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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Round Dozen, by Susan Coolidge
+
+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: A Round Dozen
+
+Author: Susan Coolidge
+
+Illustrator: F. T. Merrill
+
+Release Date: February 6, 2011 [EBook #35186]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A ROUND DOZEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Emmy and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A ROUND DOZEN.
+
+[Illustration: TOINETTE AND THE ELVES.
+
+Down on the ground beside her, a tiny figure became visible, so small
+that Toinette had to kneel and stoop her head to see it.--PAGE 234.]
+
+
+
+
+A ROUND DOZEN.
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+
+          AUTHOR OF "THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN," "WHAT KATY DID," "WHAT KATY
+          DID AT SCHOOL," "MISCHIEF'S THANKSGIVING," "NINE LITTLE
+          GOSLINGS," "EYEBRIGHT," "CROSS-PATCH,"
+          "A GUERNSEY LILY."
+
+[Illustration: QUI LEGIT REQIT]
+
+          BOSTON:
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS.
+          1892.
+
+
+
+
+          _Copyright, 1883_,
+
+          BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
+
+          UNIVERSITY PRESS:
+          JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+                             TO
+
+                    V    V    V    V    V
+
+          _Five little buds grouped round the parent stem,
+           Growing in sweet airs, beneath gracious skies,
+           Watched tenderly from sunrise to sunrise,
+           Lest blight, or chill, or evil menace them._
+
+          _Five small and folded buds, just here and there
+           Giving a hint of what the bloom may be,
+           When to reward the long close ministry
+           The buds shall blossom into roses fair._
+
+          _Soft dews fall on you, dears, soft breezes blow,
+           The noons be tempered and the snows be kind,
+           And gentle angels watch each stormy wind,
+           And turn it from the garden where you grow._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                      PAGE
+          THE LITTLE WHITE DOOR                9
+          LITTLE KAREN AND HER BABY           34
+          HELEN'S THANKSGIVING                47
+          AT FIESOLE                          67
+          QUEEN BLOSSOM                       93
+          A SMALL BEGINNING                  115
+          THE SECRET DOOR                    135
+          THE TWO WISHES                     156
+          BLUE AND PINK                      183
+          A FORTUNATE MISFORTUNE             198
+          TOINETTE AND THE ELVES             232
+          JEAN'S MONEY, AND WHAT IT BOUGHT   259
+          HOW THE STORKS CAME AND WENT       277
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE WHITE DOOR.
+
+
+I SUPPOSE that most boys and girls who go to school and study geography
+know, by sight at least, the little patch of pale pink which is marked
+on the map as "Switzerland." I suppose, too, that if I asked, "What can
+you tell me about Switzerland?" a great many of them would cry out, "It
+is a mountainous country, the Alps are there, Mont Blanc is there, the
+highest land in Europe." All this is true; but I wonder if all of those
+who know even so much have any idea what a beautiful country Switzerland
+is? Not only are the mountains very high and very grand, but the valleys
+which lie between are as green as emerald, and full of all sorts of wild
+flowers; there are lakes of the loveliest blue, rivers which foam and
+dash as merrily as rivers do in America, and the prettiest farmhouses in
+the world,--_châlets_ the Swiss call them,--with steep roofs and hanging
+balconies, and mottoes and quaint ornaments carved all over their
+fronts. And the most peculiar and marvellous thing of all is the strange
+nearness of the grass and herbage to the snows. High, high up in the
+foldings of the great mountains on whose tops winter sits all the year
+long, are lovely little valleys hidden away, where goats and sheep feed
+by the side of glacier-fed streams; and the air is full of the tinkle of
+their bells, and of the sweet smells of the mountain flowers. The water
+of these streams has an odd color which no other waters have,--a sort of
+milky blue-green, like an opal. Even on the hottest days a chilly air
+plays over their surface, the breath, as it were, of the great
+ice-fields above, from whose melting snows the streams are fed. And the
+higher you climb, still greener grow the pastures and thicker the
+blossoms, while the milk in the _châlet_ pans seems half cream, it is so
+rich. Delicious milk it is, ice cold, and fragrant as if the animals
+which produce it had fed on flowers. Oh, Switzerland is a wonderful land
+indeed!
