisy to another.</p> + +<p>"Last year at this time," she said, thinking +aloud, "I didn't know what a Camberwell +Beauty was. I didn't know any butterflies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +at all; and if any one had said 'Fritillary' +to me, I should have thought it was something +to eat." This disgraceful confession +was more than the Beauty could endure, +and he fluttered away indignant.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder!" said the girl. "But +you'd better take care, my dear. I know +you now, and I don't <i>think</i> Bubble has more +than two of your kind in his collection. I +promised to get all the butterflies and moths +I could for the dear lad, and if you are +too superior, I may begin with you."</p> + +<p>At this moment a faint creak fell on her +ear, coming from the direction of the garden. +"As of a wheelbarrow!" she said. "Jeremiah!—boat!—river!—<i>now</i> +I know what I +was wanting to do." She ran round to the +garden; and there, to be sure, was Jeremiah, +wheeling off a huge load of weeds.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeremiah!" said Hildegarde, eagerly, +"is the—do you think the boat is safe?"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 263px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.png" width="263" height="400" alt=""'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"" title=""'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jeremiah put down his load and looked at +her with sad surprise. "The boat?" he repeated. +"She's all safe! I was down to the +wharf this mornin'. Nobody's had her out, +'s I know of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that!" said Hildegarde, +laughing. "I mean, is she safe for +me to go in? Miss Bond said that I could +go out on the river, if <i>you</i> said it was all +right. <i>Do</i> say it's all right, Jeremiah!"</p> + +<p>Jeremiah never smiled, but his melancholy +lightened several shades. "She's right +enough," he said,—"the boat. She isn't +hahnsome, but she's stiddy 's a rock. <i>She</i> +don't like boats, any way o' the world, but +I'll take ye down and get her out for ye."</p> + +<p>Rightly conjecturing that the last "her" +referred to the boat, Hildegarde gladly followed +the Ancient Mariner down the path +that sloped from the garden, through a green +pasture, round to the river-bank. Here she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +found the boat-house, whose roof she had +seen from her window, and a gray wharf +with moss-grown piers. The tide was high, +and it took Jeremiah only a few minutes to +pull the little green boat out, and set her +rocking on the smooth water.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde. "I +am so much obliged!"</p> + +<p>"No need ter!" responded Jeremiah, politely. +"Ye've handled a boat before, have +ye?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said. "I don't think I shall +have any trouble." And as she spoke, she +stepped lightly in, and seating herself, took +the oars that he handed her. "And which +is the prettiest way to row, Jeremiah,—up +river, or down?"</p> + +<p>Jeremiah meditated. "Well," he said, "I +don't hardly know as I can rightly tell. Some +thinks one way's pooty; some thinks t' other. +Both of 'em 's sightly, to my mind."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I shall try both," said Hildegarde, +laughing. "Good-by, Jeremiah! I will bring +the boat back safe."</p> + +<p>The oars dipped, and the boat shot off into +midstream. Jeremiah looked after it a few +minutes, and then turned back toward the +house. "<i>She</i> knows what she's about!" he +said to himself.</p> + +<p>Near the bank the water had been a clear, +shining brown, with the pebbles showing white +and yellow through it; but out here in the +middle of the river it was all a blaze and ripple +and sparkle of blue and gold. Hildegarde +rested on her oars, and sat still for a few +minutes, basking in the light and warmth; +but soon she found the glory too strong, and +pulled over to the other side, where high +steep banks threw a shadow on the water. +Here the water was very deep, and the +rocks showed as clear and sharp beneath it +as over it. Hildegarde rowed slowly along,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +sometimes touching the warm stone with her +hand. She looked down, and saw little +minnows and dace darting about, here and +there, up and down. "How pleasant to be +a fish!" she thought. "There comes one +up out of the water. Plop! Did you get +the fly, old fellow?</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'They wriggled their tails;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In the sun glanced their scales.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Then she tried to repeat "Saint Anthony's +Sermon to the Fishes," of which she was +very fond.</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Sharp-snouted pikes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who keep fighting like tikes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Now swam up harmonious</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To hear Saint Antonius.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">No sermon beside</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Had the pikes so edified."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Presently something waved in the shadow,—something +moving, among the still reflections +of the rocks. Hildegarde looked up. There,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +growing in a cranny of the rock above her, +was a cluster of purple bells, nodding and +swaying on slender thread-like stems. They +were so beautiful that she could only sit still +and look at them at first, with eyes of delight. +But they were so friendly, and nodded +in such a cheerful way, that she soon felt +acquainted with them.</p> + +<p>"You dears!" she cried; "have you been +waiting there, just for me to come and see +you?"</p> + +<p>The harebells nodded, as if there were no +doubt about it.</p> + +<p>"Well, here I am!" Hildegarde continued; +"and it was very nice of you to come. How +do you like living on the rock there? He +must be very proud of you, the old brown +giant, and I dare say you enjoy the water +and the lights and shadows, and would not +stay in the woods if you could. If I were +a flower, I should like to be one of you, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +think. Good-by, dear pretties! I should like +to take you home to Rose, but it would be a +wickedness to pick you."</p> + +<p>She kissed her hand to the friendly blossoms, +and they nodded a pleasant good-by, +as she floated slowly down stream. A little +farther on, she came to a point of rock that +jutted out into the river; on it a single pine +stood leaning aslant, throwing a perfect +double of itself on the glassy water. Hildegarde +rested in the shadow. "To be in a +boat and in a tree at the same moment," +she thought, "is a thing that does not happen +to every one. Rose will not believe me when +I tell her; yet here are the branches all +around me, perfect, even to the smallest +twig. Query, am I a bird or a fish? Here +is actually a nest in the crotch of these +branches, but I fear I shall find no eggs in +it." Turning the point of rock, she found +on the other side a fairy cove, with a tiny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +patch of silver sand, and banks of fern +coming to the water's edge on either side. +Some of the ferns dipped their fronds in the +clear water, while taller ones peeped over +their heads, trying to catch a glimpse of +their own reflection.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde's keen eyes roved among the +green masses, seeking the different varieties,—botrychium, +lady-fern, delicate hart's-tongue; +behind these, great nodding ostrich-ferns, +bending their stately plumes over their +lowlier sisters; beyond these again a tangle +of brake running up into the woods. "Why, +it is a fern show!" she thought. "This +must be the exhibition room for the whole +forest. Visitors will please not touch the +specimens!"</p> + +<p>She pulled close to the bank. Instantly +there was a rustle and a flutter among the +ferns; a little brown bird flew out, and perching +on the nearest tree, scolded most vio<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>lently. +Very carefully Hildegarde drew the +ferns aside, and lo! a wonderful thing,—a +round nest, neatly built of moss and tiny +twigs; and in it four white eggs spotted with +brown.</p> + +<p>"It is too good to be true," thought the +girl. "I am asleep, and I shall wake in a +moment. I haven't done anything to deserve +seeing this. Rose is good enough; I +wish she were here."</p> + +<p>But the little brown bird was by this time +in a perfect frenzy of maternal alarm; and +very reluctantly, with an apology to the +angry matron, Hildegarde let the ferns swing +back into place, and pulled the boat away +from the bank. On the whole, it seemed the +most beautiful thing she had ever seen; but +everything was so beautiful!</p> + +<p>The girl's heart was very full of joy and +thankfulness as she rowed along. Life was +so full, so wonderful, with new wonders, new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +beauties, opening for her every day. "Let +all that hath life praise the Lord!" she murmured +softly; and the very silence seemed +to fill with love and praise. Then her +thoughts went back to the time, a little +more than a year ago, when she neither +knew nor cared about any of these things; +when "the country" meant to her a summer +watering-place, where one went for two +or three months, to wear the prettiest of light +dresses, and to ride and drive and walk on +the beach. Her one idea of life was the life +of cities,—of <i>one</i> city, New York. A country-girl, +if she ever thought of such a thing, +meant simply an ignorant, coarse, common +girl, who had no advantages. No advantages! +and she herself, all the time, did not +know one tree from another. She had been +the cleverest girl in school, and she could not +tell a robin's note from a vireo's; as for the +wood-thrush, she had never heard of it. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +flower to her meant a hot-house rose; a bird +was a bird; a butterfly was a butterfly. All +other insects, the whole winged host that fills +the summer air with life and sound, were +included under two heads, "millers" and +"bugs."</p> + +<p>"No, not <i>quite</i> so bad as that!" she cried +aloud, laughing, though her cheeks burned +at her own thoughts. "I <i>did</i> know bees and +wasps, and I <i>think</i> I knew a dragon-fly when +I saw him."</p> + +<p>But for the rest, there seemed little to say +in her defence. She was just like Peter Bell, +she thought; and she repeated Wordsworth's +lines,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"A primrose by a river's brim<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A yellow primrose was to him,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And it was nothing more."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Here was this little brown bird, for example. +Bird and song and eggs, all together +could not tell her its name. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +drew from her pocket a little brown leather +note-book, and wrote in it, "Four white +eggs, speckled with brown; brown bird, small, +nest of fine twigs, on river-bank;" slipped +it in her pocket again, and rowed on, feeling +better. After all, it was so <i>very</i> much better +to know that one had been a goose, than +not to know it! Now that her eyes were +once open, was she not learning something +new every day, almost every hour?</p> + +<p>She rowed on now with long strokes, for +the bank was steep and rocky again, and +there were no more fairy coves. Soon, +however, she came to an island,—a little +round island in the middle of the river, +thickly covered with trees. This was a good +place to turn back at, for Rose would be +awake by this time and looking for her. +First, however, she would row around the +island, and consider it from all sides.</p> + +<p>The farther side showed an opening in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +the trees, and a pretty little dell, shaded by +silver birches,—a perfect place for a picnic, +thought Hildegarde. She would bring Rose +here some day, if good Martha would make +them another chicken-pie; perhaps Cousin +Wealthy would come too. Dear Cousin +Wealthy! how good and kind and pretty +she was! One would not mind growing +old, if one could be sure of being good and +pretty, and having everybody love one.</p> + +<p>At this moment, as Hildegarde turned her +boat up river, something very astonishing +happened. Not ten yards away from her, a +huge body shot up out of the water, described +a glittering arc, and fell again, disappearing +with a splash which sent the spray flying in +all directions and made the rocks echo. +Hildegarde sat quite still for several minutes, +petrified with amazement, and, it must be +confessed, with fear. Who ever heard of +such a thing as this? A fish? Why, it was as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +big as a young whale! Only whales didn't +come up rivers, and she had never heard of +their jumping out of water in this insane +way. Suppose the creature should take it +into his head to leap again, and should fall +into the boat? At this thought our heroine +began to row as fast as she could, taking +long strokes, and making the boat fairly +fly through the water; though, as she +said to herself, it would not make any +difference, if her enemy were swimming in +the same direction.</p> + +<p>Presently, however, she heard a second +splash behind her, and turning, saw the huge +fish just disappearing, at some distance down +river. She recovered her composure, and +in a few minutes was ready to laugh at her +own terrors.</p> + +<p>Homeward now, following the west bank, +as she had gone down along the east. This +side was pretty, too, though there were no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +rocks nor ferny coves. On the contrary, the +water was quite shallow, and full of brown +weeds, which brushed softly against the boat. +Not far from the bank she saw the highway, +looking white and dusty, with the afternoon +sun lying on it. "No dust on my road!" she +said exultingly; "and no hills!" she added, +as she saw a wagon, at some distance, climbing +an almost perpendicular ascent. "I wonder +what these water-plants are! Rose would +know, of course."</p> + +<p>Now came the willows that she had seen +from the window,—the "margin willow-veiled" +that had reminded her of the Lady +of Shalott. It was pleasant to row under +them, letting the cool, fragrant leaves brush +against her face. Here, too, were sweet-scented +rushes, of which she gathered an +armful for Rose, who loved them; and in +this place she made the acquaintance of a +magnificent blue dragon-fly, which alighted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +on her oar as she lifted it from the water, +and showed no disposition to depart. His +azure mail glittered in the sunlight; his +gauzy wings, as he furled and unfurled +them deliberately, were like cobwebs powdered +with snow. He evidently expected +to be admired, and Hildegarde could not +disappoint him.</p> + +<p>"Fair sir," she said courteously, "I doubt +not that you are the Lancelot of dragon-flies. +Your armor is the finest I ever saw; +doubtless, it has been polished by some lily +maid of a white butterfly, or she might be +a peach-blossom moth,—daintiest of all +winged creatures. The sight of you fills +my heart with rapture, and I fain would +gaze on you for hours. Natheless, fair +knight, time presses, and if you <i>would</i> remove +your chivalrous self from my unworthy +oar,—really not a fit place for +your knighthood,—I should get on faster."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir Lancelot deigning no attention to this +very civil speech, she splashed her other +oar in the water, and exclaimed, "Hi!" +sharply, whereupon the gallant knight +spread his shining wings and departed in +wrath.</p> + +<p>And now the boat-house was near, and the +beautiful, beautiful time was over. Hildegarde +took two or three quick strokes, and +then let the boat drift on toward the wharf, +while she leaned idly back and trailed her +hand in the clear water. It had been so +perfect, so lovely, she was very loath to go +on shore again. But the thought of Rose +came,—sweet, patient Rose, wondering where +her Hilda was; and then she rowed quickly +on, and moored the boat, and clambered +lightly up the wharf.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, good boat!" she cried. +"Good-by, dear beautiful river! I shall +see you to-morrow, the day after, every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +other day while I am here. I have been +happy, happy, happy with you. Good-by!" +And with a final wave of her hand, Hildegarde +ran lightly up the path that led to +the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>A MORNING DRIVE.</h3> + + +<p>Punctually at ten o'clock the next morning +Dr. Abernethy stood before the door, with +a neat phaeton behind him; and the girls +were summoned from the piazza, where Rose +was taking her French lesson.</p> + +<p>"My dears," said Miss Wealthy, "are you +ready? You said ten o'clock, and the clock +has already struck."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde, +starting up, and dropping one book on +the floor and another on the chair. "We +are coming immediately. Rose, <i>nous allons +faire une promenade en voiture! Répétez cette +phrase!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Nous allong</i>—" began Rose, meekly; but +she was cut short in her repetition.</p> + +<p>"Not <i>allong</i>, dear, <i>allons</i>, <i>ons</i>. Keep your +mouth open, and don't let your tongue come +near the roof of your mouth after the <i>ll</i>. <i>Allons!</i> +Try once more."</p> + +<p>"You need not wait, Jeremiah," said Miss +Wealthy, in a voice that tried not to be +plaintive. "I dare say the young ladies will +be ready in a minute or two, and I will stand +by the Doctor till they come."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde heard, smote her breast, flew +upstairs for their hats and a shawl and pillow +for Rose. In three minutes they were in the +carriage, but not till a kiss and a whispered +apology from Hildegarde had driven the +slight cloud—not of vexation, but of wondering +sadness; it seemed such a strange thing, +not to be ready and waiting when Dr. +Abernethy came to the door—from Miss +Wealthy's kind face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-by, dear Cousin Wealthy!" and +"Good-by, dear Miss Bond!" cried the two +happy girls; and off they drove in high +spirits, while Miss Wealthy went back to the +piazza and picked up the French books, +wiped them carefully, and then went upstairs +and put them in the little bookcase in Hildegarde's +room.</p> + +<p>"She is a very dear girl," she said, shaking +her head; "a little heedless, but perhaps all +girls are. Why, Mildred—oh! but Mildred +was an exception. I suppose," she added, +"they call me an old maid. Very likely. +Not these girls,—for they are too well-mannered,—but +people. An old maid!" Miss +Wealthy sighed a little, and put her hand up +to the pansy breastpin,—a favorite gesture +of hers; and then she went into the house, +to make a new set of bags for the curtain-tassels.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the girls were driving along,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +looking about them, and enjoying themselves +immensely. Jeremiah had given them directions +for a drive "just about <i>so</i> long," and +they knew that they were to turn three +times to the left and never to the right. +And first they went up a hill, from the top +of which they saw "all the kingdoms of the +earth," as Rose said. The river valley was +behind them, and they could see the silver +stream here and there, gleaming between its +wooded banks. Beyond were blue hills, fading +into the blue of the sky. But before +them—oh! before them was the wonder. +A vast circle, hill and dale and meadow, +all shut in by black, solemn woods; and beyond +the woods, far, far away, a range of +mountains, whose tops gleamed white in the +sunlight.</p> + +<p>"There is snow on them," said Rose. +"Oh, Hildegarde! they must be the White +Mountains. Jeremiah told me that we could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +see them from here. That highest peak must +be Mount Washington. Oh, to think of it!"</p> + +<p>They sat in silence for a few moments, +watching the mountains, which lay like +giants at rest.</p> + +<p>"Rose," said Hildegarde, at length, "the +Great Carbuncle is there, hidden in some +crevice of those mountains; and the Great +Stone Face is there, and oh! so many wonderful +things. Some day we will go there, +you and I; sometime when you are quite, +quite strong, you know. And we will see +the Flume and the wonderful Notch. You +remember Hawthorne's story of the 'Ambitious +Guest'? I think it is one of the +most beautiful of all. Perhaps—who knows?—we +may find the Great Carbuncle." They +were silent again; but presently Dr. Abernethy, +who cared nothing whatever about +mountains or carbuncles, whinnied, and gave +a little impatient shake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course!" said Hildegarde. "Poor +dear! he was hot, wasn't he? and the flies +bothered him. Here is our turn to the left; +a pine-tree at the corner,—yes, this must +be it! Good-by, mountains! Be sure to +stay there till the next time we come."</p> + +<p>"What was that little poem about the +Greek mountains that you told me the other +day?" asked Rose, as they drove along,—"the +one you have copied in your commonplace +book. You said it was a translation +from some modern Greek poet, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hildegarde; "but I don't +know what poet. I found it in a book of +Dr. Felton's at home."</p> + +<p>She thought a moment, and then repeated +the verses,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Why are the mountains shadowed o'er?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Why stand they darkened grimly?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Is it a tempest warring there,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Or rain-storm beating on them?</span><br /> +<br /> +"'It is no tempest warring there,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">No rain-storm beating on them,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But Charon sweeping over them,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And with him the departed.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Look!" she cried, a few moments after. +"There is just such a cloud-shadow sweeping +over that long hill on the left. Is it true, I +wonder? I never see those flying shadows +without thinking of 'Charon sweeping over +them.' It is such a comfort, Rose, that we +like the same things, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is!" said Rose, heartily. "But, +oh! Hilda dear, stop a moment! There is +some yellow clover. Why, I had no idea +it grew so far north as this!"</p> + +<p>"Yellow clover!" repeated Hildegarde, +looking about her. "Who ever heard of +yellow clover? I don't see any."</p> + +<p>"No, dear," said Rose; "it does not grow +in the sides of buggies, nor even on stone-walls. +If you could bend your lofty gaze<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +to the ditch by the roadside, you might +possibly see it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there!" said Hildegarde, laughing. +"Take the reins, Miss Impudence, and I will +get them." She sprang lightly out, and returned +with a handful of yellow blossoms.</p> + +<p>"Are they really clover?" she asked, examining +them curiously. "I had no idea +there were more than two kinds, red and +white."</p> + +<p>"There are eight kinds, child of the city," +said Rose, "beside melilot, which is a kind +of clover-cousin. This yellow is the hop-clover. +Dear me! how it does remind me +of my Aunt Caroline."</p> + +<p>"And how, let me in a spirit of love inquire, +does it resemble your Aunt Caroline? +Is she yellow?"</p> + +<p>"She was, poor dear!" replied Rose. "She +has been dead now—oh! a long time. She +was an aunt of Mother's; and once she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +the jaundice, and it seems to me she was +always yellow after that. But that was +not all, Hilda. There was an old handbook +of botany among Father's books, and I used +to read it a great deal, and puzzle over the +long words. I always liked long words, even +when I was a little wee girl. Well, one day +I was reading, and Aunt Caroline happened +to come in. She despised reading, and +thought it was an utter waste of time, and +that I ought to sew or knit all the time, +since I could not help Mother with the +housework. She was very practical herself, +and a famous housekeeper. So she looked +at me, and frowned, and said, 'Well, Pink, +mooning away over a book as usual? Useless +rubbish! yer ma'd ought to keep ye +at work.' I didn't say anything; I never +said much to Aunt Caroline, because I knew +she didn't like me, and I suppose I was rather +spoiled by every one else being <i>too</i> good to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +me. But I looked down at my old book, +which was open at 'Trefolium: Clover.' And +there I read—oh, Hilda, it is really too bad +to tell!—I read: 'The teeth bristle-form'—and +hers did stick out nearly straight!—'corolla +mostly withering or persistent; the +claws'—and then I began to laugh, for it +was <i>exactly</i> like Aunt Caroline herself; she +was <i>so</i> withering, and <i>so</i> persistent! And I +sat there and giggled, a great girl of thirteen, +till I got perfectly hysterical. The +more I laughed, the angrier she grew, of +course; till at last she went out into the +kitchen and slammed the door after her. +But I heard her telling Mother that that gal +of hers appeared to be losing such wits as +she had,—not that 't was any great loss, +as fur as she could see. Wasn't that dreadful, +Hildegarde? Of course I was wheeled +over to her house the next day, and begged +her pardon; but she was still withering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +and persistent, though she said, 'Very excusable!' +at last."</p> + +<p>"Why, Rose!" said Hildegarde, laughing. +"I didn't suppose you were <i>ever</i> naughty, +even when you were a baby."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed I was!" answered Rose; +"just as naughty as any one else, I suppose. +Did I ever tell you how I came near +making poor Bubble deaf? That wasn't +exactly naughty, because I didn't mean to +do anything bad; but it was funny. I must +have been about five years old, and I used +to sit in a sort of little chair-cart that Father +made for me. One day Mother was washing, +and she set me down beside the baby's +cradle (that was Bubble, of course), and told +me to watch him, and to call her if he +cried. Well, for a while, Mother said, all +was quiet. Then she heard Baby fret a +little, and then came a queer sort of noise, +she could not tell what, and after that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +quiet again. So she thought what a nice, +helpful little girl I was getting to be; +and when she came in she said, 'Well, +Pinkie, you stopped the baby's fretting, +didn't you?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, yes, Mother!' I said, as pleased as +possible. 'I roared in his ear!' You may +imagine how frightened Mother was; but +fortunately it did him no harm."</p> + +<p>Here the road dipped down into a gully, +and Dr. Abernethy had to pick his way +carefully among loose stones. Presently the +stone-walls gave place to a most wonderful +kind of fence,—a kind that even country-bred +Rose had never seen before. When +the great trees, the giants of the old forest, +had been cut, and the ground cleared for +farm-lands and pastures, their stumps had +been pulled up by the roots; and these +roots, vast, many-branched, twisted into +every imaginable shape, were locked to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>gether, +standing edgewise, and tossing their +naked arms in every direction.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how wonderful!" cried Hildegarde. +"Look, Rose! they are like the bones +of some great monster,—a gigantic cuttlefish, +perhaps. What huge trees they +must have been, to have such roots as +these!"</p> + +<p>"Dear, beautiful things!" sighed Rose. +"If they could only have been left! Isn't it +strange to think of people not caring for +trees, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" said Hilda, meekly, and blushing +a little. "It is strange now; but before +last year, Rose, I don't believe I ever looked +at a tree."</p> + +<p>"Oh, before last year!" cried Rose, laughing. +"There wasn't any 'before last year.' +I had never heard of Shelley before last +year. I had never read a ballad, nor a +'Waverley,' nor the 'Newcomes,' nor any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>thing. +Let's not talk about the dark ages. +You love trees now, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"That I do!" said Hildegarde. "The oak +best of all, the elm next; but I love them all."</p> + +<p>"The pine is my favorite," said Rose. +"The great stately king, with his broad arms; +it always seems as if an eagle should be sitting +on one of them. What was that line you +told me the other day?—'The pine-tree +spreads his dark-green layers of shade.' +Tennyson, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Hildegarde. "But it was +'Cranford' that made me think of it. And +it isn't 'pine-tree,' after all. I looked, and +found it was 'cedar.' Mr. Holbrook, you remember,—Miss +Matty's old lover,—quotes +it, when they are taking tea with him. +Dear Miss Matty! do you think Cousin +Wealthy is the least little bit like her, +Rose?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps!" said Rose, thoughtfully. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +think—Oh, Hilda, look!" she cried, breaking +off suddenly. "What a queer little house!"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde checked Dr. Abernethy, who +had been trotting along quite briskly, and +they both looked curiously at the little house +on their left, which certainly was "queer,"—a +low, unpainted shanty, gray with age, the +shingles rotting off, and moss growing in +the chinks. The small panes of glass were +crusted with dirt, and here and there one +had been broken, and replaced with brown +paper. The front yard was a tangle of ribbon-grass +and clover; but a tuft of straggling +flowers here and there showed that it +had once had care and attention. There +was no sign of life about the place.</p> + +<p>"Rose!" cried Hildegarde, stopping the +horse with a pull of the reins; "it is a +deserted house. Do you know that I have +never seen one in my life? I must positively +take a peep at it, and see what it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +like inside. Take the reins, Bonne Silène, +while I go and reconnoitre the position." +She jumped out, and making her way as +best she might through the grassy tangle, +was soon gazing in at one of the windows. +"Oh!" she cried, "it <i>isn't</i> deserted, Rose! +At least?—well, some one has been here. +But, oh, me! oh, <i>me!</i> What a place! I +never, never dreamed of such a place. I—"</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter?" cried Rose. "If +you don't tell me, I shall jump out!"</p> + +<p>"No, you won't!" said Hildegarde. +"You'd better not, Miss! but <i>oh</i>, dear! +who ever, ever dreamed of such a place? +My dear, it is the Abode of Dirt. Squalid +is no word for it; squalor is richness compared +to this house. I am looking—sit +still, Rose!—I am looking into a room about +as big as a comfortable pantry. There is a +broken stove in it, and a table, and a stool; +and in the room beyond I can see a bed,—at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +least, I suppose it is meant for a bed. Oh! +what person <i>can</i> live here?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I am coming</i>, Hilda," said Rose. "The +only question is whether I get out with your +help or without."</p> + +<p>"Obstinate Thing!" cried Hildegarde, flying +to her assistance. "Well, it shall see the +lovely sight, so it shall. Carefully, now; +don't trip on these long grass-loops. There! +isn't that a pretty place? Now enjoy yourself, +while I get out the tie-rein, and fasten +the good beast to a tree."</p> + +<p>In hunting for the tie-rein under the seat +of the carriage, Hildegarde discovered something +else which made her utter an exclamation +of surprise. "Luncheon!" she cried. +"Rose, my dear, did you know about this +basket? Saint Martha must have put it in. +Turnovers, Rose! sandwiches, Rose! and, I declare, +a bottle of milk and a tin cup. Were +ever two girls so spoiled as we shall be?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 262px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.png" width="262" height="400" alt=""THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."" title=""THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."" /> +<span class="caption">"THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How kind!" said Rose. "I am not in +the least hungry, but I <i>should</i> like a cup of +milk. Oh, Hildegarde!"</p> + +<p>"What now?" asked that young woman, +returning with the precious basket, and applying +her nose once more to the window. +"Fresh horrors?"</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Rose, "look! That is the +pantry,—that little cupboard, with the door +hanging by one hinge; and there isn't +anything in it to eat, except three crackers +and an onion."</p> + +<p>Both girls gazed in silence at the forlorn +scene before them. Then they looked at +each other. Hildegarde gave an expressive +little shake to the basket. Rose smiled and +nodded; then they hugged each other a little, +which was a foolish way they had when +they were pleased. Very cautiously Hildegarde +pushed the crazy door open, and they +stood in the melancholy little hovel. All was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +even dirtier and more squalid than it had +looked from outside; but the girls did not +mind it now, for they had an idea, which +had come perhaps to both at the same moment. +Hilda looked about for a broom, and +finally found the dilapidated skeleton of one. +Rose, realizing at once that search for a duster +would be fruitless, pulled a double handful +of long grass from the front yard, and +the two laid about them,—one vigorously, +the other carefully and thoroughly. Dust flew +from doors and windows; the girls sneezed +and coughed, but persevered, till the little +room at last began to look as if it might +once have been habitable.</p> + +<p>"Now you have done enough, Rosy!" +cried Hildegarde. "Sit down on the doorstep +and make a posy, while I finish."