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+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
+
+By Laura E. Richards
+
+Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume, $1.75
+
+        Queen Hildegarde
+        Hildegarde's Holiday
+        Hildegarde's Home
+        Hildegarde's Neighbors
+        Hildegarde's Harvest
+        Three Margarets
+        Margaret Montfort
+        Peggy
+        Rita
+        Fernley House
+        The Merryweathers
+
+        _The above eleven volumes boxed as a set, $19.25_
+
+        L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+        53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"]
+
+
+
+
+THE HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+Hildegarde's Holiday
+
+A STORY FOR GIRLS
+
+BY
+
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+Author of
+
+        "The Margaret Series," "The Hildegarde Series,"
+        "Captain January," "Melody," "Five
+        Minute Stories," etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATED
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PAGE COMPANY
+
+        BOSTON PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+        _Copyright, 1891_
+        BY ESTES AND LAURIAT
+
+        Made in U. S. A.
+
+        Twenty-fourth Impression, May, 1927
+        Twenty-fifth Impression, January, 1930
+
+        THE COLONIAL PRESS
+        C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+_To H. R._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+      I. INTRODUCTORY                     11
+
+     II. MISS WEALTHY                     20
+
+    III. THE ORCHARD                      34
+
+     IV. THE DOCTORS                      53
+
+      V. ON THE RIVER                     74
+
+     VI. A MORNING DRIVE                  94
+
+    VII. A "STORY EVENING"               126
+
+   VIII. FLOWER-DAY                      151
+
+     IX. BROKEN FLOWERS                  178
+
+      X. THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD           201
+
+     XI. "UP IN THE MORNING EARLY"       222
+
+    XII. BENNY                           241
+
+   XIII. A SURPRISE                      254
+
+    XIV. TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING       278
+
+     XV. THE GREAT SCHEME                300
+
+    XVI. THE WIDOW BRETT                 314
+
+   XVII. OLD MR. COLT                    337
+
+  XVIII. JOYOUS GARD                     354
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                        PAGE
+"'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'" (p. 128)      _Frontispiece_
+"'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"           23
+"'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"                      77
+"THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE"                   111
+"'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"        174
+"SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE"                             194
+"'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"                            247
+"'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"                            333
+
+
+
+
+HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+INTRODUCTORY.
+
+
+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 following 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+Hildegarde Grahame sat down, and leaning her head on her mother's
+shoulder, burst into tears.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Let her hear it all from you, Doctor," said Mrs. Grahame. "It will do
+her more good than anything else."
+
+Hildegarde looked up and nodded, and smiled through her tears.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"_Place aux dames!_" said the Doctor. "You may answer first, Mrs.
+Grahame, though your question came last."
+
+"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, and they all say, 'Bless her!' when they move away."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh! a month!" cried Hildegarde, dolefully. "Do you mean that she cannot
+walk at all till then, Doctor?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I suppose so," said the girl, still looking disappointed, however.
+
+"Oh, she will _begin_ 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
+very good thing for her. An easy carriage, a gentle horse, a careful
+driver--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"But we _don't_ call her so now, Mammy!" cried Hildegarde, impetuously.
+"Rose is exactly as much her own name, and she likes it much better;
+and even Bubble says it is prettier. But I _didn't_ mean to interrupt,
+Mammy dear. Go on, please!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Capital!" cried Dr. Flower; "the very thing! She _shall_ 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?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Hilda. "It goes quite near, doesn't it, Mamma?"
+
+"Within two or three miles," said Mrs. Grahame; "and the carriage road
+is very good."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+But when Dr. Flower went out into the hall, he saw standing opposite the
+door a boy, neatly dressed and very pale, with burning eyes, which met
+his in an agony of inquiry.
+
+"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?"
+
+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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MISS WEALTHY.
+
+
+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.
+
+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
+privilege, 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. 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.
+
+"I think the room looks very pretty, Martha," said Miss Wealthy, for the
+tenth time.
+
+"It does, Mam," replied Martha, as heartily as if she had not heard the
+remark before. "Proper nice it looks, I'm sure."
+
+"You mended that little place in the curtain, did you, Martha?"
+
+"I did, Mam. I don't think as you could find it now, unless you looked
+very close."
+
+"And you put lavender and orange-flower water in the bottles? Very well;
+then that's all, I think."
+
+[Illustration: "'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"]
+
+Miss Wealthy gave one more contented look round the pretty room, with
+its gay 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.
+
+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.
+
+"And everything is right for supper, Martha?" she asked.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh no, Martha," said the old lady, "I don't need anything. We shall
+hear the wheels when they come."
+
+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.
+
+"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 _quite_
+half-way down. It makes the whole room look askew, doesn't it?"
+
+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 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.
+
+Hildegarde sprang lightly from the carriage, and gave her hand to her
+companion to help her out.
+
+"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!
+_there_ you are! now take my arm. Slowly, slowly! See, Cousin Wealthy!
+see how well she walks! Isn't it delightful?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+Hildegarde shook hands warmly with Martha, and Rose gave one of her shy,
+sweet smiles.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"There, dear!" she said anxiously, stooping to unfasten her cloak. "Are
+you very dreadfully tired?"
+
+"Oh no!" replied Rose, cheerfully; "not at all _dreadfully_ tired, only
+comfortably. I ache a little, of course, but--Oh, what a pleasant room!
+And this chair is comfort itself."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, dear," said quiet Rose, smiling, "you knew there was a river;
+your mother told us so."
+
+"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--"
+
+"To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose.
+
+"Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And I think--Rose, I _do_ see a
+boat-house! My dear, this is bliss! We will bathe every morning. You
+have never seen me dive, Rose."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Peace, paltry soul!" cried Hilda. "Here comes a scow, loaded with wood.
+The wood has been wet, and is all yellow and gleaming. 'Scow,'--what an
+absurd word! 'Barge' is prettier."
+
+"It sounds so like Shalott," said Rose; "I must come and look too.
+
+        "'By the margin, willow-veiled,
+         Slide the heavy barges, trailed
+         By slow horses.'"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do you say it!" said Rose, coming softly forward, and taking her seat
+beside her friend. "I like best to hear you."
+
+And Hildegarde repeated in a low tone,--
+
+        "Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
+         Little breezes dusk and shiver
+         Through the wave that runs forever
+         By the island in the river
+         Flowing down to Camelot."
+
+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.
+
+"Oh!" cried Hildegarde. "Rose, how _could_ you let me go
+a-woolgathering? Just look at my hair!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Miss Wealthy had been seriously disturbed when the girls did not appear
+promptly at 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 _quite_ 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 _little_ 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."
+
+"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. It is part of Papa's
+military code, you know."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am not to take tea till I am
+twenty-one, Cousin Wealthy, nor coffee either."
+
+"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 _very_ light that a small quantity of it
+is not injurious."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, looking up placidly from her
+milk-toast, "Well, so am I!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE ORCHARD.
+
+
+Next morning, when breakfast was over, Miss Wealthy made a little
+speech, giving the two girls the freedom of the place.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, indeed we shall, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "It is delight
+enough just to breathe this delicious air and look at the river."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+But Martha had a young girl in the kitchen, Miss Wealthy said, whom she
+was training 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.
+
+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?"
+
+"Yonder," said Rose, pointing to a feathery bush not far off.
+
+"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."
+
+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, "_Good_-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. _She_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I don't know," said Rose, slowly. "Another item for the ignorance list,
+Hilda. It is growing appallingly long. I really _don't_ 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."
+
+"Let us call it vegetable rheumatism!" said Hildegarde. "How _is_ your
+poor back this morning, ma'am?" She addressed an ancient tree with
+respectful sympathy; indeed, it did look like an aged dame bent 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?"
+
+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 _massage_, you know. What do you suppose her name is?"
+
+"Dame Crump would do, wouldn't it?" replied Rose, looking critically at
+the venerable dame.
+
+"Of course! and that ferocious old person brandishing three arms over
+yonder must be Croquemitaine,--
+
+        "'Croquemitaine! Croquemitaine!
+         Ne dinerai pas 'vec toi!'
+
+I think they are rather a savage set,--don't you, Rosy?--all except my
+dear Dame Crump here."
+
+"I _know_ 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!"
+
+"Avaunt!" cried Hilda, springing lightly from Dame Crump's sheltering
+arm. "Ye secret, black, and midnight hags, what is 't ye do?"
+
+"A deed without a name!" muttered Rose, in sepulchral tones.
+
+"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."
+
+"Just like me, as I was a year ago," said Rose, smiling.
+
+"Rose! how can you?" cried Hildegarde, indignantly; "as if you had not
+always been a white rosebush."
+
+"On wheels!" said Rose. "I often think of my dear old chair, and wonder
+if it misses me. Hildegarde dear!"
+
+"My lamb!" replied Hildegarde, sitting down by her friend and giving her
+a little hug.
+
+"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
+_dream_ 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, move
+so many things without getting mixed up."
+
+"Dear Rose! you are happy, aren't you?" exclaimed Hildegarde, with
+delight.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Lohengrin?" said Hildegarde. "No, you are more like Una, in the 'Faerie
+Queene.' In fact, I think you _are_ Una."
+
+"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, 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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor thing!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically.
+
+"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 poor Sir Scraggo, who quivered with emotion, but never
+took advantage of the situation. I used to be _very_ sorry for Sir
+Scraggo."
+
+"What a shame!" cried Hildegarde, warmly. "Couldn't you make her care
+for the poor dear?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I think she was rather a minx, do you know?" said Hildegarde. "I
+prefer Sir Scraggo myself."
+
+"Well," replied Rose, "one respected Sir Scraggo very much indeed; but
+he was _not_ 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."
+
+"That does make a difference," said Hildegarde. "Who were some other of
+your garden people, you funniest Rose?"
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"_You_ decided, forsooth!" cried Hildegarde. "'"Who are you?" said the
+caterpillar.' I will hear about Larry Larkspur, if you please, without
+more delay."
+
+"It really _isn't_ worth hearing!" said Rose. "Still, if you want it you
+shall have it; so listen!
+
+        "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,
+          Wears a cap of purple gay;
+         Trim and handy little dandy,
+          Straight and smirk he stands alway.
+
+        "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,
+          Saw the Poppy blooming fair;
+         Loved her for her scarlet satin,
+          Loved her for her fringèd hair.
+
+        "Sent a message by the night-wind:
+          'Wilt thou wed me, lady gay?
+         For the heart of Larry Larkspur
+          Beats and burns for thee alway.'
+
+        "When the morning 'gan to brighten,
+          Eager glanced he o'er the bed.
+         Lo! the Poppy's leaves had fallen;
+          Bare and brown her ugly head.
+
+        "Sore amazed stood Larry Larkspur,
+          And his heart with grief was big.
+         'Woe is me! she was so lovely,
+          Who could guess she wore a wig?'"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE DOCTORS.
+
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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."
+
+Cousin Wealthy smiled. She enjoyed a little joke as much as any one, and
+Dr. Abernethy was one of her standing jokes.
+
+"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 exercise. He lives--in
+the stable, my dears, and he has four legs and a tail."
+
+"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."
+
+"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, whom I had seen once in London, when I was a little
+girl."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"'Who's this? who's this?' he said, in a very gruff voice. 'Little girl!
+Humph! Tooth-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'No, sir,' I answered faintly, being frightened nearly out of my wits.
+
+"'Head-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'No, sir.'
+
+"'Stomach-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'Oh, no, sir!'
+
+"'Then take that!' and he thrust a little 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."
+
+"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Rose. "And was he a very good
+doctor?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Oh, I hope it is!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "It is too funny not to
+be true."
+
+"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 I ever
+saw, nearly as long as the rest of his face.
+
+"'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.)
+
+"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
+_think_ 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.'
+
+"'Ah!' said Dr. Longman, 'craves food, does he?--cra-aves food!'
+
+"Just then Bubble's patience gave out. He was getting better, and it
+made him _so_ cross, poor dear! he snapped out, in his funny way, 'I've
+got a bile comin' on my nose, and it hurts like fury!'
+
+"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?'
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Here's the Doctor wants terrible to come in, Mam!" she said. "Will I
+let him?"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said Miss Wealthy, smiling. "Let the good Doctor in!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 is forming his
+opinion now, and nothing will ever alter it."
+
+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 _have_ read 'Pilgrim's
+Progress,' I assure you!--read it through and through, a number of
+times, and love it dearly."
+
+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.
+
+"Dear pussy!" said Rose, stroking him gently, and scratching him behind
+one ear in a very knowing manner.
+
+Miss Wealthy drew a long breath of satisfaction. "It is all right," she
+said. "Martha, he is delighted with the young ladies. Dear Doctor! he
+shall have some almond-pudding at once. Bring me his saucer, please,
+Martha!"
+
+Martha brought a blue saucer; but Miss Wealthy looked at it with
+surprise and disapproval.
+
+"That is not the Doctor's saucer, Martha," she said. "Is it possible
+that you have forgotten? He has _always_ had the odd yellow saucer ever
+since he was a kitten."
+
+"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."
+
+"_Broke the yellow saucer!_" 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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Jenny broke a cup last winter, did she not, Martha?" asked Miss
+Wealthy.
+
+"A very small cup, Mam," replied Martha, deprecatingly. "That's all she
+has broken 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."
+
+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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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 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
+_in_ the story, of course I couldn't put it down till I had finished
+it."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"And what are you going to do with yourselves this afternoon, girlies?"
+she asked, settling herself in her armchair, and smelling of her
+pansies, which, as usual, stood on the little round table at her elbow.
+
+"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 _happy_ 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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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 it, patted it a little, and
+then with an apologetic glance and smile at the old lady, went to join
+Hildegarde.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+"Shall I read or sing, Rosy?" she asked.
+
+"Oh! but are you quite sure you don't want to do something else, dear?"
+asked Rose.
+
+"Absolutely sure!" said Hildegarde. "Quite positively sure!"
+
+"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?"
+
+So Hilda sang, as follows:--
+
+        "'Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
+         Smiles awake you when you rise.
+         Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
+         And I will sing a lullaby.
+         Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
+
+        "'Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;
+         You are care, and care must keep you.
+         Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
+         And I will sing a lullaby.
+         Rock them, rock them, lullaby.'"
+
+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,--
+
+        "'Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
+                    O sweet Content!
+         Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexèd?
+                    O Punishment!
+         Dost laugh to see how fools are vexèd
+         To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
+            O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
+
+        "'Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?
+                    O sweet Content!
+         Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
+                    O Punishment!
+        Then he that patiently Want's burden bears
+        No burden bears, but is a king, a king.
+            O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content.'"
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ON THE RIVER.
+
+
+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 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.
+
+"Last year at this time," she said, thinking aloud, "I didn't know what
+a Camberwell Beauty was. I didn't know any butterflies 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.
+
+"I don't wonder!" said the girl. "But you'd better take care, my dear. I
+know you now, and I don't _think_ 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."
+
+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!--_now_ 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.
+
+"Oh, Jeremiah!" said Hildegarde, eagerly, "is the--do you think the boat
+is safe?"
+
+[Illustration: "'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"]
+
+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."
+
+"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 _you_ said it was all right. _Do_ say it's all right, Jeremiah!"
+
+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. _She_ don't like boats, any way o' the world, but I'll
+take ye down and get her out for ye."
+
+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 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.
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde. "I am so much obliged!"
+
+"No need ter!" responded Jeremiah, politely. "Ye've handled a boat
+before, have ye?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+"Then I shall try both," said Hildegarde, laughing. "Good-by, Jeremiah!
+I will bring the boat back safe."
+
+The oars dipped, and the boat shot off into midstream. Jeremiah looked
+after it a few minutes, and then turned back toward the house. "_She_
+knows what she's about!" he said to himself.
+
+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,
+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?
+
+        "'They wriggled their tails;
+         In the sun glanced their scales.'"
+
+Then she tried to repeat "Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes," of
+which she was very fond.
+
+        "Sharp-snouted pikes,
+         Who keep fighting like tikes,
+         Now swam up harmonious
+         To hear Saint Antonius.
+           No sermon beside
+           Had the pikes so edified."
+
+Presently something waved in the shadow,--something moving, among the
+still reflections of the rocks. Hildegarde looked up. There, 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.
+
+"You dears!" she cried; "have you been waiting there, just for me to
+come and see you?"
+
+The harebells nodded, as if there were no doubt about it.
+
+"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 think. Good-by, dear
+pretties! I should like to take you home to Rose, but it would be a
+wickedness to pick you."
+
+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 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.
+
+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!"
+
+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 violently. 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+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 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 _one_ 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 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."
+
+"No, not _quite_ so bad as that!" she cried aloud, laughing, though her
+cheeks burned at her own thoughts. "I _did_ know bees and wasps, and I
+_think_ I knew a dragon-fly when I saw him."
+
+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,--
+
+        "A primrose by a river's brim
+         A yellow primrose was to him,
+           And it was nothing more."
+
+Here was this little brown bird, for example. Bird and song and eggs,
+all together could not tell her its name. She 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 _very_ 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?
+
+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.
+
+The farther side showed an opening in 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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+Homeward now, following the west bank, as she had gone down along the
+east. This side was pretty, too, though there were no 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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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 _would_ remove your
+chivalrous self from my unworthy oar,--really not a fit place for your
+knighthood,--I should get on faster."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good-by, good boat!" she cried. "Good-by, dear beautiful river! I shall
+see you to-morrow, the day after, every 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A MORNING DRIVE.
+
+
+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.
+
+"My dears," said Miss Wealthy, "are you ready? You said ten o'clock, and
+the clock has already struck."
+
+"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, _nous allons faire une promenade en voiture! Répétez
+cette phrase!_"
+
+"_Nous allong_--" began Rose, meekly; but she was cut short in her
+repetition.