+
+One day as I sat in a thicket of Alp roses in one of those lovely,
+lonely upper valleys, I happened to raise my eyes, and noticed, high in
+the cliff above, a tall narrow rock as white as snow, which looked
+exactly like a door set in the face of the gray precipice. An old
+shepherd came by, and I asked him about it. He said it was called "The
+Door," and that the valley was called "The Valley of the Door" by some
+folks because of it, but that its real name was "_Das Fritzethal_," or
+"Fritz's Valley," on account of a boy called Fritz who once lived there.
+I wanted to know about the boy, and as the old man had a little time to
+spare, he sat down beside me and told this story, which I will now tell
+you.
+
+"It was many, many years ago," the shepherd said, "so many that no man
+now remembers exactly when it happened. Fritz's mother was a widow, and
+he was her only child. They were poor people, and had to work hard for a
+living. Fritz was a steady, faithful lad, and did his best. All day long
+he dug and toiled, and herded and milked and fed his goats; in the
+winter he carved wooden bowls for sale in the lower valley; but, work as
+he would, it was not always easy to keep the meal-bin full. What made it
+harder, were the strange storms which every few months swept the valley
+and damaged the crops. Out of the blue sky, as it were, these storms
+would suddenly drop. The sun would be shining one moment; the next,
+great torrents of rain would begin to fall and fierce winds to blow,
+flooding the crops and carrying drifts of sand and gravel across the
+fields. Then, at other times, no rain would fall for months together,
+and every green thing would be burned and dried up, while perhaps at
+the very same time the lower valleys had plenty of rain. This happened
+so often that people gave the Thal the name of "The Unlucky Valley," and
+it was accounted a sad thing to have to get a living there. The climate
+is very different now--praised be God.
+
+"You can see, madame, that Fritz's lot was not strewn with roses. Still
+he was a brave lad, and did not lose heart. He had no play-fellows, but
+sometimes in the long summer days when he sat to watch the herd, he
+would tell himself stories by way of amusement, and almost always these
+stories were about the White Door up there, which was as much a marvel
+then as now. At last, by dint of looking and dreaming, it grew to be so
+like a real door to him, that he resolved one day to climb up and see it
+closer."
+
+"Up there!" I cried with horror.
+
+"Yes, madame. It was very rash. Any ordinary boy would have been dashed
+to pieces, but Fritz was wiry, strong, and active as a mountain goat.
+There are no such boys left nowadays. One night, while his mother slept,
+he stole away, climbed as high as he dared by moonlight, took a wink of
+sleep under a shelving rock, and with the first dawn began to make his
+way upward, testing every foothold, and moving cautiously; for though he
+loved adventure, Fritz was by no means a foolhardy boy, and had no mind
+to lose his life if wit and care could keep it safe. But the climb was a
+terrible one. He had been on precipices before, but never on such as
+this. Only God's goodness saved him again and again. A hundred times he
+wished himself back, but to return was worse than to go on. So up and up
+he went, and at last, scaling that sheer brown cliff which you see
+there, and throwing himself breathless on a narrow ledge, he found
+himself close to the object of his desires. There, just before him, was
+the Little White Door.
+
+[Illustration: Pretty soon he grew bold, and seizing the knocker he gave
+a loud rap.
+
+PAGE 15.]
+
+"The sight restored his energies at once. It was a real door--that he
+saw at a glance, for there was a latch and a keyhole and a knocker--all
+carved of white stone, and on the door a name in good German characters,
+'_Die Wolken_.' I do not know the name in English."
+
+"It is 'Clouds,'" I told him.
+
+"Ah, yes, 'die clouds.' Fritz could hardly believe his eyes, as you may
+imagine.
+
+"Pretty soon he grew bold, and seizing the knocker he gave a loud rap.
+Nobody answered at first, so he rapped again, louder and louder, until
+the sound echoed from the rocks like thunder. At last the door opened
+very suddenly, and some one drew Fritz in and shut the door again
+quickly. All was dark inside, but he felt a cool touch on his wrist, and
+a hand he could not see led him along a rocky passage into the heart of
+the cliff.
+
+"After a while a glimmering light appeared, and the passage turned
+suddenly into a large hall, which was full of people, Fritz thought at
+first; but then he saw that they were not people, but strange rounded
+shapes in white or gray, who moved and bounded, and seemed to be playing
+a game of some sort. It was like a game of bowls, but the things they
+rolled to and fro on the rocky floor were not balls, but shapes like
+themselves, only smaller and rounder, and of all beautiful colors, red
+and purple and yellow. The creatures liked to roll, it would seem, for
+they skipped and jumped as they went along, and laughed with a sort of
+crackling laughter, which echoed oddly back from the roof of the cave.