</p> + +<p>Rose, being rather tired, obeyed. Hildegarde +then looked for a scrubbing-brush, +but finding none, was obliged to give the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +little black table such a cleaning as she could +with the broom and bunches of grass. Behind +the house was a lilac-bush, covered +with lovely fragrant clusters of blossoms; +she gathered a huge bunch of them, and +putting them in a broken pitcher with water, +set them in the middle of the table. Meanwhile +Rose had found two or three peonies +and some sweet-william, and with these and +some ribbon-grass had made quite a brilliant +bouquet, which was laid beside the one +cracked plate which the cupboard afforded. +On this plate the sandwiches were neatly +piled, and the turnovers (all but two, which +the girls ate, partly out of gratitude to Martha, +but chiefly because they were good) +were laid on a cluster of green leaves. As +for the milk, that, Hildegarde declared, Rose +must and should drink; and she stood over +her till she tilted the bottle back and drained +the last drop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" said Rose, looking sadly at +the empty bottle; "I hope the poor thing +doesn't like milk. It couldn't be a child, +Hildegarde, could it? living here all alone. +And anyhow he—or she—will have a better +dinner than one onion and—" But here she +broke off, and uttered a low cry of dismay. +"Oh, Hilda! Hilda! look there!"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde turned hastily round, and then +stood petrified with dismay; for some one +was looking in at the window. Pressed +against the little back window was the face +of an old man, so withered and wrinkled that +it looked hardly human; only the eyes, +bright and keen, were fixed upon the girls, +with what they thought was a look of anger. +Masses of wild, unkempt gray hair surrounded +the face, and a fragment of old straw hat +was drawn down over the brows. Altogether +it was a wild vision; and perhaps it was not +surprising that the gentle Rose was terrified,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +while even Hildegarde felt decidedly uncomfortable. +They stood still for a moment, +meeting helplessly the steady gaze of the +sharp, fierce eyes; then with one impulse +they turned and fled,—Hildegarde half +carrying her companion in her strong arms. +Half laughing, half crying, they reached the +carriage. Rose tumbled in somehow, Hildegarde +flew to unfasten the tie-rein; and the +next moment they were speeding away at +quite a surprising rate, Dr. Abernethy having, +for the first time in years, received a smart +touch of the whip, which filled him with +amazement and indignation.</p> + +<p>Neither of the girls spoke until at least +a quarter of a mile lay between them +and the scene of their terror; then, as +they came to the foot of a hill, Hildegarde +checked the good horse to a walk, +and turned and looked at Rose. One look,—and +they both broke into fits of laughter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +and laughed and laughed as if they never +would stop.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, wiping the +tears which were rolling down her cheeks. +"Rose! I wonder if I looked as guilty as I +felt. No wonder he glowered, if I did."</p> + +<p>"Of course you did," said Rose. "You +were the perfect ideal of a Female Burgler, +caught with the spoons in her hand; and I—oh! +my cheeks are burning still; I feel as +if I were nothing but a blush. And after all, +we <i>were</i> breaking and entering, Hilda!"</p> + +<p>"But we did no harm!" said Hilda, stoutly. +"I don't much care, now we are safe out of +the way. And I'm glad the poor old glowering +thing will have a good dinner for once. +Rose, he must be at least a hundred! Did +you ever see anything look so old?"</p> + +<p>Rose shook her head meditatively. "It's +dreadful to think of his living all alone there," +she said. "For he must be alone. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +was only one plate, you know, and that +wretched bed. Oh, Hilda!" she added, a +moment later, "the basket! we have left +the basket there. What shall we do? Must +we go back?"</p> + +<p>"Perish the thought!" cried Hildegarde, +with a shudder half real, half playful. "I +wouldn't go back there now for the half of +my kingdom. Let me see! We will not +tell Cousin Wealthy to-day—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried Rose, shrinking at the +bare thought.</p> + +<p>"Nor even to-morrow, perhaps," continued +Hildegarde. "She would be frightened, and +might expect you to be ill; we will wait a +day or two before we tell her. But Martha +is not nervous. We can tell her to-morrow, +and say that we will get another basket. +After all, we were doing no harm,—none +in the world."</p> + +<p>But the best-laid plans, as we all know,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +"gang aft agley;" and the girls were not +to have the telling of their adventure in their +own way.</p> + +<p>That evening, as they were sitting on the +piazza after tea, they heard Miss Wealthy's +voice, saying, "Martha, there is some one +coming up the front walk,—an aged man, +apparently. Will you see who it is, please? +Perhaps he wants food, for I see he has a +basket."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde and Rose looked at each other +in terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hilda!" whispered Rose, catching +her friend's hand, "it must be he! What +shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Hildegarde. "Listen, and +don't be a goose! Do? what should he do to +us? He might recite the 'Curse of Kehama,' +but it isn't likely he knows it."</p> + +<p>Martha, who had been reconnoitring +through a crack of the window-blind, now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +uttered an exclamation. "Well, of all! +Mam, it's old Galusha Pennypacker, as sure +as you stand there."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" said Miss Wealthy, in a +tone of great surprise. "Martha, you <i>must</i> +be mistaken. Galusha Pennypacker coming +here. Why <i>should</i> he come here?"</p> + +<p>But for once Martha was not ready to +answer her mistress, for she had gone to +open the door.</p> + +<p>The girls listened, with clasped hands and +straining ears.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Pennypacker!" they heard +Martha say. "This is never you?"</p> + +<p>Then a shrill, cracked voice broke in, +speaking very slowly, as if speech were an +unaccustomed effort. "Is there—two gals—here?"</p> + +<p>"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement. +"What two gals?"</p> + +<p>"Gals!" said the old man's voice,—"one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +on 'em highty-tighty, fly-away-lookin', 'n' +the other kind o' 'pindlin'; drivin' your hoss, +they was."</p> + +<p>"Why—yes!" said Martha, more and +more astonished. "What upon earth—"</p> + +<p>"Here's their basket!" the old man continued; +"tell 'em I—relished the victuals. +Good-day t' ye!"</p> + +<p>Then came the sound of a stick on the +steps, and of shuffling feet on the gravel; +and the next moment Miss Wealthy and +Martha were gazing at the guilty girls with +faces of mute amazement and inquiry which +almost upset Hildegarde's composure.</p> + +<p>"It's true, Cousin Wealthy!" she said +quickly. "We meant to tell you—in a +little while, when you would not be worried. +We thought the house was deserted, and I +went and looked in at the window. And—it +looked so wretched, we thought we +might—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There was only an onion and three +crackers," murmured Rose, in deprecating +parenthesis.</p> + +<p>"We thought we might leave part of our +luncheon, for Martha had given us such a +quantity; and just when we had finished, +we saw a face at the window—oh, such a +dreadful old face!—and we ran away, and +forgot the basket. So you see, Martha," she +added, "it was partly your fault, for giving +us so much luncheon."</p> + +<p>"I see!" said Martha, chuckling, and +apparently much amused.</p> + +<p>But Miss Wealthy looked really frightened. +"My <i>dear</i> girls," she said, "it was a <i>very</i> imprudent +thing to do. Why, Galusha Pennypacker +is half insane, people think. A dreadful +old miser, who lives in filth and wretchedness, +while he has plenty of money hidden away,—at +least people say he has. Why, it terrifies me +to think of your going into that hovel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! Cousin Wealthy," said Hildegarde, +soothingly, "he couldn't have hurt us, poor +old thing! if he had tried. He looks at +least a hundred years old. And of course +we didn't know he was a miser. But surely +it will do no harm for him to have a good +dinner for once, and Martha's turnovers +ought really to have a civilizing effect +upon him. Who knows? Perhaps it may +make him remember nicer ways, and he +may try to do better."</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy was partly reconciled by +this view of the case; but she declared +that Rose must go to bed at once, as she +must be quite exhausted.</p> + +<p>At this moment Martha, who was still +holding the basket, gave an exclamation +of surprise. "Why," she said, "there's +things in this! Did you leave these in the +basket, Miss Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"I? No!" cried Hildegarde, wonder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>ing. +"I left nothing at all in it. What +is there?"</p> + +<p>All clustered eagerly round Martha, who +with provoking deliberation took out two +small parcels which lay in the bottom of +the basket, and looked them carefully over +before opening them. They were wrapped +in dirty scraps of brown paper.</p> + +<p>"Oh! there is writing on them!" cried +Hildegarde. "Martha dear, <i>do</i> tell us what +it says!"</p> + +<p>Martha studied the inscriptions for some +minutes, and then read aloud: "'The fly-away +gal' and 'the pail gal.' Well, of +all!" she cried, "it's presents, I do believe. +Here, Miss Hilda, this must be for +you."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde opened the little parcel eagerly. +It contained a small shagreen case, which in +its turn proved to contain a pair of scissors +of antique and curious form, an ivory tab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>let, +yellow with age, a silver bodkin, and a +silver fruit-knife, all fitting neatly in their +places; the whole case closing with a +spring. "It is the prettiest thing I ever +saw!" cried Hildegarde. "See, Cousin +Wealthy, isn't it delightful to think of +that poor old dear—But what have you, +Rose-red? You must be the 'pail gal,' of +course, though you are not pale now."</p> + +<p>Rose opened her parcel, and found, in a +tiny box of faded morocco, an ivory thimble +exquisitely carved with minute Chinese figures. +It fitted her slender finger to perfection, +and she gazed at it with great delight, +while Miss Wealthy and Martha shook +their heads in amazement and perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Galusha Pennypacker, with such things +as these!" cried one.</p> + +<p>"Galusha Pennypacker making presents!" +exclaimed the other. "Well, wonders will +never cease!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The thimble is really beautiful!" said +Miss Wealthy. "He was a seafaring man +in his youth, I remember, and he must have +brought this home from one of his voyages, +perhaps fifty or sixty years ago. Dear me! +how strangely things do come about! But, +my dear Rose, you really <i>must</i> go to bed +at once, for I am sure you must be quite +exhausted."</p> + +<p>And the delighted girls went off in triumph +with their treasures, to chatter in their rooms +as only girls can chatter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>A "STORY EVENING."</h3> + + +<p>The next evening was chilly, and instead +of sitting on the piazza, the girls were glad +to draw their chairs around Miss Wealthy's +work-table and bring out their work-baskets. +Hildegarde had brought two dozen napkins +with her to hem for her mother, and Rose +was knitting a soft white cloud, which was +to be a Christmas present for good Mrs. +Hartley at the farm. As for Miss Wealthy, +she, as usual, was knitting gray stockings +of fine soft wool. They all fell to talking +about old Galusha Pennypacker, now pitying +his misery, now wondering at the tales of +his avarice. Hildegarde took out the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +scissors-case, and examined it anew. "Do +you suppose this belonged to his mother?" +she asked. "You say he never married. +Or had he a sister?"</p> + +<p>"No, he had no sister," replied Miss +Wealthy. "His mother was a very respectable +woman. I remember her, though she +died when I was quite a little girl. He had +an aunt, too,—a singular woman, who used +to be very kind to me. What is it, my +dear?" For Hildegarde had given a little +cry of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Here is a name!" cried the girl. "At +least, it looks like a name; but I cannot +make it out. See, Cousin Wealthy, on the +little tablet! Oh, how interesting!"</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy took the tablet, which consisted +of two thin leaves of ivory, fitting +closely together. On the inside of one leaf +was written in pencil, in a tremulous hand. +"Ca-ira."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it a name?" asked Rose.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy nodded. "His aunt's name," +she said,—"Ca-iry<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Pennypacker. Yes, +surely; this must have belonged to her. +Dear, dear! how strangely things come +about! Aunt Ca-iry we all called her, +though she was no connection of ours. And +to think of your having her scissors-case! +Now I come to remember, I used to see +this in her basket when I used to poke +over her things, as I loved to do. Dear, +dear!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Wealthy," cried Hildegarde, +"<i>do</i> tell us about her, please! How came she +to have such a queer name? I am sure +there must be some delightful story about +her."</p> + + +<p>Miss Wealthy considered a minute, then +she said: "My dear, if you will open the +fourth left-hand drawer of that chest between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +the windows, and look in the farther right-hand +corner of the drawer, I think you will +find a roll of paper tied with a pink ribbon."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde obeyed in wondering silence; +and Miss Wealthy, taking the roll, held it +in her hand for a moment without speaking, +which was very trying to the girls' feelings. +At last she said,—</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> an interesting story about Ca-iry +Pennypacker, and, curiously enough, I have +it here, written down by—whom do you +think?—your mother, Hilda, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"My mother!" cried Hildegarde, in +amazement.</p> + +<p>"Your mother," repeated Miss Wealthy. +"You see, when Mildred was a harum-scarum +girl—" Hildegarde uttered an exclamation, +and Miss Wealthy stopped short. "Is there +something you want to say, dear?" she asked +gently. "I will wait."</p> + +<p>The girl blushed violently. "I beg your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +pardon, Cousin Wealthy," she said humbly. +"Shall I go out and stand in the entry? +Papa always used to make me, when I +interrupted."</p> + +<p>"You are rather too big for that now, my +child," said the old lady, smiling; "and I +notice that you very seldom interrupt. It +is better <i>never</i> done, however. Well, as I +was saying, your mother used to make me +a great many visits in her school holidays; +for she was my god-daughter, and always +very dear to me. She was very fond of +hearing stories, and I told her all the old +tales I could think of,—among them this one +of Aunt Ca-iry's, which the old lady had told +me herself when I was perhaps ten years old. +It had made a deep impression on me, so +that I was able to repeat it almost in her +own words, in the country talk she always +used. She was not an educated woman, my +dear, but one of sterling good sense and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +strong character. Well, the story impressed +your mother so much that she was very +anxious for me to write it down; but as +I have no gift whatever in that way, she +finally wrote it herself, taking it from my +lips, as you may say,—only changing my +name from Wealthy to Dolly,—but making +it appear as if the old woman herself were +speaking. Very apt at that sort of thing +Mildred always was. And now, if you like, +my dears, I will read you the story."</p> + +<p>If they liked! Was there ever a girl who +did not love a story? Gray eyes and blue +sparkled with anticipation, and there was +no further danger of interruption as Miss +Wealthy, in her soft, clear voice, began to +read the story of—</p> + + +<div class='center'><br />CA-IRY AND THE QUEEN.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>What's this you've found? Well, now! well, +now! where did you get that, little gal? Been +rummagin' in Aunt Ca-iry's bureau, hev you?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +Naughty little gal! Bring it to me, honey. Why, +that little bag,—I wouldn't part with it for gold! +That was give me by a queen,—think o' that, +Dolly,—by a real live queen, 'cordin' to her own +idees,—the Queen o' Sheba.</p> + +<p>Tell you about her? Why, yes, I will. Bring +your little cheer here by the fire,—so; and get +your knittin'. When little gals come to spend the +day with Aunt Ca-iry they allus brings their knittin',—don't +they?—'cause they know they won't +get any story unless they do. I can't have no idle +hands round this kitchen, 'cause Satan might git in, +ye know, and find some mischief for them to do. +There! now we're right comf'table, and I'll begin.</p> + +<p>You see, Dolly, I've lived alone most o' my life, +as you may say. Mother died when I was fifteen, +and Father, he couldn't stay on without her, so he +went the next year; and my brother was settled a +good way off: so ever since I've lived here in the +old brown house alone, 'cept for the time I'm +goin' to tell ye about, when I had a boarder, and +a queer one she was. Plenty o' folks asked me to +hire out with them, or board with them, and I +s'pose I might have married, if I'd been that kind, +but I wasn't. Never could abide the thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +havin' a man gormineerin' over me, not if he was +the lord o' the land. And I was strong, and had +a cow and some fowls, and altogether I knew +when I was well off; and after a while folks +learned to let me alone. "Queer Ca-iry," they +called me,—in your grandfather's time, Dolly,—but +now it's "Aunt Ca-iry" with the hull country +round, and everybody's very good to the old +woman.</p> + +<p>How did I come to have such a funny name? +Well, my father give it to me. He was a great +man for readin', my father was, and there was +one book he couldn't ever let alone, skurcely. +'T was about the French Revolution, and it told +how the French people tried to git up a republic +like ourn. But they hadn't no sense, seemin'ly, +and some of 'em was no better nor wild beasts, +with their slaughterin', devourin' ways; so nothin' +much came of it in the end 'cept bloodshed.</p> + +<p>Well, it seems they had a way of yellin' round the +streets, and shoutin' and singin', "Ca-ira! Ca-ira!" +Made a song out of it, the book said, and sang it +day in and day out. Father said it meant "That +will go!" or somethin' like that, though I never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +could see any meanin' in it myself. Anyhow, it +took Father's fancy greatly, and when I was born, +nothin' would do but I must be christened Ca-ira. +So I was, and so I stayed; and I don't know as I +should have done any better if I'd been called +Susan or Jerusha. So that's all about the name, +and now we'll come to the story.</p> + +<p>One day, when I was about eighteen years old, +I was takin' a walk in the woods with my dog +Bluff. I was very fond o' walkin', and so was +Bluff, and there was woods all about, twice as +much as there is now. It was a fine, clear day, +and we wandered a long way, further from home +than we often went, 'way down by Rollin' Dam +Falls. The stream was full, and the falls were a +pretty sight; and I sat lookin' at 'em, as girls do, +and pullin' wintergreen leaves. I never smell wintergreen +now without thinkin' of that day. All +of a suddent I heard Bluff bark; and lookin' +round, I saw him snuffin' and smellin' about a +steep clay bank covered with vines and brambles. +"Woodchuck!" I thought; and I called him off, +for I never let him kill critters unless they +were mischeevous, which in the wild woods they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +couldn't be, of course. But the dog wouldn't +come off. He stayed there, sniffin' and growlin', +and at last I went to see what the trouble was.</p> + +<p>My dear, when I lifted up those vines and brambles, +what should I see but a hole in the bank!—a +hole about two feet across, bigger than any that +a woodchuck ever made. The edges were rubbed +smooth, as if the critter that made it was big +enough to fit pretty close in gettin' through. My +first idee was that 't was a wolf's den,—wolves +were seen sometimes in those days in the Cobbossee +woods,—and I was goin' to drop the vines +and slip off as quiet as I could, when what does +that dog do but pop into the hole right before my +eyes, and go wrigglin' through it! I called and +whistled, but 't was no use; the dog was bound +to see what was in there.</p> + +<p>I waited a minute, expectin' to hear the wolf +growl, and thinkin' my poor Bluff would be torn +to pieces, and yet I must go off and leave him, or +be treated the same myself. But, Dolly, instead +of a wolf's growl, I heard next minute a sound that +made me start more 'n the wolf would ha' done,—the +sound of a human voice. Yes! out o' the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +bowels o' the earth, as you may say, a voice was +cryin' out, frightened and angry-like; and then +Bluff began to bark, bark! Oh, dear! I felt +every which way, child. But 't was clear that +there was only one path of duty, and that path +led through the hole; for a fellow creature was +in trouble, and 't was my dog makin' the trouble. +Down I went on my face, and through that hole I +crawled and wriggled,—don't ask me how, for I +don't know to this day,—thinkin' of the sarpent +in the Bible all the way.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the hole widened, and I found myself +in a kind of cave, about five feet by six across, but +high enough for me to stand up. I scrambled to +my feet, and what should I see but a woman,—a +white woman,—sittin' on a heap o' moose and +sheep skins, and glarin' at me with eyes like two +live coals. She had driven Bluff off, and he stood +growlin' in the corner.</p> + +<p>For a minute we looked at each other without +sayin' anything; I didn't know what upon airth +to say. At last she spoke, quite calm, in a deep, +strange voice, almost like a man's, but powerful +sweet.</p> + +<p>"What seek you," she said, "slave?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>Well, that was a queer beginnin', you see, +Dolly, and didn't help me much. But I managed +to say, "My dog come in, and I followed +him—to see what he was barkin' at."</p> + +<p>"He was barkin' at me," said the woman. "Bow +down before me, slave! I am the Queen!"</p> + +<p>And she made a sign with her hand, so commandin'-like +that I made a bow, the best way I +could. But, of course, I saw then that the poor +creature was out of her mind, and I thought +'t would be best to humor her, seein' as I had +come in without an invitation, as you may say.</p> + +<p>"Do you—do you live here, ma'am?" I asked, +very polite.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty!" says she, holdin' up her head, +and lookin' at me as if I was dirt under her feet.</p> + +<p>"Do you live here, your Majesty?" I asked +again.</p> + +<p>"I am stayin' here," she said. "I am waitin' +for the King, who is comin' for me soon. You +did not meet him, slave, on your way hither?"</p> + +<p>"What king was your Majesty meanin'?" says I.</p> + +<p>"King Solomon, of course!" said she. "For +what lesser king should the Queen of Sheba wait?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure!" says I. "No, ma'am,—your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +Majesty, I mean,—I didn't meet King Solomon. +I should think you might find a more likely place +to wait for him in than this cave. A king wouldn't +be very likely to find his way in here, would he?"</p> + +<p>She looked round with a proud kind o' look. +"The chamber is small," she said, "but richly +furnished,—richly furnished. You may observe, +slave, that the walls are lined with virgin gold."</p> + +<p>She waved her hand, and I looked round too +at the yellow clay walls and ceilin'. You never +could think of such a place, Dolly, unless you'd +ha' seen it. However that poor creature had +fixed it up so, no mortal will ever know, I expect. +There was a fireplace in one corner, and a hole +in the roof over it. I found out arterwards that +the smoke went out through a hollow tree that +grew right over the cave. There was a fryin'-pan, +and some meal in a kind o' bucket made o' +birch-bark, some roots, and a few apples. All +round the sides she'd stuck alder-berries and +flowers and pine-tassels, and I don't know what +not. There was nothin' like a cheer or table, +nothin' but the heap o' skins she was settin' on,—that +was bed and sofy and everything else +for her, I reckon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she herself—oh, dear! it makes me want +to laugh and cry, both together, to think <i>how</i> that +unfortinit creature was rigged up. She had a +sheepskin over her shoulders, tied round her neck, +with the wool outside. On her head was a crown +o' birch-bark, cut into p'ints like the crowns in +pictures, and stained yeller with the yeller clay,—I +suppose she thought it was gold,—and her +long black hair was stuck full o' berries and leaves +and things. Under the sheepskin she had just +nothin' but rags,—such rags as you never seed +in all your days, Dolly, your mother bein' the +tidy body she is. And moccasins on her feet,—no +stockin's; that finished her Majesty's dress. +Well, poor soul! and she as proud and contented +as you please, fancyin' herself all gold and +di'monds.</p> + +<p>I made up my mind pretty quick what was the +right thing for me to do; and I said, as soothin' as +I could,—</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty, I don't reelly advise you to wait +here no longer for King Solomon. I never seed +no kings round these woods,—it's out o' the line +o' kings, as you may say,—and I don't think he'd +be likely to find you out, even if he should stroll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +down to take a look at the falls, same as I did. +Haven't you no other—palace, that's a little +more on the travelled road, where he'd be likely +to pass?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, kind o' mournful, and shakin' +her head,—"no, slave. I had once, but it was +taken from me."</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind my bein' so bold," I said, +"where was you stayin' before you come here?"</p> + +<p>"With devils!" she said, so fierce and sudden +that Bluff and I both jumped. "Speak not of +them, lest my wrath descend upon you."</p> + +<p>This wasn't very encouragin'; but I wasn't a +bit frightened, and I set to work again, talkin' and +arguin', and kind o' hintin' that there'd been some +kings seen round the place where I lived. That +weren't true, o' course, and I knew I was wrong, +Dolly, to mislead the poor creature, even if 't was +for her good; but I quieted my conscience by +thinkin' that 't was true in one way, for Hezekiah +King and his nine children lived not more 'n a +mile from my house.</p> + +<p>Well, to make a long story short, I e'en persuaded +the Queen o' Sheba to come home with +me, and stay at my house till King Solomon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +turned up. She didn't much relish the idee of +staying with a slave,—as she would have it I +was,—but I told her I didn't work for no +one but myself, and I wasn't no common kind +o' slave at all; so at last she give in, poor soul, +and followed me as meek as a lamb through the +hole, draggin' her big moose-skin—which was +her coronation-robe, she said, and she couldn't +leave it behind—after her, and Bluff growlin' +at her heels like all possessed.</p> + +<p>Well, I got her home, and gave her some supper, +and set her in a cheer; and you never in all your +life see any one so pleased. She looked, and looked, +and you'd ha' thought this kitchen was Marble +Halls like them in the song. It <i>did</i> look cheerful +and pleasant, but much the same as it does now, +after sixty years, little Dolly. And if you'll +believe it, it's this very arm-cheer as I'm +sittin' in now, that the Queen o' Sheba sot in. +It had a flowered chintz cover then, new and +bright. Well, she sat back at last, and drew a +long breath.</p> + +<p>"You have done well, faithful slave!" she said. +"This is my own palace that you have brought me +to. I know it well,—well; and this is my throne,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +from which I shall judge the people till the King +comes."</p> + +<p>This is what the boys would call "rather cool;" +but I only said, "Yes, your Majesty, you shall +judge every one there is to judge,"—which was +me and Bluff, and Crummy the cow, and ten fowls, +and the pig. She was just as pleasant and condescendin' +as could be all the evenin', and when +I put her to bed in the fourposter in the spare +room, she praised me again, and said that when +the King came she would give me a carcanet of +rubies, whatever that is.</p> + +<p>Just as soon as she was asleep, the first thing +that I did was to open the stove and put her rags +in, piece by piece, till they was all burnt up. The +moose-skin, which was a good one, I hung out on +the line to air. Then I brought out some clothes +of Mother's that I'd kep' laid away,—a good calico +dress and some underclothing, all nice and fresh,—and +laid them over the back of a cheer by her bed. +It seemed kind o' strange to go to bed with a +ravin' lunatic, as you may say, in the next room; +but I knew I was doin' right, and that was all +there was to it. The Lord would see to the rest, +I thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>Next mornin' I was up bright and early, and +soon as I'd made the fire and tidied up and got +breakfast under way, I went in to see how her +Majesty was. She was wide awake, sittin' up +in bed, and lookin' round her as wild as a hawk. +Seemed as if she was just goin' to spring out o' +bed; but when she saw me, she quieted down, +and when I spoke easy and soothin' like, and +asked her how she'd slept, she answered pleasant +enough.</p> + +<p>"But where are my robes?" said she, pointin' +to the clothes I'd laid out. "Those are not my +robes."</p> + +<p>"They's new robes," I said, quite bold. "The +old ones had to be taken away, your Majesty. +They weren't fit for you to wear, really,—all +but the coronation robe; and that's hangin' on +the line, to—to take the wrinkles out."</p> + +<p>Well, I had a hard fight over the clothes; she +couldn't make up her mind nohow to put 'em on. +But at last I had an idee. "Don't you know," I +said, "the Bible says 'The King's Daughter is +all radiant within, in raiment of wrought needlework'? +Well, this is wrought needlework, every +bit of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>I showed her the seams and the stitches; and, +my dear, she put it on without another word, and +was as pleased as Punch when she was dressed +up all neat and clean. Then I brushed her hair +out,—lovely hair it was, comin' down below her +knees, and thick enough for a cloak, but matted +and tangled so 't was a sight to behold,—and +braided it, and put it up on top of her head like +a sort o' crown, and I tell you she looked like a +queen, if ever anybody did. She fretted a little +for her birch-bark crown, but I told her how +Scripture said a woman's glory was her hair, and +that quieted her at once. Poor soul! she was real +good and pious, and she'd listen to Scripture +readin' by the hour; but I allus had to wind up +with somethin' about King Solomon.</p> + +<p>Well, Dolly, the Queen o' Sheba stayed with +me (I must make my story short, Honey, for your +ma'll be comin' for ye soon now) three years; +and I will say that they was happy years for both +of us. Not yourself could be more biddable than +that poor crazy Queen was, once she got wonted +to me and the place. At first she was inclined +to wander off, a-lookin' for the King; but bimeby +she got into the way of occupyin' herself, spinnin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>—she +was a beautiful spinner, and when I told +her 't was Scriptural, I could hardly get her away +from the wheel—and trimmin' the house up with +flowers, and playin' with Bluff, for all the world +like a child. And in the evenin's,—well, there! +she'd sit on her throne and tell stories about her +kingdom, and her gold and spices, and myrrh and +frankincense and things, and all the great things +she was goin' to do for her faithful slave,—that +was me, ye know; she never would call me anything +else,—till it all seemed just as good as true. +<i>'T was</i> true to her; and if 't had been really true +for me, I shouldn't ha' been half so well off as in +my own sp'ere; so 't was all right.</p> + +<p>My dear, my poor Queen might have been with +me to this day, if it hadn't been for the meddlesomeness +of men. I've heerd talk o' women +meddling, and very likely they may, when they +live along o' men; but it don't begin with women, +nor yet end with 'em. One day I'd been +out 'tendin' to the cow, and as I was comin' back +I heerd screams and shrieks, and a man's voice +talkin' loud. You may believe I run, Dolly, as +fast as run I could; and when I came to the +kitchen there was Hezekiah King and a strange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +man standin' and talkin' to the Queen. She was +all in a heap behind the big chair, poor soul, +tremblin' like a leaf, and her eyes glarin' like +they did the fust time I see her; and she didn't +say a word, only scream, like a panther in a trap, +every minute or two.</p> + +<p>I steps before her, and "What's this?" says I, +short enough.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Ca-iry," says Hezekiah, smilin' his +greasy smile, that allus <i>did</i> make me want to +slap his face. "This is Mr. Clamp, from Coptown. +Make ye acquainted with Miss Ca-iry +Pennypacker, Mr. Clamp. I met up with Mr. +Clamp yesterday, Ca-iry, and I was tellin' him +about this demented creatur as you've been +shelterin' at your own expense the last three +years, as the hull neighborhood says it's a shame. +And lo! how myster'ous is the ways o' Providence! +Mr. Clamp is sup'n'tendent o' the Poor +Farm down to Coptown, and he says this woman +is a crazy pauper as he has had in keer for +six year, ever since she lost her wits along o' +her husband bein' drownded. She run away +three year ago last spring, and he ain't heard +nothin' of her till yisterday, when he just chanced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +to meet up with me. So now he's come as in +dooty bound, she belongin' to the deestrick o' +Coptown, to take her off your hands, and thank +ye for—"</p> + +<p>He hadn't no time to say more. I took him by +the shoulders,—I was mortal strong in those days, +Dolly; there wasn't a man within ten miles but I +could ha' licked him if he'd been wuth it,—and +shot him out o' the door like a sack o' flour. Then +I took the other man, who was standin' with his +mouth open, for all the world like a codfish, and +shot him out arter him. He tumbled against +Hezekiah, and they both went down together, +and sat there and looked at me with their mouths +open.</p> + +<p>"You go home," says I, "and take care o' yourselves, +if you know how. When I want you or +the like o' you, I'll send for you. <i>Scat!</i>" And I +shut the door and bolted it, b'ilin' with rage, and +came back to my poor Queen.