+
+"Not _allong_, dear, _allons_, _ons_. Keep your mouth open, and don't
+let your tongue come near the roof of your mouth after the _ll_.
+_Allons!_ Try once more."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+Meanwhile the girls were driving along, looking about them, and
+enjoying themselves immensely. Jeremiah had given them directions for a
+drive "just about _so_ 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.
+
+"There is snow on them," said Rose. "Oh, Hildegarde! they must be the
+White Mountains. Jeremiah told me that we could see them from here.
+That highest peak must be Mount Washington. Oh, to think of it!"
+
+They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the mountains, which lay
+like giants at rest.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," said Hildegarde; "but I don't know what poet. I found it in a
+book of Dr. Felton's at home."
+
+She thought a moment, and then repeated the verses,--
+
+        "'Why are the mountains shadowed o'er?
+         Why stand they darkened grimly?
+         Is it a tempest warring there,
+         Or rain-storm beating on them?
+
+        "'It is no tempest warring there,
+         No rain-storm beating on them,
+         But Charon sweeping over them,
+         And with him the departed.'"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yellow clover!" repeated Hildegarde, looking about her. "Who ever heard
+of yellow clover? I don't see any."
+
+"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 to the ditch by
+the roadside, you might possibly see it."
+
+"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.
+
+"Are they really clover?" she asked, examining them curiously. "I had no
+idea there were more than two kinds, red and white."
+
+"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."
+
+"And how, let me in a spirit of love inquire, does it resemble your Aunt
+Caroline? Is she yellow?"
+
+"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 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
+_too_ good to 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 _exactly_ like Aunt
+Caroline herself; she was _so_ withering, and _so_ 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 and persistent, though she said, 'Very excusable!' at last."
+
+"Why, Rose!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I didn't suppose you were
+_ever_ naughty, even when you were a baby."
+
+"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 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?'
+
+"'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."
+
+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
+together, standing edgewise, and tossing their naked arms in every
+direction.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 anything.
+Let's not talk about the dark ages. You love trees now, I'm sure."
+
+"That I do!" said Hildegarde. "The oak best of all, the elm next; but I
+love them all."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perhaps!" said Rose, thoughtfully. "I think--Oh, Hilda, look!" she
+cried, breaking off suddenly. "What a queer little house!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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 _isn't_ deserted, Rose! At least?--well, some one has been
+here. But, oh, me! oh, _me_! What a place! I never, never dreamed of
+such a place. I--"
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose. "If you don't tell me, I shall jump
+out!"
+
+"No, you won't!" said Hildegarde. "You'd better not, Miss! but _oh_,
+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 least, I
+suppose it is meant for a bed. Oh! what person _can_ live here?"
+
+"_I am coming_, Hilda," said Rose. "The only question is whether I get
+out with your help or without."
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+[Illustration: "THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."]
+
+"How kind!" said Rose. "I am not in the least hungry, but I _should_
+like a cup of milk. Oh, Hildegarde!"
+
+"What now?" asked that young woman, returning with the precious basket,
+and applying her nose once more to the window. "Fresh horrors?"
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"Now you have done enough, Rosy!" cried Hildegarde. "Sit down on the
+doorstep and make a posy, while I finish."
+
+Rose, being rather tired, obeyed. Hildegarde then looked for a
+scrubbing-brush, but finding none, was obliged to give the 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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, 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.
+
+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, and laughed and laughed as if they never would stop.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _were_ breaking and entering, Hilda!"
+
+"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?"
+
+Rose shook her head meditatively. "It's dreadful to think of his living
+all alone there," she said. "For he must be alone. There 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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried Rose, shrinking at the bare thought.
+
+"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."
+
+But the best-laid plans, as we all know, "gang aft agley;" and the
+girls were not to have the telling of their adventure in their own way.
+
+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."
+
+Hildegarde and Rose looked at each other in terror.
+
+"Oh, Hilda!" whispered Rose, catching her friend's hand, "it must be he!
+What shall we do?"
+
+"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."
+
+Martha, who had been reconnoitring through a crack of the window-blind,
+now uttered an exclamation. "Well, of all! Mam, it's old Galusha
+Pennypacker, as sure as you stand there."
+
+"Is it possible?" said Miss Wealthy, in a tone of great surprise.
+"Martha, you _must_ be mistaken. Galusha Pennypacker coming here. Why
+_should_ he come here?"
+
+But for once Martha was not ready to answer her mistress, for she had
+gone to open the door.
+
+The girls listened, with clasped hands and straining ears.
+
+"Why, Mr. Pennypacker!" they heard Martha say. "This is never you?"
+
+Then a shrill, cracked voice broke in, speaking very slowly, as if
+speech were an unaccustomed effort. "Is there--two gals--here?"
+
+"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement. "What two gals?"
+
+"Gals!" said the old man's voice,--"one on 'em highty-tighty,
+fly-away-lookin', 'n' the other kind o' 'pindlin'; drivin' your hoss,
+they was."
+
+"Why--yes!" said Martha, more and more astonished. "What upon earth--"
+
+"Here's their basket!" the old man continued; "tell 'em I--relished the
+victuals. Good-day t' ye!"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"There was only an onion and three crackers," murmured Rose, in
+deprecating parenthesis.
+
+"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."
+
+"I see!" said Martha, chuckling, and apparently much amused.
+
+But Miss Wealthy looked really frightened. "My _dear_ girls," she said,
+"it was a _very_ 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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"I? No!" cried Hildegarde, wondering. "I left nothing at all in it.
+What is there?"
+
+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.
+
+"Oh! there is writing on them!" cried Hildegarde. "Martha dear, _do_
+tell us what it says!"
+
+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."
+
+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 tablet, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Galusha Pennypacker, with such things as these!" cried one.
+
+"Galusha Pennypacker making presents!" exclaimed the other. "Well,
+wonders will never cease!"
+
+"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 _must_
+go to bed at once, for I am sure you must be quite exhausted."
+
+And the delighted girls went off in triumph with their treasures, to
+chatter in their rooms as only girls can chatter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A "STORY EVENING."
+
+
+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 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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."
+
+"Is it a name?" asked Rose.
+
+Miss Wealthy nodded. "His aunt's name," she said,--"Ca-iry[1]
+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!"
+
+"Oh, Cousin Wealthy," cried Hildegarde, "_do_ 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."
+
+Miss Wealthy considered a minute, then she said: "My dear, if you will
+open the fourth left-hand drawer of that chest between 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."
+
+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,--
+
+"There _is_ 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!"
+
+"My mother!" cried Hildegarde, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+The girl blushed violently. "I beg your pardon, Cousin Wealthy," she
+said humbly. "Shall I go out and stand in the entry? Papa always used to
+make me, when I interrupted."
+
+"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
+_never_ 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 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."
+
+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--
+
+
+CA-IRY AND THE QUEEN.
+
+        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?
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        "What seek you," she said, "slave?"
+
+        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."
+
+        "He was barkin' at me," said the woman. "Bow
+        down before me, slave! I am the Queen!"
+
+        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.
+
+        "Do you--do you live here, ma'am?" I asked,
+        very polite.
+
+        "Your Majesty!" says she, holdin' up her head,
+        and lookin' at me as if I was dirt under her
+        feet.
+
+        "Do you live here, your Majesty?" I asked
+        again.
+
+        "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?"
+
+        "What king was your Majesty meanin'?" says I.
+
+        "King Solomon, of course!" said she. "For what
+        lesser king should the Queen of Sheba wait?"
+
+        "To be sure!" says I. "No, ma'am,--your
+        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?"
+
+        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."
+
+        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.
+
+        And she herself--oh, dear! it makes me want to
+        laugh and cry, both together, to think _how_
+        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.
+
+        I made up my mind pretty quick what was the
+        right thing for me to do; and I said, as
+        soothin' as I could,--
+
+        "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 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?"
+
+        "No," she said, kind o' mournful, and shakin'
+        her head,--"no, slave. I had once, but it was
+        taken from me."
+
+        "If you don't mind my bein' so bold," I said,
+        "where was you stayin' before you come here?"
+
+        "With devils!" she said, so fierce and sudden
+        that Bluff and I both jumped. "Speak not of
+        them, lest my wrath descend upon you."
+
+        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.
+
+        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
+        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.
+
+        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
+        _did_ 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.
+
+        "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, from which I shall judge the people
+        till the King comes."
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        "But where are my robes?" said she, pointin' to
+        the clothes I'd laid out. "Those are not my
+        robes."
+
+        "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."
+
+        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."
+
+        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.
+
+        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'--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.
+        _'T was_ 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        I steps before her, and "What's this?" says I,
+        short enough.
+
+        "Mornin', Ca-iry," says Hezekiah, smilin' his
+        greasy smile, that allus _did_ 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 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--"
+
+        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.
+
+        "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. _Scat!_"
+        And I shut the door and bolted it, b'ilin' with
+        rage, and came back to my poor Queen.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        "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."
+
+        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.
+
+        "Solomon!" she cried, and held out her arms
+        wide. "Solomon, my King!" and then fell back on
+        the piller, dead.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] Pronounced Kay-iry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+FLOWER-DAY.
+
+
+"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?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Wealthy; "you may tell me, and then you
+may forget the little accident, as I had already done."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Mildred!" exclaimed Miss Wealthy. "Mildred peaceful! My _dear_ Hilda!"
+
+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.
+
+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_ 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 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."
+
+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 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!"
+
+"Oh! naughty little mother!" cried Hildegarde. "What did you do to her,
+Cousin Wealthy?"
+
+"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 _meant_ to be 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 _so_ fresh and nice! I wish
+you would come up, Cousin!'
+
+"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.
+
+"Oh, do go on, dear!" cried Hildegarde; "unless you are tired, that is.
+It is so delightful!"
+
+"It was anything but delightful for me, my dear, I can assure you,"
+rejoined Miss Wealthy. "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 _always_ 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.
+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."
+
+"Oh!" cried Rose, "how dreadful! Dear Miss Bond, what did you do?"
+
+Hildegarde was silent. It was certainly very naughty, she thought; but
+oh, what fun it must have been!
+
+"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 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, good man,
+and always drove a good one himself."
+
+"And did you send her home?" asked Hildegarde, anxiously, thinking what
+a dreadful thing it would be to be sent back in disgrace.
+
+"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."
+
+They went into the parlor, and Hildegarde, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Indeed, I don't wonder!" said Hildegarde. "There cannot be anything
+else so pleasant to do. And thank you, Martha, for making everything so
+comfortable for us. You are a dear, as I may have said before."
+
+Martha chuckled and withdrew, after telling the girls that the flowers
+must be ready in an hour.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why mourning, and why bride?" asked Hildegarde, plucking some of the
+dark, rich blossoms. "It doesn't strike me as a melancholy flower."
+
+"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."
+
+"Lady Teazle?" asked Hildegarde, laughing.
+
+"A different branch!" replied Rose, "but just as prickly. The fuller's
+teasel,--do you know about it, dear?"
+
+"No, Miss Encyclopædia, I do not!" replied Hildegarde, with some
+asperity. "You know I _never_ know anything of that kind; tell me about
+it!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Very!" said Hildegarde. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose, in alarm. "Has something stung you?
+Let me--"
+
+"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, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But, my _dear_ 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 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, how dreadful!" cried gentle Rose. "Then he had only begun to
+write."
+
+"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 _you_ know, 'The Passionate Shepherd,'--'Come live with me
+and be my love;' you remember?"
+
+"Oh!" cried Rose. "Did he write that? I love him, then."
+
+"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!--
+
+        "'Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
+         And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'
+
+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."
+
+Both girls were silent a moment; then Rose asked timidly, "And who spoke
+of the 'mighty line,' dear? It must have been another great poet. Only
+three words, and such a roll and ring and brightness in them."
+
+"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!"
+
+"And--and was he an ancestor of Dr. Samuel's?" asked Rose, humbly.
+
+"Why, darling, you are really quite ignorant!" cried Hildegarde,
+laughing. "How delightful to find things that you don't know! No, he had
+no _h_ in his name,--at least, it had been left out; but he came
+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."
+
+She paused for breath; but Rose said nothing, 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!"
+
+"Tell me about it!" said Rose, softly. "Not that I know who _he_ was;
+but his name is a poem in itself."
+
+"Isn't it?" cried Hildegarde. "He was a poet too, a Scottish poet,
+living in a wonderful old house--"
+
+"Not 'caverned Hawthornden,' in 'Lovely Rosabelle'?" cried Rose, her
+eyes lighting up with new interest.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _do_ feel better. That is just my baseness,
+to be glad when you don't know things, you 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, dear!" said Hildegarde, interrogatively. "The house where you were
+born?"
+
+[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"]
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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!"
+
+And Rose told about--
+
+
+RAGGED ROBIN.
+
+
+        O Robin, ragged Robin,
+          That stands beside the door,
+        The sweetheart of the country child,
+          The flower of the poor,
+
+        I love to see your cheery face,
+          Your straggling bravery;
+        Than many a stately garden bloom
+          You're dearer far to me.
+
+        For you it needs no sheltered nook,
+          No well-kept flower-bed;
+        By cottage porch, by roadside ditch,
+          You raise your honest head.
+
+        The small hedge-sparrow knows you well,
+          The blackbird is your friend;
+        With clustering bees and butterflies
+          Your pink-fringed blossoms bend.
+
+        O Robin, ragged Robin,
+          The dearest flower that grows,
+        Why don't you patch your tattered cloak?
+          Why don't you mend your hose?
+
+        Would you not like to prank it there
+          Within the border bright,
+        Among the roses and the pinks,
+          A courtly dame's delight?
+
+        "Ah no!" says jolly Robin,
+          "'T would never do for me;
+        The friend of bird and butterfly,
+          Like them I must be free.
+
+        "The garden is for stately folk,
+          The lily and the rose;
+        They'd scorn my coat of ragged pink,
+          Would flout my broken hose.
+
+        "Then let me bloom in wayside ditch,
+          And by the cottage door,
+        The sweetheart of the country child,
+          The flower of the poor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+BROKEN FLOWERS.
+
+
+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, "_Please_, Cousin Wealthy, may I go
+with Jeremiah? The wagon is all ready. Mayn't I go? Oh, _please_ say
+'yes'!"
+
+Miss Wealthy started so violently that the crochet-hook fell from her
+hands. "My _dear_ Hilda!" she said plaintively, "you quite take my
+breath away. I--really, my dear, I don't know what to say. Where do you
+want to go?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Miss Wealthy was still bewildered. "Why, my dear," she said
+hesitatingly. "Yes--you may go, certainly--if you are quite sure--"
+
+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," 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."
+
+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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes!" cried Hildegarde. "It is a regular frolic, isn't it, Jeremiah?
+How beautiful everything looks! What a perfection of a day it is!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Isn't it a good field?" asked Hildegarde, innocently.
+
+"Best lot on the place!" replied the prophet, with melancholy
+enthusiasm. "Not many lots like that in _this_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After waiting a few minutes in a cool, shady parlor, where she sat
+feeling strange 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."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde, shyly. "It is just what I wanted, if
+you really think they would like it."
+
+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 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+A nurse stood beside the crib, and Hildegarde looked to her for
+permission, then filled the little hands with sweet alyssum and white
+roses.
+
+"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 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--"
+
+"Guess that's a lie, ain't it?" asked the child, wearily.
+
+"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."
+
+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'."
+
+"Indeed!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically. "I am very sorry. What is
+the matter with him?"
+
+"Mumps 'n' ague 'n' brown kitties 'n' ammonia 'n' fits!" was the prompt
+reply; "and a hole in his leg too! Feel his pult!"
+
+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?"
+
+"It's fits," said the child, "or a brown kitty,--I don't know which. Is
+you a nurse?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Sing!" was the unexpected reply, in a tone of positive command.
+
+"Benny!" said Mrs. Murray, who came up at this moment; "you mustn't
+tease the young lady, dear. See! the other children are waiting for
+their flowers, and you have these lovely roses."
+
+"She looks singy!" persisted Benny. "I wants her to sing. Doctor said I
+could have what I wanted, and I wants _vat_."
+
+"May I sing to him?" asked Hildegarde, in a low tone. "I can sing a
+little, if it would not disturb the others."
+
+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!"
+
+"She's _my_ more! she isn't your more!" 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.
+
+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.
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
+         Summer is far and far away yet.
+         You'll get silken coats and a velvet bed,
+         And a pillow of satin for your head.'
+
+        "'I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall!
+         No rain comes through, though I hear it fall
+         The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,
+         And I sing and wing away, away.'
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
+         Diamond stones, and amber and jet,
+         I'll string in a necklace fair and fine,
+         To please this pretty bird of mine.'
+
+        "'Oh, thanks for diamonds and thanks for jet,
+         But here is something daintier yet.
+         A feather necklace round and round,
+         That I would not sell for a thousand pound.'
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, won't you, pet?
+         I'll buy you a dish of silver fret;
+         A golden cup and an ivory seat,
+         And carpets soft beneath your feet.'
+
+        "'Can running water be drunk from gold?
+         Can a silver dish the forest hold?
+         A rocking twig is the finest chair,
+         And the softest paths lie through the air.
+         Farewell, farewell to my lady fair!'"
+
+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!"
+
+"What has been the matter?" asked Hildegarde.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+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 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 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.
+
+"What's them?" asked one tiny boy, holding up his bunch.
+
+"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."
+
+"Nein," said a small voice from the outside of the circle, "dat iss
+Stiefmütterlein!"
+
+"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."
+
+[Illustration: "SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."]
+
+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--"
+
+"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin, nestling closer to the wonderful
+Fräulein who knew German.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I've got one!" piped up a little girl 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.