+The big shapes laughed too in great booming tones. Altogether they made
+a great deal of noise. Still the damp little hand clasped Fritz's wrist,
+and looking down he saw that his guide was no other than one of those
+same small shapes which were the balls of the game. There was something
+so familiar in the pink-cheeked fleecy outline, that in his surprise
+Fritz forgot to be afraid, and spoke aloud, crying, 'Why! It's a
+cloud!'
+
+"'To be sure. What did you suppose me to be, and why did you come to the
+clouds' house if you didn't want to see clouds?' replied the thing.
+
+"'Didn't you see our name on the door? Or perhaps you can't read,
+Stupid!' demanded a large white cloud, leaving the group of players and
+coming up to Fritz and his companion.
+
+"'Yes, I can read, and I did see the name,' stammered Fritz; 'still I
+didn't--'
+
+"'You did and you didn't; how intelligent you seem to be!' said the
+white cloud, with a toss and curl; while a big black thunder-cloud,
+pitching a little yellow one clear across the cave, shouted in sullen
+tones which echoed frightfully from the rocks overhead, 'What's that boy
+doing here spoiling our game? Cumulus, it's your roll. Turn that little
+beggar out. He has no business here, interfering with the sports of his
+betters!'
+
+"Fritz trembled, but his small conductor faced the black cloud
+undauntedly.
+
+"'Hold your tongue!' he said. 'This boy is my visitor. I let him in, and
+you're not to bully him. I won't permit it.'
+
+"'_You_, indeed!' blustered the thunder-cloud. 'Pray, what can you do
+about it, Little Pink? I shall say what I like, and do as I like.'
+
+"'No, you won't,' cried all the small clouds together, rearing
+themselves up from the floor. 'We fair-weather clouds are not a bit
+afraid of you, as you know. We know very well how to drive you black
+ones away, and we will do it now if you are not civil.' Their voices
+though bright were threatening, and one little violet bit made a dash
+straight at the nose of the thunder-cloud, who shrank into a corner,
+muttering wrathfully.
+
+"'Don't be at all afraid,' said Little Pink to Fritz, in a patronizing
+tone. 'He shan't do you any harm. That sort of cloud is always afraid to
+face us, because we are so many, you see, and can serve him as he
+deserves. Well, now, and what brought you up here, pray?'
+
+"'I didn't know who lived here, and I wanted so much to see,' replied
+Fritz, shyly.
+
+"'You didn't? Didn't you know that this was our house?' demanded the
+little cloud, astonished.
+
+"'No, indeed. I didn't even know that you had a house.'
+
+"'What! Not know that? Pray, where did you suppose we were when you
+didn't see us in the sky?' cried Little Pink. 'A house! Of course we
+have a house. Everybody has one. You've got a house yourself, haven't
+you? Why, we've lived here always, all we clouds. Sometimes we have
+great family meetings, when we get together and indulge in all sorts of
+fun and frolic, never going out doors for weeks at a time.'
+
+"'Oh, those must be the times when our fields all burn up, and the
+streams run dry, and the poor cattle low with thirst!' said Fritz,
+suddenly enlightened. 'So you are enjoying yourselves up here all the
+time, are you? I call that very unkind, and--' Suddenly recollecting
+where he was, he hung his head, abashed at his own daring.
+
+"Little Pink hung his head too, with a grieved face.
+
+"'I never thought of that before,' he said penitently. 'It was pleasant
+for us, and the time went fast. I recollect now that the world has
+looked rather queer and yellow sometimes when we have come out again
+after a long absence, but it grew green presently, and I did not suppose
+any one minded--'
+
+"All this while a strange growling sound had been going on in a room
+opening from the hall, across whose entrance stout bars were fixed.
+
+"'What _is_ that?' asked Fritz, unable longer to restrain his curiosity.
+
+"'That? That's only the North Wind,' replied Little Pink, in an absent
+tone. 'We've shut him up, because he has no business to be abroad in the
+summer; and he's such a restless creature, and so violent, that he will
+break loose if he can, and do all manner of mischief. Last year, about
+this time, he got out and raised a great storm, and made a fearful mess
+of it down below.'