</p> + +<p>She was down on the floor, all huddled up in a +corner, moanin' and moanin', like a dumb beast that +has a death wound. I lifted her up, and tried to +soothe and quiet her,—she was tremblin' all over,—but +'t was hard work. Not a word could I get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +out of her but "Devil! Devil!" and then "Solomon!" +over and over again. I brought the Bible, +and read her about the Temple, and the knops and +the flowers, and the purple, and the gold dishes, till +she was quiet again; and then I put her to bed, +poor soul! though 't was only six o'clock, and sat +and sang "Jerusalem the Golden" till she dropped +off to sleep. I was b'ilin' mad still, and besides I +was afraid she'd have a fit o' sickness, or turn +ravin', after the fright, so I didn't sleep much +myself that night. Towards mornin', however, I +dropped off, and must have slept sound; for when +I woke it was seven o'clock, the sun was up high, +the door was swingin' open, and the Queen o' +Sheba was gone.</p> + +<p>Don't ask me, little Dolly, how I felt, when I +found that poor creature was nowhere on the +place. I knew where to go, though. Something +told me, plain as words; and Bluff and I, we made +a bee-line for the Rollin' Dam woods. The dog +found her first. She had tried to get into her hole, +but the earth had caved in over it; so she had laid +down beside it, on the damp ground, in her nightgown. +Oh, dear! oh, dear! How long she'd +been there, nobody will ever know. She was in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +kind o' swoon, and I had to carry her most o' the +way, however I managed to do it; but I was mortal +strong in those days, and she was slight and +light, for all her bein' tall. When I got her home +and laid her in her bed, I knowed she'd never +leave it; and sure enough, before night she was +in a ragin' fever. A week it lasted; and when it +began to go down, her life went with it. My poor +Queen! she was real gentle when the fiery heat +was gone. She lay there like a child, so weak and +white. One night, when I'd been singin' to her a +spell, she took this little bag from her neck, where +she'd allus worn it, under her clothes, and giv' it +to me.</p> + +<p>"Faithful slave," she said,—she couldn't speak +above a whisper,—"King Solomon is comin' for me +to-night. I have had a message from him. I leave +you this as a token of my love and gratitude. It is +the Great Talisman, more precious than gold or +gems. Open it when I am gone. And now, good +slave, kiss me, for I would sleep awhile."</p> + +<p>I kissed my poor dear, and she dozed off peaceful +and happy. But all of a sudden she opened +her eyes with a start, and sat up in the bed.</p> + +<p>"Solomon!" she cried, and held out her arms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +wide. "Solomon, my King!" and then fell back +on the piller, dead.</p> + +<p>There, little Dolly! don't you cry, dear! 'T was +the best thing for the poor thing. I opened the +bag, when it was all over, and what do you think +I found? A newspaper slip, sayin', "Lost at sea, +on March 2, 18—, Solomon Marshall, twenty-seven +years," and a lock o' dark-brown hair. +Them was the Great Talisman. But if true love +and faith can make a thing holy, this poor little +bag is holy, and as such I've kept it.</p> + +<p>There's your ma comin', Dolly. Put on your +bonnet, Honey, quick! And see here, dear! you +needn't tell her nothin' I said about Hezekiah +King, I clean forgot he was your grandfather.</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Pronounced Kay-iry.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>FLOWER-DAY.</h3> + + +<p>"Cousin Wealthy," said Hildegarde at +breakfast the next morning, "may I tell you +what it was that made me so rude as to interrupt +you last night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Wealthy; +"you may tell me, and then you may forget +the little accident, as I had already done."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Hildegarde, "you spoke of +the time when Mamma was a 'harum-scarum +girl;' and the idea of her ever having been +anything of the sort was so utterly amazing +that—that was why I cried out. Is it possible +that Mammy was not always quiet and +blessed and peaceful?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mildred!" exclaimed Miss Wealthy. +"Mildred peaceful! My <i>dear</i> Hilda!"</p> + +<p>An impressive pause followed, and Hildegarde's +eyes began to twinkle. "Tell us!" +she murmured, in a tone that would have +persuaded an oyster to open his shell. Then +she stroked Miss Wealthy's arm gently, and +was silent, for she saw that speech was coming +in due time.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy looked at her teacup, and +shook her head slowly, smiled, and then +sighed. "Mildred!" she said again. "My +dear, your mother is now forty years old, +and I am seventy. When she came to visit +me for the first time, <i>I</i> was forty years old, +and she was ten. She had on, when she +arrived, a gray stuff frock, trimmed with +many rows of narrow green braid, and a little +gray straw bonnet, with rows of quilled satin +ribbon, green and pink." The girls exchanged +glances of horror and amazement at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +the thought of this headgear, but made no +sound. "I shall never forget that bonnet," +continued Miss Wealthy, pensively, "nor +that dress. In getting out of the carriage +her skirt caught on the step, and part of a +row of braid was ripped; this made a loop, +in which she caught her foot, and tumbled +headlong to the ground. I mended it in the +evening, after she was in bed, as it was the +frock she was to wear every morning. My +dears, I mended that frock every day for a +month. It is the truth! the braid caught on +everything,—on latches, on brambles, on +pump-handles, on posts, on chairs. There +was always a loop of it hanging, and the +child was always putting her foot through it +and tumbling down. She never cried, though +sometimes, when she fell downstairs, she must +have hurt herself. A very brave little girl +she was. At last I took all the braid off, and +then things went a little better."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy paused to sip her coffee, +and Hildegarde tried not to look as if +she begrudged her the sip. "Then," she +went on, "Mildred was always running +away,—not intentionally, you understand, +but just going off and forgetting to come +back. Once—dear, dear! it gives me a +turn to think of it!—she had been reading +'Neighbor Jackwood,' and was much delighted +with the idea of the heroine's hiding +in the haystack to escape her cruel pursuers. +So she went out to the great haystack in +the barnyard, pulled out a quantity of hay, +crept into the hole, and found it so comfortable +that she fell fast asleep. You may +imagine, my dears, what my feelings were +when dinner-time came, and Mildred was +not to be found. The house was searched +from garret to cellar. Martha and I—Martha +had just come to me then—went down +to the wharf and through the orchard and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +round by the pasture, calling and calling, till +our throats were sore. At last, as no trace +of the child could be found, I made up my +mind that she must have wandered away +into the woods and got lost. It was a terrible +thought, my dears! I called Enoch, the +man, and bade him saddle the horse and ride +round to call out the neighbors, that they +might all search together. As he was leading +the horse out, he noticed a quantity of +hay on the ground, and wondered how it +had come there. Coming nearer, he saw +the hole in the stack, looked in, and—there +was the child, fast asleep!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! naughty little mother!" cried Hildegarde. +"What did you do to her, Cousin +Wealthy?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, my dear," replied the good +lady. "I was quite ill for several days from +the fright, and that was enough punishment +for the poor child. She never <i>meant</i> to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +naughty, you know. But my heart was in +my mouth all the time. Once, coming home +from a walk, I heard a cheery little voice +crying, 'Cousin Wealthy! Cousin! see where I +am!' I looked up. Hilda, she was sitting on +the ridge-pole of the house, waving her bonnet +by a loop of the pink quilled ribbon,—it +was almost as bad as the green braid about +coming off,—and smiling like a cherub. 'I +came through the skylight,' she said, 'and +the air up here is <i>so</i> fresh and nice! I wish +you would come up, Cousin!'</p> + +<p>"Another time—oh, that was the worst +time of all! I really thought I should die +that time." Miss Wealthy paused, and shook +her head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do go on, dear!" cried Hildegarde; +"unless you are tired, that is. It is so delightful!"</p> + +<p>"It was anything but delightful for me, my +dear, I can assure you," rejoined Miss Wealthy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +"This happened several years later, when +Mildred was thirteen or fourteen. She came +to me for a winter visit, and I was delighted +to find how womanly she had grown. We +had a great deal of bad weather, and she was +with me in the house a good deal, and was +most sweet and helpful; and as I did not go +out much, I did not see what she did out of +doors, and she <i>always</i> came home in time for +dinner and tea. Well, one day—it was in +March, and the river was just breaking up, +as we had had some mild weather—the +minister came to see me, and I began to tell +him about Mildred, and how she had developed, +and how much comfort I took in her +womanly ways. He was sitting on the sofa, +from which, you know, one can see the river +very well. Suddenly he said, 'Dear me! +what is that? Some one on the river at this +time! Very imprudent! Very—' Then he +broke off short, and gave me a strange look.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +I sprang up and went to the window. What +did I see, my dear girls? The river was full +of great cakes of ice, all pressed and jumbled +together; the current was running very +swiftly; and there, in the middle of the +river, jumping from one cake to another like +a chamois, or some such wild creature, was +Mildred Bond."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Rose, "how dreadful! Dear +Miss Bond, what did you do?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde was silent. It was certainly +very naughty, she thought; but oh, what +fun it must have been!</p> + +<p>"Fortunately," said Miss Wealthy, "I became +quite faint at the sight. Fortunately, I +say; for I might have screamed and startled +the child, and made her lose her footing. As it +was, the minister went and called Martha, and +she, like the sensible girl she is, simply blew +the dinner-horn as loud as she possibly could. +It was the middle of the afternoon; but as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +rightly conjectured, the sound, without startling +Mildred, gave her to understand that she +was wanted. The minister watched her making +her way to the shore, leaping the dark +spaces of rushing water between the cakes, +apparently as unconcerned as if she were +walking along the highway; and when he +saw her safe on shore, he was very glad to +sit down and drink a glass of the wine that +Martha had brought to revive me. 'My +dear madam,' he said,—I was lying on the +sofa in dreadful suspense, and could not trust +myself to look,—'the young lady is safe on +the bank, and will be here in a moment. I +fear she is not so sedate as you fancied; +and as she is too old to be spanked and put +to bed, I should recommend your sending +her home by the coach to-morrow morning. +That girl, madam, needs the curb, +and you have been guiding her with the +snaffle.' He was very fond of horses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +good man, and always drove a good one +himself."</p> + +<p>"And did you send her home?" asked +Hildegarde, anxiously, thinking what a +dreadful thing it would be to be sent +back in disgrace.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Miss Wealthy, "I could +not do that, of course. Mildred was my +god-child, and I loved her dearly. But she +was not allowed to see me for twenty-four +hours, and I fancy those were very sad +hours for her. Dear Mildred! that was +her last prank; for the next time she came +here she was a woman grown, and all the +hoyden ways had been put off like a +garment. And now, dears," added Miss +Wealthy, rising, "we must let Martha take +these dishes, or she will be late with her +work, and that always distresses her +extremely."</p> + +<p>They went into the parlor, and Hilde<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>garde, +as she patted and "plumped" the +cushions of the old lady's chair, reminded +her that she had promised them some work +for the morning, but had not told them +what it was.</p> + +<p>"True!" said Miss Wealthy. "You are +right, dear. This is my Flower-day. I send +flowers once a week to the sick children +in the hospital at Fairtown, and I thought you +might like to pick them and make up the +nosegays."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how delightful that will be!" cried +Hildegarde. "And is that what you call +work, Cousin Wealthy? I call it play, and +the best kind. We must go at once, so as +to have them all picked before the sun is +hot. Come, Rosebud!"</p> + +<p>The girls put on their broad-brimmed hats +and went out into the garden, which was +still cool and dewy. Jeremiah was there, +of course, with his wheelbarrow; and as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +they stood looking about them, Martha appeared +with a tray in one hand and a large +shallow tin box in the other. Waving the +tray as a signal to the girls to follow, she +led the way to a shady corner, where, under +a drooping laburnum-tree, was a table and +a rustic seat. She set the tray and box +on the table, and then, diving into her +capacious pocket, produced a ball of string, +two pairs of flower-scissors, and a roll of +tissue paper.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said, in a tone of satisfaction, +"I think that's all. Pretty work +you'll find it, Miss Hilda, and it's right +glad I am to have you do it; for it is too +much for Miss Bond, stooping over the +beds, so it is. But do it she will; and I +almost think she hardly liked to give it +up, even to you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't wonder!" said Hildegarde. +"There cannot be anything else so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +pleasant to do. And thank you, Martha, +for making everything so comfortable for +us. You are a dear, as I may have said +before."</p> + +<p>Martha chuckled and withdrew, after telling +the girls that the flowers must be ready +in an hour.</p> + +<p>"Now, Rose," said Hildegarde, "you will +sit there and arrange the pretty dears as I +bring them to you. The question is now, +where to begin. I never, in all my life, +saw so many flowers!"</p> + +<p>"Begin with those that will not crush +easily," said Rose, "and I will lay them +at the bottom. Some of those splendid +sweet-williams over there, and mignonette, +and calendula, and sweet alyssum, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!" cried Hildegarde. "All +at once, of course, picking with all my hundred +hands at the same moment. Couldn't +you name a few more, Miss?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg pardon!" said Rose, laughing. +"I will confine my attention to the laburnum +here. 'Allee same,' I don't believe +you see that beautiful mourning-bride behind +you."</p> + +<p>"Why mourning, and why bride?" asked +Hildegarde, plucking some of the dark, rich +blossoms. "It doesn't strike me as a melancholy +flower."</p> + +<p>"I don't know!" said Rose. "I used to +play that she was a princess, and so wore +crimson instead of black for mourning. She +is so beautiful, it is a pity she has no fragrance. +She is of the teasel family, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Lady Teazle?" asked Hildegarde, laughing.</p> + +<p>"A different branch!" replied Rose, "but +just as prickly. The fuller's teasel,—do +you know about it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Encyclopædia, I do not!" replied +Hildegarde, with some asperity. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +know I <i>never</i> know anything of that kind; +tell me about it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is very curious," said Rose, taking +the great bunch of mourning-bride that +her friend handed her, and separating the +flowers daintily. "The flower-heads of this +teasel, when they are dried, are covered with +sharp curved hooks, and are used to raise the +nap on woollen cloth. No machine or instrument +that can be invented does it half so well +as this dead and withered blossom. Isn't +that interesting?"</p> + +<p>"Very!" said Hildegarde. "Oh, dear! +oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter?" cried Rose, in alarm. +"Has something stung you? Let me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, quickly. "I +was only thinking of the appalling number of +things there are to know. They overwhelm +me! They bury me! A mountain weighs me +down, and on its top grows a—a teasel. Why,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +I never heard of the thing! I am not sure +that I am clear what a fuller is, except that his +earth is advertised in the Pears' soap-boxes."</p> + +<p>They both laughed at this, and then Hildegarde +bent with renewed energy over a bed +of feathered pinks of all shades of crimson +and rose-color.</p> + +<p>"A mountain!" said Rose, slowly and +thoughtfully, as she laid the blossoms together +and tied them up in small posies. +"Yes, Hilda, so it is! but a mountain to +climb, not to be buried under. To think that +we can go on climbing, learning, all our +lives, and always with higher and higher +peaks above us, soaring up and up,—oh, it +is glorious! What might be the matter with +you to-day, my lamb?" she added; for Hildegarde +groaned, and plunged her face into a +great white lily, withdrawing it to show a +nose powdered with virgin gold. "Does your +head ache?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think the sturgeon is at the bottom of +it," was the reply. "I have not yet recovered +fully from the humiliation of having +been so frightened by a sturgeon, when I +had been brought up, so to speak, on the +'Culprit Fay.' I have eaten caviare too," she +added gloomily,—"odious stuff!"</p> + +<p>"But, my <i>dear</i> Hilda!" cried Rose, in +amused perplexity, "this is too absurd. +Why shouldn't one be frightened at a monstrous +creature leaping out of the water just +before one's nose, and how should you +know he was a sturgeon? You couldn't +expect him to say 'I am a sturgeon!' or to +carry a placard hung round his neck, with +'Fresh Caviare!' on it." Hildegarde laughed. +"You remind me," added Rose, "that my +own ignorance list is getting pretty long. Get +me some sweet-peas, that's a dear; and I +can ask you the things while you are picking +them." Hildegarde moved to the long rows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +of sweet-peas, which grew near the laburnum +bower; and Rose drew a little brown note-book +from her pocket, and laid it open on +the table beside her. "What is 'Marlowe's +mighty line'?" she demanded bravely. "I +keep coming across the quotation in different +things, and I don't know who Marlowe was. +Yet you see I am cheerful."</p> + +<p>"Kit Marlowe!" said Hildegarde. "Poor +Kit! he was a great dramatist; the next +greatest after Shakspeare, I think,—at least, +well, leaving out the Greeks, you know. He +was a year younger than Shakspeare, and +died when he was only twenty-eight, killed +in a tavern brawl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how dreadful!" cried gentle Rose. +"Then he had only begun to write."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde. "He had +written a great deal,—'Faustus' and 'Edward +II.,' and 'Tamburlaine,' and—oh! I +don't know all. But one thing of his <i>you</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +know, 'The Passionate Shepherd,'—'Come +live with me and be my love;' you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Rose. "Did he write that? +I love him, then."</p> + +<p>"And so many, many lovely things!" +continued Hildegarde, warming to her subject, +and snipping sweet-peas vigorously. +"Mamma has read me a good deal here +and there,—all of 'Edward II.,' and bits from +'Faustus.' There is one place, where he +sees Helen—oh, I must remember it!—</p> + +<p> +"'Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Isn't that full of pictures? I see them! +I see the ships, and the white, royal city, +and the beautiful, beautiful face looking +down from a tower window."</p> + +<p>Both girls were silent a moment; then +Rose asked timidly, "And who spoke of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +the 'mighty line,' dear? It must have been +another great poet. Only three words, and +such a roll and ring and brightness in them."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Ben Jonson!" said Hildegarde. +"He was another great dramatist, you +know; a little younger, but of the same +time with Shakspeare and Marlowe. He +lived to be quite old, and he wrote a very +famous poem on Shakspeare, 'all full of quotations,' +as somebody said about 'Hamlet.' +It is in that that he says 'Marlowe's +mighty line,' and 'Sweet Swan of Avon,' +and 'Soul of the Age,' and all sorts of +pleasant things. So nice of him!"</p> + +<p>"And—and was he an ancestor of Dr. +Samuel's?" asked Rose, humbly.</p> + +<p>"Why, darling, you are really quite ignorant!" +cried Hildegarde, laughing. "How +delightful to find things that you don't +know! No, he had no <i>h</i> in his name,—at +least, it had been left out; but he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +originally from the Johnstones of Annandale. +Think of it! he may have been a cousin +of Jock Johnstone the Tinkler, without +knowing it. Well, his father died when he +was little, and his mother married a brick-layer; +and Ben used to carry hods of mortar +up ladders,—oh me! what a strange +world it is! By-and-by he was made +Laureate,—the first Laureate,—and he was +very great and glorious, and wrote masques +and plays and poems, and quarrelled with +Inigo Jones—no! I can't stop to tell +you who he was," seeing the question in +Rose's eyes,—"and grew very fat. But when +he was old they neglected him, poor dear! +and when he died he was buried standing +up straight, in Westminster Abbey; and +his friend Jack Young paid a workman +eighteenpence to carve on a stone 'O Rare +Ben Jonson!' and there it is to this day."</p> + +<p>She paused for breath; but Rose said noth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>ing, +seeing that more was coming. "But +the best of all," continued Hildegarde, "was +his visit to Drummond of Hawthornden. +Oh, Rose, that was so delightful!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it!" said Rose, softly. +"Not that I know who <i>he</i> was; but his name +is a poem in itself."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" cried Hildegarde. "He was +a poet too, a Scottish poet, living in a wonderful +old house—"</p> + +<p>"Not 'caverned Hawthornden,' in 'Lovely +Rosabelle'?" cried Rose, her eyes lighting +up with new interest.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" replied Hildegarde, "just that. +Do you know why it is 'caverned'? That +must be another story. Remind me to tell +you when we are doing our hair to-night. +But now you must hear about Ben. Well, +he went on a walking tour to Scotland, and +one of his first visits was to William Drummond, +with whom he had corresponded a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +good deal. Drummond was sitting under +his great sycamore-tree, waiting for him, +and at last he saw a great ponderous figure +coming down the avenue, flourishing a huge +walking-stick. Of course he knew who it +was; so he went forward to meet him, and +called out, 'Welcome, welcome, royal Ben!' +'Thank ye, thank ye, Hawthornden!' answered +Jonson; and then they both laughed +and were friends at once."</p> + +<p>"Hildegarde, where do you find all these +wonderful things?" cried Rose, in amazement. +"That is delightful, enchanting. +And for you to call yourself ignorant! +Oh!"</p> + +<p>"There is a life of Drummond at home," +said Hildegarde, simply. "Of course one +reads lovely things,—there is no merit in +that; and the teasel still flaunts. But I <i>do</i> +feel better. That is just my baseness, to +be glad when you don't know things, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +dearest! But do just look at these sweet-peas! +I have picked all these,—pecks! +bushels!—and there are as many as ever. +Don't you think we have enough flowers, +Rosy?"</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 197px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.png" width="197" height="300" alt=""'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"" title=""'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"</span> +</div> +<p>"I do indeed!" answered Rose. "Enough +for a hundred children at least. Besides, it +must be time for them to go. The lovely +things! Think of all the pleasure they will +give! A sick child, and a bunch of flowers +like these!" She took up a posy of velvet +pansies and sweet-peas, set round with +mignonette, and put it lovingly to her lips. +"I remember—" She paused, and sighed, +and then smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear!" said Hildegarde, interrogatively. +"The house where you were born?"</p> + + + +<p>"One day I was in dreadful pain," said +Rose,—"pain that seemed as if it would +never end,—and a little child from a neighbor's +house brought a bunch of Ragged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +Robin, and laid it on my pillow, and said, +'Poor Pinky! make she better!' I think +I have never loved any other flower quite +so much as Ragged Robin, since then. It +is the only one I miss here. Do you want +to hear the little rhyme I made about it, +when I was old enough?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde answered by sitting down on +the arm of the rustic seat, and throwing +her arm round her friend's shoulder in her +favorite fashion. "Such a pleasant Rosebud!" +she murmured. "Tell now!"</p> + +<p>And Rose told about—</p> + + +<div class='center'><br />RAGGED ROBIN.</div> + +<div class='poem'> +<br /> +O Robin, ragged Robin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That stands beside the door,</span><br /> +The sweetheart of the country child,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The flower of the poor,</span><br /> +<br /> +I love to see your cheery face,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your straggling bravery;</span><br /> +Than many a stately garden bloom<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're dearer far to me.</span><br /> +<br /> +For you it needs no sheltered nook,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No well-kept flower-bed;</span><br /> +By cottage porch, by roadside ditch,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You raise your honest head.</span><br /> +<br /> +The small hedge-sparrow knows you well,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The blackbird is your friend;</span><br /> +With clustering bees and butterflies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your pink-fringed blossoms bend.</span><br /> +<br /> +O Robin, ragged Robin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dearest flower that grows,</span><br /> +Why don't you patch your tattered cloak?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why don't you mend your hose?</span><br /> +<br /> +Would you not like to prank it there<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the border bright,</span><br /> +Among the roses and the pinks,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A courtly dame's delight?</span><br /> +<br /> +"Ah no!" says jolly Robin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'T would never do for me;</span><br /> +The friend of bird and butterfly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like them I must be free.</span><br /> +<br /> +"The garden is for stately folk,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lily and the rose;</span><br /> +They'd scorn my coat of ragged pink,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would flout my broken hose.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Then let me bloom in wayside ditch,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the cottage door,</span><br /> +The sweetheart of the country child,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The flower of the poor."</span><br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>BROKEN FLOWERS.</h3> + + +<p>Miss Wealthy was sitting on the back +piazza, crocheting a tidy. The stitch was +a new one, and quite complicated, and her +whole mind was bent upon it. "One, two, +purl, chain, slip; one, two, purl"—when +suddenly descended upon her a whirlwind, +a vision of sparkling eyes and "tempestuous +petticoat," crying, "<i>Please</i>, Cousin +Wealthy, may I go with Jeremiah? The +wagon is all ready. Mayn't I go? Oh, +<i>please</i> say 'yes'!"</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy started so violently that the +crochet-hook fell from her hands. "My <i>dear</i> +Hilda!" she said plaintively, "you quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +take my breath away. I—really, my dear, +I don't know what to say. Where do you +want to go?"</p> + +<p>"With Jeremiah, to Fairtown, with the +flowers—to see the children!" cried Hildegarde, +still too much out of breath to speak +connectedly, but dropping on one knee beside +the old lady, and stroking her soft hand +apologetically. "He says he will take care +of me; and Rose has a long letter to write, +and I shall be back in time for dinner. +Dear, nice, pretty, sweet, bewitching Cousin +Wealthy, may I go?"</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy was still bewildered. "Why, +my dear," she said hesitatingly. "Yes—you +may go, certainly—if you are quite +sure—"</p> + +<p>But Hildegarde waited for no "ifs." She +whirled upstairs, flew out of her pink gingham +and into a sober dark blue one, exchanged +her garden hat for a blue "sailor,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +whirled downstairs again, kissed Rose on +both cheeks, dropped another kiss on Miss +Wealthy's cap, and was in the wagon and +out of sight round the corner before any one +with moderately deliberate enunciation could +have said "Jack Robinson."</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy dropped back in her chair, +and drew a long, fluttering breath. She +looked flushed and worried, and put her hand +nervously up to the pansy brooch. Seeing +this, Rose came quietly, picked up the crochet-hook, +and sat down to admire the work, and +wonder if she could learn the stitch. "Perhaps +some time you would show it to me, +dear Miss Bond," she said; "and now may +I read you that article on window-gardening +that you said you would like to hear?"</p> + +<p>So Rose read, in her low, even tones, +smooth and pleasant as the rippling of +water; and Miss Wealthy's brow grew calm +again, and the flush passed away, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +thoughts passed pleasantly from "one, two, +purl, slip," to gloxinias and cyclamen, and +back again; till at length, the day being +warm, she fell asleep, which was exactly +what the wily Rose meant her to do.</p> + +<p>Meantime Hildegarde was speeding along +toward the station, seated beside Jeremiah +in the green wagon, with the box of flowers +stowed safely under the seat. She was in +high spirits, and determined to enjoy every +moment of her "escapade," as she called it. +Jeremiah surveyed her bright face with +chastened melancholy.</p> + +<p>"Reckon you're in for a junket," he +said kindly. "Quite a head o' steam you +carry. 'T'll do ye good to work it off +some."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Hildegarde. "It is a regular +frolic, isn't it, Jeremiah? How beautiful +everything looks! What a perfection of +a day it is!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fine hayin' weather!" Jeremiah assented. +"We sh'll begin to-morrow, I calc'late. +Pleasant, hayin' time is. Now, thar's +a field!" He pointed with his whip to a +broad meadow all blue-green with waving +timothy, and sighed, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a good field?" asked Hildegarde, +innocently.</p> + +<p>"Best lot on the place!" replied the +prophet, with melancholy enthusiasm. "Not +many lots like that in <i>this</i> neighborhood! +There's a power o' grass there. Well, +sirs! grass must be cut, and hay must be +eat,—there's no gainsayin' that,—'in the +sweat o' thy brow,' ye understand; but still +there's some enj'yment in it."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde could not quite follow this sentence, +which seemed to be only half addressed +to her; so she only nodded sagely, and +turned her attention to the ferns by the +roadside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was less than an hour's trip to Fairtown, +nor was the walk long through the pleasant, +elm-shaded streets. The hospital was a brick +building, painted white, and looking very +neat and trim, with its striped awnings, and +its flagged pathway between rows of box. +One saw that it had been a fine dwelling-house +in its day, for the wood of the doorway +was cunningly carved, and the brass knocker +was quite a work of art.</p> + +<p>Jeremiah knocked; and when the door was +opened by a neat maidservant, he brought +the box of flowers, and laid it on a table in +the hall. "Miss Bond's niece!" he said, +with a nod of explanation and introduction. +"Thought she'd come herself; like to see +the young ones. I'll be back for ye in an +hour," he added to Hildegarde, and with +another nod departed.</p> + +<p>After waiting a few minutes in a cool, +shady parlor, where she sat feeling strange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +and shy, and wishing she had not come, +Hildegarde was greeted by a sweet-faced +woman in spotless cap and apron, who bade +her welcome, and asked for Miss Bond. "It +is some time since she has been here!" she +added. "We are always so glad to see her, +dear lady. But her kindness comes every +week in the lovely flowers, and the children +do think so much of them. Would you like +to distribute them yourself to-day? A new +face is always a pleasure, if it is a kind one; +and yours will bring sunshine, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde, shyly. +"It is just what I wanted, if you really think +they would like it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray, as the matron was called, +seemed to have no doubt upon this point, +and led the way upstairs, the servant following +with the flowers. She opened a +door, and led Hildegarde into a large, sunny +room, with little white beds all along the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +wall. On every pillow lay a little head; and +many faces turned toward the opening door, +with a look of pleasure at meeting the matron's +cheery smile. Hildegarde opened her +great box, and taking up three or four +bouquets, moved forward hesitatingly. This +was something new to her. She had visited +girls of her own age or more, in the New +York hospitals, but she was not used to little +children, being herself an only child. In the +first cot lay a little girl, a mite of five years, +with a pale patient face. She could not +move her hands, but she turned her face +toward the bunch of sweet-peas that Hildegarde +laid on the pillow, and murmured, +"Pitty! pitty!"