+
+"I see it is," said Hilda, admiringly; "and so bright and warm, isn't
+it?"
+
+"I've got a grandma to home!" cried another shrill voice. "She makes
+splendid mittens! She makes cookies too."
+
+"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."
+
+"My grandma's got a wig!" said the 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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I--wanted--" Here came another sob.
+
+"What did you want? Come, we'll sit here by the window, and you shall
+tell me all about it."
+
+"Ze uzzers told you sings, and--I--wanted--to tell you sings--too!"
+
+"Well, pet!" said Hildegarde, drying the tears, and kissing the round
+velvet cheek, "tell me then!"
+
+"Ain't got no--sings--to tell!" And another outburst threatened; but
+Hilda intervened hastily.
+
+"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?"
+
+Baby looked doubtful. "Dat ain't a sing!"
+
+"Yes, it is," said Hildegarde, boldly. "Come, now! I had a mutton chop.
+What did you have?"
+
+"Beef tea," was the reply, with a brightening look of retrospective
+cheer, "and toasty strips!"
+
+"_Oh_, how good!" cried Hilda. "I wish I had some. And what are you
+going to have for dinner?"
+
+"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.
+
+"I never heard of anything so good!" she cried. "And what are you going
+to eat it with,--two little sticks?"
+
+"No-o!" cried Baby, with a disdainful laugh. "Wiz a worky, a weal
+worky."
+
+"A walk!" said Hildegarde, puzzled.
+
+"Es!" said Baby, proudly. "A atta worky, dess like people's!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 I don't know how to thank you enough for all the pleasure
+you have given these dear children."
+
+"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."
+
+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! _my_ sing-girl! come back soon!"
+
+So, half laughing and half crying, Hildegarde passed out, her heart very
+full of painful pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.
+
+
+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 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.
+
+"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. "Have we done a dreadful thing?"
+
+"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."
+
+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 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:--
+
+        "Gold and green, gold and green,
+         She was the lass that was born a queen.
+         Velvet sleeves to her grass-green gown,
+         And clinks o' gold in her hair so brown."
+
+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 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 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 _was_ 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.
+
+Rose was beginning to feel very guilty, as 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.
+
+"How _very_ 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 _may_ be in it,
+and like to have the blinds all shut. And yet--yet, I don't believe it
+is so. I feel strange!"
+
+"Come away!" said Rose, rising. "Come home; it is a secret, and not our
+secret."
+
+And home they went, very silent, and forgetting to look for maiden-hair,
+which they had come specially to seek.
+
+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--
+
+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. 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.
+
+"May we come in, Martha?" asked Hildegarde. "We have brought our work,
+and we want to ask you about something."
+
+"Come in, and welcome!" responded Martha. "Glad to see you,--if you can
+make yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get another chair from--"
+
+"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."
+
+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 said slowly. "It's no harm,
+and no secret; only, of course, you wouldn't speak of it to her, poor
+dear!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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 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 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!
+
+"Well, my dears, they was to be married in the early fall, as it might
+be September. 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.
+
+"One day--my dear young ladies, the ways of the Lord are very strange by
+times, but we must truly think that they _are_ 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-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.'
+
+"And it wasn't, Mary said; for an ugly black cloud was coming over, and
+under it the sky looked green and angry.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Oh! but he could swim!" cried Hildegarde, pale and breathless.
+
+"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!"
+
+There was a pause; for Rose was weeping, and Hildegarde could not speak,
+though her eyes were dry and shining.
+
+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 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 _so_ glad Mrs.
+Grahame asked her to go to New York last winter!
+
+"And now, young ladies," said Martha, gathering up her pillow-cases, "I
+should be in my kitchen, seeing about supper. 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."
+
+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.
+
+Miss Wealthy's cheerful face, when they went down to tea, struck them
+with a shock; they had almost expected to find 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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"UP IN THE MORNING EARLY."
+
+
+"One! two! three! four! five! six!" said the clock in the hall.
+
+"Yes, I know it!" replied Hildegarde, sitting up in bed; and then she
+slipped quietly out and went to call Rose.
+
+"Get up, you sleepy flower!" she said, shaking her friend gently,--
+
+        "À l'heure où s'éveille la rose,
+         Ne vas-tu pas te réveiller?"
+
+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 obediently, 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, 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.
+
+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 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, 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.
+
+"You are still in the shade, you poor Rosebud!" she cried. "See! I am
+right _in_ 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 interest; and a battle-royal ensued, in
+which the foam flew left and right, and the smooth water was churned
+into a thousand eddies.
+
+"I am the Plesiosaurus!" cried Hildegarde, giving a mighty splash.
+"Beware! beware! my flashing eyes, my floating hair!"
+
+"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'?"
+
+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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The bullfrog evidently resented this inquiry into his most private
+affairs, and disappeared with an indignant "Glump!"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"I didn't--let go!" she panted. "I didn't--half--think I could do it, it
+is so long since I tried."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, that is nothing!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "You should see Papa
+turn back somersaults in the water. _That_ 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 merriment, and the
+sunshine all round her. "See!" she cried, "I am Taglioni, the queen of
+the ballet. I had--a--_oh!_ I _nearly_ 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.
+
+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 like two Newfoundland dogs, ran into the
+boat-house, with many exclamations over the good time they had had.
+
+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.
+
+"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:--
+
+        DEAR MISS BOND,--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, and let him run about in the sunshine
+        and drink milk, for that is what he needs.
+
+        With kind regards to your niece, whom I hope we
+        shall see again,
+
+                    Always sincerely yours,
+                                      ELIZABETH MURRAY.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear!" said the old lady. "What is it? what do you want? Isn't the
+egg perfectly fresh? I will call--" But Hildegarde stayed her hand as
+it moved toward the bell.
+
+"I want Benny!" she murmured, in low and persuasive tones, caressing the
+soft withered hand she had taken.
+
+"A penny!" cried Miss Wealthy. "My _dear_ 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--"
+
+"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, how _can_ you?" cried Hildegarde, springing up, and
+turning scarlet, though she could not help laughing. "I didn't say
+_penny_, I said _Benny_! I want the little boy! Rose and I both want
+him, to take care of. Mayn't we have him, _please_? 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 _do_ want
+him so!" She paused for breath; and Miss Wealthy leaned back in her
+chair, and looked bewildered.
+
+"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.
+
+"He is very small!" she said meekly. "He could sleep in my room, and we
+would wash and dress him and keep him quiet _all_ the time."
+
+"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--"
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Hildegarde. "You do want to come in here, Benny. That
+is 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--"
+
+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.
+
+Hildegarde caught him up in her arms and ran off toward the garden. She
+could _not_ 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.
+
+        "Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste
+         To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast.
+         The trumpeter Gadfly has summoned the crew,
+         And the revels are now only waiting for you!
+
+        "On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,
+         Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
+         See the children of earth and the tenants of air
+         For an evening's amusement together repair."
+
+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!"
+
+"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 little girl, but she could never forget the
+delight of her childhood.
+
+        "And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
+         Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back.
+         And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
+         With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
+
+        "And there came the Moth--"
+
+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?
+
+"Cow!" cried Benny, sitting upright, and stretching out both arms in
+rapture. "_My_ cow! mine! all mine!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The brown crockery cow was indeed a milk-jug; and Benny's blue eyes and
+Hildegarde'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.
+
+"Where did you get it?" asked Hildegarde in a low tone, as she held the
+mug to Benny's lips.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Nice!" said Hildegarde; "I never want to drink out of anything else but
+a brown cow. Dear Martha! and observe the effect!"
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+BENNY.
+
+
+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."
+
+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 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.
+
+Benny was delighted. "Funny old kyat!" he cried, clapping his hands.
+"Say 'Fsss' some more! Hi, ole kyat! I catch you."
+
+Hildegarde caught him up in her arms as he was about to pursue the
+retiring dignitary, and Miss Wealthy looked deeply distressed.
+
+"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 _try_ to propitiate him, he might--"
+
+        "Vat ole kyat,
+         He's too fat!"
+
+shouted Benny, stamping his feet to emphasize the metre,--
+
+        "Vat ole kyat
+         He's too fat!
+         _He_ ought to go
+         AND catch a rat!"
+
+"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.
+
+But Benny's bump of reverence was small. "Huh!" he said. "_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.
+
+"Why, Benny!" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean? You mustn't say such
+things, dear child."
+
+"He _is_ a liar!" Benny maintained stoutly. "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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: "'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"]
+
+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 audible.
+"Dee ole kitty! Oh, _such_ a dee ole kitty! Ole fat kyat, I lubby you."
+
+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 _so_ 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 stand perfectly still. "_Dee_
+ole kitty!" murmured Benny, in dulcet tones. "P'ease don't move! Benny
+_so_ comfortable! Benny lubs his sweet ole pillow-kyat! Go to s'eep
+again, dee ole kitty!"
+
+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!
+
+After this all was joy. The barriers were removed, and the child and the
+cat became 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.
+
+Benny did another thing one day. Oh, Benny did another thing! Rose was
+teaching him his letters in the parlor, and he was putting them into
+metre, as he was apt to put everything,--
+
+        "_A_, B, _C_, D,
+         _Fiddle_, diddle,
+         _Yes_, I see!"
+
+And with each emphasis he jumped up and down, as if to jolt the letters
+into his head.
+
+"Try to stand still, Benny dear!" said gentle Rose.
+
+But Benny said he couldn't remember them if he stood still. "_A_, B,
+_C_, D! _E_, F, _jiggle_ 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 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.
+
+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,--
+
+"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.
+
+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! Accidents _will_ 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+A SURPRISE.
+
+
+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 "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.
+
+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 at full length, plaid and all, on another
+couch.
+
+"What an extraordinary man!" cried Rose, greatly amused. "How could he
+be so very uncouth, and yet write the 'Skylark'?"
+
+"After all, he was a plain, rough shepherd!" replied Hildegarde. "And
+remember,
+
+        'The dewdrop that hangs from the rowan bough
+         Is fine as the proudest rose can show.'
+
+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!"
+
+"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
+imagine 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?"
+
+"Of course! Giotto!" cried Hildegarde. "He was only ten years old when
+Cimabue found him drawing a sheep on a smooth stone."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"And Apollo," cried Hildegarde, "when he kept the flocks of Admetus, you
+know."
+
+"I don't know!" said Rose. "I thought Apollo was the god of the sun."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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.
+
+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:--
+
+        "Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
+         But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
+         Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
+         For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be."
+
+"Oh, go on, please!" murmured Rose, all unconscious that she was the
+Kilmeny of her friend's thoughts:--
+
+        "It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
+         And pu' the cress-flower round the spring;
+         The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye,
+         And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree:
+         For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
+         But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
+         And lang may she seek i' the greenwood shaw;
+         Lang the Laird of Duneira blame,
+         And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame.
+
+        "When many a day had come and fled,
+         When grief grew calm, and hope was dead;
+         When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,
+         When the bedesman had prayed and the dead-bell rung;
+         Late, late in a gloamin', when all was still,
+         When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,
+         The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane,
+         The reek o' the cot hung over the plain,
+         Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;
+         When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme,
+         Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny cam hame."
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"_Nothing to eat for a week!_" exclaimed Hildegarde, severely. "My boy,
+you are not telling the truth. And who ever heard of rheumatism at your
+age? Do you think we ought to let him in, Rose?" she added, in a lower
+tone.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Bubble was highly delighted at the success of his ruse. He rubbed his
+hands and chuckled, then went down on all-fours and 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 did you leave New York? What have you been doing? How
+is Dr. Flower?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I really don't know, Miss Hilda, whether 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?"
+
+"Oh, don't, Bubble!" cried Rose. "Don't say such things!"
+
+"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 went to the
+hospital with him every day, and I'm going to be a surgeon, and he says
+I can."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Held accidents?" asked Hildegarde, innocently. "What do you mean,
+laddie?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Don't! don't!" cried both girls, in horror, putting their fingers in
+their ears.
+
+"We don't want to hear about it, you dreadful boy!" said Hildegarde.
+"_We_ are not going to be surgeons, be good enough to remember."
+
+"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 _was_ so
+beautiful! You _must_ 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.
+
+"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 seem to mind the heat much; but Jock and
+I--well, we did."
+
+"Oh, my dear little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "To think of
+my never having asked for him. How is the dear doggie?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Bubble!" said Hildegarde, holding up a warning finger. But Bubble would
+not be repressed again.
+
+"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
+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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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 _that_ 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Well, it came to the same thing!" retorted Bubble, unabashed. "Anyhow,
+we took the first train after breakfast for Glenfield."
+
+"Oh, oh, Bubble!" cried both girls, eagerly. "Not really?"
+
+"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 _knew_ she couldn't be
+far off; for her knitting lay on the table, and the 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?"
+
+"No, you funny boy!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I have forgotten about
+it."
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'm coming to them in a minute," said Bubble; "but I must just tell you
+about 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 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 _him_.
+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
+somewhere, 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 _did_ drop from the moon!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING.
+
+
+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.
+
+"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "When did you
+have breakfast, and have you had anything to eat since?"
+
+Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, and had had nothing since.
+The girls were horrified.
+
+"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."
+
+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 comfortable, 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.
+
+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 in kilts
+standing in the doorway and surveying him with manifest disapprobation.
+
+"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. "How goes the world with you?"
+
+"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded the person in kilts, with great
+severity.
+
+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?"
+
+"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! _Go_ 'WAY!"
+
+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--"
+
+"Go out of ve back door!" repeated Benny, in an appalling shout.
+
+"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.
+
+"Then," Bubble went on, taking apparently no notice of him, "I thought I
+would make 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. "What do you suppose I come here
+for?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you should want a bolster any time,
+just let me know."
+
+"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you see!" said Benny, in a tone of
+relief.
+
+"You are that!" responded Bubble, with great heartiness.
+
+By general consent, the second half of 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.
+
+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. "_That_
+tree is hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda,--great big tree, down by
+the barn?"
+
+"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are the best apples in the world, I
+think; and so beautiful,--all golden brown, with the bright scarlet
+patch on one cheek. Dear apples! I wish I might have some this fall."
+
+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.
+
+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 "something 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _that_. Fishing! Well, _you_ 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. 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the boy, earnestly. "Sure as you're
+sitting there, we did start with all them--_those_ 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 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 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, _my!_ if that wasn't the most
+comical sight--"
+
+"Oh, but, Bubble," cried Hildegarde, hastily, as a quick glance showed
+her that Miss Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knitting, and put
+her hand up to the pansy brooch, "he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor little
+man!"
+
+"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 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--_are_ 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."
+
+"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen
+were not used to roughing it."
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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. 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as soon as she had recovered herself,
+nodding imperatively to him. "How many fish did you catch?"
+
+"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy, 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--"
+
+"All--I beg your pardon?--riled?" asked Miss Wealthy, innocently.
+
+"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. _He_'ll never go a-fishing again."
+
+"Poor man! I should think not!" said Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr.
+Flower--are all the others still there?"
+
+"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 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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE GREAT SCHEME.
+
+
+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
+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.
+
+Bubble spent much of his time in cracking ice and making lemonade, when
+he was not on or in the river.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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.
+
+There were a few moments of absolute silence, broken only by the hot
+shrilling of a locust in a tree hard by; then Zerubbabel 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.
+
+"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 _made_ 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?--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.
+
+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.
+
+"Send Martha to her, _quick_!" said Hildegarde, in an imperative
+whisper. "Fly, Bubble! the back door!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it?" he cried in dismay. "What did I do? What is the matter
+with everybody? Why, I never--"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 have had you say it, Bubble, just
+in that way; but now that it _is_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Hildegarde tore open the little folded note, and read, in Miss Wealthy's
+pretty, regular hand, these words:--
+
+        MY DEAR HILDA,--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.
+
+                    Your affectionate cousin,
+                                      WEALTHY BOND.
+
+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.
+
+"Is it all right, Martha," she asked,--"really and truly right? Because
+if it is, I am the happiest girl in the world."
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come here, my dear," said Miss Wealthy, gently. "I have something to
+show you, which I think you will like to see."
+
+She had a miniature in her hand,--the portrait of a young and handsome
+man, with flashing dark eyes, and a noble, thoughtful face.
+
+"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."
+
+"You do not mind my knowing?" Hildegarde asked, kissing the soft,
+wrinkled hand.
+
+"I am very glad of it," replied Miss 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."
+
+The girl was too much moved to speak, and they were silent for a while.
+
+"And now," Miss Wealthy said very cheerfully, "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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE WIDOW BRETT.
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"A widow," Miss Wealthy explained, turning to Hildegarde, her kind eyes
+beaming with interest, "fond of children, neat as _wax_, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"And this brings me to another plan," continued the dear old lady.
+"Bixby, where 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+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 _never_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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_ ought to see to vem."
+
+When the final moment came, however, 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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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 they should see who
+_did_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard,--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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The Widder Brett?" returned the sandy person, cautiously. "Do ye mean
+the Widder Brett?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," answered the boy. "Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"
+
+"No, there ain't!" was the succinct reply.
+
+"Well, where _does_ she live?" cried the boy, impatiently.
+
+"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" said the sandy person, nodding
+down the 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+The post-supporters watched them till the last wheel of the phaeton
+disappeared round the turn; then they turned eagerly to one another.
+
+"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."
+
+Meanwhile the phaeton was making its way along slowly, as I said, for
+Rose was tired after the long drive.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "These bonnets are
+positively mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on that bunch of berries."
+
+"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. "It is bloom, Hilda,--a fine
+purple bloom! City people don't know the difference, perhaps."
+
+"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be 'the Widder Brett's' house. What a
+pretty little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like the good woman
+herself. Take the reins, dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, I
+will go myself, thank you."