+
+"'I recollect. That was the storm that killed three of our sheep, and
+ruined the barley crop,' exclaimed Fritz. 'Oh, it was dreadful! We had
+to make half a loaf do the work of a whole one all winter long in
+consequence. It was hungry times in the valley, I can tell you. Oh, the
+evil Wind!'
+
+"'You poor fellow!' cried the little cloud. 'Well, he's safe now, as you
+see. He can't get out and plague you this year, at least. But I'm so
+sorry you went hungry. It wasn't our fault, really it wasn't; still I
+should like to make it up to you somehow, if I could.' He reflected a
+moment, then he went forward and gave a call which collected all the
+other clouds around him. Fritz watched them consulting together; at last
+they moved toward him in a body.
+
+"'Now, Boy,' said Little Pink, who seemed to have elected himself
+spokesman, 'because you're a good boy and have had bad luck, and because
+you're the first boy who ever came up here and rapped on our door, we're
+going to propose a bargain. So long as you live in the valley below and
+are steady, and work hard and keep a kind heart in your bosom for people
+not so well off as yourself, so long we will look after your farm and
+befriend it. Water shall fall on it regularly, flood and tempest shall
+spare it, the grass shall never dry, nor the brook fail, nor the herds
+lack for food. We shall watch closely, and so long as you keep your word
+we will keep ours. Do you agree?'
+
+"'What! never any more droughts, never any floods,' cried Fritz, unable
+to believe such good news. 'Oh, how happy mother will be! Indeed, indeed
+I will do my best--pray believe that I will.'
+
+"'The proof of the pudding,' began Cumulus, but Little Pink silenced
+him with a wave of his hand.
+
+"'Very well, you do your best and we will do ours,' he said in a cheery
+tone. 'Now about getting you home. Do you know how late it is?'
+
+"'No,' said Fritz, who had forgotten all about time.
+
+"'It is just noon.'
+
+"'Really? Oh, how frightened the mother will be!' cried Fritz, his heart
+sinking as he thought of the terrible cliffs which he must descend.
+
+"'He never can go home as he came,' declared a rainbow, craning its long
+curved neck like a giraffe's over the heads of the others.
+
+"'I'll tell you, let us all carry him down on our shoulders,' suggested
+Little Pink.
+
+"'So we will,' shouted the clouds in a chorus; and jostling and laughing
+they all crowded into the narrow passage, bearing Fritz in their midst.
+As the door swung open, in swept fresh visitors, a crowd of tiny
+scurrying shapes, and some one behind, whipping them along with a lash
+of many-colored air.
+
+"'Why, where are you all going?' demanded the new-comer, in a breezy
+voice. 'I've collected these stray lambs from hither and yon, and now
+I'm in for the day. What takes you out, pray?'
+
+"'We'll not be gone a minute. We're only going to carry this boy home,'
+answered the rest; while Little Pink whispered in Fritz's ear, 'That's
+the West Wind. He's a great favorite with us all.'
+
+"'Hallo! A boy! Why, so it is,' cried West Wind. He pounced on Fritz as
+he spoke, kissed him, ruffled his hair, boxed his ears softly, all in a
+minute. Then, with a gay, whooping laugh he vanished into the passage,
+while the clouds, raising Fritz, floated downward like a flock of
+white-winged birds. Little Pink lay under his cheek like a pillow.
+Softly as thistle-down touches earth they landed on the valley floor,
+laid Fritz on a bed of soft grass, and rose again, leaving him there. He
+looked up to watch them rise, bright and smiling. Little Pink waved a
+rosy hand. Higher and higher sailed the clouds, then they vanished into
+the door, and the door was shut."
+
+I am telling the story, as you see, rather in my own words than in those
+of the old shepherd, but you won't mind that. The truth is, I cannot
+remember the exact language he used, but so long as I keep to the main
+points of the history it doesn't much matter, does it?
+
+"In a few minutes Fritz recovered his wits and made haste home, for he
+feared his mother might be alarmed at his long absence. She was not,
+however, for she supposed that he had risen early, as he sometimes did,
+and taking a piece of bread in his hand, had followed the goats up the
+valley, breakfasting by the way. She met him, full of wonder at a
+strange thing that had happened.
+
+"'Such a queer mist filled the valley just now,' she said, 'I could not
+see the sun at all. I feared a storm was coming, but presently it rolled
+away all in a minute, and left the day as fine as ever. Did you notice
+it? I never saw anything like it before.'
+
+"Fritz let his mother wonder, and held his peace. She would think that
+he had fallen asleep and dreamed it all, he was sure; in fact, after a
+little he himself began to believe that it was a dream.