</p> + +<p>"Aren't they sweet?" said Hildegarde. +"Do you see that they have little wings, +almost like butterflies? When the wind +blows, they flutter about, and seem to be +alive, almost."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>The child smiled, and put her lips to the +cool fragrant blossoms. "Kiss butterf'ies!" +she said; and at this Hildegarde kissed her, +and went on to the next crib.</p> + +<p>Here lay a child of seven, her sweet blue +eyes heavy with fever, her cheeks flushed +and burning. She stretched out her hands +toward the flowers, and said, "White ones! +give me white ones, Lady! Red ones +is hot! Minnie is too hot. White ones +is cold."</p> + +<p>A nurse stood beside the crib, and Hildegarde +looked to her for permission, then +filled the little hands with sweet alyssum +and white roses.</p> + +<p>"The roses were all covered with dew +when I picked them," she said softly. "See, +dear, they are still cool and fresh." And she +laid them against the burning cheek. "There +was a great bed of roses in a lovely garden, +and while I was at one end of it, a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +humming-bird came to the other, and hovered +about, and put his bill into the flowers. His +head was bright green, like the leaves, and +his throat was ruby-red, and—"</p> + +<p>"Guess that's a lie, ain't it?" asked the +child, wearily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, smiling. "It +is all true, every word. When you are +better, I will send you a picture of a humming-bird."</p> + +<p>She nodded kindly, and moved on, to give +red roses to a bright little tot in a red flannel +dressing-gown, who was sitting up in bed, +nursing a rubber elephant. He took the +roses and said, "Sanks!" very politely, then +held them to his pet's gray proboscis. "I's +better," he explained, with some condescension. +"I don't need 'em, but Nelephant +doos. He's a severe case. Doctor said so +vis mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Hildegarde, sympatheti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>cally. +"I am very sorry. What is the +matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"Mumps 'n' ague 'n' brown kitties 'n' +ammonia 'n' fits!" was the prompt reply; +"and a hole in his leg too! Feel his +pult!"</p> + +<p>He held up a gray leg, which Hildegarde +examined gravely. "It seems to be hollow," +she said. "Did the doctor think that +was a bad sign?"</p> + +<p>"It's fits," said the child, "or a brown +kitty,—I don't know which. Is you a +nurse?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear," said Hildegarde; "I only +came to bring the flowers. I must go away +soon, but I shall think of you and the elephant, +and I hope he will be better soon."</p> + +<p>"Sing!" was the unexpected reply, in a +tone of positive command.</p> + +<p>"Benny!" said Mrs. Murray, who came +up at this moment; "you mustn't tease the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +young lady, dear. See! the other children +are waiting for their flowers, and you have +these lovely roses."</p> + +<p>"She looks singy!" persisted Benny. "I +wants her to sing. Doctor said I could have +what I wanted, and I wants <i>vat</i>."</p> + +<p>"May I sing to him?" asked Hildegarde, +in a low tone. "I can sing a little, if it +would not disturb the others."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Murray thought the others would +like it very much. So Hildegarde first gave +posies to all the other children in the room, +and then came back and sat down on Benny's +bed, and sang, "Up the airy mountain," in a +very sweet, clear voice. Several little ones +had been tossing about in feverish restlessness, +but now they lay still and listened; and +when the song was over, a hoarse voice from +a corner of the room cried, "More! more +sing!"</p> + +<p>"She's <i>my</i> more! she isn't your more!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +cried Benny, sitting erect, with flashing +eyes that glared across the room at the offender. +But a soft hand held a cup of +milk to his lips, and laid him back on +the pillow; and the nurse motioned to +Hildegarde to go on.</p> + +<p>Then she sang, "Ring, ting! I wish I were +a primrose;" and then another of dear William +Allingham's, which had been her own +pet song when she was Benny's age.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Summer is far and far away yet.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You'll get silken coats and a velvet bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And a pillow of satin for your head.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">No rain comes through, though I hear it fall</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And I sing and wing away, away.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Diamond stones, and amber and jet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I'll string in a necklace fair and fine,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To please this pretty bird of mine.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Oh, thanks for diamonds and thanks for jet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But here is something daintier yet.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A feather necklace round and round,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That I would not sell for a thousand pound.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Oh, birdie, birdie, won't you, pet?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I'll buy you a dish of silver fret;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A golden cup and an ivory seat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And carpets soft beneath your feet.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Can running water be drunk from gold?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Can a silver dish the forest hold?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A rocking twig is the finest chair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And the softest paths lie through the air.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Farewell, farewell to my lady fair!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>By the time the song was finished, Benny +was sleeping quietly, and the nurse thanked +Hildegarde for "getting him off so cleverly. +He needed a nap," she said; "and if he +thinks we want him to go to sleep, he sets +all his little strength against it. He's getting +better, the lamb!"</p> + +<p>"What has been the matter?" asked +Hildegarde.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pneumonia," was the reply. "He has +come out of it very well, but I dread the +day when he must go home to a busy, careless +mother and a draughty cottage. He +ought to have a couple of weeks in the +country."</p> + +<p>At this moment the head nurse—a tall, +slender woman with a beautiful face—came +from an inner room, the door of which had +been standing ajar. She held out her hand +to Hildegarde, and the girl saw that her eyes +were full of tears. "Thank you," she said, +"for the song. Another little bird has just +flown away from earth, and he went smiling, +when he heard you sing. Have you any +sweet little flowers, pink and white?"</p> + +<p>The quick tears sprang to Hilda's eyes. +She could not speak for a moment, but she +lifted some lovely sprays of blush rosebuds, +which the nurse took with a smile and a look +of thanks. The girl's eyes followed her; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +before the door closed she caught a glimpse +of a little still form, and a cloud of fair curls, +and a tiny waxen hand. Hildegarde buried +her face in her hands and sobbed; while +Benny's gentle nurse smoothed her hair, and +spoke softly and soothingly. This was what +she had called a "frolic,"—this! She had +laughed, and come away as if to some gay +party, and now a little child had died almost +close beside her. Hildegarde had never been +so near death before. The world seemed +very dark to her, as she turned away, and +followed Mrs. Murray into another room, +where the convalescent children were at +play. Here, as she took the remaining +flowers from the box, little boys and girls +came crowding about her, some on crutches, +some with slings and bandages, some only +pale and hollow-eyed; but all had a look of +"getting well," and all were eager for the +flowers. The easiest thing seemed to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +to sit down on the floor; so down plumped +Hildegarde, and down plumped the children +beside her. Looking into the little pallid +faces, her heart grew lighter, though even +this was sad enough. But she smiled, and +pelted the children with bouquets; and then +followed much feeble laughter, and clutching, +and tumbling about, while the good matron +looked on well pleased.</p> + +<p>"What's them?" asked one tiny boy, +holding up his bunch.</p> + +<p>"Those are pansies!" answered Hildegarde. +"There are little faces in them, do +you see? They smile when the sun shines, +and when children are good."</p> + +<p>"Nein," said a small voice from the outside +of the circle, "dat iss Stiefmütterlein!"</p> + +<p>"Du Blümlein fein!" cried Hildegarde. +"Yes, to be sure. Come here, little German +boy, and we will tell the others about the +pretty German name."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 268px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.png" width="268" height="400" alt=""SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."" title=""SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."" /> +<span class="caption">"SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>A roly-poly lad of six, with flaxen hair and +bright blue eyes, came forward shyly, and +after some persuasion was induced to sit +down in Hildegarde's lap. "See now!" she +said to the others; "this pansy has a different +name in Germany, where this boy—"</p> + +<p>"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin, +nestling closer to the wonderful Fräulein who +knew German.</p> + +<p>"Where Fritzerl came from. There they +call it 'Stiefmütterlein,' which means 'little +stepmother.' Shall I tell you why? See! +In front here are three petals just alike, with +the same colors and the same marking. These +are the stepmother and her own two daughters; +and here, behind, are the two step-daughters, +standing in the background, but +keeping close together like loving sisters. I +hope the little stepmother is kind to them, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I've got one!" piped up a little girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +with a crutch. "She's real good, she is. +Only she washes my face 'most all day long, +'cause she's 'feared she won't do her duty +by me. She brought me red jelly yesterday, +and a noil-cloth bib, so's I wouldn't +spill it on my dress. My dress 's new!" +she added, edging up to Hildegarde, and +holding up a red merino skirt with orange +spots.</p> + +<p>"I see it is," said Hilda, admiringly; +"and so bright and warm, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a grandma to home!" cried +another shrill voice. "She makes splendid +mittens! She makes cookies too."</p> + +<p>"My Uncle Jim's got a wooden leg!" +chimed in another. "He got it falling off +a mast. He kin drive tacks with it, he +kin. When I'm big I'm going to fall off +a mast and git a wooden leg. You kin +make lots o' noise with it."</p> + +<p>"My grandma's got a wig!" said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +former speaker, in triumph. "I pulled it +off one day. She was just like an aig on +top. Are you like an aig on top?"</p> + +<p>Here followed a gentle pull at one of +Hildegarde's smooth braids, and she sprang +up, feeling quite sure that her hair would +stay on, but not caring to have it tumbling +on her shoulders. "I think it is nearly +time for me to go now," she was beginning, +when she heard a tiny sob, and looking +down, saw a very small creature looking +up at her with round blue eyes full of +tears. "Why, darling, what is the matter?" +she asked, stooping, and lifting the +baby in her strong young arms.</p> + +<p>"I—wanted—" Here came another sob.</p> + +<p>"What did you want? Come, we'll sit +here by the window, and you shall tell me +all about it."</p> + +<p>"Ze uzzers told you sings, and—I—wanted—to +tell you sings—too!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, pet!" said Hildegarde, drying the +tears, and kissing the round velvet cheek, +"tell me then!"</p> + +<p>"Ain't got no—sings—to tell!" And +another outburst threatened; but Hilda intervened +hastily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I am sure you have things to +tell, lots of things; only you couldn't think +of them for a minute. What did you have +for breakfast this morning?"</p> + +<p>Baby looked doubtful. "Dat ain't a +sing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," said Hildegarde, boldly. +"Come, now! I had a mutton chop. What +did you have?"</p> + +<p>"Beef tea," was the reply, with a +brightening look of retrospective cheer, +"and toasty strips!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>, how good!" cried Hilda. "I wish +I had some. And what are you going to +have for dinner?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Woast tsicken!" and here at last came +a smile, which broadened into a laugh and +ended in a chuckle, as Hilda performed a +pantomime expressing rapture.</p> + +<p>"I never heard of anything so good!" +she cried. "And what are you going to +eat it with,—two little sticks?"</p> + +<p>"No-o!" cried Baby, with a disdainful +laugh. "Wiz a worky, a weal worky."</p> + +<p>"A walk!" said Hildegarde, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Es!" said Baby, proudly. "A atta +worky, dess like people's!"</p> + +<p>"Please, he means fork!" said a little +girl, sidling up with a finger in her mouth. +"Please, he's my brother, and we've both +had tripod fever; and we're going home +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And the young lady must go home +now," said Mrs. Murray, laying a kind +hand on the little one's shoulder. "The +man has come for you, Miss Grahame, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +I don't know how to thank you enough for +all the pleasure you have given these dear +children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried Hildegarde. "Please +don't! It is I who must thank you and the +children and all. I wish Rose—I wish my +friend had come. She would have known; +she would have said just the right thing to +each one. Next time I shall bring her."</p> + +<p>But "Nein! Müssen selbst kommen!" +cried Fritzerl; and "You come, Lady!" +shouted all the others. And as Hildegarde +passed back through the long room where +the sick children lay, Benny woke from +his nap, and shouted, "Sing-girl! <i>my</i> sing-girl! +come back soon!"</p> + +<p>So, half laughing and half crying, Hildegarde +passed out, her heart very full of +painful pleasure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.</h3> + + +<p>Rose was wonderfully better. Every day +in the clear, bracing air of Bywood seemed +to bring fresh vigor to her frame, fresh color +to her cheeks. She began to take regular +walks, instead of strolling a little way, leaning +on her friend's stronger arm. Together the +girls explored all the pleasant places of the +neighborhood, which were many; hunted for +rare ferns, with tin plant-boxes hanging from +their belts, or stalked the lonely cardinal-flower, +as it nodded over some woodland +brook. Often they took the little boat, and +made long expeditions down the pleasant +river,—Hildegarde rowing, Rose couched at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +her ease in the stern. Once they came to +the mouth of a stream which they pleased +themselves by imagining to be unknown to +mankind. Dipping the oars gently, Hildegarde +drew the boat on and on, between +high, dark banks of hemlock and pine and +white birch. Here were cardinal-flowers, +more than they had ever seen before, rank +behind rank, all crowding down to the water's +edge to see their beauty mirrored in the +clear, dark stream. They were too beautiful +to pick. But Hildegarde took just one, as a +memento, and even for that one the spirit of +the enchanted place seemed to be angered; +for there was a flash of white barred wings, a +loud shrill cry, and they caught the gleam of +two fierce black eyes, as something whirred +past them across the stream, and vanished +in the woods beyond.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. +"Have we done a dreadful thing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Only a kingfisher!" said Rose, laughing. +"But I don't believe we ought to have picked +his flower. This is certainly a fairy place! +Move on, or he may cast a spell over us, and +we shall turn into two black stones."</p> + +<p>One day, however, they had a stranger +adventure than that of the Halcyon Stream, +as they named the mysterious brook. They +had been walking in the woods; and Rose, +being tired, had stopped to rest, while Hildegarde +pursued a "yellow swallow-tail" among +the trees. Rose established herself on the +trunk of a fallen tree, whose upturned roots +made a most comfortable armchair, all tapestried +with emerald moss. She looked about +her with great content; counted the different +kinds of moss growing within immediate +reach, and found six; tried to decide +which was the prettiest, and finding this impossible, +gave it up, and fell to watching the +play of the sunshine as it came twinkling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +through the branches of oak and pine. Green +and gold!—those were the colors the fairy +princes always wore, she thought. It was +the most perfect combination in the world; +and she hummed a verse of one of Hildegarde's +ballads:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Gold and green, gold and green,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">She was the lass that was born a queen.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Velvet sleeves to her grass-green gown,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And clinks o' gold in her hair so brown."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Presently the girl noticed that in one place +the trees were thinner, and that the light +came strongly through, as from an open +space beyond. Did the wood end here, +then? She rose, and parting the leaves, +moved forward, till all of a sudden she +stopped short, in amazement. For something +strange was before her. In an open green +space, with the forest all about it, stood a +house,—not a deserted house, nor a tumbledown +log-hut, such as one often sees in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +Maine, but a trim, pretty cottage, painted +dark red, with a vine-covered piazza, and a +miniature lawn, smooth and green, sloping +down to a fringe of willows, beyond which +was heard the murmur of an unseen brook. +The shutters were closed, and there was no +sign of life about the place, yet all was in +perfect order; all looked fresh and well +cared for, as if the occupants had gone for +a walk or drive, and might return at any +moment. A drive? Hark! was not that +the sound of wheels, even at this moment, on +the neat gravel-path? Rose drew back instinctively, +letting the branches close in front +of her. Yet, she thought, there could be no +harm in her peeping just for a moment, to +see who these forest-dwellers might be. A +fairy prince? a queenly maiden in gold and +green? Laughing at her own thoughts, she +leaned forward to peep through the leafy +screen. What was her astonishment when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +round the corner came the familiar head of +Dr. Abernethy, with the carryall behind him, +Jeremiah driving, and Miss Wealthy sitting +on the back seat! Rose could not believe her +eyes at first, and thought she must be asleep +on the tree-trunk, and dreaming it all. Her +second thought was, why should not Miss +Bond know the people of the house? They +were her neighbors; she had come to make a +friendly call. There was nothing strange +about it. No! but it <i>was</i> strange to see the +old lady, after mounting the steps slowly, +draw a key from her pocket, deliberately +open the door, and enter the house, closing +the door after her. Jeremiah drove slowly +round to the back of the house. In a few +moments the shutters of the lower rooms +were flung back. Miss Wealthy stood at +the window for a few minutes, gazing out +thoughtfully; then she disappeared.</p> + +<p>Rose was beginning to feel very guilty, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +if she had seen what she ought not to see. +A sense of sadness, of mystery, weighed +heavily on her sensitive spirit. Very quietly +she stole back to her tree-trunk, and +was presently joined by Hildegarde, flushed +and radiant, with the butterfly safe in her +plant-box, a quick and merciful pinch having +converted him into a "specimen" before he +fairly knew that he was caught. Rose told +her tale, and Hildegarde wondered, and in +her turn went to look at the mysterious +house.</p> + +<p>"How <i>very</i> strange!" she said, returning. +"I hardly know why it is so strange, for of +course there might be all kinds of things to +account for it. It may be the house of some +one who has gone away and asked Cousin +Wealthy to come and look at it occasionally. +The people <i>may</i> be in it, and like to have the +blinds all shut. And yet—yet, I don't believe +it is so. I feel strange!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come away!" said Rose, rising. "Come +home; it is a secret, and not our secret."</p> + +<p>And home they went, very silent, and +forgetting to look for maiden-hair, which +they had come specially to seek.</p> + +<p>But girls are girls; and Hildegarde and +Rose could not keep their thoughts from +dwelling on the house in the wood. After +some consultation, they decided that there +would be no harm in asking Martha about +it. If she put them off, or seemed unwilling +to speak, then they would try to forget what +they had seen, and keep away from that part +of the woods; if not—</p> + +<p>So it happened that the next day, while +Miss Wealthy was taking her after-dinner +nap, the two girls presented themselves at +the door of Martha's little sewing-room, where +she sat with her sleeves rolled up, hemming +pillow-cases. It was a sunny little room, +with a pleasant smell of pennyroyal about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +There was a little mahogany table that might +have done duty as a looking-glass, and indeed +did reflect the wonderful bouquet of wax +flowers that adorned it; a hair-cloth rocking-chair, +and a comfortable wooden one with a +delightful creak, without which Martha would +not have felt at home. On the walls were +some bright prints, and a framed temperance +pledge (Martha had never tasted anything +stronger than shrub, and considered that +rather a dangerous stimulant); and the Deathbed +of Lincoln, with a wooden Washington +diving out of stony clouds to receive the +departing spirit.</p> + +<p>"May we come in, Martha?" asked Hildegarde. +"We have brought our work, and +we want to ask you about something."</p> + +<p>"Come in, and welcome!" responded Martha. +"Glad to see you,—if you can make +yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get +another chair from—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, indeed, you will not!" said Hildegarde. +"Rose shall sit in this rocking-chair, +and I will take the window-seat, which is +better than anything else; so, there we are, +all settled! Now, Martha—" She hesitated +a moment, and Rose shrank back and made a +little deprecatory movement with her hand; +but Hildegarde was not to be stopped. +"Martha, we have seen the house in the +wood. We just happened on it by chance, +and we saw—we saw Cousin Wealthy go +in. And we want to know if you can tell +us about it, or if Cousin Wealthy would not +like us to be told. You will know, of +course."</p> + +<p>She paused. A shadow had crossed Martha's +cheerful, wise face; and she sighed and +stitched away in silence at her pillow-case +for some minutes, while the girls waited with +outward patience. At last, "I don't know +why I shouldn't tell you, young ladies," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +said slowly. "It's no harm, and no secret; +only, of course, you wouldn't speak of it to +her, poor dear!"</p> + +<p>She was silent again, collecting her words; +for she was slow of speech, this good Martha. +"That house," she said at last, "belongs to +Miss Bond. It was built just fifty years ago +by the young man she was going to marry." +Hildegarde drew in her breath quickly, with +a low cry of surprise, but made no further +interruption.</p> + +<p>"He was a fine young gentleman, I've +been told by all as had seen him; tall and +handsome, with a kind of foreign way with +him, very taking. He was brought up in +France, and almost as soon as he came out +here (his people were from Castine, and +had French blood) he met Miss Bond, and +they fell in love with each other at sight, as +they say. She lived here in this same house +with her father (her mother was dead), and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +she was as sweet as a June rose, and a picture +to look at. Ah! dear me, dear me! Poor +lamb! I never saw her then. I was a baby, +as you may say; leastwise a child of three +or four.</p> + +<p>"Old Mary told me all about it when first +I came,—old Mary was housekeeper here +forty years, and died ten year ago. Well, +she used to say it was a picture to see Miss +Wealthy when she was expecting Mr. La Rose +(Victor La Rose was his name). She would +put on a white gown, with a bunch of pansies +in the front of it; they were his favorite +flowers, Mary said, and he used to call her +his Pansy, which means something in French, +I don't rightly know what; and then she +would come out on the lawn, and look and +look down river. Most times he came up in +his sail-boat,—he loved the water, and was +more at home on it than on land, as you may +say. And when she saw the white boat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +coming round the bend, she would flush all +up, old Mary said, like one of them damask +roses in your belt, Miss Hilda; and her eyes +would shine and sparkle, and she'd clap her +hands like a child, and run down to the wharf +to meet him. Standing there, with her lovely +hair blowing about in the wind, she would +look more like a spirit, Mary would say, +than a mortal person. Then when the boat +touched the wharf, she would hold out her +little hands to help him up; and he, so strong +and tall, was glad to be helped, just to touch +her hand. And so they would come up to +the house together, holding of hands, like +two happy children. And full of play they +was, tossing flowers about and singing and +laughing, all for the joy of being together, +as you may say; and she always with a pansy +for his button-hole the first thing; and he +looking down so proud and loving while she +fastened it in. And most times he'd bring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +her something,—a box of chocolate, or a +new book, or whatever it was,—but old Mary +thought she was best pleased when he came +with nothing but himself. And both of them +that loving and care-taking to the old gentleman, +as one don't often see in young folks +courting; making him sit with them on the +piazza after tea, and the young man telling +all he'd seen and done since the last time; +and then she would take her guitar and sing +the sweetest, old Mary said, that ever was +sung out of heaven. Then by and by old +Mr. Bond would go away in to his book, and +they would sit and talk, or walk in the moonlight, +or perhaps go out on the water. She +was a great hand for the water, Mary said; +and never's been on it since that time. Not +that it's to wonder at, to my mind. Ah, +dear me!</p> + +<p>"Well, my dears, they was to be married +in the early fall, as it might be September.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +He had built that pretty house, so as she +needn't be far from her father, who was +getting on in years, and she his only child. +He furnished it beautiful, every room like a +best parlor,—carpets and sofys and lace +curt'ins,—there was nothing too good. But +her own room was all pansies,—everything +made to order, with that pattern and nothing +else. It's a sight to see to-day, fifty years +since 't was all fresh and new.</p> + +<p>"One day—my dear young ladies, the +ways of the Lord are very strange by times, +but we must truly think that they <i>are</i> his +ways, and so better than ours,—one day +Miss Wealthy was looking for her sweetheart +at the usual time of his coming, about three +o'clock in the afternoon. The morning had +been fine, but the weather seemed to be +coming up bad, Mary thought; and old Mr. +Bond thought so, too, for he came out on the +piazza where Mary was sorting out garden-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>herbs, +and said, 'Daughter, I think Victor +will drive to-day. There is a squall coming +up; it isn't a good day for the water.'</p> + +<p>"And it wasn't, Mary said; for an ugly +black cloud was coming over, and under it +the sky looked green and angry.</p> + +<p>"But Miss Wealthy only laughed, and +shook her yellow curls back,—like curling +sunbeams, Mary said they was, and said, +'Victor doesn't mind squalls, Father dear. +He has been in gales and hurricanes and +cyclones, and do you think he will stop for +a river flaw? See! there is the boat now, +coming round the bend.' And there, sure +enough, came the white sailboat, flying along +as if she was alive, old Mary said. Miss +Wealthy ran out on the lawn and waved +her handkerchief, and they saw the young +man stand up in the boat and wave his in +return. And then—oh, dear! oh, dear me!—Mary +said, it seemed as if something black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +came rushing across the water and struck +the boat like a hand; and down she went, +and in a moment there was nothing to see, +only the water all black and hissing, and the +wind tearing the tree-tops."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but he could swim!" cried Hildegarde, +pale and breathless.</p> + +<p>"He was a noble swimmer, my dear!" said +Martha, sadly. "But it came too sudden, you +see. He had turned to look at his sweetheart, +poor young gentleman, and wave to +her, and in that moment it came. He hadn't +time to clear himself, and was tangled in the +ropes, and held down by the sail. Oh, don't +ask me any more! But he was drowned, +that is all of it. Death needs only a moment, +and has that moment always ready. +Eh, dear! My poor, sweet lady!"</p> + +<p>There was a pause; for Rose was weeping, +and Hildegarde could not speak, though her +eyes were dry and shining.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Presently Martha continued: "The poor +dear fell back into her father's arms, and he +and Mary carried her into the house; and then +came a long, sad time. For days and days +they couldn't make her believe but that he +was saved, for she knew he was a fine swimmer; +but at last, when all was over, and the +body found and buried, they brought her a +little box that they found in his pocket, all +soaked with water,—oh, dear!—and in it +was that pin,—the stone pansy, as she always +wears, and will till the day she dies. Then +she knew, and she lay back in her bed, and +they thought she would never leave it. But +folks don't often die that way, Miss Hilda +and Miss Rose. Trouble is for us to live +through, not to die by; and she got well, and +comforted her father, and by and by she +learned how to smile again, though that was +not for a long time. The poor gentleman +had made a will, giving the new house to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +her, and all he had; for he had no near +kin living. Mr. Bond wanted her to sell it; +but, oh! she wouldn't hear to it. All these +years—fifty long years, Miss Hilda!—she +has kept that house in apple-pie order. Once a +month I go over, as old Mary did before me, +and sweep it from top to bottom, and wash +the windows. And three times a week she—Miss +Bond—goes over herself, as you +saw her to-day, and sits an hour or so, and +puts fresh pansies in the vases; and Jeremiah +keeps the lawn mowed, odd times, and everything +in good shape. It's a strange fancy, +to my idea; but there! it's her pleasure. In +winter, when she can't go, of course, for the +snow, she is always low-spirited, poor lady! +I was <i>so</i> glad Mrs. Grahame asked her to go +to New York last winter!</p> + +<p>"And now, young ladies," said Martha, +gathering up her pillow-cases, "I should +be in my kitchen, seeing about supper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +That is all the story of the house in the +wood. And you'll not let it make you too +sad, seeing 't was the Lord's doing; and to +look at her now, you'd never think but +what her life had been of her own choosing, +and she couldn't have had any other."</p> + +<p>Very quietly and sadly the girls went to +their rooms, and sat hand in hand, and +talked in whispers of what they had heard. +The brightness of the day seemed gone; +they could hardly bear the pain of sympathy, +of tender pity, that filled their +young hearts. They could not understand +how there could ever be rallying from +such a blow. They knew nothing of how +long passing years turn bitter to sweet, and +build a lovely "House of Rest" over what +was once a black gulf of anguish and horror.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy's cheerful face, when they +went down to tea, struck them with a +shock; they had almost expected to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +it pale and tear-stained, and could hardly +command their usual voices in speaking to +her. The good lady was quite distressed. +"My dear Rose," she said, "you look very +pale and tired. I am quite sure you must +have walked too far to-day. You would +better go to bed very early, my dear, and +Martha shall give you a hop pillow. Very +soothing a hop pillow is, when one is tired. +And, Hilda, you are not in your usual spirits. +I trust you are not homesick, my child! +You have not touched your favorite cream-cheese."</p> + +<p>Both girls reassured her, feeling rather +ashamed of themselves; and after tea Hildegarde +read "Bleak House" aloud, and then +they had a game of casino, and the evening +passed off quite cheerfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>"UP IN THE MORNING EARLY."</h3> + + +<p>"One! two! three! four! five! six!" +said the clock in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it!" replied Hildegarde, +sitting up in bed; and then she slipped +quietly out and went to call Rose.</p> + +<p>"Get up, you sleepy flower!" she said, +shaking her friend gently,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"À l'heure où s'éveille la rose,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ne vas-tu pas te réveiller?