+
+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.
+
+Hildegarde lifted the bright brass knocker,--she was so glad it was a
+knocker, and not an odious gong bell; she _could_ 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.
+
+"Good-day!" she said, with a rising inflection.
+
+"How do you do?" replied Hildegarde, with a falling one. "Are you Mrs.
+Brett, and are you expecting us?"
+
+"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. Pleased to see ye,
+though! Step in, won't ye?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Brett. "Step right in now, do! and I'll tell you.
+This way, if _you_ 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 _do_ declare," the widow went on, "I ought
+to be shook! There _was_ 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 time she was telling me
+something, was she? and who might you be, dear, that was thinking of
+staying here?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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 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--"
+
+"Oh, we _like_ 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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_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."
+
+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 her apron, and repeating, "The dust _doos_ gather so! I wouldn't
+set down, if I was you, till I've got the chairs done off!"
+
+"Why, Mrs. Brett," cried Hildegarde, laughing merrily, "it is the chairs
+you should be anxious for, not ourselves. We are simply _covered_ 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."
+
+"Oh, _that_'s all right!" cried the widow, beaming. "Land sakes! I don't
+care how much dust you bring in, but I _should_ 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?"
+
+[Illustration: "'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"]
+
+Both girls declined the tea, and declared that an hour's rest was all
+they needed; so 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 have to take me as I am. I might give 'em some fritters,
+though, to eat with maple surrup, just for a relish."
+
+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 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,--
+
+        "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
+         While the landscape round it measures:
+         Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
+         Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
+         Mountains, on whose barren breast
+         The laboring clouds do often rest;
+         Meadows trim with daisies pied,
+         Shallow brooks, and rivers wide."
+
+Then her eyes strayed over the landscape again. "There must be a brook
+over there, 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 _so_ comfortable!"
+
+And Hildegarde was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+OLD MR. COLT.
+
+
+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 _are_ 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.
+
+"Well, Bubble," said Hildegarde, "tell us how you have fared."
+
+"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."
+
+"How is the dear beast?" asked Rose. "I thought he went a little lame,
+after he got that stone in his foot."
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked the girls.
+
+"Why," said Bubble, "he came in to 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.'"
+
+"What did he mean?--subtle?" asked Hilda, laughing.
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Bubble," cried his sister, "you are making this up. Confess, you
+monkey!"
+
+"I'm not!" said Bubble, laughing. "It's true, every word of it. I
+_couldn't_ 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 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_
+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, '_do_ 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 know Leory didn't mean nothing like that. Ef
+you've got to have the pie, why, you've _got_ 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'
+_my_ eatin' up their substance. Hand me them doughnuts, Abner. Nothin'
+seems to have any taste to it, somehow.'"
+
+"Did he eat nothing but pie and doughnuts?" asked Hilda. "I should be
+afraid he would die to-night."
+
+"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?' 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.'"
+
+"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."
+
+"You're talking about Cephas Colt, _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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Four--thousand--bottles!" cried her hearers, in dismay.
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"How long ago did she die?" asked Rose.
+
+"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 _is_ 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 Abner ever stood
+out against his father, as I know of."
+
+"What was the inscription?" asked Hildegarde, trying hard to look as
+grave as the subject required.
+
+"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
+
+        'Phosphoria helped her for a spell;
+         But Death spoke up, and all is well.'
+
+'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 _mean_
+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?" she added, for the third or
+fourth time. "Well, I'm sure! Bixby'd oughter be proud. 'T _is_ a
+sightly place, I've always thought. You must go over t' the cemetery
+to-morrow, and see what there is to see."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I--well, there!" she said; and she crumpled up her apron, and then
+smoothed it out again. "I--why, I don't know what _to_ say. Well! I'm
+completely, as you may say, struck of a heap. I don't know what
+Marthy's thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't _me_ you want, surely. You
+want a woman with faculty!"
+
+"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have come
+to you."
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three young
+people could not help laughing heartily.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 you rubbed her
+in her rheumatic fever. She thinks you saved her life, and I am sure you
+did."
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr.--Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, after a moment of bewilderment.
+"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
+_have_ 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."
+
+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 _can_ 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+JOYOUS GARD.
+
+
+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 now in the sunlight, and reflected every manner of pretty
+thing,--fleecy cloudlet, fluttering bird or butterfly, nodding fern or
+soldierly "cat-tail."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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 themselves 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!
+
+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 _know_ 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 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.
+
+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?"
+
+But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the old man, and flew to meet him.
+"Good-morning, Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cordially. "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."
+
+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.
+
+"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'."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No! no!" replied the old man quickly, 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The' warn't no shorter way!" replied old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! I
+reckon them's good apples."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. Pennypacker!" was all Hildegarde
+could say.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes," Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and my friend too. She knit the
+stockings for you, sir. I hope you liked them."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," said Hildegarde, blushing. "I am so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe'
+myself, I thought you might like it too."
+
+"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 G'lushe
+Pennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot here, nor yet yender!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+How short the summer had been!--had 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
+_been_ 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.
+
+But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing of this. She had been happy,
+that was all. 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.
+
+But hark! was that the sound of wheels? Yes; they were coming.
+
+"Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running to the door. "Rose! Bubble!
+Martha! Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all of you! The stage is here!"
+
+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 Mrs. Murray, a
+kind-looking nurse, and the twelve convalescent children who were to
+have the first delights of the Country Home.
+
+At sight of them Bubble began to wave his hat violently. "Hooray!" he
+shouted. "Three cheers for the young uns!"
+
+"Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his hands about, as he had no hat to
+wave.
+
+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.
+
+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 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."
+
+Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. "Does he know of his
+mother's death?" she asked in a low tone.
+
+"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."
+
+Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, who was standing, flushed
+and radiant, the centre of a group of children, who clustered round
+her, pulling at her hands and clinging to her gown.
+
+"What's the name of this place?" one little fellow was asking her. "I
+like this place! What is its name?"
+
+"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!'"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Young People
+
+
+THE BLUE BONNET SERIES
+
+  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $ 2.00
+
+   _The seven volumes, boxed as a set_                          14.00
+
+
+=A TEXAS BLUE BONNET=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+        "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."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
+
+        "Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls,
+        the kind that one would like to have in one's
+        home."--_New York Sun._
+
+
+
+
+=THE HENRIETTA SERIES=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS
+
+        _Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated_       $1.90
+
+=ONLY HENRIETTA=
+
+        "It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of
+        life for a young girl--a story in which there
+        is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth
+        of delicate sympathy and understanding that
+        appeals to the hearts of young and
+        old."--_Pittsburgh Leader._
+
+=HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE=
+
+        "One of the most noteworthy stories for girls
+        issued this season. The life of Henrietta is
+        made very real, and there is enough incident in
+        the narrative to balance the delightful
+        characterization."--_Providence Journal._
+
+
+
+
+=THE BOYS' STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES=
+
+By BURTON E. STEVENSON
+
+_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated,_ $1.75
+
+=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST.
+
+        "The whole range of section railroading is
+        covered in the story."--_Chicago Post._
+
+=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER=
+
+        "A vivacious account of the varied and often
+        hazardous nature of railroad
+        life."--_Congregationalist._
+
+=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER=
+
+        "It is a book that can be unreservedly
+        commended to anyone who loves a good,
+        wholesome, thrilling, informing
+        yarn."--_Passaic News._
+
+=THE YOUNG APPRENTICE=; OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM.
+
+        "The story is intensely
+        interesting."--_Baltimore Sun._
+
+
+
+
+=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES=
+
+=Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls=
+
+        _Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader
+        Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster
+        jacket in full color_      $2.00
+
+=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY=
+
+By W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS.
+
+=THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS=
+
+By C. M. YONGE.
+
+=ERLING THE BOLD=
+
+By R. M. BALLANTYNE.
+
+=WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD=; Or, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE.
+
+By H. TURING BRUCE.
+
+        "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."--_Portland Evening Express._
+
+
+
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES=
+
+By HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL
+
+    _Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated_      $2.00
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD=
+
+        "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."--_Salt Lake City Deseret News._
+
+        "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."--_Los Angeles
+        Saturday Night._
+
+
+
+
+=DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES=
+
+By MARION AMES TAGGART
+
+        _Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume,_       $1.75
+
+=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=
+
+        "A charming story of the ups and downs of the
+        life of a dear little maid."--_The Churchman._
+
+=SWEET NANCY:= THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
+
+        "Just the sort of book to amuse, while its
+        influence cannot but be elevating."--_New York
+        Sun._
+
+=NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER=
+
+        "The story is sweet and fascinating, such as
+        many girls of wholesome tastes will
+        enjoy."--_Springfield Union._
+
+=NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY=
+
+        "Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid
+        young woman, with plenty of pluck."--_Boston
+        Globe._
+
+=NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS=
+
+        "The story is refreshing."--_New York Sun._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Hildegarde's Holiday, by Laura E. Richards
+
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+
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diff --git a/24826-8.zip b/24826-8.zip
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+<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 */
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+
+<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 &amp; 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="&quot;&#39;DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!&#39;&quot;</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'>&nbsp;</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;let me see&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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="&quot;&#39;AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?&#39;&quot;</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&mdash;" 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&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And
+I think&mdash;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&mdash;"</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,'&mdash;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,&mdash;</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,&mdash;"That mat is
+not <i>quite</i> straight, is it, Martha?&mdash;especially
+in young people. I know it makes you
+nervous, Martha,"&mdash;Martha did not look in
+the least nervous,&mdash;"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&mdash;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&mdash;will
+you cut that pie, dear, and help Rose,
+and yourself?&mdash;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,&mdash;"my dear, have you&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"not sail,
+my dear! I could not&mdash;I could not think
+of that for a moment. But there is a row-boat,"
+she added, after a pause,&mdash;"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,&mdash;can't I, Rose?&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;'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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;</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,&mdash;don't
+you, Rosy?&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;so! and walk&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;for
+mother and Bubble were always at work,
+you know,&mdash;you cannot imagine how real
+all the garden-people, as I called them, were
+to me. Why, my Eglantine&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;oh! for
+days and days,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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 fring&egrave;d 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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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.&mdash;Oh, Cousin Wealthy!" exclaimed
+Hildegarde, in dismay. "But we are perfectly
+well! At least&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;but he was always in a
+hurry,&mdash;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,&mdash;'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?&mdash;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,&mdash;furunculus!
+Is it&mdash;ah&mdash;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,&mdash;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!&mdash;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;&mdash;"Hilda,
+my dear, a little pudding?&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;I often write notes for Mamma,&mdash;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:&mdash;</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,&mdash;</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 perplex&egrave;d?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">O Punishment!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Dost laugh to see how fools are vex&egrave;d</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 crisp&egrave;d 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,&mdash;but
+so prettily old!&mdash;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,&mdash;"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!&mdash;boat!&mdash;river!&mdash;<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&mdash;do you think the boat is safe?"</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 263px;">
+<img src="images/gs03.png" width="263" height="400" alt="&quot;&#39;DO SAY IT&#39;S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;DO SAY IT&#39;S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;DO SAY IT&#39;S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!&#39;&quot;</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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;really not a fit place for
+your knighthood,&mdash;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,&mdash;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! R&eacute;p&eacute;tez cette
+phrase!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nous allong</i>&mdash;" 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;oh! but Mildred
+was an exception. I suppose," she added,
+"they call me an old maid. Very likely.
+Not these girls,&mdash;for they are too well-mannered,&mdash;but
+people. An old maid!" Miss
+Wealthy sighed a little, and put her hand up
+to the pansy breastpin,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;who knows?&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;oh, Hilda, it is really too bad
+to tell!&mdash;I read: 'The teeth bristle-form'&mdash;and
+hers did stick out nearly straight!&mdash;'corolla
+mostly withering or persistent; the
+claws'&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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?&mdash;'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,&mdash;Miss
+Matty's old lover,&mdash;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&mdash;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,"&mdash;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 Sil&egrave;ne,
+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?&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;sit
+still, Rose!&mdash;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,&mdash;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="&quot;THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE.&quot;" title="&quot;THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE.&quot;</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;or she&mdash;will have a better
+dinner than one onion and&mdash;" 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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;two gals&mdash;here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement.
+"What two gals?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gals!" said the old man's voice,&mdash;"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&mdash;yes!" said Martha, more and
+more astonished. "What upon earth&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here's their basket!" the old man continued;
+"tell 'em I&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;it
+looked so wretched, we thought we
+might&mdash;"<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&mdash;oh, such a
+dreadful old face!&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There <i>is</i> an interesting story about Ca-iry
+Pennypacker, and, curiously enough, I have
+it here, written down by&mdash;whom do you
+think?&mdash;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&mdash;" 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,&mdash;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,&mdash;only changing my
+name from Wealthy to Dolly,&mdash;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&mdash;</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,&mdash;I wouldn't part with it for gold!
+That was give me by a queen,&mdash;think o' that,
+Dolly,&mdash;by a real live queen, 'cordin' to her own
+idees,&mdash;the Queen o' Sheba.</p>
+
+<p>Tell you about her? Why, yes, I will. Bring
+your little cheer here by the fire,&mdash;so; and get
+your knittin'. When little gals come to spend the
+day with Aunt Ca-iry they allus brings their knittin',&mdash;don't
+they?&mdash;'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,&mdash;in your grandfather's time, Dolly,&mdash;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!&mdash;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,&mdash;wolves
+were seen sometimes in those days in the Cobbossee
+woods,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;don't ask me how, for I
+don't know to this day,&mdash;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,&mdash;a
+white woman,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+Majesty, I mean,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;I
+suppose she thought it was gold,&mdash;and her
+long black hair was stuck full o' berries and leaves
+and things. Under the sheepskin she had just
+nothin' but rags,&mdash;such rags as you never seed
+in all your days, Dolly, your mother bein' the
+tidy body she is. And moccasins on her feet,&mdash;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,&mdash;</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,&mdash;it's out o' the line
+o' kings, as you may say,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;as she would have it I
+was,&mdash;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&mdash;which was
+her coronation-robe, she said, and she couldn't
+leave it behind&mdash;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,&mdash;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,"&mdash;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,&mdash;a good calico
+dress and some underclothing, all nice and fresh,&mdash;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,&mdash;all
+but the coronation robe; and that's hangin' on
+the line, to&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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>&mdash;she
+was a beautiful spinner, and when I told
+her 't was Scriptural, I could hardly get her away
+from the wheel&mdash;and trimmin' the house up with
+flowers, and playin' with Bluff, for all the world
+like a child. And in the evenin's,&mdash;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,&mdash;that
+was me, ye know; she never would call me anything
+else,&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He hadn't no time to say more. I took him by
+the shoulders,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;she was tremblin' all over,&mdash;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,&mdash;she couldn't speak
+above a whisper,&mdash;"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&mdash;, 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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;not intentionally, you understand,
+but just going off and forgetting to come
+back. Once&mdash;dear, dear! it gives me a
+turn to think of it!&mdash;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&mdash;Martha
+had just come to me then&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;it
+was almost as bad as the green braid about
+coming off,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;it was in
+March, and the river was just breaking up,
+as we had had some mild weather&mdash;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&mdash;' 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,&mdash;I was lying on the
+sofa in dreadful suspense, and could not trust
+myself to look,&mdash;'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&mdash;"</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,&mdash;do
+you know about it, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Miss Encyclop&aelig;dia, 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;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,&mdash;'Faustus' and 'Edward
+II.,' and 'Tamburlaine,' and&mdash;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,'&mdash;'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,&mdash;all of 'Edward II.,' and bits from
+'Faustus.' There is one place, where he
+sees Helen&mdash;oh, I must remember it!&mdash;</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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;oh me! what a strange
+world it is! By-and-by he was made
+Laureate,&mdash;the first Laureate,&mdash;and he was
+very great and glorious, and wrote masques
+and plays and poems, and quarrelled with
+Inigo Jones&mdash;no! I can't stop to tell
+you who he was," seeing the question in
+Rose's eyes,&mdash;"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&mdash;"</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;pecks!
+bushels!&mdash;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="&quot;&#39;DON&#39;T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;DON&#39;T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;DON&#39;T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?&#39;&quot;</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&mdash;" 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,&mdash;"pain that seemed as if it would
+never end,&mdash;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&mdash;</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"&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;you
+may go, certainly&mdash;if you are quite
+sure&mdash;"</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,&mdash;there's no gainsayin' that,&mdash;'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&mdash;"</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,&mdash;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&mdash;a tall,
+slender woman with a beautiful face&mdash;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,"&mdash;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 Stiefm&uuml;tterlein!"</p>
+
+<p>"Du Bl&uuml;mlein 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="&quot;SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE.&quot;" title="&quot;SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE.&quot;</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin,
+nestling closer to the wonderful Fr&auml;ulein who
+knew German.</p>
+
+<p>"Where Fritzerl came from. There they
+call it 'Stiefm&uuml;tterlein,' 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&mdash;wanted&mdash;" 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&mdash;I&mdash;wanted&mdash;to
+tell you sings&mdash;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&mdash;sings&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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! M&uuml;ssen 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,&mdash;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!&mdash;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:&mdash;</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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;</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,&mdash;if you can make
+yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get
+another chair from&mdash;"<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&mdash;" 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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;a box of chocolate, or a
+new book, or whatever it was,&mdash;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,&mdash;carpets and sofys and lace
+curt'ins,&mdash;there was nothing too good. But
+her own room was all pansies,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;oh, dear! oh, dear me!&mdash;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,&mdash;oh, dear!&mdash;and in it
+was that pin,&mdash;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&mdash;fifty long years, Miss Hilda!&mdash;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&mdash;Miss
+Bond&mdash;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,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"&Agrave; l'heure o&ugrave; s'&eacute;veille la rose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ne vas-tu pas te r&eacute;veiller?"</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&mdash;let go!" she panted. "I
+didn't&mdash;half&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;a&mdash;<i>oh!</i> I
+<i>nearly</i> went over that time&mdash;I had a paper-doll
+once, named Taglioni. She was truly&mdash;lovely!