+
+"But, dream or no dream, the strange thing was that it came true! From
+that time on, the climate of the Unlucky Valley seemed to change. Years
+passed by without a single drought or inundation. When the pastures
+below were parched with thirst, rain fell on Fritz's fields, keeping
+them green as emerald. All his crops succeeded; his goats and sheep gave
+double share of milk, and little by little he grew rich.
+
+"'The Lucky Valley,' people now called the once unlucky spot, while to
+Fritz they gave the name of 'The Favored of the Saints.' Year after
+year his gains went on increasing. Gradually all the land in the valley
+became his, except one tiny strip, there at the upper end, which
+belonged to a widow, poor as Fritz's mother once had been. This strip
+Fritz desired to buy, but the widow refused to sell, though he offered a
+large price. She had come there a bride, she declared, with the
+myrtle-crown on her head, and there she wished to die and be buried when
+her time should come. The memory of his own poor mother, who had died
+some time before, should have made Fritz pitiful to this lonely woman,
+but his heart had grown hard with continued prosperity, and it angered
+him to be opposed. So when after many attempts she persisted in her
+resolution, he tried harsher means. The widow had debts. These he bought
+up, and when she could not pay he brought the pressure of the law to
+bear, and turned her from her home.
+
+"The very night after he had watched her depart, weeping and
+broken-hearted, as he lay on his bed, feeling at last that the valley
+was all his own, the Little White Door opened on the cliffs far above,
+and out came the clouds.
+
+"Not pink and purple now, smiling and full of good will, but black and
+wrathful. Like a flock of dark vultures they swooped at the sleeping
+valley. Floods of rain fell, fierce winds tore and raved, the river rose
+and burst its bounds, carrying all before it; and Fritz, awakened by the
+fearful roar, had just time to escape from his bed and gain the nearer
+hillside, when the waters struck the _châlet_ and bore it away in ruins
+down the valley, as though it were no more than a bubble of foam. The
+crops were swept off, the flocks drowned in the fields. Fritz clung to a
+tree-trunk through that fearful night, listening to the hiss and rush of
+the flood, and the bleatings of the drowning sheep; and ever and anon it
+seemed as if shapes, dimly seen through the darkness, swooped at and
+buffeted him, while voices cried in his ear, 'Promise-breaker!
+Widow-spoiler! Is _this_ the way you keep faith with the clouds?'
+
+"When morning dawned it revealed a scene of ruin. Not a blade of barley
+remained in the meadows, not a blade of grass in the fields. The labor
+of years had vanished in a single night."
+
+"It served him right," said I.
+
+"Ah, my lady," replied the old shepherd, "God is more merciful to
+sinners than we men can be. Fritz was not wicked at heart. He saw his
+fault now in the light of his misfortune, and was sorry for it. Gladly
+would he have made amends, but he was now poor as the poorest, for the
+waters lay over the earth, and did not run off as waters generally do.
+The fertile valley was become a lake, into which points of land, fringed
+with broken and battered trees, pushed themselves. It was a sad sight.
+
+"News of the disaster reached the lower valleys, and the kindly peasants
+flocked to help. But what could they do till the water receded?
+Nothing. They could only say comforting words and return to their homes,
+leaving Fritz to his fate.
+
+"He waited many days, then he formed a bold resolution. He determined to
+climb the cliff once more, knock at the Little White Door, and plead
+with the clouds for forgiveness."
+
+"That was bold indeed," I said.
+
+"It was a much harder task than it had been years before, when he was a
+boy and his joints were supple," continued the old shepherd. "Only
+desperation carried him upward, but at last he did reach the door. He
+knocked many times without answer, and when at length the door opened,
+it was not a merry little cloud which appeared, but a tall, gloomy white
+one, which looked like a sheeted ghost. No game was going on in the
+great hall. The clouds, dressed in black, each with his thunder-cap on,
+sat side by side, and frowned on Fritz as he stood in the midst and made
+his plea.
+
+"'I have sinned,' he said sadly, as he ended, 'I have sinned
+grievously, and I am justly punished. I forgot my promise to you, _meine
+Herren_, and I cannot complain that you broke yours to me. But give me
+one more chance, I implore you. Let me atone for my fault, and if I fail
+again, punish me as you will.'