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Rose sighed, as she always did at the +sound of the "impossible language," as she +called the French, over which she struggled +for an hour every day; but got up obedi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>ently, +and made a hasty and fragmentary +toilet, ending with a waterproof instead of +a dress. Then each girl took a blue bundle +and a brown bath towel, and softly they +slipped downstairs, making no noise, and +out into the morning air, and away down +the path to the river. Every blade of grass +was awake, and a-quiver with the dewdrop +on its tip; the trees showered pearls and +diamonds on the two girls, as they brushed +past them; the birds were singing and +fluttering and twittering on every branch, +as if the whole world belonged to them, as +indeed it did. On the river lay a mantle +of soft white mist, curling at the edges, and +lifting here and there; and into this mist +the sun was striking gold arrows, turning +the white to silver, and breaking through it +to meet the blue flash of the water. Gradually +the mist rose, and floated in the air; +and now it was a maiden, a young Titaness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +rising from her sleep, with trailing white robes, +which caught on the trees and the points +of rock, and hung in fleecy tatters on the +hillside, and curled in snowy circles through +the coves and hollows. At last she laid her +long white arms over the hill-tops, and lifted +her fair head, and so melted quite away and +was gone, and the sun had it all his own +way.</p> + +<p>Then Hildegarde and Rose, who had +been standing in silent delight and wonder, +gave each a sigh of pleasure, and hugged +each other a little, because it was so +beautiful, and went into the boat-house. +Thence they reappeared in a few minutes, +clad in close-fitting raiment of blue flannel, +their arms bare, their hair knotted in Gothic +fashion on top of their heads. Then Hildegarde +stood on the edge of the wharf, and +rose on the tips of her toes, and joined her +palms high above her head, then sprang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +into the air, describing an arc, and disappeared +with a silver splash which rivalled +that of her own sturgeon. But Rose, who +could not dive, just sat down on the wharf +and then rolled off it, in the most comfortable +way possible. When they both came +up, there was much puffing, and shaking of +heads, and little gasps and shrieks of delight. +The water by the wharf was nearly up to +the girls' shoulders, and farther than this +Rose could not go, as she could not swim; +so a rope had been stretched from the end +of the wharf to the shore, and on this she +swung, like the mermaids on the Atlantic +cable, in Tenniel's charming picture, and +floated at full length, and played a thousand +gambols. She could see the white +pebbled bottom through the clear water, +and her own feet as white as the pebbles +(Rose had very pretty feet; and now that +they were no longer useless appendages,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +she could not help liking to look at them, +though she was rather ashamed of it). Now +she swung herself near the shore, and +caught hold of the twisted roots of the +great willow that leaned over the water, +and pulled the branches down till they fell +like a green canopy over her; and now +she splashed the water about, for pure pleasure +of seeing the diamond showers as the +sunlight caught them. But Hildegarde +swam out into the middle of the river, +cleaving the blue water with long, regular +strokes; and then turned on her back, and +lay contemplating the universe with infinite +content.</p> + +<p>"You are still in the shade, you poor +Rosebud!" she cried. "See! I am right +<i>in</i> the sparkle. I can gather gold with +both hands. How many broad pieces will +you have?" She sent a shower of drops +toward the shore, which Rose returned with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +interest; and a battle-royal ensued, in which +the foam flew left and right, and the +smooth water was churned into a thousand +eddies.</p> + +<p>"I am the Plesiosaurus!" cried Hildegarde, +giving a mighty splash. "Beware! +beware! my flashing eyes, my floating +hair!"</p> + +<p>"Shade of Coleridge, forgive her!" exclaimed +Rose, dashing a return volley of +pearly spray. "And the Plesiosaurus had +no hair; otherwise, I may say I have often +observed the resemblance. Well, I am the +Ichthyosaurus! You remember the picture +in the 'Journey to the Centre of the +Earth'?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde replied by plunging toward +her, rearing her head in as serpentine a +manner as she could command; and after +a struggle the two mighty saurians went +down together in a whirlpool of frothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +waves. They came up quite out of breath, +and sat laughing and panting on the willow +root, which in one place curved out in such +a way as to make a charming seat.</p> + +<p>"Look at Grandfather Bullfrog!" said +Rose. "He is shocked at our behavior. +We are big enough to know better, aren't +we, sir?" She addressed with deep respect +an enormous brown bullfrog, who had come +up to see what was the matter, and who +sat on a stone surveying the pair with a +look of indignant amazement.</p> + +<p>"Coax! coax! Brek-ke-ke-kex!" cried +Hildegarde. "That is the only sentence of +frog-talk I know. It is in a story of Hans +Andersen's. Do you see, Rose? He understands; +he winked in a most expressive +manner. Whom did you get for a wife, +when you found Tommelise had run away +from you; and what became of the white +butterfly?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bullfrog evidently resented this inquiry +into his most private affairs, and disappeared +with an indignant "Glump!"</p> + +<p>"Now you shall see me perform the +great Nose and Toe Act!" said Hildegarde, +jumping from the seat and swimming to the +end of the wharf. "I promised to show +it to you, you remember." She seized +the great toe of her left foot with the +right hand, and grasping her nose with +the left, threw herself backward into the +water.</p> + +<p>Rose waited in breathless suspense for +what seemed an interminable time; but at +length there was a glimmer under the water, +then a break, and up came the dauntless +diver, gasping but triumphant, still grasping +the nose and toe.</p> + +<p>"I didn't—let go!" she panted. "I +didn't—half—think I could do it, it is so +long since I tried."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought you would never come up +again!" cried Rose. "It is a dreadful thing +to do. You might as well be the Great +Northern Diver at once. Are you sure +there isn't a web growing between your +toes?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is nothing!" said Hildegarde, +laughing. "You should see Papa turn back +somersaults in the water. <i>That</i> is worth seeing! +Look!" she added, a moment after, +"there is a log floating down. I wonder if +I can walk on it." She swam to the log, +which was coming lazily along with the +current; tried to climb on it, and rolled +over with it promptly, to Rose's great delight. +But, nothing daunted, she tried +again and yet again, and finally succeeded +in standing up on the log, holding out her +arms to balance herself. A pretty picture +she made,—lithe and slender as a reed, +her fair face all aglow with life and merri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>ment, +and the sunshine all round her. +"See!" she cried, "I am Taglioni, the +queen of the ballet. I had—a—<i>oh!</i> I +<i>nearly</i> went over that time—I had a paper-doll +once, named Taglioni. She was truly—lovely! +You stood her on a piece of wood—just +like this; only there was a crack which +held her toes, and this has no crack. Now +I will perform the Grand Pas de Fée! La-la-tra-la—if +I can only get to this end, +now! Rose, I forbid you to laugh. You +shake the log with your empty mirth. La-la-la—" +Here the log, which had its +own views, turned quietly over, and the +queen of the ballet disappeared with a loud +splash, while Rose laughed till she nearly +lost hold of her rope.</p> + +<p>But now the water-frolic had lasted long +enough, and it was nearly breakfast-time. +Very reluctantly the girls left the cool delight +of the water, and shaking themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +like two Newfoundland dogs, ran into the +boat-house, with many exclamations over +the good time they had had.</p> + +<p>At breakfast they found Miss Wealthy +looking a little troubled over a note which +she had just received by mail. It was from +Mrs. Murray, the matron of the Children's +Hospital.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would read it to me, Hilda +dear!" she said. "I cannot make it out +very well. Mrs. Murray's hand is very illegible, +or it may be partly because I have not +my reading-glasses." So Hilda read as +follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Bond</span>,—Is there any one in your neighborhood +who would take a child to board for a few +weeks? Little Benny May, a boy of four years, very +bright and attractive, is having a slow recovery from +pneumonia, and has had one relapse. I dare not send +him home, where he would be neglected by a very careless +mother; nor can we keep him longer here. I +thought you might possibly know of some good, +motherly woman, who would take the little fellow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +and let him run about in the sunshine and drink milk, +for that is what he needs.</p> + +<p>With kind regards to your niece, whom I hope we +shall see again,</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Always sincerely yours,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Murray.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Miss Wealthy listened attentively, and +shook her head; buttered a muffin, stirred +her tea a little, and shook her head again. +"I can't think," she said slowly and meditatively, +"of a soul. I really—" But +here she was interrupted, though not by +words. For Hildegarde and Rose had been +exchanging a whole battery of nods and +smiles and kindling glances; and now the +former sprang from her seat, and came and +knelt by Miss Wealthy's chair, and looked +up in her face with mute but eloquent +appeal.</p> + +<p>"My dear!" said the old lady. "What is +it? what do you want? Isn't the egg perfectly +fresh? I will call—" But Hilde<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>garde +stayed her hand as it moved toward +the bell.</p> + +<p>"I want Benny!" she murmured, in low +and persuasive tones, caressing the soft +withered hand she had taken.</p> + +<p>"A penny!" cried Miss Wealthy. "My +<i>dear</i> child, certainly! Any small amount I +will most gladly give you; though, dear +Hilda, you are rather old, perhaps,—at least +your mother might think so,—to—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, how <i>can</i> you?" +cried Hildegarde, springing up, and turning +scarlet, though she could not help laughing. +"I didn't say <i>penny</i>, I said <i>Benny!</i> I want +the little boy! Rose and I both want him, +to take care of. Mayn't we have him, +<i>please?</i> We may not be motherly, but we +are very sisterly,—at least Rose is, and +I know I could learn,—and we would take +such good care of him, and we <i>do</i> want +him so!" She paused for breath; and Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +Wealthy leaned back in her chair, and +looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>"A child! here!" she said; and she looked +round the room, as if she rather expected the +pictures to fall from the walls at the bare +idea. In this survey she perceived that one +picture hung slightly askew. She sighed, +and made a motion to rise; but Hildegarde +flew to straighten the refractory frame, and +then returned to the charge.</p> + +<p>"He is very small!" she said meekly. "He +could sleep in my room, and we would wash +and dress him and keep him quiet <i>all</i> the +time."</p> + +<p>"A child!" repeated Miss Wealthy, speaking +as if half in a dream; "a little child, +here!" Then she smiled a little, and then the +tears filled her soft blue eyes, and she gave +something like a sob. "I don't know what +Martha would say!" she cried. "It might +disturb Martha; otherwise—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Martha was at her elbow, and laid a +quiet hand on her mistress's arm. "Sure +we would all like it, Mam!" she said +in her soothing, even tones. "'T would +be like a sunbeam in the house, so it +would. You'd better let the child come, +Mam!"</p> + +<p>So it was settled; and the very next day +Hildegarde and Rose, escorted by Jeremiah, +went to Fairtown, and returned in triumph, +bringing little Benny with them.</p> + +<p>Benny's eyes were naturally well opened, +but by the time he reached the house they +were staring very wide indeed. He held +Hildegarde's hand very tight, and looked +earnestly up at the vine-clad walls of the +cottage. "Don't want to go in vere!" he +said, hanging back, and putting his finger +in his mouth. "Want to go back!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said Hildegarde. "You do +want to come in here, Benny. That is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +what we have come for, you know. I +am going to show you all sorts of pretty +things,—picture-books, and shells, and a +black kitty—"</p> + +<p>But here she had touched a string that +wakened a train of reflection in Benny's +mind; his lip began to quiver. "Want—my—Nelephant!" +he said piteously. "He's +lef' alone—wiv fits. Want to go back to +my Nelephant." An ominous sniff followed; +an outbreak of tears was imminent.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde caught him up in her arms +and ran off toward the garden. She could +<i>not</i> have him cry, she thought, just at the +first moment. Cousin Wealthy would be +upset, and might never get rid of the first +impression. It would spoil everything! The +little fellow was already sobbing on her +shoulder, and as she ran she began hastily +to repeat the first thing that came into her +mind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The trumpeter Gadfly has summoned the crew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And the revels are now only waiting for you!</span><br /> +<br /> +"On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">See the children of earth and the tenants of air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For an evening's amusement together repair."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The sobs had ceased, and Hildegarde +paused for breath; but the arm tightened +round her neck, and the baby voice, still +tearful, cried, "Sing! Sing-girl want to +sing!"</p> + +<p>"Oh me!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. +"You little Old Man of the Sea, how can +I run and sing too?" She sat down under +the laburnum-tree, and taking the two tiny +hands in hers, began to pat them together, +while she went on with the "Butterfly's +Ball," singing it now to the tune of a certain +hornpipe, which fitted it to perfection. She +had not heard the verses since she was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +little girl, but she could never forget the +delight of her childhood.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.</span><br /> +<br /> +"And there came the Moth—"<br /> +</div> + +<p>At this moment came something else, +more welcome than the moth would have +been; for Rose appeared, bearing a mug in +one hand, and in the other—what?</p> + +<p>"Cow!" cried Benny, sitting upright, and +stretching out both arms in rapture. "<i>My</i> +cow! mine! all mine!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your cow, dear, for now!" said +Rose, setting the treasure down on the +table. "Look, Benny! she is such a good +cow! She is going to give you some milk,—nice, +fresh milk!"</p> + +<p>The brown crockery cow was indeed a +milk-jug; and Benny's blue eyes and Hilde<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>garde's +gray ones opened wide in amazement +as Rose, grasping the creature's tail and tilting +her forward, poured a stream of milk from +her open mouth into the mug. The child +laughed, and clapped his hands with delight.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it?" asked Hildegarde +in a low tone, as she held the mug +to Benny's lips.</p> + +<p>"Saint Martha!" replied Rose, smiling. "It +belonged to her grandmother. She brought +it down just now, and said she had seen +many a child quieted with it, and the little +one would very likely be for crying at first, +in a strange place! Isn't it nice?"</p> + +<p>"Nice!" said Hildegarde; "I never want +to drink out of anything else but a brown cow. +Dear Martha! and observe the effect!"</p> + +<p>Indeed, Benny was laughing, and patting +the cow, and chattering to it, as if no +such thing as a gray rubber elephant had +ever existed. So fickle is childhood!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>BENNY.</h3> + + +<p>Benny took possession of his kingdom, and +ruled it with a firm, though for the most part +an indulgent hand. Miss Wealthy succumbed +from the first moment, when he advanced +boldly toward her, and laying a chubby hand +on her knee, said, "I like you. Is you' hair +made of spoons? it is all silver."</p> + +<p>Martha was his slave, and lay in wait for +him at all hours with gingerbread-men and +"cooky"-cows; while the two girls were +nurses, playmates, and teachers by turns. +Jeremiah wheeled him in the wheelbarrow, +and suffered him to kick his shins, and might +often be seen sedately at work hoeing or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +raking, with the child sitting astride on his +shoulders, and drumming with sturdy heels +against his breast. One member of the family +alone resisted the sovereign charm of childhood; +one alone held aloof in cold disdain, +refusing to touch the little hand or answer +the piping voice. That one was Samuel +Johnson. The great Doctor was deeply offended +at the introduction of this new element +into the household. He had not been +consulted; he would have nothing to do with +it! So when Miss Wealthy introduced Benny +to him the day after the child arrived, and +waited anxiously for an expression of his +opinion, the Doctor put up his great back, +expanded his tail till it looked like a revolving +street-sweeper, and uttering an angry "Fsss! +spt!" walked away in high dudgeon.</p> + +<p>Benny was delighted. "Funny old kyat!" +he cried, clapping his hands. "Say 'Fsss' +some more! Hi, ole kyat! I catch you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hildegarde caught him up in her arms as +he was about to pursue the retiring dignitary, +and Miss Wealthy looked deeply distressed.</p> + +<p>"My dears, what shall we do?" she said. +"This is very unfortunate. If I had thought +the Doctor—but the little fellow is so sweet, +I thought he would be pleased and amused. +We must try to keep them away from each +other. Or perhaps, if the little dear would +try to propitiate the Doctor,—you have no +idea how sensitive he is, and how he feels anything +like disrespect,—if he were to <i>try</i> to +propitiate him, he might—"</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Vat ole kyat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He's too fat!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>shouted Benny, stamping his feet to emphasize +the metre,—</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Vat ole kyat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He's too fat!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>He</i> ought to go</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><span class="smcap">And</span> catch a rat!"</span><br /></div><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, Benny!" said Hildegarde, hastily, +as she caught a glare from the Doctor's yellow +eyes that fairly frightened her. "Come out +with me and get some flowers." And as they +went she heard Miss Wealthy's voice addressing +the great cat in humble and deprecatory +tones. As she walked about in the garden +holding the child's hand, Hildegarde tried +to explain to him that he must be very polite +to Dr. Johnson, who was not at all a common +cat, and should be treated with great respect.</p> + +<p>But Benny's bump of reverence was small. +"Huh!" he said. "<i>I</i> isn't 'fraid of kyats, +sing-girl! You 's 'fraid, but I isn't. I had +brown kitties, only I never seed 'em. Dr. +Brown is a liar!" he added suddenly, with +startling emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Why, Benny!" cried Hildegarde. "What +do you mean? You mustn't say such things, +dear child."</p> + +<p>"He <i>is</i> a liar!" Benny maintained stoutly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +"He said ve brown kitties was in my froat. +Vey wasn't; so he's a liar. P'r'aps he's +'fraid too, but I isn't."</p> + +<p>For several days the greatest care was +taken to keep Benny out of Dr. Johnson's +way. When the imperious mew was heard +at the dining-room door after dinner, the child +was hurried through with the last spoonfuls +of his pudding, and whisked away to the +parlor before the cat was let in. Nor would +Miss Wealthy herself go into the parlor when +the Doctor had finished his dessert, till she +was sure that Benny had been taken out of +doors. Hildegarde was inclined to remonstrate +at this course of action, but Miss Wealthy +would not listen to her.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "it does not do to +trifle with a character like the Doctor's. I +tremble to think what he might do if once +thoroughly roused to anger. He is accustomed +to respect, and demands it; and we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +must remember, my dear, that even in the +domestic cat lies dormant the spirit of the +Royal Bengal Tiger. No, my dear Hildegarde, +we are responsible for this child's life, and we +must at any cost keep him out of the Doctor's +way."</p> + +<p>But fate, which rules both cats and tigers, +had ordained otherwise. One day Hildegarde +had gone out to the stable to give a message +to Jeremiah, and had left Benny playing by +the back door, where Martha had promised to +"have an eye to him" as she shelled the +peas.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 266px;"> +<img src="images/gs07.png" width="266" height="400" alt=""'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"" title=""'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"</span> +</div> + +<p>On her return, Hildegarde found that the +child had run round to the front of the house; +and she followed in that direction, led by +the sound of his voice, which resounded loud +and clear. Whom was he talking to? Hildegarde +wondered. Rose was upstairs writing +letters, and Cousin Wealthy was taking +a nap. But now the words were plainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +audible. "Dee ole kitty! Oh, <i>such</i> a dee +ole kitty! Ole fat kyat, I lubby you."</p> + +<p>Holding her breath, Hildegarde peeped +round the corner of the house. There on the +piazza, lay Dr. Johnson, fast asleep in the sunshine; +and beside him stood Benny, regarding +him with affectionate satisfaction. "I ain't +seed you for yever so long, ole fat kyat!" he +continued; "where has you been? You is +<i>so</i> fat, you make a nice pillow for Benny. +Benny go to sleep with ole fat kyat for a +pillow." And to Hildegarde's mingled horror +and amusement, the child curled himself up +on the piazza floor, and deliberately laid his +head on the broad black side of the sleeping +lexicographer. The great cat opened his +yellow eyes with a start, and turned his head +to see "what thing upon his back had got." +There was a moment of suspense. Hildegarde's +first impulse was to rush forward and +snatch the child away; her second was to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +stand perfectly still. "<i>Dee</i> ole kitty!" murmured +Benny, in dulcet tones. "P'ease don't +move! Benny <i>so</i> comfortable! Benny lubs +his sweet ole pillow-kyat! Go to s'eep again, +dee ole kitty!"</p> + +<p>The Doctor lay motionless. His eyes wandered +over the little figure, the small hands +nestled in his own thick fur, the rosy face +which smiled at him with dauntless assurance. +Who shall say what thoughts passed in that +moment through the mind of the representative +of the Royal Bengal Tiger? Presently +his muscles relaxed. His magnificent tail, +which had again expanded to thrice its natural +size, sank; he uttered a faint mew, and +the next moment a sound fell on Hildegarde's +ear, like the distant muttering of thunder, or +the roll of the surf on a far-off sea-beach. +Dr. Johnson was purring!</p> + +<p>After this all was joy. The barriers were +removed, and the child and the cat became<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +inseparable companions. Miss Wealthy beamed +with delight, and called upon the girls to +observe how, in this most remarkable animal, +intellect had triumphed over the feline nature. +She was even a little jealous, when +the Doctor forsook his hassock beside her +chair to go and play at ball with Benny; but +this was a passing feeling. All agreed, however, +that a line must be drawn somewhere; +and when Benny demanded to have his dinner +on the floor with his "sweet ole kyat," +four heads were shaken at him quite severely, +and he was told that cats were good to play +with, but not to eat with. In spite of which +Rose was horrified, the next day, to find him +crouched on all-fours, lapping from one side +of the Doctor's saucer, while he, purring +like a Sound steamer, lapped on the other.</p> + +<p>Benny did another thing one day. Oh, +Benny did another thing! Rose was teaching +him his letters in the parlor, and he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +putting them into metre, as he was apt to +put everything,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"<i>A</i>, B, <i>C</i>, D,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Fiddle</i>, diddle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Yes</i>, I see!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>And with each emphasis he jumped up and +down, as if to jolt the letters into his head.</div> + +<p>"Try to stand still, Benny dear!" said +gentle Rose.</p> + +<p>But Benny said he couldn't remember +them if he stood still. "<i>A</i>, B, <i>C</i>, D! <i>E</i>, F, +<i>jiggle</i> G!" This time he jumped backward, +and flung his arms about to illustrate the +"jiggle;" and—and he knocked over the +peacock glass vase, and it fell on the marble +hearth, and broke into fifty pieces. Oh! it +was very dreadful. Mrs. Grahame had brought +the peacock vase from Paris to Miss Wealthy, +and it was among her most cherished trifles; +shaped like a peacock, with outspread tail, +and shining with beautiful iridescent tints<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +of green and blue. Now it lay in glittering +fragments on the floor, and timid Rose felt +as if she were too wicked to live, and wished +she were back at the Farm, where there were +no vases, but only honest blue willow-ware.</p> + +<p>At this very moment the door opened, +and Miss Wealthy came in. Rose shrank back +for a moment behind the tall Japanese screen; +not to conceal herself, but to gather her +strength together for the ordeal. Her long +years of illness had left her sensitive beyond +description; and now, though she knew that +she had done nothing, and that the child +would meet only the gentlest of plaintive reproofs, +her heart was beating so hard that she +felt suffocated, her cheeks were crimson, her +eyes suffused with tears. But Benny was +equal to the emergency. His cheeks were +very red, too, and his eyes opened very wide; +but he went straight up to Miss Wealthy and +said in a clear, high-pitched voice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I've broke vat glass fing which was a +peacock. I'm sorry I broke vat glass fing +which was a peacock. I shouldn't fink you +would leave glass fings round for little boys +to hit wiv veir little hands and break vem. +You is old enough to know better van vat. +I know you is old enough, 'cause you' hair +is all spoons, and people is old when veir +hair is spoons,—I mean silver." Having +said this with unfaltering voice, the child +suddenly and without the slightest warning +burst into a loud roar, and cried and +screamed and sobbed as if his heart would +break.</p> + +<p>Rose was at his side in an instant, and +told the story of the accident. And Miss +Wealthy, after one pathetic glance at the +fragments of her favorite ornament, fell to +wiping the little fellow's eyes with her fine +cambric handkerchief, and telling him that +it was "no matter! no matter at all, dear!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +Accidents <i>will</i> happen, I suppose!" she +added, turning to Rose with a sad little +smile. "But, my dear, pray get the dust-pan +at once. The precious child might get +a piece of glass into his foot, and die of +lockjaw."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>A SURPRISE.</h3> + + +<p>It was a lovely August morning. Hildegarde +and Rose had the peas to shell for +dinner, and had established themselves under +the great elm-tree, each with a yellow bowl +and a blue-checked apron. Hildegarde was +moreover armed with a book, for she had +found out one can read and shell peas at +the same time, and some of their pleasantest +hours were passed in this way, the primary +occupation ranging from pea-shelling +to the paring of rosy apples or the stoning +of raisins. So on this occasion the sharp +crack of the pods and the soft thud of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +"Champions of England" against the bowl +kept time with Hildegarde's voice, as she +read from Lockhart's ever-delightful "Life +of Scott." The girls were enjoying the +book so much! For true lovers of the +great Sir Walter, as they both were, what +could be more interesting than to follow +their hero through the varying phases of +his noble life,—to learn how and where +and under what circumstances each noble +poem and splendid romance was written; +and to feel through his own spoken or written +words the beating of one of the greatest +hearts the world ever knew.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde paused to laugh, after reading +the description of the first visit of the Ettrick +Shepherd to the Scotts at Lasswade; when +the good man, seeing Mrs. Scott, who was in +delicate health, lying on a sofa, thought he +could not do better than follow his hostess's +example, and accordingly stretched himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +at full length, plaid and all, on another +couch.</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary man!" cried +Rose, greatly amused. "How could he +be so very uncouth, and yet write the +'Skylark'?"</p> + +<p>"After all, he was a plain, rough shepherd!" +replied Hildegarde. "And remember,</p> + +<p> +'The dewdrop that hangs from the rowan bough<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Is fine as the proudest rose can show.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Leyden was a shepherd, too, who wrote the +'Mermaid' that I read you the other day; +and Burns was a farmer's boy. What wonderful +people the Scots are!"</p> + +<p>"On the whole," said Rose, after a pause, +"perhaps it isn't so strange for a shepherd +to be a poet. They sit all day out in the +fields all alone with the sky and the sheep +and the trees and flowers. One can ima<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>gine +how the beauty and the stillness would +sink into his heart, and turn into music and +lovely words there. No one ever heard of +a butcher-poet or a baker-poet—at least, +I never did!—but a shepherd! There was +the Shepherd Lord, too, that you told me +about, and the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain, +in a funny little old book that Father had; +by Hannah More, I think it was. And +wasn't there a shepherd painter?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! Giotto!" cried Hildegarde. +"He was only ten years old when Cimabue +found him drawing a sheep on a smooth +stone."</p> + +<p>"It was in one of my school-readers," +said Rose. "Only the teacher called him +Guy Otto, and I supposed it was a contraction +of the two names, for convenience in +printing. Then," she added, after a moment, +"there was David, when he was +'ruddy, and of a beautiful countenance.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And Apollo," cried Hildegarde, "when +he kept the flocks of Admetus, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't know!" said Rose. "I thought +Apollo was the god of the sun."</p> + +<p>"So he was!" replied Hildegarde. "But +Jupiter was once angry with him, and banished +him from Olympus. His sun-chariot +was sent round the sky as usual, but empty; +and he, poor dear, without his golden rays, +came down to earth, and hired himself as +a shepherd to King Admetus of Thessaly. +All the other shepherds were very wild and +savage, but Apollo played to them on his +lyre, and sang of all the beautiful things +in the world,—of spring, and the young +grass, and the birds, and—oh! everything +lovely. So at last he made them gentle, +like himself, and taught them to sing, and +play on the flute, and to love their life and +the beautiful world they lived in. And so +shepherds became the happiest people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +in the world, and the most skilful in playing +and singing, and in shooting with bow and +arrows, which the god also taught them; till +at last the gods were jealous, and called +Apollo back to Olympus. Isn't it a pretty +story? I read it in 'Télémaque,' at school +last winter."</p> + +<p>"Lovely!" said Rose. "Yes, I think I +should like to be a shepherd." And straightway +she fell into a reverie, this foolish +Rose, and fancied herself wrapped in a +plaid, lying in a broad meadow, spread with +heather as with a mantle, and here and +there gray rocks, and sheep moving slowly +about nibbling the heather.</p> + +<p>And as Hildegarde watched her pure sweet +face, and saw it soften into dreamy languor +and then kindle again with some bright +thought, another poem of the Ettrick Shepherd +came to her mind, and she repeated +the opening lines, half to herself:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, go on, please!" murmured Rose, +all unconscious that she was the Kilmeny +of her friend's thoughts:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"It was only to hear the yorlin sing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And pu' the cress-flower round the spring;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And lang may she seek i' the greenwood shaw;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Lang the Laird of Duneira blame,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame.</span><br /> +<br /> +"When many a day had come and fled,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When grief grew calm, and hope was dead;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When the bedesman had prayed and the dead-bell rung;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Late, late in a gloamin', when all was still,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The reek o' the cot hung over the plain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny cam hame."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Here Hildegarde stopped suddenly; for +some one had come along the road, and was +standing still, leaning against the fence, and +apparently listening. It was a boy about +eleven years old. He was neatly dressed, +but his clothes were covered with dust, and +his broad-brimmed straw hat was slouched +over his eyes so that it nearly hid his face, +which was also turned away from the girls. +But though he was apparently gazing earnestly +in the opposite direction, still there +was an air of consciousness about his whole +figure, and Hildegarde was quite sure that +he had been listening to her. She waited +a few minutes; and then, as the boy showed +no sign of moving on, she called out, "What +is it, please? Do you want something?