+You stood her on a piece of wood&mdash;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 F&eacute;e! La-la-tra-la&mdash;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&mdash;"
+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:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Bond</span>,&mdash;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&mdash;" 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&mdash;" 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,&mdash;at least
+your mother might think so,&mdash;to&mdash;"</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,&mdash;at least Rose is, and
+I know I could learn,&mdash;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&mdash;"<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,&mdash;picture-books, and shells, and a
+black kitty&mdash;"</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&mdash;my&mdash;Nelephant!"
+he said piteously. "He's
+lef' alone&mdash;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&mdash;"<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&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;you have no
+idea how sensitive he is, and how he feels anything
+like disrespect,&mdash;if he were to <i>try</i> to
+propitiate him, he might&mdash;"</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,&mdash;</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="&quot;&#39;OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!&#39;&quot;</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,&mdash;</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&mdash;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>&mdash;</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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;at least,
+I never did!&mdash;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,&mdash;of spring, and the young
+grass, and the birds, and&mdash;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 'T&eacute;l&eacute;maque,' 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>&mdash;</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:&mdash;</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,&mdash;"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&mdash;" 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,&mdash;a white furnace in the day-time,
+and a black one at night; that was
+all the difference. I had my head shaved,&mdash;it's
+growed now, but I'm going to have
+it done again, soon as I get back,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;it's a jolly house!&mdash;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&mdash;"<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&mdash;" 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&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;"I'm in
+earnest now, Miss Hilda,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;it was Saturday&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;that young woman who
+ran the race: what was her name?&mdash;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,&mdash;a strange cat, who
+didn't know Jock from a&mdash;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!&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"<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,&mdash;"I
+came to a great bed of blue clay. Not a
+bed like this, you know,"&mdash;for Benny's glare
+was now intensified by the expression of
+scorn and incredulity,&mdash;"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,"&mdash;he took the pear out and laid it
+on the bed,&mdash;"and a hen,"&mdash;the hen lay
+beside the pear,&mdash;"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"&mdash;oh, black ingratitude of
+childhood!&mdash;"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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;<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,&mdash;a big one and a little one; he
+was going to paddle one, and one of us the
+other. Well, the little man&mdash;his name was
+Packard&mdash;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'&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;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&mdash;guess&mdash;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&mdash;<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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;ahem! he was
+probably in jest, my dears&mdash;a fool at the
+other. But Izaak Walton was a meek and
+devout person; and my dear father was fond
+of angling, and&mdash;and&mdash;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,"&mdash;here his eyes began to
+twinkle again, and his voice took on its usual
+cheerful ring,&mdash;"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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All&mdash;I beg your pardon?&mdash;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&mdash;ten of 'em, and
+perfect beauties!&mdash;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,&mdash;it did, sure as I'm
+alive, Pink!&mdash;and scairt him so, I'm blessed if
+he didn't sit down again&mdash;ho! ho! ho!&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,"&mdash;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),&mdash;"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,&mdash;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>&mdash;unless
+he's an old hunks; and even if he
+is&mdash;" 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;I think I
+am glad of it. I should not wonder&mdash;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,&mdash;two of them
+utterly disconsolate, the third trying to cheer
+them with the hope that she was feeling
+more and more strongly,&mdash;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>&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Hilda</span>,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"very glad! And in&mdash;in a little while&mdash;when
+I have had time to realize
+it&mdash;I shall no doubt be glad of this&mdash;this
+projected change. You see"&mdash;she paused,
+and seemed to seek for a word,&mdash;"you see,
+dear, it has always been Victor's house to me.
+I never&mdash;I should not have thought of
+making use of it, like another house. It is
+doubtless&mdash;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&mdash;who knows?&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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&mdash;thrilling recollection!&mdash;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>&mdash;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,&mdash;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!&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, there isn't," said the Widow Brett,
+quickly and kindly,&mdash;"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,"&mdash;and here her face clouded again,&mdash;"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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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="&quot;&#39;NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!&#39;&quot;</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,"&mdash;she paused, with the egg-beater
+in her hand,&mdash;"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&mdash;it was the
+"Golden Treasury"&mdash;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,&mdash;</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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;"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&mdash;I hadn't seen him before&mdash;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?&mdash;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,&mdash;dreadful sub-tile.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What did he mean?&mdash;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&mdash;I
+mean very much&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;all physic bottles, that have held all
+the stuff he and his folks have taken for
+thirty years."</p>
+
+<p>"Four&mdash;thousand&mdash;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"&mdash;here
+she lowered her voice&mdash;"and I'd ought
+not to gossip about my neighbors, nor I
+don't among themselves much, but strangers
+seem different somehow,&mdash;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,&mdash;you mustn't say I told you!"
+said the Widow Brett, lowering her voice
+still more, and looking about with an air of
+mystery,&mdash;"'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&mdash;well, there!" she said; and she crumpled
+up her apron, and then smoothed it out
+again. "I&mdash;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&mdash;though
+'t would be pleasant to be nigh Marthy&mdash;we
+was always friends, Marthy and me, since we
+was girls&mdash;and preserves to make, and fall
+cleanin' comin' on, and help so skurce as 'tis&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Little Joel,"&mdash;cried the widow, putting
+her apron to her eyes, and beginning to rock
+gently to and fro&mdash;"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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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.&mdash;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,&mdash;'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&mdash;I
+don't hardly know how I <i>can</i> go&mdash;but&mdash;well,
+there! you've come so fur, and
+I do like to 'commodate; so&mdash;well, I don't
+really see how I can&mdash;but&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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!"&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;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&mdash;'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&mdash;you took thought on me!&mdash;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,&mdash;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!&mdash;had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>
+there ever been such a flying season?&mdash;and
+yet she had done very little; she had only
+been happy, and enjoyed herself. Miss Wealthy,
+perhaps, could have told another story,&mdash;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,&mdash;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,&mdash;'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,&mdash;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 &amp; Company's<br />
+Books for Young People</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards</span>.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><br /><b>BLUE BONNET&mdash;D&Eacute;BUTANTE</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</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&mdash;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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;$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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; $2.00<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><b>THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY</b></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By <span class="smcap">W. H. Davenport Adams</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS</b></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By <span class="smcap">C. M. Yonge</span>.</p>
+
+<p><b>ERLING THE BOLD</b></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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."&mdash;<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> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; $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&mdash;initiations, joys, picnics, parties,
+tragedies, vacation and all. Just what girls like, books
+in which 'dreams come true,' entertaining 'gossipy' books
+overflowing with conversation."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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>  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;$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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<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."&mdash;<i>Boston Globe.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><b>NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The story is refreshing."&mdash;<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
+
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+</body>
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+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: ASCII
+
+*** 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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
+
+By Laura E. Richards
+
+Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume, $1.75
+
+        Queen Hildegarde
+        Hildegarde's Holiday
+        Hildegarde's Home
+        Hildegarde's Neighbors
+        Hildegarde's Harvest
+        Three Margarets
+        Margaret Montfort
+        Peggy
+        Rita
+        Fernley House
+        The Merryweathers
+
+        _The above eleven volumes boxed as a set, $19.25_
+
+        L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+        53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'"]
+
+
+
+
+THE HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+Hildegarde's Holiday
+
+A STORY FOR GIRLS
+
+BY
+
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+Author of
+
+        "The Margaret Series," "The Hildegarde Series,"
+        "Captain January," "Melody," "Five
+        Minute Stories," etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATED
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE PAGE COMPANY
+
+        BOSTON PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+        _Copyright, 1891_
+        BY ESTES AND LAURIAT
+
+        Made in U. S. A.
+
+        Twenty-fourth Impression, May, 1927
+        Twenty-fifth Impression, January, 1930
+
+        THE COLONIAL PRESS
+        C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+_To H. R._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+      I. INTRODUCTORY                     11
+
+     II. MISS WEALTHY                     20
+
+    III. THE ORCHARD                      34
+
+     IV. THE DOCTORS                      53
+
+      V. ON THE RIVER                     74
+
+     VI. A MORNING DRIVE                  94
+
+    VII. A "STORY EVENING"               126
+
+   VIII. FLOWER-DAY                      151
+
+     IX. BROKEN FLOWERS                  178
+
+      X. THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD           201
+
+     XI. "UP IN THE MORNING EARLY"       222
+
+    XII. BENNY                           241
+
+   XIII. A SURPRISE                      254
+
+    XIV. TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING       278
+
+     XV. THE GREAT SCHEME                300
+
+    XVI. THE WIDOW BRETT                 314
+
+   XVII. OLD MR. COLT                    337
+
+  XVIII. JOYOUS GARD                     354
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                        PAGE
+"'DO TELL US ABOUT HER, PLEASE!'" (p. 128)      _Frontispiece_
+"'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"           23
+"'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"                      77
+"THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE"                   111
+"'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"        174
+"SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE"                             194
+"'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"                            247
+"'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"                            333
+
+
+
+
+HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+INTRODUCTORY.
+
+
+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 following 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+Hildegarde Grahame sat down, and leaning her head on her mother's
+shoulder, burst into tears.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Let her hear it all from you, Doctor," said Mrs. Grahame. "It will do
+her more good than anything else."
+
+Hildegarde looked up and nodded, and smiled through her tears.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"_Place aux dames!_" said the Doctor. "You may answer first, Mrs.
+Grahame, though your question came last."
+
+"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, and they all say, 'Bless her!' when they move away."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh! a month!" cried Hildegarde, dolefully. "Do you mean that she cannot
+walk at all till then, Doctor?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I suppose so," said the girl, still looking disappointed, however.
+
+"Oh, she will _begin_ 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
+very good thing for her. An easy carriage, a gentle horse, a careful
+driver--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"But we _don't_ call her so now, Mammy!" cried Hildegarde, impetuously.
+"Rose is exactly as much her own name, and she likes it much better;
+and even Bubble says it is prettier. But I _didn't_ mean to interrupt,
+Mammy dear. Go on, please!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Capital!" cried Dr. Flower; "the very thing! She _shall_ 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?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Hilda. "It goes quite near, doesn't it, Mamma?"
+
+"Within two or three miles," said Mrs. Grahame; "and the carriage road
+is very good."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+But when Dr. Flower went out into the hall, he saw standing opposite the
+door a boy, neatly dressed and very pale, with burning eyes, which met
+his in an agony of inquiry.
+
+"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?"
+
+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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MISS WEALTHY.
+
+
+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.
+
+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
+privilege, 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. 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.
+
+"I think the room looks very pretty, Martha," said Miss Wealthy, for the
+tenth time.
+
+"It does, Mam," replied Martha, as heartily as if she had not heard the
+remark before. "Proper nice it looks, I'm sure."
+
+"You mended that little place in the curtain, did you, Martha?"
+
+"I did, Mam. I don't think as you could find it now, unless you looked
+very close."
+
+"And you put lavender and orange-flower water in the bottles? Very well;
+then that's all, I think."
+
+[Illustration: "'AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT FOR SUPPER, MARTHA?'"]
+
+Miss Wealthy gave one more contented look round the pretty room, with
+its gay 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.
+
+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.
+
+"And everything is right for supper, Martha?" she asked.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh no, Martha," said the old lady, "I don't need anything. We shall
+hear the wheels when they come."
+
+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.
+
+"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 _quite_
+half-way down. It makes the whole room look askew, doesn't it?"
+
+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 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.
+
+Hildegarde sprang lightly from the carriage, and gave her hand to her
+companion to help her out.
+
+"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!
+_there_ you are! now take my arm. Slowly, slowly! See, Cousin Wealthy!
+see how well she walks! Isn't it delightful?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+Hildegarde shook hands warmly with Martha, and Rose gave one of her shy,
+sweet smiles.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"There, dear!" she said anxiously, stooping to unfasten her cloak. "Are
+you very dreadfully tired?"
+
+"Oh no!" replied Rose, cheerfully; "not at all _dreadfully_ tired, only
+comfortably. I ache a little, of course, but--Oh, what a pleasant room!
+And this chair is comfort itself."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, dear," said quiet Rose, smiling, "you knew there was a river;
+your mother told us so."
+
+"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--"
+
+"To hang our harps on?" inquired Rose.
+
+"Precisely!" replied Hildegarde. "And I think--Rose, I _do_ see a
+boat-house! My dear, this is bliss! We will bathe every morning. You
+have never seen me dive, Rose."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Peace, paltry soul!" cried Hilda. "Here comes a scow, loaded with wood.
+The wood has been wet, and is all yellow and gleaming. 'Scow,'--what an
+absurd word! 'Barge' is prettier."
+
+"It sounds so like Shalott," said Rose; "I must come and look too.
+
+        "'By the margin, willow-veiled,
+         Slide the heavy barges, trailed
+         By slow horses.'"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do you say it!" said Rose, coming softly forward, and taking her seat
+beside her friend. "I like best to hear you."
+
+And Hildegarde repeated in a low tone,--
+
+        "Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
+         Little breezes dusk and shiver
+         Through the wave that runs forever
+         By the island in the river
+         Flowing down to Camelot."
+
+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.
+
+"Oh!" cried Hildegarde. "Rose, how _could_ you let me go
+a-woolgathering? Just look at my hair!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Miss Wealthy had been seriously disturbed when the girls did not appear
+promptly at 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 _quite_ 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 _little_ 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."
+
+"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. It is part of Papa's
+military code, you know."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, milk, please!" said Hilda. "I am not to take tea till I am
+twenty-one, Cousin Wealthy, nor coffee either."
+
+"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 _very_ light that a small quantity of it
+is not injurious."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Are you, dear?" said Miss Wealthy, looking up placidly from her
+milk-toast, "Well, so am I!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE ORCHARD.
+
+
+Next morning, when breakfast was over, Miss Wealthy made a little
+speech, giving the two girls the freedom of the place.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, indeed we shall, Cousin Wealthy!" cried Hildegarde. "It is delight
+enough just to breathe this delicious air and look at the river."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+But Martha had a young girl in the kitchen, Miss Wealthy said, whom she
+was training 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.
+
+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?"
+
+"Yonder," said Rose, pointing to a feathery bush not far off.
+
+"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."
+
+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, "_Good_-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. _She_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I don't know," said Rose, slowly. "Another item for the ignorance list,
+Hilda. It is growing appallingly long. I really _don't_ 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."
+
+"Let us call it vegetable rheumatism!" said Hildegarde. "How _is_ your
+poor back this morning, ma'am?" She addressed an ancient tree with
+respectful sympathy; indeed, it did look like an aged dame bent 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?"
+
+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 _massage_, you know. What do you suppose her name is?"
+
+"Dame Crump would do, wouldn't it?" replied Rose, looking critically at
+the venerable dame.
+
+"Of course! and that ferocious old person brandishing three arms over
+yonder must be Croquemitaine,--
+
+        "'Croquemitaine! Croquemitaine!
+         Ne dinerai pas 'vec toi!'
+
+I think they are rather a savage set,--don't you, Rosy?--all except my
+dear Dame Crump here."
+
+"I _know_ 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!"
+
+"Avaunt!" cried Hilda, springing lightly from Dame Crump's sheltering
+arm. "Ye secret, black, and midnight hags, what is 't ye do?"
+
+"A deed without a name!" muttered Rose, in sepulchral tones.
+
+"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."
+
+"Just like me, as I was a year ago," said Rose, smiling.
+
+"Rose! how can you?" cried Hildegarde, indignantly; "as if you had not
+always been a white rosebush."
+
+"On wheels!" said Rose. "I often think of my dear old chair, and wonder
+if it misses me. Hildegarde dear!"
+
+"My lamb!" replied Hildegarde, sitting down by her friend and giving her
+a little hug.
+
+"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
+_dream_ 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, move
+so many things without getting mixed up."
+
+"Dear Rose! you are happy, aren't you?" exclaimed Hildegarde, with
+delight.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Lohengrin?" said Hildegarde. "No, you are more like Una, in the 'Faerie
+Queene.' In fact, I think you _are_ Una."
+
+"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, 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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor thing!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically.
+
+"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 poor Sir Scraggo, who quivered with emotion, but never
+took advantage of the situation. I used to be _very_ sorry for Sir
+Scraggo."
+
+"What a shame!" cried Hildegarde, warmly. "Couldn't you make her care
+for the poor dear?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I think she was rather a minx, do you know?" said Hildegarde. "I
+prefer Sir Scraggo myself."
+
+"Well," replied Rose, "one respected Sir Scraggo very much indeed; but
+he was _not_ 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."
+
+"That does make a difference," said Hildegarde. "Who were some other of
+your garden people, you funniest Rose?"
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"_You_ decided, forsooth!" cried Hildegarde. "'"Who are you?" said the
+caterpillar.' I will hear about Larry Larkspur, if you please, without
+more delay."
+
+"It really _isn't_ worth hearing!" said Rose. "Still, if you want it you
+shall have it; so listen!
+
+        "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,
+          Wears a cap of purple gay;
+         Trim and handy little dandy,
+          Straight and smirk he stands alway.
+
+        "Larry Larkspur, Larry Larkspur,
+          Saw the Poppy blooming fair;
+         Loved her for her scarlet satin,
+          Loved her for her fringed hair.
+
+        "Sent a message by the night-wind:
+          'Wilt thou wed me, lady gay?
+         For the heart of Larry Larkspur
+          Beats and burns for thee alway.'