+
+"It seemed to him that the clouds grew a little less gloomy as he spoke,
+and their voices were gentle as they replied, 'Very well, we will
+consider of it. Now go.' There was no offer to carry him this time.
+Exhausted and weary he groped his way down at peril to life and limb,
+and more dead than alive crept into the miserable shed which had
+replaced his home, with no assured hope as to what the clouds might
+elect to do.
+
+"But lo, in the morning the waters had begun to fall. He hardly dared
+believe his eyes, but day by day they slowly grew less. By the end of a
+fortnight the ground was left bare. Such land! Rough, seamed, gullied by
+the flood, covered with slime from the mountain side and with rocks and
+gravel,--it seemed a hopeless task to reclaim it again into pasture.
+
+"But Fritz was a strong man and his will was good. Little by little the
+rocks were removed, the fields resown, and the valley restored to its
+old fruitfulness. The soil seemed richer than ever before, as if the mud
+and slime which had lain so long on the surface were possessed of some
+fertilizing quality. Another _châlet_ in time arose, in place of the old
+one. By the end of fifteen years Fritz again was a rich man, richer than
+before. But his hard heart had been drowned in the flood, and the new
+heart which he brought back from the Little White Door was soft and
+kind. As soon as he could, he sought out the poor widow and restored to
+her all she had lost, land and home and goats. Later on he wedded her
+niece, a good and honest maiden, and they took the widow to live under
+their own roof, and were to her as a son and daughter. So the last years
+of Fritz were his best years, and his name, 'The Favored of the
+Saints,' stuck to him for the rest of his life. And it is from him that
+this valley is named _Das Fritzethal_, my lady."
+
+"And is the story really a true one?" I asked.
+
+"Ah, who knows?" said the old shepherd, shaking his head wisely. "The
+world has so many liars in it that no one can be sure." Then he took off
+his odd pointed hat, made a bow, called to his goats, and went his way
+down the valley, followed by the herd with their many-keyed tinkling
+bells.
+
+I looked up. The Little White Door shone out of the face of the cliff
+all rosy pink with sunset. It was time for me to go also.
+
+"At least," I thought, "if the story is not all true, if it has changed
+and grown a little during the course of the years,--at least it is a
+good story, and I am glad I heard it."
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE KAREN AND HER BABY.
+
+
+THE cottage in which little Karen lived stood high up on the hillside,
+close to the edge of a great forest. It was a strange, lonely place for
+a young wife, almost a girl, to be so happy in; but Karen was not afraid
+of the forest, and never thought her home lonely, not even when the
+strong winds blew in winter-time, and brought the far-off baying of
+wolves from the mountains beyond. Her husband, her boy, her housewifely
+cares, her spinning-wheel, and her needle kept her busy all day long,
+and she was as cheerful as busy. The cottage was not large, but it was
+strongly built of heavy beams and stones. Its low walls seemed to hug
+and clasp the ground, as if for protection in time of storm. The
+casement windows, with their very small panes of thick glass, let in
+little sun, but all summer long they stood open, and in winter, what
+with the crackling fire, the hum of the wheel, and Karen's bright face,
+the living-room never looked dark, and, for all its plainness, had an
+air of quaint comfort about it. Fritz, Karen's husband, who was skilful
+with tools, had ornamented the high-backed chair, the press for clothes,
+and the baby's oaken cradle, with beautiful carving, of which little
+Karen was exceedingly proud. She loved her cottage, she loved the great
+wood close by; her lonely life was delightful to her, and she had not
+the least wish to exchange it for the toy-like village in the valley
+below.
+
+But Karen was unlike other people, the neighbors said, and the old
+gossips were wont to shake their heads, and mutter that there was a
+reason for this unlikeness, and that all good Christians ought to pity
+and pray for the poor child.