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy made an awkward movement +with his shoulders, and without turning +round replied in an odd voice, half whine, +half growl, "Got any cold victuals, +lady?"</p> + +<p>"Come in!" said Hildegarde, rising, +though she was not attracted either by the +voice, nor by the lad's shambling, uncivil +manner,—"come in, and I will get you +something to eat."</p> + +<p>The boy still kept his back turned to her, +but began sidling slowly toward the gate, +with a clumsy, crab-like motion. "I'm a +poor feller, lady!" he whined, in the same +disagreeable tone. "I ain't had nothin' to +eat for a week, and I've got the rheumatiz +in my j'ints."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nothing to eat for a week!</i>" exclaimed +Hildegarde, severely. "My boy, you are +not telling the truth. And who ever heard +of rheumatism at your age? Do you think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +we ought to let him in, Rose?" she added, +in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>But the boy continued still sidling toward +the gate. "I've got a wife and seven little +children, lady! They're all down with the +small-pox and the yeller—" But at this +point his eloquence was interrupted, for +Rose sprang from her seat, upsetting the +basket of pods, and running forward, seized +him by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You scamp!" she cried, shaking him +with tender violence. "You naughty monkey, +how could you frighten us so? Oh, +my dear, dear little lad, how do you do?" +and whirling the boy round and tossing +off his hat, she revealed to Hildegarde's +astonished gaze the freckled, laughing face +and merry blue eyes of Zerubbabel Chirk.</p> + +<p>Bubble was highly delighted at the success +of his ruse. He rubbed his hands and +chuckled, then went down on all-fours and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +began picking up the pea-pods. "Sorry I +made you upset the basket, Pink!" he +said. "I say! how well you're looking! +Isn't she, Miss Hilda? Oh! I didn't suppose +you were as well as this."</p> + +<p>He gazed with delighted eyes at his sister's +face, on which the fresh pink and +white told a pleasant tale of health and +strength. She returned his look with one +of such beaming love and joy that Hildegarde, +in the midst of her own heartfelt +pleasure, could not help feeling a momentary +pang. "If my baby brother had only +lived!" she thought. But the next moment +she was shaking Bubble by both +hands, and telling him how glad she was +to see him.</p> + +<p>"And now tell us!" cried both girls, pulling +him down on the ground between them. +"Tell us all about it! How did you get +here? Where do you come from? When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +did you leave New York? What have you +been doing? How is Dr. Flower?"</p> + +<p>"Guess I've got under Niag'ry Falls, +by mistake!" said Bubble, dryly. "Let me +see, now!" He rumpled up his short tow-colored +hair with his favorite gesture, and +meditated. "I guess I'll begin at the beginning!" +he said. "Well!" (it was observable +that Bubble no longer said "Wa-al!" +and that his speech had improved greatly +during the year spent in New York, though +he occasionally dropped back into his former +broad drawl.) "Well! it's been hot +in the city. I tell you, it's been hot. +Why, Miss Hilda, I never knew what heat +was before."</p> + +<p>"I know it must be dreadful, Bubble!" +said Hildegarde. "I have never been in +town in August, but I can imagine what it +must be."</p> + +<p>"I really don't know, Miss Hilda, whether<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +you can," returned Bubble, respectfully. "It +isn't like any heat I ever felt at home. Can +you imagine your brains sizzling in your head, +like a kettle boiling?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, Bubble!" cried Rose. "Don't +say such things!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's true!" said the boy. "That's +exactly the way it felt. It was like being +in a furnace,—a white furnace in the day-time, +and a black one at night; that was +all the difference. I had my head shaved,—it's +growed now, but I'm going to have +it done again, soon as I get back,—and +wore a flannel shirt and those linen pants +you made, Pinkie. I tell you I was glad +of 'em, if I did laugh at 'em at first—and +so I got on. I wrote you that Dr. Flower +had taken me to do errands for him during +vacation?" The girls nodded. "Well, I +stayed at his house,—it's a jolly house!—and +'t was as cool there as anywhere. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +went to the hospital with him every day, +and I'm going to be a surgeon, and he +says I can."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde smiled approval, and Rose patted +the flaxen head, and said, "Yes, I am +sure you can, dear boy. Do you remember +how you set the chicken's leg last year?"</p> + +<p>"I told the doctor about that," said Bubble, +"and he said I did it right. Wasn't I +proud! I held accidents for him two or +three times this summer," he added proudly. +"It never made me faint at all, though it +does most people at first."</p> + +<p>"Held accidents?" asked Hildegarde, innocently. +"What do you mean, laddie?"</p> + +<p>"People hurt in accidents!" replied the +boy. "While he set the bones, you know. +There were some very fine ones!" and he +kindled with professional enthusiasm. "There +was one man who had fallen from a staging +sixty feet high, and was all—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't! don't!" cried both girls, in horror, +putting their fingers in their ears.</p> + +<p>"We don't want to hear about it, you +dreadful boy!" said Hildegarde. "<i>We</i> are +not going to be surgeons, be good enough to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right!" said Bubble, laughing. +"He got well, and is about on crutches +now. Then there was a case of trepanning. +Oh, that <i>was</i> so beautiful! You <i>must</i> let me +tell you about that. You see, this man was +a sailor, and he fell from the top-gallantmast, +and struck—" But here Rose's hand was +laid resolutely over his mouth, and he was +told that if he could not refrain from surgical +anecdotes, he would be sent back to New +York forthwith.</p> + +<p>"All right!" said the embryo surgeon, +with a sigh; "only they're about all I have +to tell that is really interesting. Well, it +grew hotter and hotter. Dr. Flower didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +seem to mind the heat much; but Jock and +I—well, we did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, +remorsefully. "To think of my never +having asked for him. How is the dear +doggie?"</p> + +<p>"He's all right now," replied Bubble, +"But there was one hot spell last month, +that we thought would finish the pup. Hot? +Well, I should—I mean, I should think it +was! You had to put your boots down cellar +every night, or else they'd be warped so you +couldn't put 'em on in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Bubble!" said Hildegarde, holding up a +warning finger. But Bubble would not be +repressed again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Hilda, you don't know anything +about it!" he said; "excuse me, but really +you don't. The sidewalks were so hot, the +bakers just put their dough out on them, and +it was baked in a few minutes. All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +Fifth Avenue folks had fountain attachments +put on to their carriages, and sprinkled themselves +with iced lavender water and odycolone +as they drove along; and the bronze statue +in Union Square melted and ran all over the +lot."</p> + +<p>"Rose, what shall we do to this boy?" +cried Hildegarde, as the youthful Munchausen +paused for breath. "And you aren't telling +me a word about my precious Jock, you little +wretch!"</p> + +<p>"One night," Bubble resumed,—"I'm in +earnest now, Miss Hilda,—one night it +seemed as if there was no air to breathe; as +if we was just taking red-hot dust into our +lungs. Poor little Jock seemed very sick; +he lay and moaned and moaned, like a baby, +and kept looking from the doctor to me, as +if he was asking us to help him. I was +pretty nigh beat out, too, and even the doctor +seemed fagged; but we could stand it better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +than the poor little beast could. I sat and +fanned him, but that didn't help him much, +the air was so hot. Then the doctor sent me +for some cracked ice, and we put it on his +head and neck, and <i>that</i> took hold! 'The +dog's in a fever!' says the doctor. 'We +must watch him to-night, and if he pulls +through, I'll see to him in the morning,' +says he. Well, we spent that night taking +turns, putting ice on that dog's head, and +fanning him, and giving him water."</p> + +<p>"My dear Bubble!" said Hildegarde, her +eyes full of tears. "Dear good boy! and +kindest doctor in the world! How shall I +thank you both?"</p> + +<p>"We weren't going to let him die," said +Bubble, "after the way you saved his life +last summer, Miss Hilda. Well, he did pull +through, and so did we; but I was pretty +shaky, and the morning came red-hot. The +sun was like copper when it rose, and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +seemed to be a sort of haze of heat, just pure +heat, hanging over the city. And Dr. Flower +says, 'You're going to git out o' this!' +says he."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he said anything of the +kind!" interrupted Rose, who regarded Dr. +Flower as a combination of Bayard, Sidney, +and the Admirable Crichton.</p> + +<p>"Well, it came to the same thing!" retorted +Bubble, unabashed. "Anyhow, we took +the first train after breakfast for Glenfield."</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh, Bubble!" cried both girls, +eagerly. "Not really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, really!" said Bubble. "I got to +the Farm about ten o'clock, and went up and +knocked at the front door, thinking I'd give +Mrs. Hartley a surprise, same as I did you +just now; but nobody came, so I went in, +and found not a soul in the house. But I +knowed—I <i>knew</i> she couldn't be far off; +for her knitting lay on the table, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +beans—it was Saturday—were in the pot, +simmering away. So I sat down in the farmer's +big chair, and looked about me. Oh, +I tell you, Miss Hilda, it seemed good! +There was the back door open, and the hens +picking round the big doorstep, just the way +they used, and the great willow tapping +against the window, and a pile of Summer +Sweetings on the shelf, all warm in the sunshine, +you know,—only you weren't there, +and I kept kind o' hoping you would come +in. Do you remember, one day I wanted +one of them Sweetings, and you wouldn't +give me one till I'd told you about all the +famous apples I'd ever heard of?"</p> + +<p>"No, you funny boy!" said Hildegarde, +laughing. "I have forgotten about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hain't—haven't, I mean!" said +the boy. "I couldn't think of a single one, +'cept William Tell's apple, and Adam and +Eve, of course, and three that Lawyer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +Clinch's red cow choked herself with trying +to swallow 'em all at once, being greedy, +like the man that owned her. So you gave +me the apple, gave me two or three; and +while I was eating 'em, you told me about +the Hesperides ones, and the apple of discord, +and that—that young woman who +ran the race: what was her name?—some +capital of a Southern State! Milledgeville, +was it?"</p> + +<p>"Atlanta!" cried Hildegarde, bursting into +a peal of laughter; and "Atlanta! you +goosey!" exclaimed Rose, pretending to +box the boy's ears. "And it wasn't named +for Atalanta at all, was it, Hildegarde?"</p> + +<p>"No!" said the latter, still laughing +heartily. "Bubble, it is delightful to hear +your nonsense again. But go on, and tell +us about the dear good friends."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to them in a minute," said +Bubble; "but I must just tell you about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +Jock first. You never saw a dog so pleased +in all your life. He went sniffing and smelling +about, and barking those little, short +'Wuffs!' as he does when he is tickled +about anything. Then he went to look for +his plate. But it wasn't there, of course; so +he ran out to see the hens, and pass the +time o' day with them. They didn't mind +him much; but all of a sudden a cat came +out from the woodshed,—a strange cat, who +didn't know Jock from a—from an elephant. +Up went her back, and out went +her tail, and she growled and spit like a +good one. Of course Jock couldn't stand +that, so he gave a 'ki-hi!' and after her. +They made time round that yard, now I +tell you! The hens scuttled off, clucking +as if all the foxes in the county had broke +loose; and for a minute or two it seemed as +if there was two or three dogs and half-a-dozen +cats. Well, sir!—I mean, ma'am! at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +last the cat made a bolt, and up the big +maple by the horse-trough. I thought she +was safe then; but Jock, he gave a spring +and caught hold of the eend of her tail, +and down they both come, kerwumpus, on +to the ground, and rolled eend over eend." +(It was observable that in the heat of narration +Bubble dropped his school English, +and reverted to the vernacular of Glenfield.) +"But that was more than the old cat could +stand, and she turned and went for <i>him</i>. +Ha, ha! 't was 'ki, hi!' out of the other side +of his mouth then, I tell ye, Miss Hildy! +You never see a dog so scairt. And jest +then, as 't would happen, Mis' Hartley came +in from the barn with a basket of eggs, and +you may—you may talk Greek to me, if +that pup didn't bolt right into her, so hard +that she sat down suddent on the doorstep, +and the eggs rolled every which way. Then +I caught him; and the cat, she lit out some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>where, +quicker 'n a wink, and Mis' Hartley +sat up, and says she, 'Well, of all the +world! Zerubbabel Chirk, you may just +pick up them eggs, if you <i>did</i> drop from +the moon!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING.</h3> + + +<p>At this point Bubble's narrative was interrupted +by the appearance of Martha, +making demand for her peas. Bubble was +duly presented to her; and she beamed on +him through her spectacles, and was delighted +to see him, and quite sure he must +be very hungry.</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, +remorsefully. "When did you have +breakfast, and have you had anything to eat +since?"</p> + +<p>Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, +and had had nothing since. The girls were +horrified.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come into the kitchen this minute!" +said Martha, imperatively. So he did; and +the next minute he was looking upon cold +beef and johnny-cake and apple-pie, and a +pile of doughnuts over which he could hardly +see Martha's anxious face as she asked if +he thought that would stay him till dinner. +"For boys are boys!" she added, impressively, +turning to Hildegarde; "and girls +they are not, nor won't be."</p> + +<p>When he had eaten all that even a hungry +boy could possibly eat, Bubble was carried +off to be introduced to Miss Wealthy. She, +too, was delighted to see him, and made him +more than welcome; and when he spoke of +staying a day or two in the neighborhood, +and asked if he could get a room nearer than +the village, she was quite severe with him, +forbade him to mention the subject again, +and sent Martha to show him the little room +in the ell, where she said he could be com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>fortable, +and the longer he stayed the better. +It was the neatest, cosiest little room, just big +enough for a boy, the girls said with delight, +when they went to inspect it. The walls +were painted bright blue, which had rather +a peculiar effect; but Martha explained that +Jeremiah had half a pot of blue paint left +after painting the wheelbarrow and the pails, +and thought he might as well use it up. +Apparently the half pot gave out before +Jeremiah came to the chairs, for one of them +was yellow, while the other had red legs and +a white seat and back. But the whole effect +was very cheerful and pleasant, and Bubble +was enchanted.</p> + +<p>The girls left him to wash his face and +hands, and brush the roadside dust from his +clothes. As he was plunging his face into the +cool, sparkling water in the blue china basin, +he heard a small but decided voice addressing +him; and looking up, became aware of a person<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +in kilts standing in the doorway and surveying +him with manifest disapprobation.</p> + +<p>"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. +"How goes the world with you?"</p> + +<p>"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded +the person in kilts, with great severity.</p> + +<p>Bubble looked from him to the basin, and +back again, with amused perplexity. "Oh! +it isn't, eh?" he said. "Well, that's a pity, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Vis room ain't your room!" continued +the new-comer, with increased sternness; +"vis bed ain't your bed! I's ve boy of vis +house. Go out of ve back door! <i>Go</i> <span class="smcap">'way</span>!"</p> + +<p>At the last word Benny stamped his foot, +and raised his voice to a roar which fairly +startled his hearer. Bubble regarded him +steadfastly for a moment, and then sat down +on the bed and began feeling in his pockets. +"I found something so funny to-day!" he +said. "I was walking along the road—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go out of ve back door!" repeated +Benny, in an appalling shout.</p> + +<p>"And I came," continued Bubble, in easy, +conversational tones, regardless of the vindictive +glare of the blue eyes fixed upon him,—"I +came to a great bed of blue clay. Not a +bed like this, you know,"—for Benny's glare +was now intensified by the expression of +scorn and incredulity,—"but just a lot of it +in the road and up the side of the ditch. So +I sat down on the bank to rest a little, and I +made some marbles. See!" he drew from +his pocket some very respectable marbles, +and dropped them on the quilt, where they +rolled about in an enticing manner. Benny +was opening his mouth for another roar; but +at sight of the marbles he shut it again, and +put his hand in his kilt pocket instinctively. +But there were no marbles in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Then," Bubble went on, taking apparently +no notice of him, "I thought I would make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +some other things, because I didn't know +but I might meet some boy who liked +things." Benny edged a little nearer the +bed, but spoke no word. "So I made a +pear,"—he took the pear out and laid it +on the bed,—"and a hen,"—the hen lay +beside the pear,—"and a bee-hive, and a +mouse; only the mouse's tail broke off." +He laid the delightful things all side by side +on the bed, and arranged the marbles round +them in a circle. "And look here!" he +added, looking up suddenly, as if a bright +idea had struck him; "if you'll let me stay +here a bit, I'll give you all these, and teach +you to play ring-taw too! Come now!" +His bright smile, combined with the treasures +on the bed, was irresistible. Benny's mouth +quivered; then the corners went up, up, and +the next moment he was sitting on the bed, +chuckling over the hen and the marbles, and +the two had known each other for years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But look here!" said the person in kilts, +breaking off suddenly in an animated description +of the brown crockery cow, "you must +carry me about on your back!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. +"What do you suppose I come here for?"</p> + +<p>"And go on all-fours when I want you +to!" persisted the small tyrant. "'Cause +Jeremiah has a bone in his leg, and +them girls"—oh, black ingratitude of +childhood!—"won't. I don't need you for +a pillow, 'cause I has my sweet old fat kyat +for a pillow."</p> + +<p>"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you +should want a bolster any time, just let me +know."</p> + +<p>"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you +see!" said Benny, in a tone of relief.</p> + +<p>"You are that!" responded Bubble, with +great heartiness.</p> + +<p>By general consent, the second half of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +Zerubbabel's narrative was reserved for the +evening, when Miss Wealthy could hear and +enjoy it. Hildegarde and Rose, of course, +found out all about their kind friends at the +Farm; and the former looked very grave +when she heard that Mr. and Mrs. Hartley +were expecting Rose without fail early in +September, and were counting the days till +her return. But she resolutely shook off all +selfish thoughts, and entered heartily into +the pleasure of doing the honors of the place +for the new-comer.</p> + +<p>Bubble was delighted with everything. +It was the prettiest place he had ever seen. +There never was such a garden; there never +were such apple-trees, "except the Red Russet +tree at the Farm!" he said. "<i>That</i> tree is +hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda,—great +big tree, down by the barn?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are +the best apples in the world, I think; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +so beautiful,—all golden brown, with the +bright scarlet patch on one cheek. Dear +apples! I wish I might have some this fall."</p> + +<p>Bubble smiled, knowing that Farmer Hartley +was counting upon sending his best barrel +of Russets to his favorite "Huldy;" but +preserved a discreet silence, and they went +on down to the boat-house.</p> + +<p>When evening came, the group round the +parlor-table was a very pleasant one to see. +Miss Wealthy's chair was drawn up near the +light, and she had her best cap on, and her +evening knitting, which was something as +soft and white and light as the steam of the +tea-kettle. Near her sat Hildegarde, wearing +a gown of soft white woollen stuff, +which set off her clear, fresh beauty well. +She was dressing a doll, which she meant +to slip into the next box of flowers that +went to the hospital, for a little girl who +was just getting well enough to want "some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>thing +to cuddle;" and her lap was full +of rainbow fragments of silk and velvet, +the result of Cousin Wealthy's search in one +of her numerous piece-bags. On the other +side of the table sat Rose, looking very like +her name-flower in her pale-pink dress; +while Bubble, on a stool beside her, rested +his arm on his sister's knee, and looked the +very embodiment of content. A tiny fire +was crackling on the hearth, even though it +was still August; for Miss Wealthy thought +the evening mist from the river was dangerous, +and dried her air as carefully as she +did her linen. Dr. Johnson was curled on +his hassock beside the fire; Benny was safe +in bed.</p> + +<p>"And now, Bubble," said Hildegarde, with +a little sigh of satisfaction as she looked +around and thought how cosey and pleasant +it all was, "now you shall tell us about your +fishing excursion."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Bubble, nothing loath, "it +was this way, you see. When I came back +from the Farm, leaving Jock there, I found +the doctor in his study, and the whole room +full of rods and lines and reels, and all kinds +of truck; and he was playing with the queerest +things I ever saw in my life,—bits of +feather and wool, and I don't know what +not, with hooks in them. When he called +me to come and look at his flies I was all up +a tree, and didn't know what he was talking +about; but he told me about 'em, and showed +me, and then says he, 'I'm going a-fishing, +Bubble, and I'm going to take you, if you +want to go.' Well, I didn't leave much doubt +in his mind about <i>that</i>. Fishing! Well, <i>you</i> +know, Pinkie, there's nothing like it, after +all. So we started next morning, Doctor and +I, and three other fel—I mean gentlemen. +Two of 'em was doctors, and the third was +a funny little man, not much bigger'n me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +I wish 't you could ha' seen us start! Truck? +Well, I should—say so! Rods, and baskets, +and bait-boxes, and rugs, and pillows, and +canned things, and camp-stools, and tents, +and a cooking-stove, and a barrel of beer, +and—"</p> + +<p>"How much of this are you making up, +young man?" inquired Hildegarde, calmly; +while Miss Wealthy paused in her knitting, +and looked over her spectacles at Bubble in +mild amazement.</p> + +<p>"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the +boy, earnestly. "Sure as you're sitting there, +we did start with all them—<i>those</i> things. +Doctor, of course, knew 't was all nonsense, +and he kept telling the others so; but they +was bound to have 'em; and the little man, +he wouldn't be separated from that beer-barrel, +not for gold. However, it all turned +out right. We were bound for Tapsco stream, +you see; and when we came to the end of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +the railroad, we hired a sledge and a yoke +of oxen, and started for the woods. Seven +miles the folks there told us it was, but it +took us two whole days to do it; and by the +time we got to the stream, the city chaps, all +'cept Dr. Flower (and he really ain't half a +city chap!) were pretty well tired out, I +can tell you. Breaking through the bushes, +stumbling over stumps and stones, and h'isting +a loaded sledge over the worst places, +wasn't exactly what they had expected; for +none of 'em but the doctor had been in the +woods before. Well, we got to the stream; +and there was the man who was going to be +our guide and cook, and all that. He had +two canoes,—a big one and a little one; he +was going to paddle one, and one of us the +other. Well, the little man—his name was +Packard—said he'd paddle the small canoe, +and take the stove and the beer-barrel, ''cause +they'll need careful handling,' says he. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +old guide looked at him, when he said that, +pretty sharp, but he didn't say nothing; and +the rest of us got into the other canoe with +the rest of the truck, after we'd put in his +load. We started ahead, and Mr. Packard +came after, paddling as proud as could be, +with his barrel in the bow, and he and the +stove in the stern. I wish't you could ha' +seen him, Miss Hilda! I tell you he was a +sight, with his chin up in the air, and his +mouth open. Presently we heard him say, +'This position becomes irksome; I think I +will change'—but that was all he had time +to say; for before the guide could holler to +him, he had moved, and over he went, boat +and barrel and stove and all. Ha! ha! ha! +Oh, <i>my!</i> if that wasn't the most comical +sight—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, Bubble," cried Hildegarde, hastily, +as a quick glance showed her that Miss +Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>ting, +and put her hand up to the pansy brooch, +"he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor little man!"</p> + +<p>"Hurt? not a mite!" responded Bubble. +"He come up next minute, puffing and +blowing like a two-ton grampus, and struck +out for our canoe. We were all laughing so +we could hardly stir to help him in; but the +doctor hauled him over the side, and then +we paddled over and righted his canoe. He +was in a great state of mind! 'You ought +to be indicted,' he says to the guide, 'for +having such a canoe as that. It's infamous! +it's atrocious! I—I—I—how dare you, +sir, give me such a rickety eggshell and call +it a boat?' Old Marks, the guide, looked at +him again, and didn't say anything for a +while, but just kept on paddling. At last he +says, very slow, as he always speaks, 'I—guess—it's +all right, Squire. This is a +prohibition State, you know; and that's a +prohibition boat, that's all.' Well, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +was some talk about fishing the things up; +but there was no way of doing it, and Dr. +Flower said, anyhow, he didn't come to fish +for barrels nor yet for cook-stoves; so we +went on, and there they be—<i>are</i> yet, I +suppose. Bimeby we came to Marks's camp, +where we were to stay. It was a bark lean-to, +big enough for us all, with a nice fire +burning, and all comfortable. Doctor and +I liked it first-rate; but the city chaps,—they +said they must have their tents up, +so we spent a good part of a day getting the +things up."</p> + +<p>"And were they more comfortable?" +asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen were +not used to roughing it."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" responded Bubble, with sovereign +contempt. "Mr. Packard set his afire, +trying to build what he called a scientific fire, +and came near burning himself up, and the +rest of us, let alone the whole woods. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +the second night it came on to rain,—my! +how it did rain! and the second tent was +wet through, and they were all mighty glad +to come into the lean-to!"</p> + +<p>"This seems to have been a severe experience, +my lad," said Miss Wealthy, with +gentle sympathy. "I trust that none of +the party suffered in health from all this +exposure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, ma'am!" Bubble hastened to +assure her. "It was splendid fun! splendid! +I never had such a good time. I could fish +for a year without stopping, I do believe."</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy's sympathetic look changed +to one of mild disapproval, for she did not +like what she called "violent sentiments." +"So exaggerated a statement, my boy," she +said gently, "is doubtless not meant to be +taken literally. Fishing, or angling, to use a +more elegant word, seems to be a sport which +gives great pleasure to those who pursue it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +Dr. Johnson, it is true, spoke slightingly of +it, and described a fishing-rod as a stick with +a hook at one end, and—ahem! he was +probably in jest, my dears—a fool at the +other. But Izaak Walton was a meek and +devout person; and my dear father was fond +of angling, and—and—others I have known. +Go on, my lad, with your lively description."</p> + +<p>Poor Bubble was so abashed by this little +dissertation that his liveliness seemed to have +deserted him entirely for the moment. He +hung his head, and looked so piteously at +Hildegarde that she was obliged to take +refuge in a fit of coughing, which made Miss +Wealthy exclaim anxiously that she feared +she had taken cold.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as +soon as she had recovered herself, nodding +imperatively to him. "How many fish did +you catch?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +rather soberly. "Dr. Flower is a first-rate +fisherman, and he caught a lot every day; +and the other two doctors caught some. +But Mr. Packard,"—here his eyes began to +twinkle again, and his voice took on its usual +cheerful ring,—"poor Mr. Packard, he did +have hard luck. The first time he threw a +fly it caught in a tree, and got all tangled +up, so 't he was an hour and more getting +his line free. Then he thought 't would be +better on the other side of the stream; so +he started to cross over, and stepped into +a deep hole, and down he sat with a splash, +and one of his rubber boots came off, and +he dropped his rod. Of all the unlucky +people I ever saw! I tell you, 't was enough +to make a frog laugh to see him fish! +Then, of course, he'd got the water all +riled—"</p> + +<p>"All—I beg your pardon?—riled?" +asked Miss Wealthy, innocently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All muddy!" said Bubble, hastily; "so +he couldn't fish there no more for one while. +And just then I happened to come along +with a string of trout—ten of 'em, and +perfect beauties!—that I'd caught with a +string and a crooked pin; and that seemed +to finish Mr. Packard entirely. Next day he +had rheumatism in his joints, and stayed in +camp all day, watching Marks making snow-shoes. +The day after that he tried again, +and fished all the morning, and caught one +yellow perch and an eel. The eel danced +right up in his face,—it did, sure as I'm +alive, Pink!—and scairt him so, I'm blessed if +he didn't sit down again—ho! ho! ho!—on +a point o' rock, and slid off into the water, and +lost his spectacles. Oh, dear! it don't seem +as if it could be true; but it is, every word. +The next day he went home. <i>He</i>'ll never +go a-fishing again."</p> + +<p>"Poor man! I should think not!" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr. Flower—are +all the others still there?"</p> + +<p>"Gone home!" said Bubble. "We came +out of the woods three days ago, and took +the train yesterday. I never thought of +such a thing as stopping; supposed I must +go right back to work. But when the brakeman +sung out, 'Next station Bywood!' Doctor +just says quietly, 'Get your bag ready, +Bubble! You're going to get out at this +station.' And when I looked at him, all +struck of a heap, as you may say, he says, +'Shut your mouth! you look really better +with it shut. There is a patient of mine +staying at this place, Miss Chirk by name. I +want you to look her up, make inquiries into +her case, and if you can get lodgings in the +neighborhood, stay till she is ready to be +escorted back to New York. It is all arranged, +and I have a boy engaged to take +your place for two weeks. Now, then! do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +not leave umbrellas or packages in the train! +Good-by!' And there we were at the station; +and he just shook hands, and dropped +me off on the platform, and off they went +again. Isn't he a good man? I tell you, +if they was all like him, there wouldn't +be no trouble in the world for anybody." +And Rose thought so too!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>THE GREAT SCHEME.</h3> + + +<p>In the latter days of August came a hot +wave. It started, we will say, from the Gulf, +which was heated sevenfold on purpose, and +which simmered and hissed like a gigantic +caldron. It came rolling up over the country, +scorching all it touched, spreading its +fiery billows east and west. New York +wilted and fell prostrate. Boston wiped the +sweat from her intellectual brow, and panted +in all the modern languages. Even Maine +was not safe among her rocks and pine-trees; +and a wavelet of pure caloric swept over +quiet Bywood, and made its inhabitants very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +uncomfortable. Miss Wealthy could not remember +any such heat. There had been a +very hot season in 1853,—she remembered +it because her father had given up frills to +his shirts, as no amount of starch would keep +them from hanging limp an hour after they +were put on; but she really did not think it +was so severe as this. She was obliged to +put away her knitting, it made her hands so +uncomfortable; and took to crocheting a tidy +with linen thread, as the coolest work she +could think of. Hildegarde and Rose put on +the thin muslins which had lain all summer +in their clothespress drawers, and did their +best to keep Benny cool and quiet; read +Dr. Kane's "Arctic Voyages," and discussed +the possibility of Miss Wealthy's allowing +them to shave Dr. Johnson.