+
+        "When the morning 'gan to brighten,
+          Eager glanced he o'er the bed.
+         Lo! the Poppy's leaves had fallen;
+          Bare and brown her ugly head.
+
+        "Sore amazed stood Larry Larkspur,
+          And his heart with grief was big.
+         'Woe is me! she was so lovely,
+          Who could guess she wore a wig?'"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE DOCTORS.
+
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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."
+
+Cousin Wealthy smiled. She enjoyed a little joke as much as any one, and
+Dr. Abernethy was one of her standing jokes.
+
+"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 exercise. He lives--in
+the stable, my dears, and he has four legs and a tail."
+
+"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."
+
+"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, whom I had seen once in London, when I was a little
+girl."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"'Who's this? who's this?' he said, in a very gruff voice. 'Little girl!
+Humph! Tooth-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'No, sir,' I answered faintly, being frightened nearly out of my wits.
+
+"'Head-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'No, sir.'
+
+"'Stomach-ache, little girl?'
+
+"'Oh, no, sir!'
+
+"'Then take that!' and he thrust a little 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."
+
+"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Rose. "And was he a very good
+doctor?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Oh, I hope it is!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "It is too funny not to
+be true."
+
+"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 I ever
+saw, nearly as long as the rest of his face.
+
+"'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.)
+
+"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
+_think_ 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.'
+
+"'Ah!' said Dr. Longman, 'craves food, does he?--cra-aves food!'
+
+"Just then Bubble's patience gave out. He was getting better, and it
+made him _so_ cross, poor dear! he snapped out, in his funny way, 'I've
+got a bile comin' on my nose, and it hurts like fury!'
+
+"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?'
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Here's the Doctor wants terrible to come in, Mam!" she said. "Will I
+let him?"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said Miss Wealthy, smiling. "Let the good Doctor in!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 is forming his
+opinion now, and nothing will ever alter it."
+
+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 _have_ read 'Pilgrim's
+Progress,' I assure you!--read it through and through, a number of
+times, and love it dearly."
+
+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.
+
+"Dear pussy!" said Rose, stroking him gently, and scratching him behind
+one ear in a very knowing manner.
+
+Miss Wealthy drew a long breath of satisfaction. "It is all right," she
+said. "Martha, he is delighted with the young ladies. Dear Doctor! he
+shall have some almond-pudding at once. Bring me his saucer, please,
+Martha!"
+
+Martha brought a blue saucer; but Miss Wealthy looked at it with
+surprise and disapproval.
+
+"That is not the Doctor's saucer, Martha," she said. "Is it possible
+that you have forgotten? He has _always_ had the odd yellow saucer ever
+since he was a kitten."
+
+"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."
+
+"_Broke the yellow saucer!_" 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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Jenny broke a cup last winter, did she not, Martha?" asked Miss
+Wealthy.
+
+"A very small cup, Mam," replied Martha, deprecatingly. "That's all she
+has broken 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."
+
+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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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 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
+_in_ the story, of course I couldn't put it down till I had finished
+it."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"And what are you going to do with yourselves this afternoon, girlies?"
+she asked, settling herself in her armchair, and smelling of her
+pansies, which, as usual, stood on the little round table at her elbow.
+
+"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 _happy_ 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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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 it, patted it a little, and
+then with an apologetic glance and smile at the old lady, went to join
+Hildegarde.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+"Shall I read or sing, Rosy?" she asked.
+
+"Oh! but are you quite sure you don't want to do something else, dear?"
+asked Rose.
+
+"Absolutely sure!" said Hildegarde. "Quite positively sure!"
+
+"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?"
+
+So Hilda sang, as follows:--
+
+        "'Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
+         Smiles awake you when you rise.
+         Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
+         And I will sing a lullaby.
+         Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
+
+        "'Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;
+         You are care, and care must keep you.
+         Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
+         And I will sing a lullaby.
+         Rock them, rock them, lullaby.'"
+
+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,--
+
+        "'Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
+                    O sweet Content!
+         Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?
+                    O Punishment!
+         Dost laugh to see how fools are vexed
+         To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
+            O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
+
+        "'Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring?
+                    O sweet Content!
+         Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
+                    O Punishment!
+        Then he that patiently Want's burden bears
+        No burden bears, but is a king, a king.
+            O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content.'"
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ON THE RIVER.
+
+
+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 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.
+
+"Last year at this time," she said, thinking aloud, "I didn't know what
+a Camberwell Beauty was. I didn't know any butterflies 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.
+
+"I don't wonder!" said the girl. "But you'd better take care, my dear. I
+know you now, and I don't _think_ 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."
+
+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!--_now_ 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.
+
+"Oh, Jeremiah!" said Hildegarde, eagerly, "is the--do you think the boat
+is safe?"
+
+[Illustration: "'DO SAY IT'S ALL RIGHT, JEREMIAH!'"]
+
+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."
+
+"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 _you_ said it was all right. _Do_ say it's all right, Jeremiah!"
+
+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. _She_ don't like boats, any way o' the world, but I'll
+take ye down and get her out for ye."
+
+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 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.
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde. "I am so much obliged!"
+
+"No need ter!" responded Jeremiah, politely. "Ye've handled a boat
+before, have ye?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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."
+
+"Then I shall try both," said Hildegarde, laughing. "Good-by, Jeremiah!
+I will bring the boat back safe."
+
+The oars dipped, and the boat shot off into midstream. Jeremiah looked
+after it a few minutes, and then turned back toward the house. "_She_
+knows what she's about!" he said to himself.
+
+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,
+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?
+
+        "'They wriggled their tails;
+         In the sun glanced their scales.'"
+
+Then she tried to repeat "Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes," of
+which she was very fond.
+
+        "Sharp-snouted pikes,
+         Who keep fighting like tikes,
+         Now swam up harmonious
+         To hear Saint Antonius.
+           No sermon beside
+           Had the pikes so edified."
+
+Presently something waved in the shadow,--something moving, among the
+still reflections of the rocks. Hildegarde looked up. There, 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.
+
+"You dears!" she cried; "have you been waiting there, just for me to
+come and see you?"
+
+The harebells nodded, as if there were no doubt about it.
+
+"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 think. Good-by, dear
+pretties! I should like to take you home to Rose, but it would be a
+wickedness to pick you."
+
+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 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.
+
+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!"
+
+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 violently. 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+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 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 _one_ 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 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."
+
+"No, not _quite_ so bad as that!" she cried aloud, laughing, though her
+cheeks burned at her own thoughts. "I _did_ know bees and wasps, and I
+_think_ I knew a dragon-fly when I saw him."
+
+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,--
+
+        "A primrose by a river's brim
+         A yellow primrose was to him,
+           And it was nothing more."
+
+Here was this little brown bird, for example. Bird and song and eggs,
+all together could not tell her its name. She 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 _very_ 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?
+
+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.
+
+The farther side showed an opening in 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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+Homeward now, following the west bank, as she had gone down along the
+east. This side was pretty, too, though there were no 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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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 _would_ remove your
+chivalrous self from my unworthy oar,--really not a fit place for your
+knighthood,--I should get on faster."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good-by, good boat!" she cried. "Good-by, dear beautiful river! I shall
+see you to-morrow, the day after, every 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A MORNING DRIVE.
+
+
+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.
+
+"My dears," said Miss Wealthy, "are you ready? You said ten o'clock, and
+the clock has already struck."
+
+"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, _nous allons faire une promenade en voiture! Repetez
+cette phrase!_"
+
+"_Nous allong_--" began Rose, meekly; but she was cut short in her
+repetition.
+
+"Not _allong_, dear, _allons_, _ons_. Keep your mouth open, and don't
+let your tongue come near the roof of your mouth after the _ll_.
+_Allons!_ Try once more."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+Meanwhile the girls were driving along, looking about them, and
+enjoying themselves immensely. Jeremiah had given them directions for a
+drive "just about _so_ 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.
+
+"There is snow on them," said Rose. "Oh, Hildegarde! they must be the
+White Mountains. Jeremiah told me that we could see them from here.
+That highest peak must be Mount Washington. Oh, to think of it!"
+
+They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the mountains, which lay
+like giants at rest.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," said Hildegarde; "but I don't know what poet. I found it in a
+book of Dr. Felton's at home."
+
+She thought a moment, and then repeated the verses,--
+
+        "'Why are the mountains shadowed o'er?
+         Why stand they darkened grimly?
+         Is it a tempest warring there,
+         Or rain-storm beating on them?
+
+        "'It is no tempest warring there,
+         No rain-storm beating on them,
+         But Charon sweeping over them,
+         And with him the departed.'"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yellow clover!" repeated Hildegarde, looking about her. "Who ever heard
+of yellow clover? I don't see any."
+
+"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 to the ditch by
+the roadside, you might possibly see it."
+
+"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.
+
+"Are they really clover?" she asked, examining them curiously. "I had no
+idea there were more than two kinds, red and white."
+
+"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."
+
+"And how, let me in a spirit of love inquire, does it resemble your Aunt
+Caroline? Is she yellow?"
+
+"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 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
+_too_ good to 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 _exactly_ like Aunt
+Caroline herself; she was _so_ withering, and _so_ 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 and persistent, though she said, 'Very excusable!' at last."
+
+"Why, Rose!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I didn't suppose you were
+_ever_ naughty, even when you were a baby."
+
+"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 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?'
+
+"'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."
+
+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
+together, standing edgewise, and tossing their naked arms in every
+direction.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 anything.
+Let's not talk about the dark ages. You love trees now, I'm sure."
+
+"That I do!" said Hildegarde. "The oak best of all, the elm next; but I
+love them all."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perhaps!" said Rose, thoughtfully. "I think--Oh, Hilda, look!" she
+cried, breaking off suddenly. "What a queer little house!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 like
+inside. Take the reins, Bonne Silene, 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 _isn't_ deserted, Rose! At least?--well, some one has been
+here. But, oh, me! oh, _me_! What a place! I never, never dreamed of
+such a place. I--"
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose. "If you don't tell me, I shall jump
+out!"
+
+"No, you won't!" said Hildegarde. "You'd better not, Miss! but _oh_,
+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 least, I
+suppose it is meant for a bed. Oh! what person _can_ live here?"
+
+"_I am coming_, Hilda," said Rose. "The only question is whether I get
+out with your help or without."
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+[Illustration: "THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."]
+
+"How kind!" said Rose. "I am not in the least hungry, but I _should_
+like a cup of milk. Oh, Hildegarde!"
+
+"What now?" asked that young woman, returning with the precious basket,
+and applying her nose once more to the window. "Fresh horrors?"
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"Now you have done enough, Rosy!" cried Hildegarde. "Sit down on the
+doorstep and make a posy, while I finish."
+
+Rose, being rather tired, obeyed. Hildegarde then looked for a
+scrubbing-brush, but finding none, was obliged to give the 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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, 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.
+
+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, and laughed and laughed as if they never would stop.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _were_ breaking and entering, Hilda!"
+
+"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?"
+
+Rose shook her head meditatively. "It's dreadful to think of his living
+all alone there," she said. "For he must be alone. There 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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried Rose, shrinking at the bare thought.
+
+"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."
+
+But the best-laid plans, as we all know, "gang aft agley;" and the
+girls were not to have the telling of their adventure in their own way.
+
+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."
+
+Hildegarde and Rose looked at each other in terror.
+
+"Oh, Hilda!" whispered Rose, catching her friend's hand, "it must be he!
+What shall we do?"
+
+"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."
+
+Martha, who had been reconnoitring through a crack of the window-blind,
+now uttered an exclamation. "Well, of all! Mam, it's old Galusha
+Pennypacker, as sure as you stand there."
+
+"Is it possible?" said Miss Wealthy, in a tone of great surprise.
+"Martha, you _must_ be mistaken. Galusha Pennypacker coming here. Why
+_should_ he come here?"
+
+But for once Martha was not ready to answer her mistress, for she had
+gone to open the door.
+
+The girls listened, with clasped hands and straining ears.
+
+"Why, Mr. Pennypacker!" they heard Martha say. "This is never you?"
+
+Then a shrill, cracked voice broke in, speaking very slowly, as if
+speech were an unaccustomed effort. "Is there--two gals--here?"
+
+"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement. "What two gals?"
+
+"Gals!" said the old man's voice,--"one on 'em highty-tighty,
+fly-away-lookin', 'n' the other kind o' 'pindlin'; drivin' your hoss,
+they was."
+
+"Why--yes!" said Martha, more and more astonished. "What upon earth--"
+
+"Here's their basket!" the old man continued; "tell 'em I--relished the
+victuals. Good-day t' ye!"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"There was only an onion and three crackers," murmured Rose, in
+deprecating parenthesis.
+
+"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."
+
+"I see!" said Martha, chuckling, and apparently much amused.
+
+But Miss Wealthy looked really frightened. "My _dear_ girls," she said,
+"it was a _very_ 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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"I? No!" cried Hildegarde, wondering. "I left nothing at all in it.
+What is there?"
+
+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.
+
+"Oh! there is writing on them!" cried Hildegarde. "Martha dear, _do_
+tell us what it says!"
+
+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."
+
+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 tablet, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Galusha Pennypacker, with such things as these!" cried one.
+
+"Galusha Pennypacker making presents!" exclaimed the other. "Well,
+wonders will never cease!"
+
+"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 _must_
+go to bed at once, for I am sure you must be quite exhausted."
+
+And the delighted girls went off in triumph with their treasures, to
+chatter in their rooms as only girls can chatter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A "STORY EVENING."
+
+
+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 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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."
+
+"Is it a name?" asked Rose.
+
+Miss Wealthy nodded. "His aunt's name," she said,--"Ca-iry[1]
+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!"
+
+"Oh, Cousin Wealthy," cried Hildegarde, "_do_ 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."
+
+Miss Wealthy considered a minute, then she said: "My dear, if you will
+open the fourth left-hand drawer of that chest between 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."
+
+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,--
+
+"There _is_ 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!"
+
+"My mother!" cried Hildegarde, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+The girl blushed violently. "I beg your pardon, Cousin Wealthy," she
+said humbly. "Shall I go out and stand in the entry? Papa always used to
+make me, when I interrupted."
+
+"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
+_never_ 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 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."
+
+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--
+
+
+CA-IRY AND THE QUEEN.
+
+        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?
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        "What seek you," she said, "slave?"
+
+        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."
+
+        "He was barkin' at me," said the woman. "Bow
+        down before me, slave! I am the Queen!"
+
+        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.
+
+        "Do you--do you live here, ma'am?" I asked,
+        very polite.
+
+        "Your Majesty!" says she, holdin' up her head,
+        and lookin' at me as if I was dirt under her
+        feet.
+
+        "Do you live here, your Majesty?" I asked
+        again.
+
+        "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?"
+
+        "What king was your Majesty meanin'?" says I.
+
+        "King Solomon, of course!" said she. "For what
+        lesser king should the Queen of Sheba wait?"
+
+        "To be sure!" says I. "No, ma'am,--your
+        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?"
+
+        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."
+
+        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.
+
+        And she herself--oh, dear! it makes me want to
+        laugh and cry, both together, to think _how_
+        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.
+
+        I made up my mind pretty quick what was the
+        right thing for me to do; and I said, as
+        soothin' as I could,--
+
+        "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 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?"
+
+        "No," she said, kind o' mournful, and shakin'
+        her head,--"no, slave. I had once, but it was
+        taken from me."
+
+        "If you don't mind my bein' so bold," I said,
+        "where was you stayin' before you come here?"
+
+        "With devils!" she said, so fierce and sudden
+        that Bluff and I both jumped. "Speak not of
+        them, lest my wrath descend upon you."
+
+        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.
+
+        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
+        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.
+
+        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
+        _did_ 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.
+
+        "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, from which I shall judge the people
+        till the King comes."
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+        "But where are my robes?" said she, pointin' to
+        the clothes I'd laid out. "Those are not my
+        robes."
+
+        "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."
+
+        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."
+
+        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.
+
+        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'--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.
+        _'T was_ 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        I steps before her, and "What's this?" says I,
+        short enough.
+
+        "Mornin', Ca-iry," says Hezekiah, smilin' his
+        greasy smile, that allus _did_ 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 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--"
+
+        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.
+
+        "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. _Scat!_"
+        And I shut the door and bolted it, b'ilin' with
+        rage, and came back to my poor Queen.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        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 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.
+
+        "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."
+
+        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.
+
+        "Solomon!" she cried, and held out her arms
+        wide. "Solomon, my King!" and then fell back on
+        the piller, dead.
+
+        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.
+
+        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.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] Pronounced Kay-iry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+FLOWER-DAY.
+
+
+"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?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Wealthy; "you may tell me, and then you
+may forget the little accident, as I had already done."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Mildred!" exclaimed Miss Wealthy. "Mildred peaceful! My _dear_ Hilda!"
+
+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.
+
+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_ 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 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."
+
+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 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!"
+
+"Oh! naughty little mother!" cried Hildegarde. "What did you do to her,
+Cousin Wealthy?"
+
+"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 _meant_ to be 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 _so_ fresh and nice! I wish
+you would come up, Cousin!'
+
+"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.
+
+"Oh, do go on, dear!" cried Hildegarde; "unless you are tired, that is.
+It is so delightful!"
+
+"It was anything but delightful for me, my dear, I can assure you,"
+rejoined Miss Wealthy. "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 _always_ 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.
+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."
+
+"Oh!" cried Rose, "how dreadful! Dear Miss Bond, what did you do?"
+
+Hildegarde was silent. It was certainly very naughty, she thought; but
+oh, what fun it must have been!
+
+"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 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, good man,
+and always drove a good one himself."