+
+Long, long ago, said these gossips,--so long that nobody now could
+remember exactly when it was,--Karen's great-great-great-grandfather,
+(or perhaps _his_ grandfather--who could tell?) when hunting in the high
+mountains, met a beautiful, tiny maiden, so small and light that a man
+could easily carry her in the palm of one hand. This maiden he fell in
+love with, and he won her to be his wife. She made a good wife; kept the
+house as bright as new tin; and on her wheel spun linen thread so fine
+that mortal eye could hardly see it. But a year and a day from the time
+of her marriage she went out to walk in the wood, and never came back
+any more! The reason of this was, that she was a gnomide,--daughter of
+one of the forest gnomes,--and when her own people encountered her thus
+alone, they detained her, and would not suffer her to return to her
+husband. The baby she left in the cradle grew to be a woman,--bigger
+than her gnome mother, it is true, but still very small; and all the
+women of the race have been small since that time. Witness little Karen
+herself, whose head only came up to the shoulder of her tall Fritz. Then
+her passion for woods and solitary places, her beautiful swift spinning,
+her hair, of that peculiar pale white-brown shade,--all these were
+proofs of the drops of unearthly blood which ran in her veins. Gnomes
+always had white hair. This was because they lived in holes and dark
+places. Even a potato would throw out white leaves if kept in a
+cellar,--everybody knew that,--and the gossips, ending thus, would shake
+their heads again, and look very wise.
+
+Karen had heard these stories, and laughed at them. No fairy or gnome
+had ever met her eyes in the woods she loved so well; and as for hair,
+Rosel Pilaff's, and Gretchen Erl's too, was almost as pale as hers. Fair
+hair is common enough in the German mountains. Her little boy--bless
+him!--had downy rings which promised to become auburn in time, the
+color of his father's beard. She did not believe in the gnome story a
+bit.
+
+But there came a time when she almost wished to believe it, for the
+gnomes are said to be wise folk, and little Fritz fell ill of a strange
+disease, which neither motherly wisdom nor motherly nursing was able to
+reach. Each day left him thinner and weaker, till he seemed no more than
+half his former size. His very face looked strange as it lay on the
+cradle-pillow, and Karen was at her wits' end to know what to do.
+
+"I will go to the village and ask Mother Klaus to come and see the
+child," said Fritz. "She may know of a remedy."
+
+"It will be of no use," declared Karen, sadly. "She went to the Berards'
+and the baby died, and to Heinrich's and little Marie died. But go, go,
+Fritz!--only come back soon, lest our angel take flight while you are
+away!"
+
+She almost pushed him from the door, in her impatience to have him
+return.
+
+A while after, when the baby had wailed himself to sleep, she went again
+to the door to look down the path into the valley. It was too soon to
+hope for Fritz, but the movement seemed a relief to her restlessness. It
+was dusk, not dark,--a sweet, mild dusk, with light enough left to show
+the tree-branches as they met and waved against the dim yellow sky. Deep
+shadows lay on the moss-beds and autumn flowers which grew beneath; only
+a faint perfume here and there told of their presence, and the night was
+very near.
+
+Too unhappy to mind the duskiness, Karen wandered a little way up the
+wood-path, and sat down on the root of an old oak, so old that the
+rangers had given it the name of "Herr Grandfather." It was only to
+clear her brimming eyes that she sat down. She wiped them with her
+kerchief, and, with one low sob, was about to rise, when she became
+aware that somebody was standing at her side.
+
+This somebody was a tiny old woman, with a pale, shadowy, but sweet
+face, framed in flossy white hair. She wore a dark, foreign-looking
+robe; a pointed hood, edged with fur, was pulled over her head; and the
+hand which she held out as she spoke was as white as the stalk of
+celery.
+
+"What is the matter, my child?" she asked, in a thin, rustling voice,
+which yet sounded pleasantly, because it was kind.
+
+"My baby is _so_ ill," replied Karen, weeping.
+
+"How ill?" inquired the old woman, anxiously. "Is it cold? Is it fever?
+Do its eyes water? My baby once had a cold, and her eyes--" She stopped
+abruptly.
+
+"His eyes do not water," said Karen, who felt singularly at home with
+the stranger. "But his head is hot, and his hands; he sleeps ill, and
+for these ten days has hardly eaten. He grows thinner and whiter every
+hour, and wails whenever he is awake. Oh, what am I doing? I must go
+back to him." And, as she spoke, she jumped from her seat.
+
+"One minute!" entreated the little old woman. "Has he pain anywhere?"
+
+"He cries when I move his head," said Karen, hurrying on.
+
+The stranger went too, keeping close beside her in a swift, soundless
+way.
+
+"Take courage, Liebchen, child to her who was child of my child's
+child," she said. "Weep not, my darling. I will send you help. Out of
+the wisdom of the earth shall come aid for the little dear one."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" cried Karen, stopping short in her surprise.
+
+But the old woman did not answer. She had vanished. Had the wind blown
+her away?
+
+"How could I wander so far? How could I leave my baby? Wicked mother
+that I am!" exclaimed Karen, in sudden terror, as she ran into the
+cottage.