</p> + +<p>Bubble spent much of his time in cracking +ice and making lemonade, when he was not +on or in the river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for Martha, she devoted herself to the +concoction of cold dishes, and fed the whole +family on jellied tongue, lobster-salad, ice-cream, +and Charlotte Russe, till they rose +up and blessed her.</p> + +<p>When Flower-Day came, the girls braved +the heat, and went to Fairtown with the +flowers; Miss Wealthy reluctantly allowing +them to go, because she was anxious, as they +were, to know how the little patients bore +the heat. They brought back a sad report. +The sick children were suffering much; the +hospital was like a furnace, in spite of all that +could be done to keep it cool. Mrs. Murray +sighed for a "country week" for them all, +but knew no way of attaining the desired object, +as most of the people interested in the +hospital were out of town.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if we could only find a place!" cried +Hildegarde, after she had told about the little +pallid faces and the fever-heat in town. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +there were only some empty house,"—she +did not dare to look at Miss Wealthy as she +said this, but kept her eyes on the river +(they were all sitting on the piazza, waiting +for the afternoon breeze, which seldom failed +them),—"some quiet place, like Islip, where +the poor little souls could come, for a week +or two, till this dreadful heat is past." Then +she told the story of Islip, with its lovely +Seaside Home, where all summer long the +poor children come and go, nursed and tended +to refreshment by the black-clad Sisters. +Miss Wealthy made no sign, but sat with +clasped hands, her work lying idle in her +lap. Rose was very pale, and trembled with +a sense of coming trouble; but Hildegarde's +cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with +excitement.</p> + +<p>There were a few moments of absolute +silence, broken only by the hot shrilling of a +locust in a tree hard by; then Zerubbabel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +Chirk, calmly unconscious of any thrill in the +air, any tension of the nerves, any crisis impending, +paused in his whittling, and instead +of carving a whistle for Benny, cut the Gordian +knot.</p> + +<p>"Why, there is a house, close by here," +he said; "not more 'n half a mile off. I was +going to ask you girls about it. A pretty +red house, all spick and span, and not a soul +in it, far as I could see. Why isn't it exactly +the place you want?" He looked +from one to the other with bright, inquiring +eyes; but no one answered. "I'm sure it +is!" he continued, with increasing animation. +"There's a lawn where the children could +play, and a nice clear brook for 'em to paddle +and sail boats in, and gravel for 'em to dig +in,—why, it was <i>made</i> for children!" cried +the boy. "And as for the man that owns it, +why, if he doesn't want to stay there himself, +why shouldn't he let some one else have it?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>—unless +he's an old hunks; and even if he +is—" He stopped short, for Rose had seized +his arm with a terrified grasp, and Hildegarde's +clear eyes flashed a silent warning.</p> + +<p>Miss Wealthy tottered to her feet, and the +others rose instinctively also. She stood for +a moment, her hand at her throat, her eyes +fixed on Bubble, trembling as if he had +struck her a heavy blow; then, as the frightened +girls made a motion to advance, she +waved them back with a gesture full of +dignity, and turned and entered the house, +making a low moan as she went.</p> + +<p>"Send Martha to her, <i>quick!</i>" said Hildegarde, +in an imperative whisper. "Fly, +Bubble! the back door!"</p> + +<p>Bubble flew, as if he had been shot from +a gun, and returned, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, +to find his sister in tears, and his +adored Miss Hilda pacing up and down the +piazza with hasty and agitated steps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it?" he cried in dismay. +"What did I do? What is the matter with +everybody? Why, I never—"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde quieted him with a gesture, +and then told him, briefly, the story of the +house in the wood. Poor Bubble was quite +overcome. He punched his head severely, +and declared that he was the most stupid +idiot that ever lived.</p> + +<p>"I'd better go away!" he cried. "I +can't see the old lady again. As kind as +she's been to me, and then for me to call +her a—I guess I'll be going, Miss +Hilda; I'm no good here, and only doing +harm."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, +smiling in the midst of her distress. "You +shall do nothing of the kind. And, Rose, +you are not to shed another tear. Who +knows? This may be the very best thing that +could have happened. Of course I wouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +have had you say it, Bubble, just in that +way; but now that it <i>is</i> said, I—I think I +am glad of it. I should not wonder—I +really do hope that it may have been just +the word that was wanted."</p> + +<p>And so it proved. For an hour after, as +the three still sat on the piazza,—two of them +utterly disconsolate, the third trying to cheer +them with the hope that she was feeling +more and more strongly,—Martha appeared. +There were traces of tears in her friendly +gray eyes, but she looked kindly at the +forlorn trio.</p> + +<p>"Miss Bond is not feeling very well!" +she said. "She is lying down, and thinks +she will not come downstairs this evening. +Here is a note for you, Miss Hilda, and a +letter for the post."</p> + +<p>Hildegarde tore open the little folded note, +and read, in Miss Wealthy's pretty, regular +hand, these words:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Hilda</span>,—Please tell the boy that I do +not mean to be an old hunks, and ask him to post this +letter. We will make our arrangements to-morrow, +as I am rather tired now.</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your affectionate cousin,</span><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Wealthy Bond.</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<p>The letter was addressed to Mrs. Murray +at the Children's Hospital; and at sight of it +Hildegarde threw her arms round Martha's +neck, and gave her a good hug. Her private +desire was to cry; but tears were a luxury +she rarely indulged in, so she laughed +instead.</p> + +<p>"Is it all right, Martha," she asked,—"really +and truly right? Because if it is, I +am the happiest girl in the world."</p> + +<p>"It is all right, indeed, Miss Hilda!" +replied Martha, heartily; "and the best +thing that could have happened, to my mind. +Dear gracious! so often as I've wished for +something to break up that place, so to speak, +and make a living house 'stead of a dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +one! And it never could ha' been done, in +my thinking, any other way than this. So +it's a good day's work you've done, and +thankful she'll be to you for it when the +shock of it is over." Then, seeing that the +young people were still a little "trembly," +as she called it, this best of Marthas added +cheerfully: "It's like to be a very warm +evening, I'm thinking. And as Miss Bond +isn't coming down, wouldn't it be pleasant +for you to go out in the boat, perhaps, Miss +Hilda, and take your tea with you? There's +a nice little mould of pressed chicken, do you +see, and some lemon jelly on the ice; and I +could make you up a nice basket, and 't would +be right pleasant now, wouldn't it, young +ladies?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Martha was called a saint and +an angel and a brick, all in three breaths; +and she went off, well pleased, to pack the +basket, leaving great joy behind her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p> + +<p>Late that evening, when Hildegarde was +going to bed, she saw the door of Miss +Wealthy's room ajar, and heard her name +called softly. She went in, and found the +dear old lady sitting in her great white +dimity armchair.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my dear," said Miss Wealthy, +gently. "I have something to show you, +which I think you will like to see."</p> + +<p>She had a miniature in her hand,—the portrait +of a young and handsome man, with +flashing dark eyes, and a noble, thoughtful +face.</p> + +<p>"It is my Victor!" said the old lady, tenderly. +"I am an old woman, but he is +always my true love, young and beautiful. +Look at it, my child! It is the face of a +good and true man."</p> + +<p>"You do not mind my knowing?" Hildegarde +asked, kissing the soft, wrinkled hand.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad of it," replied Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +Wealthy,—"very glad! And in—in a little while—when +I have had time to realize +it—I shall no doubt be glad of this—this +projected change. You see"—she paused, +and seemed to seek for a word,—"you see, +dear, it has always been Victor's house to me. +I never—I should not have thought of +making use of it, like another house. It is +doubtless—much better. In fact, I am sure +of it. It has come to me very strongly that +Victor would like it, that it would please +him extremely. And now I blame myself +for never having thought of such a thing +before. So, my dear," she added, bending +forward to kiss Hildegarde's forehead, "besides +the blessings of the sick children, you +will win one from me, and—who knows?—perhaps +one from a voice we cannot hear."</p> + +<p>The girl was too much moved to speak, +and they were silent for a while.</p> + +<p>"And now," Miss Wealthy said very cheer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>fully, +"it is bedtime for you, and for me +too. But before you go, I want to give you +a little trinket that I had when I was just +your age. My grandmother gave it to me; +and though I am not exactly your grandmother, +I am the next thing to it. Open +that little cupboard, if you please, and bring +me a small red morocco box which you will +find on the second shelf, in the right-hand +corner. There is a brown pill-box next to +it; do you find it, my love?"</p> + +<p>Hildegarde brought the box, and on being +told to open it, found a bracelet of black +velvet, on which was sewed a garland of +miniature flowers, white roses and forget-me-nots, +wrought in exquisite enamel.</p> + +<p>"I thought of it," said the old lady, as +Hildegarde bent over the pretty trinket in +wondering delight, "when I saw your forget-me-not room +last winter. The clasp, you see, +is a turquoise; I believe, rather a fine one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +My grandfather brought it from Constantinople. +A pretty thing; it will look well on +your arm. The Bonds all have good arms, +which is a privilege. Good-night, dear child! +Sleep well, and be ready to elaborate your +great scheme to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE WIDOW BRETT.</h3> + + +<p>So it came to pass that at the breakfast-table +next morning no one was so bright +and gay as Miss Wealthy. She was full +of the new plan, and made one suggestion +after another.</p> + +<p>"The first thing," she said, "is to find a +good housekeeper. There is nothing more +important, especially where children are concerned. +Now, I have thought of precisely +the right person,—pre-cisely!" she added, +sipping her tea with an air of great content. +"Martha, your cousin Cynthia Brett is the +very woman for the place."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Truly, Mam, I think she is," said Martha, +putting down the buttered toast on +the exact centre of the little round mat where +it belonged; "and I think she would do +it too!"</p> + +<p>"A widow," Miss Wealthy explained, +turning to Hildegarde, her kind eyes beaming +with interest, "fond of children, neat as +<i>wax</i>, capable, a good cook, and makes butter +equal to Martha's. My dears, Cynthia +Brett was made for this emergency. Zerubbabel, +my lad, are you desirous of attracting +attention? We will gladly listen to any +suggestion you have to make."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate Bubble, who had been +drumming on the table with his spoon, +blushed furiously, muttered an incoherent +apology, and wished he were small enough +to dive into his bowl of porridge.</p> + +<p>"And this brings me to another plan," +continued the dear old lady. "Bixby, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +Cynthia Brett lives, is an extremely pretty +little village, and I should like you all to see +it. What do you say to driving over there, +spending the night at Mrs. Brett's, and coming +back the next day, after making the +arrangements with her? Zerubbabel could +borrow Mr. Rawson's pony, I am sure, and +be your escort. Do you like the plan, +Hilda, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Wealthy," cried Hildegarde, +"it is too delightful! We should enjoy it +above all things. But—no!" she added, +"what would you do without the Doctor? +You would lose your drive. Is there no +other way of sending word to Mrs. Brett?"</p> + +<p>But Miss Wealthy would not hear of any +other way. It was a pity if she could not stay +at home one day, she said. So when Mr. +Brisket, the long butcher from Bixby, came +that morning, and towering in the doorway, +six feet and a half of blue jean, asked if they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +wanted "a-any ni-ice mut-ton toda-a-ay," he +was intrusted with a note from Martha to +her cousin, telling of the projected expedition, +and warning her to expect the young +ladies the next day but one.</p> + +<p>The day came,—a day of absolute beauty, +and though still very hot, not unbearable. +Dr. Abernethy had had an excellent breakfast, +with twice his usual quantity of oats, so +that he actually frisked when he was brought +round to the door. The whole family assembled +to see the little party start. Miss +Wealthy stood on the piazza, looking like an +ancient Dresden shepherdess in her pink and +white and silver beauty, and gave caution +after caution: they must spare the horse +up hill, and <i>never</i> trot down hill; "and let +the good beast drink, dearie, when you +come to the half-way trough,—not too +much, but enough moderately to quench his +thirst;" etc.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha beamed through her silver-rimmed +spectacles, and hoped she'd given them +enough lunch; while Benny, with his hand +resting on the head of his "ole fat kyat," +surveyed them with rather a serious air.</p> + +<p>The girls had been troubled about Benny. +They did not want to leave the little fellow, +who had announced his firm intention of +going with them; yet it was out of the question +to take him. The evening before, however, +Bubble had had a long talk with "ve +boy of ve house;" and great was the relief +of the ladies when that youthful potentate +announced at breakfast his determination to +stay at home and "take care of ve womenfolks, +'cause Jim-Maria [the name by which +he persistently called the melancholy prophet], +he's gettin' old, an' somebody has to see to +fings; and I's ve boy of ve house, so <i>I</i> +ought to see to vem."</p> + +<p>When the final moment came, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +it seemed very dreadful to see his own Sing-girl +drive away, and Posy, and the other +boy too; and Benny's lip began to quiver, +and his eyes to grow large and round, to +make room for the tears. At this very +moment, however, Jim-Maria, who had disappeared +after bringing the horse to the +door, came round the corner, bringing the +most wonderful hobby-horse that ever was +seen. It was painted bright yellow, for that +was the color Jeremiah was painting the +barn. Its eyes were large and black, which +gave it a dashing and spirited appearance; +and at sight of it the Boy of the House forgot +everything else in heaven and earth. +"Mine horse!" he cried, rushing upon it +with outstretched arms,—"all mine, for to +wide on! Jim-Maria, get out ov ve way! +Goo-by, Sing-girl! goo-by, ev'ryboggy! Benny's +goin' to ve Norf Pole!" and he cantered +away, triumphant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Hildegarde and Rose, seeing that +all was well, made their adieus with a light +heart, and Bubble waved his hat, and Miss +Wealthy kissed her hand, and Martha shook +her blue checked apron violently up and +down, and off they went.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The little village of Bixby was in its usual +condition of somnolent cheerfulness, that +same afternoon. The mail had come in, +being brought in Abner Colt's green wagon +from the railway-station two miles away. +The appearance of the green wagon, with its +solitary brown bag, not generally too well +filled, and its bundle of newspapers, was the +signal for all the village-loungers to gather +about the door of the post-office. The busy +men would come later, when the mail was +sorted; but this was the supreme hour of the +loungers. They did not often get letters +themselves, but it was very important that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +they should see who <i>did</i> get letters; and +most of them had a newspaper to look for. +Then the joy of leaning against the door-posts, +and waiting to see if anything would +happen! As a rule, nothing did happen, but +there was no knowing what joyful day might +bring a new sensation. Sometimes there was +a dog-fight. Once—thrilling recollection!—Ozias +Brisket's horse had run away ("Think +'t 's likely a bumble-bee must ha' stung him; +couldn't nothin' else ha' stirred him out of a +walk, haw! haw!") and had scattered the +joints of meat all about the street.</p> + +<p>To-day there seemed little chance of any +awakening event beyond the arrival of the +green cart. It was very warm; the patient +post-supporters were nearly asleep. Their +yellow dogs slumbered at their feet; the +afternoon sun filled the little street with +vivid golden light.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>—of +unfamiliar wheels. The post-supporters +knew the creak or rattle or jingle of every +"team" in Bixby. There was a general stir, +a looking up the street, in the direction +whence the sound came; and then a gaping +of mouths, an opening of eyes, a craning of +long necks.</p> + +<p>A phaeton, drawn by a comfortable-looking +gray horse, was coming slowly down the +street. It approached; it stopped at the +post-office door. In it sat two young girls: +one, tall, erect, with flashing gray eyes and +brilliant color, held the reins, and drew the +horse up with the air of a practised whip; +the other leaned back among the cushions, +with a very happy, contented look, though +she seemed rather tired. Both girls were +dressed alike in simple gowns of blue gingham; +but the simplicity was of a kind unknown +to Bixby, and the general effect was +very marvellous. The spectators had not yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +shut their mouths, when a clattering of hoofs +was heard, and a boy on a black pony came +dashing along the street, and drew up beside +the phaeton.</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't that house," he said, addressing +the two girls. "At least, there was +no one there. Say," he added, turning to +the nearest lounger, a sandy person of uncertain +age and appearance, "can you tell +us where Mrs. Brett lives?"</p> + +<p>"The Widder Brett?" returned the sandy +person, cautiously. "Do ye mean the Widder +Brett?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so," answered the boy. +"Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"</p> + +<p>"No, there ain't!" was the succinct +reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, where <i>does</i> she live?" cried the +boy, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" +said the sandy person, nodding down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +street. "Ye can't see the house from here, +but go clear on to the eend, and ye'll see it +to yer right,—a yaller house, with green +blinds, an' a yard in front. You 'kin to the +Widder Brett?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the tall young lady, speaking +for the first time; "we are no relations. +Thank you very much! Good-morning!" +and with a word to the boy, she gathered up +the reins, and drove slowly down the little +street.</p> + +<p>The post-supporters watched them till the +last wheel of the phaeton disappeared round +the turn; then they turned eagerly to one +another.</p> + +<p>"Who be they? What d'ye s'pose they +want o' the Widder Brett?" was the eager +cry. "Says they ain't no blood relation o' +Mis' Brett's." "Some o' Brett's folks, likely!" +"I allus heerd his folks was well off."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the phaeton was making its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +way along slowly, as I said, for Rose was +tired after the long drive.</p> + +<p>"But not too tired!" she averred, in +answer to Hildegarde's anxious inquiry. +"Oh, no, dear! not a bit too tired, only +just enough to make rest most delightful. +What a funny little street!—something like +the street in Glenfield, isn't it? Look! that +might be Miss Bean's shop, before you took +hold of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, +laughing. "These bonnets are positively +mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on +that bunch of berries."</p> + +<p>"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. +"It is bloom, Hilda,—a fine purple +bloom! City people don't know the difference, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be +'the Widder Brett's' house. What a pretty +little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +the good woman herself. Take the reins, +dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, +I will go myself, thank you."</p> + +<p>She sprang lightly out, and after patting +Dr. Abernethy's head and bidding him stand +still like the best of dears, she opened the +white gate, which stuck a little, as if it were +not opened every day. A tidy little wooden +walk, with a border of pinks on either side, +led up to the green door, in front of which +was one broad stone doorstep. Beyond the +pinks was a bed of pansies on the one +hand; on the other, two apple-trees and a +pleasant little green space; while under +the cottage windows were tiger-lilies and +tall white phlox and geraniums, and a great +bush of southernwood; altogether, it was +a front yard such as Miss Jewett would +like.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde lifted the bright brass knocker,—she +was so glad it was a knocker, and not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +an odious gong bell; she <i>could</i> not have liked +a house with a gong bell,—and rapped gently. +The pause which followed was not strictly +necessary, for the Widow Brett had been +reconnoitring every movement of the new-comers +through a crack in the window-blind, +and was now standing in the little entry, +not two feet from the door. The good +woman counted twenty, which she thought +would occupy just about the time necessary +to come from the kitchen, and then opened +the door, with a proper expression of polite +surprise on her face.</p> + +<p>"Good-day!" she said, with a rising +inflection.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" replied Hildegarde, +with a falling one. "Are you Mrs. Brett, +and are you expecting us?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Brett," replied the tall, spare +woman in the brown stuff gown; "but I +wasn't expectin' any one, as I know of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +Pleased to see ye, though! Step in, won't +ye?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, looking distressed. +"Didn't you—haven't you had a +letter from Martha? She promised to write, +and said she was sure you would take us in +for the night. I don't understand—"</p> + +<p>"There!" cried Mrs. Brett. "Step right +in now, do! and I'll tell you. This way, if +<i>you</i> please!" and much flurried, she led the +way into the best room, and drew up the +hair-cloth rocking-chair, in which our heroine +entombed herself. "I <i>do</i> declare," the +widow went on, "I ought to be shook! There +<i>was</i> a letter come last night; and my spectacles +was broken, my dear, and I can't read +Martha's small handwriting without 'em. I +thought 't was just one of her letters, you +know, telling how they was getting on, and +I'd wait till one of the neighbors came in +to read it to me. Well, there! and all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +time she was telling me something, was she? +and who might you be, dear, that was thinking +of staying here?"</p> + +<p>"I am Hilda Grahame!" said the girl, suppressing +an inclination to cry, as the thought +of Rose's tired face came over her. "If you +will find the letter, Mrs. Brett, I will read it +to you at once. It was to tell you that I was +coming, with my friend, who is in the carriage +now, and her young brother; and +Martha thought there was no doubt about +your taking us in. Perhaps there is some +other house—"</p> + +<p>"No, there isn't," said the Widow Brett, +quickly and kindly,—"not another one. The +idea! Of course I'll take you in, child, and +glad enough of the chance. And you Miss +Hildy Grahame, too, that Marthy has told me +so much about! Why, I'm right glad to see +ye, right glad!" She took Hildegarde's +hand, and moved it up and down as if it were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +a pump-handle, her homely face shining with +a cordiality which was evidently genuine. +"Only,"—and here her face clouded again,—"only +if I'd ha' known, I should have had +everything ready, and have done some cleaning, +and cooked up a few things. You'll +have to take me just as I am, I expect! +However—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we <i>like</i> things just as they are!" +cried Hildegarde, in delight. "You must +not make any difference at all for us, Mrs. +Brett! We shall not like it if you do. May +I bring my friend in now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say so!" cried the good +woman. "She's out in the carriage, you +say? I'll go right out and fetch her in."</p> + +<p>Rose was warmly welcomed, and brought +into the house; while Hilda fastened Dr. +Abernethy to the gate-post, and got the +shawls and hand-bags out from under the +seat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I expect you'd like to go right upstairs +and lay off your things!" was Mrs. Brett's +next remark. "I declare! I do wish 't I'd +known! I swep' the spare chamber yesterday, +but I hadn't any <i>i</i>dea of its being used. +Well, there! you'll have to take me as I +am." She bustled upstairs before the girls, +talking all the way. "I try to keep the +house clean, but I don't often have comp'ny, +and the dust doos gather so, this dry weather, +and not keeping any help, you see—well, +there! this is the best I've got, and maybe +it'll do to sleep in."</p> + +<p>She threw open, with mingled pride and +nervousness, the door of a pleasant, sunny +room, rather bare, but in exquisite order. +The rag carpet was brilliant with scarlet, +blue, and green; the furniture showed no +smallest speck of dust; the bed looked like a +snowdrift. Nevertheless, the good hostess +went peering about, wiping the chairs with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +her apron, and repeating, "The dust <i>doos</i> +gather so! I wouldn't set down, if I was +you, till I've got the chairs done off!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mrs. Brett," cried Hildegarde, +laughing merrily, "it is the chairs you +should be anxious for, not ourselves. We +are simply <i>covered</i> with dust, from head to +foot. I think it must be an inch deep on +my hat!" she continued, taking off her +round "sailor" and looking at it with pretended +alarm. "I don't dare to put it down +in this clean room."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that</i>'s all right!" cried the widow, +beaming. "Land sakes! I don't care how +much dust you bring in, but I <i>should</i> be +lawth to have you get any on you here. +Well, there! now you need a proper good +rest, I'm sure, both of you. Wouldn't you +like a cup o' tea now?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 288px;"> +<img src="images/gs08.png" width="288" height="400" alt=""'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"" title=""'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"</span> +</div> + +<p>Both girls declined the tea, and declared +that an hour's rest was all they needed; so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +the good woman bade them "rest good!" +and hurried downstairs, to fling herself into +a Berserker fit of cooking. "Not a thing in +the house!" she soliloquized, as she sifted +flour and beat eggs with the energy of desperation, +"except cookies and doughnuts; +and Marthy always has everything so nice, +let alone what they're used to at home. I'll +make up a sheet of sponge-cake, I guess, +first, and while it's baking I can whip up +some chocolate frosting and mix a pan of +biscuit. Le' me see! I might make a +jelly-roll, while I'm about it, for there's +some of Marthy's own currant jelly that she +sent me last fall. They'd ought to have +some hearty victuals for supper, I suppose; but +I declare,"—she paused, with the egg-beater +in her hand,—"stuffed aigs'll have to do +to-night, I guess!" she concluded with a sigh. +"There isn't time to get a chicken ready. +Well, there! If I'd ha' known! but they'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +have to take me as I am. I might give 'em +some fritters, though, to eat with maple surrup, +just for a relish."</p> + +<p>While these formidable preparations were +going on against their peace of body, the two +girls were enjoying an hour of perfect rest, +each after her own manner. Rose was curled +up on the bed, in a delicious doze which was +fast deepening into sound sleep. Hildegarde +sat in a low chair with a book in her hand, +and looked out of the window. She could +always rest better with a book, even if she +did not read it; and the very touch of this +little worn morocco volume—it was the +"Golden Treasury"—was a pleasure to her. +She looked out dreamily over the pleasant +green fields and strips of woodland; for the +house stood at the very end of the little village, +and the country was before and around +it. Under the window lay the back yard, +with a white lilac-tree in blossom, and a well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +with a long sweep. Such a pleasant place +it looked! A low stone-wall shut it in, the +stones all covered with moss and gay red +and yellow lichens. Beside the white lilac, +there was a great elm and a yellow birch. +In the latter was an oriole's nest; and presently +Hildegarde heard the bird's clear +golden note, and saw his bright wings flash +by. "I like this place!" she said, settling +herself comfortably in the flag-bottomed +chair. She dropped her eyes to the book in +her lap and read,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">While the landscape round it measures:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Russet lawns, and fallows gray,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where the nibbling flocks do stray;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Mountains, on whose barren breast</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The laboring clouds do often rest;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Meadows trim with daisies pied,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Shallow brooks, and rivers wide."</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Then her eyes strayed over the landscape +again. "There must be a brook over there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +behind that line of willows!" she thought. +"I wonder if Milton loved willows. There +are pines and monumental oaks in 'Il Penseroso,' +but I don't remember any willows. +It's a pity we have no skylarks here! I do +want Rose to hear a skylark. Dear Rose! +dear Milton! Oh—I am <i>so</i> comfortable!"</div> + +<p>And Hildegarde was asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>OLD MR. COLT.</h3> + + +<p>Supper was over. The girls had laughingly +resisted their hostess's appeal, "Just +one more fritter, with another on each side +to keep it warm,—though I don't know as +they <i>are</i> fit to eat!" and on her positive +refusal to let them help wash the dishes, +had retired to the back doorstep, from which +they could watch the sunset. Here they +were joined by Bubble, who had found a +lodging for himself, Dr. Abernethy, and the +pony, in the family of Abner Colt, the mail-carrier. +He took his place on the doorstep +with the air of one who has fairly earned +his repose.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Bubble," said Hildegarde, "tell us +how you have fared."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well!" answered the boy,—"very +well, Miss Hilda! They're a funny +set over there at Mr. Colt's, but they seem +very kind, and they have given me a nice +little room in the stable-loft, so 't I can see +to the Doctor any minute."</p> + +<p>"How is the dear beast?" asked Rose. +"I thought he went a little lame, after he +got that stone in his foot."</p> + +<p>"I have bathed the foot," said Bubble, +"and it'll be all right to-morrow. Old Mr. +Colt wanted to give me three different kinds +of liniment to rub on it, but hot water is all +it needs. He's a queer old fellow, old Mr. +Colt!" he added meditatively. "Seems to +live on medicine chiefly."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked the +girls.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Bubble, "he came in to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +supper—I hadn't seen him before—with +a big bottle under his arm, and a box of +pills in his hand. He came shuffling in in +his stocking-feet, and when he saw me he +gave a kind of groan. 'Who's that?' says +he. 'It's a boy come over from Bywood,' +says Mrs. Abner, as they call her. 'He's +goin' to stop here over night, Father. Ain't +you glad to see him?—Father likes young +folks real well!' she says to me. The old +gentleman gave a groan, and sat down, +nursing his big bottle as if it were a baby. +'D'ye ever have the dyspepsy?' he asked, +looking at me. 'No, sir!' said I. 'Never +had anything that I know of, 'cept the +measles.' He groaned again, and poured +something out of the bottle into a tumbler. +'You look kinder 'pindlin',' says he, shaking +his head. 'I think likely you've got it on +ye 'thout knowin' it. It's sub-tile, dyspepsy +is,—dreadful sub-tile.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did he mean?—subtle?" asked +Hilda, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so!" replied the boy. "And +then he took his medicine, groaning all the +time and making the worst faces you ever +saw. 'I reckon you'd better take a swallow +o' this, my son!' he said. 'It's a pre-ventitative, +as well 's a cure.'"</p> + +<p>"Bubble," cried his sister, "you are making +this up. Confess, you monkey!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" said Bubble, laughing. "It's +true, every word of it. I <i>couldn't</i> make up +old Mr. Colt! 'It's a pre-ventitative!' he +says, and reaches out his hand for my tumbler. +Then Abner, the young man, spoke +up, and told him he guessed I'd be better +without it, and that 't wasn't meant for +young people, and so on. 'What is it, Mr. +Colt?' I asked, seeing that he looked real—I +mean very much—disappointed. He brightened +up at once. 'It's Vino's Vegetable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +Vivifier!' he said. 'It's the greatest thing +out for dyspepsy. How many bottles have +I took, Leory?' 'I believe this is the tenth, +Father!' said Mrs. Abner. 