+
+"And did you send her home?" asked Hildegarde, anxiously, thinking what
+a dreadful thing it would be to be sent back in disgrace.
+
+"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."
+
+They went into the parlor, and Hildegarde, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Indeed, I don't wonder!" said Hildegarde. "There cannot be anything
+else so pleasant to do. And thank you, Martha, for making everything so
+comfortable for us. You are a dear, as I may have said before."
+
+Martha chuckled and withdrew, after telling the girls that the flowers
+must be ready in an hour.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why mourning, and why bride?" asked Hildegarde, plucking some of the
+dark, rich blossoms. "It doesn't strike me as a melancholy flower."
+
+"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."
+
+"Lady Teazle?" asked Hildegarde, laughing.
+
+"A different branch!" replied Rose, "but just as prickly. The fuller's
+teasel,--do you know about it, dear?"
+
+"No, Miss Encyclopaedia, I do not!" replied Hildegarde, with some
+asperity. "You know I _never_ know anything of that kind; tell me about
+it!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Very!" said Hildegarde. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose, in alarm. "Has something stung you?
+Let me--"
+
+"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, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But, my _dear_ 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 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, how dreadful!" cried gentle Rose. "Then he had only begun to
+write."
+
+"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 _you_ know, 'The Passionate Shepherd,'--'Come live with me
+and be my love;' you remember?"
+
+"Oh!" cried Rose. "Did he write that? I love him, then."
+
+"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!--
+
+        "'Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
+         And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'
+
+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."
+
+Both girls were silent a moment; then Rose asked timidly, "And who spoke
+of the 'mighty line,' dear? It must have been another great poet. Only
+three words, and such a roll and ring and brightness in them."
+
+"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!"
+
+"And--and was he an ancestor of Dr. Samuel's?" asked Rose, humbly.
+
+"Why, darling, you are really quite ignorant!" cried Hildegarde,
+laughing. "How delightful to find things that you don't know! No, he had
+no _h_ in his name,--at least, it had been left out; but he came
+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."
+
+She paused for breath; but Rose said nothing, 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!"
+
+"Tell me about it!" said Rose, softly. "Not that I know who _he_ was;
+but his name is a poem in itself."
+
+"Isn't it?" cried Hildegarde. "He was a poet too, a Scottish poet,
+living in a wonderful old house--"
+
+"Not 'caverned Hawthornden,' in 'Lovely Rosabelle'?" cried Rose, her
+eyes lighting up with new interest.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _do_ feel better. That is just my baseness,
+to be glad when you don't know things, you 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, dear!" said Hildegarde, interrogatively. "The house where you were
+born?"
+
+[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU THINK WE HAVE ENOUGH FLOWERS, ROSY?'"]
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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!"
+
+And Rose told about--
+
+
+RAGGED ROBIN.
+
+
+        O Robin, ragged Robin,
+          That stands beside the door,
+        The sweetheart of the country child,
+          The flower of the poor,
+
+        I love to see your cheery face,
+          Your straggling bravery;
+        Than many a stately garden bloom
+          You're dearer far to me.
+
+        For you it needs no sheltered nook,
+          No well-kept flower-bed;
+        By cottage porch, by roadside ditch,
+          You raise your honest head.
+
+        The small hedge-sparrow knows you well,
+          The blackbird is your friend;
+        With clustering bees and butterflies
+          Your pink-fringed blossoms bend.
+
+        O Robin, ragged Robin,
+          The dearest flower that grows,
+        Why don't you patch your tattered cloak?
+          Why don't you mend your hose?
+
+        Would you not like to prank it there
+          Within the border bright,
+        Among the roses and the pinks,
+          A courtly dame's delight?
+
+        "Ah no!" says jolly Robin,
+          "'T would never do for me;
+        The friend of bird and butterfly,
+          Like them I must be free.
+
+        "The garden is for stately folk,
+          The lily and the rose;
+        They'd scorn my coat of ragged pink,
+          Would flout my broken hose.
+
+        "Then let me bloom in wayside ditch,
+          And by the cottage door,
+        The sweetheart of the country child,
+          The flower of the poor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+BROKEN FLOWERS.
+
+
+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, "_Please_, Cousin Wealthy, may I go
+with Jeremiah? The wagon is all ready. Mayn't I go? Oh, _please_ say
+'yes'!"
+
+Miss Wealthy started so violently that the crochet-hook fell from her
+hands. "My _dear_ Hilda!" she said plaintively, "you quite take my
+breath away. I--really, my dear, I don't know what to say. Where do you
+want to go?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Miss Wealthy was still bewildered. "Why, my dear," she said
+hesitatingly. "Yes--you may go, certainly--if you are quite sure--"
+
+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," 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."
+
+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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes!" cried Hildegarde. "It is a regular frolic, isn't it, Jeremiah?
+How beautiful everything looks! What a perfection of a day it is!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Isn't it a good field?" asked Hildegarde, innocently.
+
+"Best lot on the place!" replied the prophet, with melancholy
+enthusiasm. "Not many lots like that in _this_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After waiting a few minutes in a cool, shady parlor, where she sat
+feeling strange 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."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Hildegarde, shyly. "It is just what I wanted, if
+you really think they would like it."
+
+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 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+A nurse stood beside the crib, and Hildegarde looked to her for
+permission, then filled the little hands with sweet alyssum and white
+roses.
+
+"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 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--"
+
+"Guess that's a lie, ain't it?" asked the child, wearily.
+
+"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."
+
+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'."
+
+"Indeed!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically. "I am very sorry. What is
+the matter with him?"
+
+"Mumps 'n' ague 'n' brown kitties 'n' ammonia 'n' fits!" was the prompt
+reply; "and a hole in his leg too! Feel his pult!"
+
+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?"
+
+"It's fits," said the child, "or a brown kitty,--I don't know which. Is
+you a nurse?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Sing!" was the unexpected reply, in a tone of positive command.
+
+"Benny!" said Mrs. Murray, who came up at this moment; "you mustn't
+tease the young lady, dear. See! the other children are waiting for
+their flowers, and you have these lovely roses."
+
+"She looks singy!" persisted Benny. "I wants her to sing. Doctor said I
+could have what I wanted, and I wants _vat_."
+
+"May I sing to him?" asked Hildegarde, in a low tone. "I can sing a
+little, if it would not disturb the others."
+
+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!"
+
+"She's _my_ more! she isn't your more!" 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.
+
+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.
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
+         Summer is far and far away yet.
+         You'll get silken coats and a velvet bed,
+         And a pillow of satin for your head.'
+
+        "'I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall!
+         No rain comes through, though I hear it fall
+         The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,
+         And I sing and wing away, away.'
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
+         Diamond stones, and amber and jet,
+         I'll string in a necklace fair and fine,
+         To please this pretty bird of mine.'
+
+        "'Oh, thanks for diamonds and thanks for jet,
+         But here is something daintier yet.
+         A feather necklace round and round,
+         That I would not sell for a thousand pound.'
+
+        "'Oh, birdie, birdie, won't you, pet?
+         I'll buy you a dish of silver fret;
+         A golden cup and an ivory seat,
+         And carpets soft beneath your feet.'
+
+        "'Can running water be drunk from gold?
+         Can a silver dish the forest hold?
+         A rocking twig is the finest chair,
+         And the softest paths lie through the air.
+         Farewell, farewell to my lady fair!'"
+
+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!"
+
+"What has been the matter?" asked Hildegarde.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+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 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 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.
+
+"What's them?" asked one tiny boy, holding up his bunch.
+
+"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."
+
+"Nein," said a small voice from the outside of the circle, "dat iss
+Stiefmuetterlein!"
+
+"Du Bluemlein fein!" cried Hildegarde. "Yes, to be sure. Come here,
+little German boy, and we will tell the others about the pretty German
+name."
+
+[Illustration: "SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."]
+
+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--"
+
+"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin, nestling closer to the wonderful
+Fraeulein who knew German.
+
+"Where Fritzerl came from. There they call it 'Stiefmuetterlein,' 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?"
+
+"I've got one!" piped up a little girl 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.
+
+"I see it is," said Hilda, admiringly; "and so bright and warm, isn't
+it?"
+
+"I've got a grandma to home!" cried another shrill voice. "She makes
+splendid mittens! She makes cookies too."
+
+"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."
+
+"My grandma's got a wig!" said the 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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I--wanted--" Here came another sob.
+
+"What did you want? Come, we'll sit here by the window, and you shall
+tell me all about it."
+
+"Ze uzzers told you sings, and--I--wanted--to tell you sings--too!"
+
+"Well, pet!" said Hildegarde, drying the tears, and kissing the round
+velvet cheek, "tell me then!"
+
+"Ain't got no--sings--to tell!" And another outburst threatened; but
+Hilda intervened hastily.
+
+"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?"
+
+Baby looked doubtful. "Dat ain't a sing!"
+
+"Yes, it is," said Hildegarde, boldly. "Come, now! I had a mutton chop.
+What did you have?"
+
+"Beef tea," was the reply, with a brightening look of retrospective
+cheer, "and toasty strips!"
+
+"_Oh_, how good!" cried Hilda. "I wish I had some. And what are you
+going to have for dinner?"
+
+"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.
+
+"I never heard of anything so good!" she cried. "And what are you going
+to eat it with,--two little sticks?"
+
+"No-o!" cried Baby, with a disdainful laugh. "Wiz a worky, a weal
+worky."
+
+"A walk!" said Hildegarde, puzzled.
+
+"Es!" said Baby, proudly. "A atta worky, dess like people's!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 I don't know how to thank you enough for all the pleasure
+you have given these dear children."
+
+"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."
+
+But "Nein! Muessen 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! _my_ sing-girl! come back soon!"
+
+So, half laughing and half crying, Hildegarde passed out, her heart very
+full of painful pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.
+
+
+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 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.
+
+"Oh! what was it?" cried Hildegarde. "Have we done a dreadful thing?"
+
+"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."
+
+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 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:--
+
+        "Gold and green, gold and green,
+         She was the lass that was born a queen.
+         Velvet sleeves to her grass-green gown,
+         And clinks o' gold in her hair so brown."
+
+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 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 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 _was_ 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.
+
+Rose was beginning to feel very guilty, as 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.
+
+"How _very_ 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 _may_ be in it,
+and like to have the blinds all shut. And yet--yet, I don't believe it
+is so. I feel strange!"
+
+"Come away!" said Rose, rising. "Come home; it is a secret, and not our
+secret."
+
+And home they went, very silent, and forgetting to look for maiden-hair,
+which they had come specially to seek.
+
+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--
+
+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. 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.
+
+"May we come in, Martha?" asked Hildegarde. "We have brought our work,
+and we want to ask you about something."
+
+"Come in, and welcome!" responded Martha. "Glad to see you,--if you can
+make yourselves comfortable, that is. I'll get another chair from--"
+
+"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."
+
+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 said slowly. "It's no harm,
+and no secret; only, of course, you wouldn't speak of it to her, poor
+dear!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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 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 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!
+
+"Well, my dears, they was to be married in the early fall, as it might
+be September. 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.
+
+"One day--my dear young ladies, the ways of the Lord are very strange by
+times, but we must truly think that they _are_ 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-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.'
+
+"And it wasn't, Mary said; for an ugly black cloud was coming over, and
+under it the sky looked green and angry.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Oh! but he could swim!" cried Hildegarde, pale and breathless.
+
+"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!"
+
+There was a pause; for Rose was weeping, and Hildegarde could not speak,
+though her eyes were dry and shining.
+
+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 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 _so_ glad Mrs.
+Grahame asked her to go to New York last winter!
+
+"And now, young ladies," said Martha, gathering up her pillow-cases, "I
+should be in my kitchen, seeing about supper. 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."
+
+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.
+
+Miss Wealthy's cheerful face, when they went down to tea, struck them
+with a shock; they had almost expected to find 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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"UP IN THE MORNING EARLY."
+
+
+"One! two! three! four! five! six!" said the clock in the hall.
+
+"Yes, I know it!" replied Hildegarde, sitting up in bed; and then she
+slipped quietly out and went to call Rose.
+
+"Get up, you sleepy flower!" she said, shaking her friend gently,--
+
+        "A l'heure ou s'eveille la rose,
+         Ne vas-tu pas te reveiller?"
+
+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 obediently, 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, 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.
+
+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 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, 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.
+
+"You are still in the shade, you poor Rosebud!" she cried. "See! I am
+right _in_ 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 interest; and a battle-royal ensued, in
+which the foam flew left and right, and the smooth water was churned
+into a thousand eddies.
+
+"I am the Plesiosaurus!" cried Hildegarde, giving a mighty splash.
+"Beware! beware! my flashing eyes, my floating hair!"
+
+"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'?"
+
+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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The bullfrog evidently resented this inquiry into his most private
+affairs, and disappeared with an indignant "Glump!"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"I didn't--let go!" she panted. "I didn't--half--think I could do it, it
+is so long since I tried."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, that is nothing!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "You should see Papa
+turn back somersaults in the water. _That_ 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 merriment, and the
+sunshine all round her. "See!" she cried, "I am Taglioni, the queen of
+the ballet. I had--a--_oh!_ I _nearly_ 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 Fee!
+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.
+
+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 like two Newfoundland dogs, ran into the
+boat-house, with many exclamations over the good time they had had.
+
+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.
+
+"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:--
+
+        DEAR MISS BOND,--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, and let him run about in the sunshine
+        and drink milk, for that is what he needs.
+
+        With kind regards to your niece, whom I hope we
+        shall see again,
+
+                    Always sincerely yours,
+                                      ELIZABETH MURRAY.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear!" said the old lady. "What is it? what do you want? Isn't the
+egg perfectly fresh? I will call--" But Hildegarde stayed her hand as
+it moved toward the bell.
+
+"I want Benny!" she murmured, in low and persuasive tones, caressing the
+soft withered hand she had taken.
+
+"A penny!" cried Miss Wealthy. "My _dear_ 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--"
+
+"Oh, Cousin Wealthy, how _can_ you?" cried Hildegarde, springing up, and
+turning scarlet, though she could not help laughing. "I didn't say
+_penny_, I said _Benny_! I want the little boy! Rose and I both want
+him, to take care of. Mayn't we have him, _please_? 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 _do_ want
+him so!" She paused for breath; and Miss Wealthy leaned back in her
+chair, and looked bewildered.
+
+"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.
+
+"He is very small!" she said meekly. "He could sleep in my room, and we
+would wash and dress him and keep him quiet _all_ the time."
+
+"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--"
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Hildegarde. "You do want to come in here, Benny. That
+is 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--"
+
+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.
+
+Hildegarde caught him up in her arms and ran off toward the garden. She
+could _not_ 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.
+
+        "Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste
+         To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast.
+         The trumpeter Gadfly has summoned the crew,
+         And the revels are now only waiting for you!
+
+        "On the smooth-shaven grass by the side of the wood,
+         Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood,
+         See the children of earth and the tenants of air
+         For an evening's amusement together repair."
+
+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!"
+
+"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 little girl, but she could never forget the
+delight of her childhood.
+
+        "And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
+         Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back.
+         And there came the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
+         With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
+
+        "And there came the Moth--"
+
+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?
+
+"Cow!" cried Benny, sitting upright, and stretching out both arms in
+rapture. "_My_ cow! mine! all mine!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The brown crockery cow was indeed a milk-jug; and Benny's blue eyes and
+Hildegarde'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.
+
+"Where did you get it?" asked Hildegarde in a low tone, as she held the
+mug to Benny's lips.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Nice!" said Hildegarde; "I never want to drink out of anything else but
+a brown cow. Dear Martha! and observe the effect!"
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+BENNY.
+
+
+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."
+
+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 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.
+
+Benny was delighted. "Funny old kyat!" he cried, clapping his hands.
+"Say 'Fsss' some more! Hi, ole kyat! I catch you."
+
+Hildegarde caught him up in her arms as he was about to pursue the
+retiring dignitary, and Miss Wealthy looked deeply distressed.
+
+"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 _try_ to propitiate him, he might--"
+
+        "Vat ole kyat,
+         He's too fat!"
+
+shouted Benny, stamping his feet to emphasize the metre,--
+
+        "Vat ole kyat
+         He's too fat!
+         _He_ ought to go
+         AND catch a rat!"
+
+"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.
+
+But Benny's bump of reverence was small. "Huh!" he said. "_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.
+
+"Why, Benny!" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean? You mustn't say such
+things, dear child."
+
+"He _is_ a liar!" Benny maintained stoutly. "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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: "'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"]
+
+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 audible.
+"Dee ole kitty! Oh, _such_ a dee ole kitty! Ole fat kyat, I lubby you."
+
+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 _so_ 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 stand perfectly still. "_Dee_
+ole kitty!" murmured Benny, in dulcet tones. "P'ease don't move! Benny
+_so_ comfortable! Benny lubs his sweet ole pillow-kyat! Go to s'eep
+again, dee ole kitty!"
+
+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!
+
+After this all was joy. The barriers were removed, and the child and the
+cat became 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.
+
+Benny did another thing one day. Oh, Benny did another thing! Rose was
+teaching him his letters in the parlor, and he was putting them into
+metre, as he was apt to put everything,--
+
+        "_A_, B, _C_, D,
+         _Fiddle_, diddle,
+         _Yes_, I see!"
+
+And with each emphasis he jumped up and down, as if to jolt the letters
+into his head.
+
+"Try to stand still, Benny dear!" said gentle Rose.
+
+But Benny said he couldn't remember them if he stood still. "_A_, B,
+_C_, D! _E_, F, _jiggle_ 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 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.
+
+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,--
+
+"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.
+
+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! Accidents _will_ 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+A SURPRISE.
+
+
+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 "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.
+
+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 at full length, plaid and all, on another
+couch.
+
+"What an extraordinary man!" cried Rose, greatly amused. "How could he
+be so very uncouth, and yet write the 'Skylark'?"
+
+"After all, he was a plain, rough shepherd!" replied Hildegarde. "And
+remember,
+
+        'The dewdrop that hangs from the rowan bough
+         Is fine as the proudest rose can show.'
+
+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!"
+
+"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
+imagine 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?"
+
+"Of course! Giotto!" cried Hildegarde. "He was only ten years old when
+Cimabue found him drawing a sheep on a smooth stone."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"And Apollo," cried Hildegarde, "when he kept the flocks of Admetus, you
+know."
+
+"I don't know!" said Rose. "I thought Apollo was the god of the sun."
+
+"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 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 'Telemaque,' at school last winter."
+
+"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.
+
+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:--
+
+        "Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
+         But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
+         Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
+         For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be."
+
+"Oh, go on, please!" murmured Rose, all unconscious that she was the
+Kilmeny of her friend's thoughts:--
+
+        "It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
+         And pu' the cress-flower round the spring;
+         The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye,
+         And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree:
+         For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
+         But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
+         And lang may she seek i' the greenwood shaw;
+         Lang the Laird of Duneira blame,
+         And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame.
+
+        "When many a day had come and fled,
+         When grief grew calm, and hope was dead;
+         When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,
+         When the bedesman had prayed and the dead-bell rung;
+         Late, late in a gloamin', when all was still,
+         When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,
+         The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane,
+         The reek o' the cot hung over the plain,
+         Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;
+         When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme,
+         Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny cam hame."
+
+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?"
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"_Nothing to eat for a week!_" exclaimed Hildegarde, severely. "My boy,
+you are not telling the truth. And who ever heard of rheumatism at your
+age? Do you think we ought to let him in, Rose?" she added, in a lower
+tone.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Bubble was highly delighted at the success of his ruse. He rubbed his
+hands and chuckled, then went down on all-fours and 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 did you leave New York? What have you been doing? How
+is Dr. Flower?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I really don't know, Miss Hilda, whether 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?"
+
+"Oh, don't, Bubble!" cried Rose. "Don't say such things!"
+
+"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 went to the
+hospital with him every day, and I'm going to be a surgeon, and he says
+I can."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Held accidents?" asked Hildegarde, innocently. "What do you mean,
+laddie?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Don't! don't!" cried both girls, in horror, putting their fingers in
+their ears.
+
+"We don't want to hear about it, you dreadful boy!" said Hildegarde.
+"_We_ are not going to be surgeons, be good enough to remember."
+
+"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 _was_ so
+beautiful! You _must_ 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.
+
+"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 seem to mind the heat much; but Jock and
+I--well, we did."
+
+"Oh, my dear little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "To think of
+my never having asked for him. How is the dear doggie?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Bubble!" said Hildegarde, holding up a warning finger. But Bubble would
+not be repressed again.
+
+"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
+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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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 _that_ 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Well, it came to the same thing!" retorted Bubble, unabashed. "Anyhow,
+we took the first train after breakfast for Glenfield."
+
+"Oh, oh, Bubble!" cried both girls, eagerly. "Not really?"
+
+"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 _knew_ she couldn't be
+far off; for her knitting lay on the table, and the 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?"
+
+"No, you funny boy!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "I have forgotten about
+it."
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'm coming to them in a minute," said Bubble; "but I must just tell you
+about 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 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 _him_.
+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
+somewhere, 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 _did_ drop from the moon!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING.
+
+
+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.
+
+"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "When did you
+have breakfast, and have you had anything to eat since?"
+
+Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, and had had nothing since.
+The girls were horrified.
+
+"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."
+
+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 comfortable, 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.
+
+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 in kilts
+standing in the doorway and surveying him with manifest disapprobation.
+
+"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. "How goes the world with you?"
+
+"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded the person in kilts, with great
+severity.
+
+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?"
+
+"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! _Go_ 'WAY!"
+
+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--"
+
+"Go out of ve back door!" repeated Benny, in an appalling shout.
+
+"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.
+
+"Then," Bubble went on, taking apparently no notice of him, "I thought I
+would make 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. "What do you suppose I come here
+for?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you should want a bolster any time,
+just let me know."
+
+"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you see!" said Benny, in a tone of
+relief.
+
+"You are that!" responded Bubble, with great heartiness.
+
+By general consent, the second half of 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.
+
+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. "_That_
+tree is hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda,--great big tree, down by
+the barn?"
+
+"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are the best apples in the world, I
+think; and so beautiful,--all golden brown, with the bright scarlet
+patch on one cheek. Dear apples! I wish I might have some this fall."
+
+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.
+
+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 "something 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _that_. Fishing! Well, _you_ 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. 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the boy, earnestly. "Sure as you're
+sitting there, we did start with all them--_those_ 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 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 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, _my!_ if that wasn't the most
+comical sight--"
+
+"Oh, but, Bubble," cried Hildegarde, hastily, as a quick glance showed
+her that Miss Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knitting, and put
+her hand up to the pansy brooch, "he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor little
+man!"
+
+"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 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--_are_ 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."
+
+"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen
+were not used to roughing it."
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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. 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as soon as she had recovered herself,
+nodding imperatively to him. "How many fish did you catch?"
+
+"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy, 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--"
+
+"All--I beg your pardon?--riled?" asked Miss Wealthy, innocently.
+
+"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. _He_'ll never go a-fishing again."
+
+"Poor man! I should think not!" said Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr.
+Flower--are all the others still there?"
+
+"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 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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE GREAT SCHEME.
+
+
+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
+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.
+
+Bubble spent much of his time in cracking ice and making lemonade, when
+he was not on or in the river.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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.
+
+There were a few moments of absolute silence, broken only by the hot
+shrilling of a locust in a tree hard by; then Zerubbabel 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.
+
+"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 _made_ 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?--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.
+
+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.
+
+"Send Martha to her, _quick_!" said Hildegarde, in an imperative
+whisper. "Fly, Bubble! the back door!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it?" he cried in dismay. "What did I do? What is the matter
+with everybody? Why, I never--"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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 have had you say it, Bubble, just
+in that way; but now that it _is_ 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Hildegarde tore open the little folded note, and read, in Miss Wealthy's
+pretty, regular hand, these words:--
+
+        MY DEAR HILDA,--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.
+
+                    Your affectionate cousin,
+                                      WEALTHY BOND.
+
+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.
+
+"Is it all right, Martha," she asked,--"really and truly right? Because
+if it is, I am the happiest girl in the world."
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come here, my dear," said Miss Wealthy, gently. "I have something to
+show you, which I think you will like to see."
+
+She had a miniature in her hand,--the portrait of a young and handsome
+man, with flashing dark eyes, and a noble, thoughtful face.
+
+"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."
+
+"You do not mind my knowing?" Hildegarde asked, kissing the soft,
+wrinkled hand.
+
+"I am very glad of it," replied Miss 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."
+
+The girl was too much moved to speak, and they were silent for a while.
+
+"And now," Miss Wealthy said very cheerfully, "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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE WIDOW BRETT.
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"A widow," Miss Wealthy explained, turning to Hildegarde, her kind eyes
+beaming with interest, "fond of children, neat as _wax_, 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."
+
+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.
+
+"And this brings me to another plan," continued the dear old lady.
+"Bixby, where 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+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 _never_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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_ ought to see to vem."
+
+When the final moment came, however, 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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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 they should see who
+_did_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard,--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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The Widder Brett?" returned the sandy person, cautiously. "Do ye mean
+the Widder Brett?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," answered the boy. "Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"
+
+"No, there ain't!" was the succinct reply.
+
+"Well, where _does_ she live?" cried the boy, impatiently.
+
+"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" said the sandy person, nodding
+down the 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?"
+
+"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.
+
+The post-supporters watched them till the last wheel of the phaeton
+disappeared round the turn; then they turned eagerly to one another.
+
+"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."
+
+Meanwhile the phaeton was making its way along slowly, as I said, for
+Rose was tired after the long drive.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "These bonnets are
+positively mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on that bunch of berries."
+
+"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. "It is bloom, Hilda,--a fine
+purple bloom! City people don't know the difference, perhaps."
+
+"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be 'the Widder Brett's' house. What a
+pretty little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like the good woman
+herself. Take the reins, dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, I
+will go myself, thank you."
+
+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.
+
+Hildegarde lifted the bright brass knocker,--she was so glad it was a
+knocker, and not an odious gong bell; she _could_ 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.
+
+"Good-day!" she said, with a rising inflection.
+
+"How do you do?" replied Hildegarde, with a falling one. "Are you Mrs.
+Brett, and are you expecting us?"
+
+"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. Pleased to see ye,
+though! Step in, won't ye?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Brett. "Step right in now, do! and I'll tell you.
+This way, if _you_ 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 _do_ declare," the widow went on, "I ought
+to be shook! There _was_ 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 time she was telling me
+something, was she? and who might you be, dear, that was thinking of
+staying here?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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 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--"
+
+"Oh, we _like_ 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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_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."
+
+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 her apron, and repeating, "The dust _doos_ gather so! I wouldn't
+set down, if I was you, till I've got the chairs done off!"
+
+"Why, Mrs. Brett," cried Hildegarde, laughing merrily, "it is the chairs
+you should be anxious for, not ourselves. We are simply _covered_ 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."
+
+"Oh, _that_'s all right!" cried the widow, beaming. "Land sakes! I don't
+care how much dust you bring in, but I _should_ 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?"
+
+[Illustration: "'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"]
+
+Both girls declined the tea, and declared that an hour's rest was all
+they needed; so 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 have to take me as I am. I might give 'em some fritters,
+though, to eat with maple surrup, just for a relish."
+
+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 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,--
+
+        "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
+         While the landscape round it measures:
+         Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
+         Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
+         Mountains, on whose barren breast
+         The laboring clouds do often rest;
+         Meadows trim with daisies pied,
+         Shallow brooks, and rivers wide."
+
+Then her eyes strayed over the landscape again. "There must be a brook
+over there, 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 _so_ comfortable!"
+
+And Hildegarde was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+OLD MR. COLT.
+
+
+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 _are_ 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.
+
+"Well, Bubble," said Hildegarde, "tell us how you have fared."
+
+"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."
+
+"How is the dear beast?" asked Rose. "I thought he went a little lame,
+after he got that stone in his foot."
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked the girls.
+
+"Why," said Bubble, "he came in to 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.'"
+
+"What did he mean?--subtle?" asked Hilda, laughing.
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Bubble," cried his sister, "you are making this up. Confess, you
+monkey!"
+
+"I'm not!" said Bubble, laughing. "It's true, every word of it. I
+_couldn't_ 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 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_
+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, '_do_ 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 know Leory didn't mean nothing like that. Ef
+you've got to have the pie, why, you've _got_ 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'
+_my_ eatin' up their substance. Hand me them doughnuts, Abner. Nothin'
+seems to have any taste to it, somehow.'"
+
+"Did he eat nothing but pie and doughnuts?" asked Hilda. "I should be
+afraid he would die to-night."
+
+"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?' 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.'"
+
+"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."
+
+"You're talking about Cephas Colt, _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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Four--thousand--bottles!" cried her hearers, in dismay.
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"How long ago did she die?" asked Rose.
+
+"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 _is_ 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 Abner ever stood
+out against his father, as I know of."
+
+"What was the inscription?" asked Hildegarde, trying hard to look as
+grave as the subject required.
+
+"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
+
+        'Phosphoria helped her for a spell;
+         But Death spoke up, and all is well.'
+
+'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 _mean_
+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?" she added, for the third or
+fourth time. "Well, I'm sure! Bixby'd oughter be proud. 'T _is_ a
+sightly place, I've always thought. You must go over t' the cemetery
+to-morrow, and see what there is to see."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I--well, there!" she said; and she crumpled up her apron, and then
+smoothed it out again. "I--why, I don't know what _to_ say. Well! I'm
+completely, as you may say, struck of a heap. I don't know what
+Marthy's thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't _me_ you want, surely. You
+want a woman with faculty!"
+
+"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have come
+to you."
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three young
+people could not help laughing heartily.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 you rubbed her
+in her rheumatic fever. She thinks you saved her life, and I am sure you
+did."
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr.--Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, after a moment of bewilderment.
+"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
+_have_ 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."
+
+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 _can_ 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+JOYOUS GARD.
+
+
+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 now in the sunlight, and reflected every manner of pretty
+thing,--fleecy cloudlet, fluttering bird or butterfly, nodding fern or
+soldierly "cat-tail."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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 themselves 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!
+
+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 _know_ 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 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.
+
+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?"
+
+But Hildegarde looked out, recognized the old man, and flew to meet him.
+"Good-morning, Mr. Pennypacker!" she cried cordially. "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."
+
+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.
+
+"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'."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No! no!" replied the old man quickly, 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The' warn't no shorter way!" replied old Galusha, dryly. "Thar'! I
+reckon them's good apples."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I'm sure you are extremely kind, Mr. Pennypacker!" was all Hildegarde
+could say.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes," Hildegarde admitted, "I was; and my friend too. She knit the
+stockings for you, sir. I hope you liked them."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," said Hildegarde, blushing. "I am so fond of 'Robinson Crusoe'
+myself, I thought you might like it too."
+
+"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 G'lushe
+Pennypacker! Wal, 't won't be forgot here, nor yet yender!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+How short the summer had been!--had 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
+_been_ 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.
+
+But, as I said, Hildegarde knew nothing of this. She had been happy,
+that was all. 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.
+
+But hark! was that the sound of wheels? Yes; they were coming.
+
+"Cousin Wealthy!" cried the girl, running to the door. "Rose! Bubble!
+Martha! Mrs. Brett! Benny! Come out, all of you! The stage is here!"
+
+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 Mrs. Murray, a
+kind-looking nurse, and the twelve convalescent children who were to
+have the first delights of the Country Home.
+
+At sight of them Bubble began to wave his hat violently. "Hooray!" he
+shouted. "Three cheers for the young uns!"
+
+"Hooray!" echoed Benny, flapping his hands about, as he had no hat to
+wave.
+
+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.
+
+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 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."
+
+Mrs. Murray looked quickly at Miss Wealthy. "Does he know of his
+mother's death?" she asked in a low tone.
+
+"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."
+
+Both looked instinctively toward Hildegarde, who was standing, flushed
+and radiant, the centre of a group of children, who clustered round
+her, pulling at her hands and clinging to her gown.
+
+"What's the name of this place?" one little fellow was asking her. "I
+like this place! What is its name?"
+
+"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!'"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Young People
+
+
+THE BLUE BONNET SERIES
+
+  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $ 2.00
+
+   _The seven volumes, boxed as a set_                          14.00
+
+
+=A TEXAS BLUE BONNET=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE=
+
+By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET--DEBUTANTE=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+
+=BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
+
+        "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."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
+
+        "Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls,
+        the kind that one would like to have in one's
+        home."--_New York Sun._
+
+
+
+
+=THE HENRIETTA SERIES=
+
+By LELA HORN RICHARDS
+
+        _Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated_       $1.90
+
+=ONLY HENRIETTA=
+
+        "It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of
+        life for a young girl--a story in which there
+        is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth
+        of delicate sympathy and understanding that
+        appeals to the hearts of young and
+        old."--_Pittsburgh Leader._
+
+=HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE=
+
+        "One of the most noteworthy stories for girls
+        issued this season. The life of Henrietta is
+        made very real, and there is enough incident in
+        the narrative to balance the delightful
+        characterization."--_Providence Journal._
+
+
+
+
+=THE BOYS' STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES=
+
+By BURTON E. STEVENSON
+
+_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated,_ $1.75
+
+=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST.
+
+        "The whole range of section railroading is
+        covered in the story."--_Chicago Post._
+
+=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER=
+
+        "A vivacious account of the varied and often
+        hazardous nature of railroad
+        life."--_Congregationalist._
+
+=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER=
+
+        "It is a book that can be unreservedly
+        commended to anyone who loves a good,
+        wholesome, thrilling, informing
+        yarn."--_Passaic News._
+
+=THE YOUNG APPRENTICE=; OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM.
+
+        "The story is intensely
+        interesting."--_Baltimore Sun._
+
+
+
+
+=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES=
+
+=Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls=
+
+        _Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader
+        Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster
+        jacket in full color_      $2.00
+
+=THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY=
+
+By W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS.
+
+=THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS=
+
+By C. M. YONGE.
+
+=ERLING THE BOLD=
+
+By R. M. BALLANTYNE.
+
+=WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD=; Or, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE.
+
+By H. TURING BRUCE.
+
+        "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."--_Portland Evening Express._
+
+
+
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES=
+
+By HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL
+
+    _Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated_      $2.00
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE=
+
+=BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD=
+
+        "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."--_Salt Lake City Deseret News._
+
+        "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."--_Los Angeles
+        Saturday Night._
+
+
+
+
+=DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES=
+
+By MARION AMES TAGGART
+
+        _Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume,_       $1.75
+
+=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=
+
+        "A charming story of the ups and downs of the
+        life of a dear little maid."--_The Churchman._
+
+=SWEET NANCY:= THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
+
+        "Just the sort of book to amuse, while its
+        influence cannot but be elevating."--_New York
+        Sun._
+
+=NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER=
+
+        "The story is sweet and fascinating, such as
+        many girls of wholesome tastes will
+        enjoy."--_Springfield Union._
+
+=NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY=
+
+        "Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid
+        young woman, with plenty of pluck."--_Boston
+        Globe._
+
+=NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS=
+
+        "The story is refreshing."--_New York Sun._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Hildegarde's Holiday, by Laura E. Richards
+
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