'And <i>I</i> don't +see as 't 's done you a mite o' good!' she said +to herself, but so 't I could hear. 'Thar!' +says the old man, nodding at me, as proud +as could be, 'd' ye hear that? Ten bottles +I've took, at a dollar a bottle. Ah! it's +great stuff. Ugh!' and he groaned and took +a great piece of mince-pie on his plate. 'Oh, +Father!' says the young woman, '<i>do</i> you +think you ought to eat mince-pie, after as +sick as you was yesterday?' He was just +as mad as hops! 'Ef I'm to be grutched +vittles,' he says, 'I guess it's time for me to +be quittin'. I've eat mince-pie seventy year, +man an' boy, and I guess I ain't goin' to +leave off now. I kin go over to Joel's, if +so be folks begrutches me my vittles here.' +'Oh, come, Father!' says Abner; 'you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> +know Leory didn't mean nothing like that. +Ef you've got to have the pie, why, you've +<i>got</i> to have it, that's all.' The old man +groaned, and pegged away at the pie like +a good one. 'Ah!' he said, 'I sha'n't be +here long, anyway. Nobody needn't be afraid +o' <i>my</i> eatin' up their substance. Hand me +them doughnuts, Abner. Nothin' seems to +have any taste to it, somehow.'"</p> + +<p>"Did he eat nothing but pie and doughnuts?" +asked Hilda. "I should be afraid he +would die to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Bubble, "you wouldn't believe +me if I told you all the things he ate. +Pickles and hot biscuit and cheese—and +groaning all the time, and saying nobody +knowed what dyspepsy was till they'd had +it. Then, when he'd finished, he opened +the pill-box, which had been close beside his +plate all the time, and took three great fat +black pills. 'Have any trouble with yer liver?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +says he, turning to me again; 'there is +nothin' like these pills for yer liver. You +take two of these, and you'll feel 'em all +over ye in an hour's time,—all over ye!' +I thought 't was about time for me to go, so +I said I must attend to the horse's foot, and +went out to the stable. It was then that he +brought me the three kinds of liniment, and +wanted me to rub them all on, 'so 's if one +didn't take holt, another would.'"</p> + +<p>"What a dreadful old ghoul!" cried Hildegarde, +indignantly. "I don't think it's safe +for you to stay there, Bubble. I know he +will poison you in some way."</p> + +<p>"You're talking about Cephas Colt, <i>I</i> +know," said the voice of Mrs. Brett; and the +good woman appeared with her knitting, and +joined the group on the doorstep. "He is a +caution, Cephas is,—a caution! He's been +dosing himself for the last thirty years, and +it's a living miracle that he is alive to-day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +Abner and Leory have a sight o' trouble +with him; but they're real good and patient, +more so 'n I should be. Did he show you his +collection of bottles?" she added, turning +to Bubble.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the boy. "He did speak of +showing me something; but I was in a hurry +to get over here, so I told him I couldn't +wait."</p> + +<p>"You'll see 'em to-morrow, then!" said +the widow. "It's his delight to show 'em to +strangers. Four thousand and odd bottles +he has,—all physic bottles, that have held all +the stuff he and his folks have taken for +thirty years."</p> + +<p>"Four—thousand—bottles!" cried her +hearers, in dismay.</p> + +<p>"And odd!" replied the widow, with +emphasis. "He's adding new ones all the +time, and hopes to make it up to five thousand +before he dies. Large ones and small,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +of course, and lotions and all. He takes +every new thing that comes along, reg'lar. +He has his wife's bottles all arranged in a +shape, kind o' monument-like. They do say +he wanted to set them up on her grave, but +I guess that's only talk."</p> + +<p>"How long ago did she die?" asked +Rose.</p> + +<p>"Three year ago, it is now!" said Mrs. +Brett. "Dosed herself to death, we all +thought. She was just like him! Folks +used to say they had pills and catnip-tea for +dinner the day they was married. You know +how folks will talk! It's a fact though"—here +she lowered her voice—"and I'd ought +not to gossip about my neighbors, nor I +don't among themselves much, but strangers +seem different somehow,—anyhow, it <i>is</i> a +fact that he wanted to put a scandalous inscription +on her monument in the cemetery, +and Abner wouldn't let him; the only time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +Abner ever stood out against his father, as I +know of."</p> + +<p>"What was the inscription?" asked Hildegarde, +trying hard to look as grave as the +subject required.</p> + +<p>"Well,—you mustn't say I told you!" +said the Widow Brett, lowering her voice +still more, and looking about with an air of +mystery,—"'t was</p> + +<div class='poem'> +'Phosphoria helped her for a spell;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But Death spoke up, and all is well.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>'Sh! you mustn't laugh!" she added, as +the three young people broke into peals of +laughter. "There! I'd ought not to have +told. He didn't <i>mean</i> nothing improper, +only to express resignation to the will o' +Providence. Well, there! the tongue's an +onruly member. And so you young ladies +thought you'd like to see Bixby, did ye?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> +she added, for the third or fourth time. +"Well, I'm sure! Bixby'd oughter be +proud. 'T <i>is</i> a sightly place, I've always +thought. You must go over t' the cemetery +to-morrow, and see what there is to see."</div> + +<p>"Yes, we did want to see Bixby," answered +straightforward Hildegarde; "but we +came still more to see you, Mrs. Brett. Indeed, +we have a very important message for +you."</p> + +<p>And beginning at the beginning, Hildegarde +unfolded the great scheme. Mrs. +Brett listened, wide-eyed, following the recital +with appreciative motions of lips and +hands. When it was over, she seemed for +once at a loss for words.</p> + +<p>"I—well, there!" she said; and she crumpled +up her apron, and then smoothed it out +again. "I—why, I don't know what <i>to</i> say. +Well! I'm completely, as you may say, +struck of a heap. I don't know what Mar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>thy's +thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't <i>me</i> +you want, surely. You want a woman with +faculty!"</p> + +<p>"Of course we do!" cried both girls, +laughing. "That is why we have come to +you."</p> + +<p>"Sho!" said Mrs. Brett, crumpling her +apron again, and trying not to look pleased. +"Why, young ladies, I couldn't do it, no +way in the world. There's my chickens, +you see, and my cow, let alone the house; +not but what Joel (that's my nephew) would +be glad enough to take keer of 'em. And +goin' so fur away, as you may say—though +'t would be pleasant to be nigh Marthy—we +was always friends, Marthy and me, since we +was girls—and preserves to make, and fall +cleanin' comin' on, and help so skurce as 'tis—why, +I don't know what Marthy's thinkin' +of, really I don't. Children, too! why, +I do love children, and I shouldn't never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> +think I had things comfortable enough for +'em; not but that's a lovely place, pretty +as ever I see. I helped Marthy clean it one +spring, and such a fancy as I took to that +kitchen,—why, there! and the little room +over it; I remember of saying to Marthy, +says I, a woman might live happy in those +two rooms, let alone the back yard, with all +that nice fine gravel for the chickens, I +says. But there! I couldn't do it, Miss +Grahame, no way in the world. Why, I ain't +got more'n half-a-dozen aprons to my back; +so now you see!"</p> + +<p>This last seemed such a very funny reason +to give, that the three young people could +not help laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>"Martha has dozens and dozens of aprons, +Mrs. Brett," said Hildegarde. "She has a +whole bureau full of them, because she is +afraid her eyes may give out some day, and +then she will not be able to make any more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> +And now, just think a moment!" She laid +her hand on the good woman's arm, and +continued in her most persuasive tones: +"Think of living in that pleasant house, +with the pretty room for your own, and +the sunny kitchen, and the laundry, all +under your own management."</p> + +<p>"Set tubs!" said Mrs. Brett, in a pathetic +parenthesis. "If there's one thing I've +allers hankered after, more 'n another, it's a +set tub!"</p> + +<p>"And the dear little children playing +about in the garden, and coming to you +with flowers, and looking to you as almost +a second mother—"</p> + +<p>"Little Joel,"—cried the widow, putting +her apron to her eyes, and beginning to rock +gently to and fro—"I've allus felt that +blessed child would ha' lived, if he'd ha' +been left with me. There! Joel's been a +good nephew, there couldn't no one have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> +a better; but his wife and me, we never +conjingled. She took the child away, and +it peaked and pined from that day. Well, +there! the ways are mysterious!"</p> + +<p>"And you would take the chickens and +the cow with you, of course," this artful +girl went on; "for the children must have +milk and eggs, and I never tasted more +delicious milk than this of yours."</p> + +<p>"I've no cause to be ashamed of the +cow!" said the widow, still rocking. +"There isn't a cow equal to her round +Marthy's way. I've heerd Marthy say so. +Sixteen quarts she gives, and I do 'clare it's +most half cream. Jersey! there isn't many +Jerseys round Marthy's way."</p> + +<p>"And then the comfort you would be to +Martha and to dear Miss Bond!" Rose put +in. "Martha has a good deal of rheumatism +in winter, you know, and she says you +are such a good nurse. She told me how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> +you rubbed her in her rheumatic fever. +She thinks you saved her life, and I am +sure you did."</p> + +<p>"If I rubbed Marthy Ellen Banks one +foot, I rubbed her a hundred miles!" said +Mrs. Brett, with a faint gleam in her moist +eyes. "'From her tombstun back to a well +woman is a good way,' Dr. Jones says to +me, 'and that way you've rubbed Marthy +Ellen, Mis' Brett!' says he. Good man +Dr. Jones is,—none better! There isn't +no one round Bixby can doctor my sciatica +as he did when I was stayin' to Mis' Bond's +last year. Mis' Bond, too,—well, there! +she was a mother to me. Seemed like 't was +more home there than Bixby was, since +little Joel died. Mysterious the ways is! Mr. +Rawlins well?" she added, after a moment's +pause.</p> + +<p>"Mr.—Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, +after a moment of bewilderment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> +"Jeremiah is very well, all except a cough; +and, dear me! Mrs. Brett, I haven't given +you his message. 'Tell Mrs. Brett,' he +said, almost the last thing before we came +away this morning,—'tell Mrs. Brett she'll +<i>have</i> to come, to make me a treacle-posset +for my cough. Not even Martha can make +treacle-posset like hers!' Those were Jeremiah's +very words, Mrs. Brett."</p> + +<p>A faint color stole into the widow's thin +cheeks. She sat up straight, and began to +smooth out her apron. "Miss Grahame," she +said emphatically, "I verily believe you +could persuade a cat out of a bird's-nest. +If it seems I'm really needed over to Bywood—I +don't hardly know how I <i>can</i> go—but—well, +there! you've come so fur, and +I do like to 'commodate; so—well, I don't +really see how I can—but—I will!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>JOYOUS GARD.</h3> + + +<p>It was the tenth day of September, and +as pleasant a day as one could wish to see. +The sun shone brightly everywhere; but Hildegarde +thought that the laughing god sent +his brightest golden rays down on the spot +where she was standing. The House in the +Wood no longer justified its name; for the +trees had been cut away from around it,—only +a few stately pines and ancient +hemlocks remaining to mount guard over +the cottage, and to make pleasant shady +places on the wide, sunny lawns that +stretched before and behind it. The brook +no longer murmured unseen, but laughed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> +now in the sunlight, and reflected every +manner of pretty thing,—fleecy cloudlet, +fluttering bird or butterfly, nodding fern or +soldierly "cat-tail."</p> + +<p>The house itself looked alert and wide-awake, +with all its windows thrown open, +and its door standing hospitably ajar, as +if awaiting welcome guests. From an upper +window came a sound of singing, for +Rose was there, arranging flowers in the +vases; from another direction was heard +the ring of a hammer, as Bubble gave the +last strokes to a wonderful cart which he +had been making, and which was to be his +contribution to the Country Home.</p> + +<p>Hildegarde stood on the piazza, alone; her +hands were full of flowers, and the "laughing +light" of them was reflected in her +bright, lovely face. She looked about her +on the sunny greenery, on the blue shining +stream, up to the bluer sky above. "This is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +the happiest day of my life!" said the girl, +softly. She wondered what she had done, +that all this joy and brightness should be +hers. Every one was so good to her; every +one had helped so kindly in the undertaking, +from the beginning down to this happy +end. There had been a good deal to be +done, of course; but it seemed as if every +hand had been outstretched to aid this work +of her heart.</p> + +<p>Cousin Wealthy, of course, had made it +possible, and had been absorbed in it, heart +and soul, as had all the others of the household. +But there had also been so many +pleasant tokens from outside. When Mrs. +Brett arrived a week before, to take charge +of the house, she brought a box of contributions +from her neighbors in Bixby, to +whom she had told the story of the Country +Home,—scrap-books, comforters, rag-babies, +preserves, pop-corn, pincushions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +catsup, kettle-holders. Bixby had done what +it could, and the girls and Miss Wealthy and +Martha were delighted with everything; but +there was much laughter when the widow +pulled out a huge bottle of Vino's Vegetable +Vivifier, and presented it, with a twinkle +in her eye, as the gift of Mr. Cephas Colt. +Nor had the scattered villagers of Bywood +been less generous. One good farmer had +brought a load of wood; another, some sacks +of Early Rose potatoes; a third presented a +jar of June butter; a fourth, some home-made +maple-syrup. The wives and daughters had +equalled those of Bixby in their gifts of useful +trifles; and Rose, who was fond of details, +calculated that there were two tidies +for every chair in the house.</p> + +<p>The boys of the neighborhood, who had +at first shown a tendency to sit round on +stumps and jeer at the proceedings, had +now, at Hildegarde's suggestion, formed them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>selves +into a Kindling-Wood Club, under Bubble's +leadership; and they split wood every +afternoon for an hour, with such good results +that Jeremiah reckoned they wouldn't +need no coal round this place; they could +burn kindlin's as reckless as if they was +somebody's else hired gal!</p> + +<p>Then, the day before, a great cart had +rumbled up to the door, bringing a packing-case, +of a shape which made Hildegarde cry +out, and clap her hands, and say, "Papa! I +<i>know</i> it is Papa!"—which for the moment +greatly disconcerted the teamster, who had +no idea of carrying people's papas round in +boxes. But when the case was opened, there +was the prettiest upright piano that ever was +seen; and sure enough, a note inside the +cover said that this was "for Hildegarde's +Hobby, from Hildegarde's Poppy." But +more than that! the space between the +piano and the box was completely filled with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +picture-books,—layers and layers of them; +Walter Crane, and Caldecott, and Gordon +Browne, and all the most delightful picture-books +in the world. And in each book was +written "The Rainy-Day Library;" which +when Hildegarde saw, she began to cry, and +said that her mother was the most blessed +creature in the world.</p> + +<p>But after all, the thing that had touched +the girl's heart most deeply was the arrival, +this very morning, of old Galusha Pennypacker, +shuffling along with his stick, and +bent almost double under the weight of a +great sack which he carried on his back. +Mrs. Brett had been looking out of the window, +and announced that a crazy man was +coming: "Looks like it, anyway. Hadn't I +better call Zee-rubble, Miss Grahame?"</p> + +<p>But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the +old man, and flew to meet him. "Good-morning, +Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>dially. +"Do let me help you with that +heavy bag! There! now sit down here +in the shade, for I am sure you are very +tired."</p> + +<p>She brought a chair quickly; and the old +man sank into it, for he was indeed exhausted +by the long walk under his heavy +burden. He gasped painfully for breath; +and it was not till Hildegarde had brought +him water, and fanned him diligently for +some minutes, that he was able to speak.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye!" he said at last, drawing +out something that might once have been +a handkerchief, and wiping his wrinkled face. +"It's a warm day—for walkin'."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed it is!" Hildegarde assented. +"And it is a long walk from your house, +Mr. Pennypacker. I fear it has been too +much for you. Could you not have got +one of the neighbors to give you a lift?"</p> + +<p>"No! no!" replied the old man quickly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> +with a cunning gleam in his sharp little +eyes. "I'd ruther walk,—I'd ruther! Walkin' +don't cost nothin'! They'd charged me, +like's not, a quarter for fetchin' on me here. +They think the old man's got money, but +he hain't; no, he hain't got one red cent,—not +for them he hain't." He paused, +and began fumbling at the string of the +sack. "Hearin' you was settin' up a horspittle +here," he said, "I cal'lated to bring +two or three apples. Children likes apples, +don't they?" He looked up suddenly, with +the same fierce gleam which had frightened +Hildegarde and Rose so when they first saw +him; but Hildegarde had no longer any fear +of the singular old man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do!" she said warmly. "I +don't know of anything they like so well, +Mr. Pennypacker. How very kind of you! +And you came all this way on foot, to bring +them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The' warn't no shorter way!" replied +old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! I reckon them's +good apples."</p> + +<p>They were superb Red Astrakhans; every +one, so far as Hildegarde could see, perfect +in shape and beauty. Moreover, they had +all been polished till they shone mirror-like. +Hildegarde wondered what they had been +rubbed with, but dismissed the thought, as +one unwise to dwell upon.</p> + +<p>"They's wuth money, them apples!" said +the old man, after she had thanked him again +and again for the timely gift. "Money!" +he repeated, lingering on the word, as if it +were pleasant to the taste. "Huh! there +ain't nobody else on the yearth I'd ha' +give so much as a core of one of 'em to, +'cept you, young woman."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. +Pennypacker!" was all Hildegarde could +say.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ye've took thought for me!" said the +old man. "The' ain't nobody took thought +for old G'lushe Pennypacker, round here, +not for a good while. Ye was to my place +yesterday, warn't ye?" He looked up again, +with a sudden glare.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and +my friend too. She knit the stockings for +you, sir. I hope you liked them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" said the old man, absently. +"Good stockin's, good stockin's! Nice gal +she is too. But—'t was you left the book, +warn't it, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hildegarde, blushing. "I am +so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe' myself, I thought +you might like it too."</p> + +<p>"Hain't seen that book for fifty year!" +said the old man. "Sot up all last night +readin' it. It'll be comp'ny to me all winter. +And you—you took thought on me!—a +young, fly-away, handsome gal, and old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +G'lushe Pennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot +here, nor yet yender!"</p> + +<p>He gave an upward jerk of his head, +and then passed his rag of a handkerchief +over his face again, and said he must be +going. But he did not go till he had had +a glass of milk, and half-a-dozen of Mrs. +Brett's doughnuts, to strengthen him for his +homeward walk.</p> + +<p>All this came back to Hildegarde, as she +stood on the piazza; and as she recalled +the softened, friendly look in the old man's +eyes as he bade her good-by, she said again +to herself, "This is the happiest day of +my life!" The next day would not be +so happy, for Rose and Bubble were going,—one +to her home at Hartley's Glen, the +other to his school in New York; and in a +fortnight she must herself be turning her +face homeward.</p> + +<p>How short the summer had been!—had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> +there ever been such a flying season?—and +yet she had done very little; she had only +been happy, and enjoyed herself. Miss Wealthy, +perhaps, could have told another story,—of +kind deeds and words; of hours spent +in reading aloud, in winding wools, in arranging +flowers, in the thousand little helpfulnesses +by which a girl can make herself +beloved and necessary in a household. To +the gentle, dreamy, delicate Rose, Hildegarde +had really <i>been</i> the summer. Without this +strong arm always round her, this strong +sunny nature, helping, cheering, amusing, +how could she have come out of the life-long +habits of invalidism, and learned to +face the world standing on both feet? She +could not have done it, Rose felt; and with +this feeling, she probably would not have +done it.</p> + +<p>But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing +of this. She had been happy, that was all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> +And though she was going to her own beloved +home, and to the parents who were +the greater part of the world to her, still +she would be sorry to leave this happiness +even for a completer one.</p> + +<p>But hark! was that the sound of wheels? +Yes; they were coming.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running +to the door. "Rose! Bubble! Martha! +Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all +of you! The stage is here!"</p> + +<p>Out they came, all running, all out of +breath, save Miss Wealthy, who knew the +exact number of steps that would bring her +to the exact middle of the piazza, and +took these steps with her usual gentle precision +of movement. She had no sooner +taken up the position which she felt to be +the proper one for her, than round the corner +came the Bywood stage,—a long, lumbering, +ramshackle vehicle, in which sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> +Mrs. Murray, a kind-looking nurse, and +the twelve convalescent children who were +to have the first delights of the Country +Home.</p> + +<p>At sight of them Bubble began to wave +his hat violently. "Hooray!" he shouted. +"Three cheers for the young uns!"</p> + +<p>"Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his +hands about, as he had no hat to wave.</p> + +<p>The children set up a feeble shout in +reply, and waved heads, arms, and legs +indiscriminately. Then ensued a scene of +joyous confusion. The little ones were lifted +out, kissed, and welcomed; their bundles +followed; and for a few minutes the quiet +place was filled with a very Babel of +voices.</p> + +<p>High above them all rose the clarion tones +of Benny, explaining to a former fellow-patient +his present position in life. "I don't +lives here!" he said; "I lives a little way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> +off. I's ve boy of ve house where I lives, +and I takes care of a whole lot of womenfolks, +and Jim Maria helps me, and vere's +anover boy who does fings for me. It's +bully, and I'm goin' to stay vere all my +life long."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. +"Does he know of his mother's death?" +she asked in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"No!" replied Miss Wealthy. "He has +almost forgotten her, poor little lad! I fear +she was not very kind to him. And I have +decided to keep him, Mrs. Murray, and to +give him a happy childhood, and then send +him to a good school. He is a most lovable +child, and it will be a privilege to have him, +especially as my dear young relative is to +leave me soon."</p> + +<p>Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, +who was standing, flushed and radiant, +the centre of a group of children, who clus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>tered +round her, pulling at her hands and +clinging to her gown.</p> + +<p>"What's the name of this place?" one +little fellow was asking her. "I like this +place! What is its name?"</p> + +<p>"It is called Joyous Gard!" replied Hildegarde. +"That was the name of a beautiful +castle, long and long ago, which belonged to +a very brave knight; and we think it will +be a good name for your Country Home, +because we mean to make it full of joy and +happiness, and yet to guard you well in it. +So Joyous Gard it is to be. Say it now, all of +you,—'Joyous Gard!'"</p> + +<p>And "Joyous Gard!" shouted the children, +their voices echoing merrily among the trees, +and spreading away, till Rose, the romantic, +wondered if some faint tone of it might not +reach a pale shade called Lancelot du Lake, +and bring him comfort where he sorrowed +for his sins.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span></p> + +<p>So in Joyous Gard let us leave our Hildegarde,—in +each hand a child, around her +many loving hearts, in her own heart great +joy and light and love. Let us leave her, +and wish that all girls might know the cheer +and happiness that was hers, not for that day +only, but through all her days.</p> + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Selections from<br /> +L. C. Page & Company's<br /> +Books for Young People</h2> + +<div class='center'>—————————————————————</div> +<h3>THE BLUE BONNET SERIES</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Blue Bonnet Prices"> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> </td><td align='right'>$ 2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>The seven volumes, boxed as a set</i></td><td align='right'>14.00</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Blue Bonnet Books"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><b>A TEXAS BLUE BONNET</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET—DÉBUTANTE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr> +</table></div> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, +honest, lively girlishness and cannot but make friends +with every one who meets her through these books about +her."—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i></p> + +<p>"Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the +kind that one would like to have in one's home."—<i>New +York Sun.</i></p></div> + + +<h3><br /><b>THE HENRIETTA SERIES</b></h3> + +<div class='center'><b>By <span class="smcap">Lela Horn Richards</span></b></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Henrietta Price"> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated</i> </td><td align='left'>$1.90</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><b>ONLY HENRIETTA</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><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></p></div> + +<p><b>HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><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></p></div> + + + +<h3><br />THE BOYS' STORY OF THE<br /> +RAILROAD SERIES</h3> + +<div class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Burton E. Stevenson</span><br /> + +<i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated,</i> $1.75<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND</b>; <span class="smcap">Or, The Adventures +of Allan West</span>.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The whole range of section railroading is covered in +the story."—<i>Chicago Post.</i></p></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER</b></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous +nature of railroad life."—<i>Congregationalist.</i></p></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER</b></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to +anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing +yarn."—<i>Passaic News.</i></p></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>THE YOUNG APPRENTICE</b>; <span class="smcap">Or, Allan West's +Chum</span>.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The story is intensely interesting."—<i>Baltimore Sun.</i></p></div> + + +<h3><br /><b>THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES</b></h3> + +<div class='center'><b>Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls</b></div> + +<p> +<i>Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader +Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster +jacket in full color</i> $2.00<br /> +</p> + +<p><b>THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY</b></p> + +<p> By <span class="smcap">W. H. Davenport Adams</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS</b></p> + +<p> By <span class="smcap">C. M. Yonge</span>.</p> + +<p><b>ERLING THE BOLD</b></p> + +<p> By <span class="smcap">R. M. Ballantyne</span>.</p> + +<p><b>WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD</b>; <span class="smcap">Or, The Adventures +of Raoulf De Gyssage</span>.</p> + +<p> By <span class="smcap">H. Turing Bruce</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Tales which ring to the clanking of armour, tales of +marches and counter-marches, tales of wars, but tales +which bring peace; a peace and contentment in the +knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, has +survived and conquered."—<i>Portland Evening Express.</i></p></div> + + + + +<h3><br />BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES</h3> + +<div class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Helen Katherine Broughall</span><br /> + +<i>Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated</i> $2.00<br /> +</div> +<p><b>BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING +SCHOOL</b></p> + +<p><b>BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP</b></p> + +<p><b>BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE</b></p> + +<p><b>BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Full of adventure—initiations, joys, picnics, parties, +tragedies, vacation and all. Just what girls like, books +in which 'dreams come true,' entertaining 'gossipy' books +overflowing with conversation."—<i>Salt Lake City Deseret +News.</i></p> + +<p>"High ideals and a real spirit of fun underlie the +stories. They will be a decided addition to the bookshelves +of the young girl for whom a holiday gift is +contemplated."—<i>Los Angeles Saturday Night.</i></p></div> + + +<h3><br />DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES</h3> + +<div class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Marion Ames Taggart</span><br /> + +<i>Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume,</i> $1.75<br /> +</div> + +<p><b>THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life +of a dear little maid."—<i>The Churchman.</i></p></div> + +<p><b>SWEET NANCY:</b> <span class="smcap">The Further Adventures of +the Doctor's Little Girl</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence +cannot but be elevating."—<i>New York Sun.</i></p></div> + +<p><b>NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many +girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy."—<i>Springfield Union.</i></p></div> + +<p><b>NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young +woman, with plenty of pluck."—<i>Boston Globe.</i></p></div> + +<p><b>NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS</b></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The story is refreshing."—<i>New York Sun.</i></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>In the Hildegarde-Margaret Series advertisement, the price per volume had been blotted +out by a reader and $2.00 written in. A search for advertisements of this set costing $19.75 +shows them individually at $1.75 and the text has been changed to reflect that.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hildegarde's Holiday, by Laura E. Richards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY *** + +***** This file should be named 24826-h.htm or 24826-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/2/24826/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/24826-h/images/cover01.jpg b/24826-h/images/cover01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..25a8c7a --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/cover01.jpg diff --git a/24826-h/images/emblem.png b/24826-h/images/emblem.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f69065 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/emblem.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs01.png b/24826-h/images/gs01.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..87bbe4b --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs01.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs02.png b/24826-h/images/gs02.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac6e4e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs02.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs03.png b/24826-h/images/gs03.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7de7b2e --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs03.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs04.png b/24826-h/images/gs04.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85a6d26 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs04.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs05.png b/24826-h/images/gs05.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c5bbde --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs05.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs06.png b/24826-h/images/gs06.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..13221e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs06.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs07.png b/24826-h/images/gs07.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5bc3cb --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs07.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/gs08.png b/24826-h/images/gs08.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a18e395 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/gs08.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/leaf.png b/24826-h/images/leaf.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c110e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/leaf.png diff --git a/24826-h/images/tp01.png b/24826-h/images/tp01.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77311e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/24826-h/images/tp01.png |