+
+But nothing seemed disturbed, and no one had been there. The baby lay
+quietly in his cradle, and the room was quite still, save for the hiss
+of the boiling pot and the fall of an ember on the hearth. Gradually her
+heart ceased its terrified beating; a sense of warmth and calm crept
+over her, her eyes drooped, and, seated at the cradle-foot, she fell
+asleep in her chair.
+
+Whether it was an hour or a minute that she slept, she never knew.
+Slowly and dimly her waking senses crept back to her; but though she
+heard and saw and understood, she could neither stir nor speak. Two
+forms were bending over the cradle, forms of little men, venerable and
+shadowy, with hair like snow, and blanched, pale hands, like her visitor
+of the afternoon. They did not look at Karen, but consulted together
+above the sleeping child.
+
+"It is _here_, brother, and _here_," said one, laying his finger gently
+on the baby's head and heart.
+
+"Does it lie too deep for our reaching?" asked the second, anxiously.
+
+"No. The little herb you know of is powerful."
+
+"And the crystal dust _you_ know of is more powerful still."
+
+Then they took out two minute caskets, and Karen saw them open the
+baby's lips, and each drop in a pinch of some unknown substance.
+
+"He is of ours," whispered one, "more of ours than any of them have been
+since the first."
+
+"He has the gift of the far sight," said the other, lightly touching the
+closed eyes, "the divining glance, and the lucky finger."
+
+"I read in him the apprehension of metals," said the second old man,
+"the sense of hidden treasures, the desire to penetrate."
+
+"We will teach him how the waters run, and what the birds say--yes, and
+the way in and the way out!"
+
+"Put the charm round his neck, brother."
+
+Then Karen saw the little men tie a bright object round the baby's neck.
+She longed to move, but still she sat mute and powerless, while the odd
+figures passed round the cradle, slowly at first, then faster and
+faster, crooning, as they went, a song which was like wind in branches,
+and of which this scrap lodged in her memory:--
+
+          "Eyes to pierce the darkness through,
+           Wit to grasp the hidden clew,
+           Heart to feel and hand to do,--
+           These the gnomes have given to you."
+
+So the song and the circling movement went on, faster and more fast, and
+round and round, till Karen's head swam and her senses seemed to spin in
+a whirling dance; and she knew no more till roused by the opening of the
+door, and Fritz's voice exclaiming: "Come in, Dame Klaus--come in!
+Karen! Where are you, wife? Ah, here she is, fast asleep, and the little
+man is asleep too."
+
+"I am not asleep," said Karen, finding her voice with an effort. Then,
+to her husband's surprise, she began to weep bitterly. But, for all his
+urgings, she would not tell the cause, for she was afraid of Dame
+Klaus's tongue.
+
+The dame shook her head over the sick baby. He was very bad, she said;
+still, she had brought through others as bad as he, and there was no
+telling. She asked for a saucepan, and began to brew a tea of herbs,
+while Karen, drawing her husband aside, told her wonderful tale in a
+whisper.
+
+"Thou wert dreaming, Karen; it is nothing but a dream," declared the
+astounded Fritz.
+
+"No, no," protested Karen. "It was not a dream. Baby will be well again,
+and great things are to happen! You will see! The little men know!"
+
+"Little men! Oh, Karen! Karen!" exclaimed Fritz.
+
+But he said no more, for Karen, bending over the cradle, lifted the
+strange silver coin which was tied round the baby's neck, and held it up
+to him with a smile. A silver piece is not a dream, as every one knows;
+so Fritz, though incredulous, held his tongue, and neither he nor Karen
+said a word of the matter to Mother Klaus.
+
+Baby _was_ better next day. It was all the herb-tea, Mother Klaus
+declared, and she gained great credit for the cure.
+
+This happened years ago. Little Fritz grew to be a fine man, sound and
+hearty, though never as tall as his father. He was a lucky lad too, the
+villagers said, for his early taste for minerals caught the attention of
+a rich gentleman, who sent him to the school of mines, where he got
+great learning. Often when the mother sat alone at her wheel, a smile
+came to her lips, and she hummed low to herself the song of the little
+old men:--
+
+          "Eyes to pierce the darkness through,
+           Wit to grasp the hidden clew,
+           Heart to feel and hand to do,--
+           These the gnomes have given to you."
+
+
+
+
+HELEN'S THANKSGIVING.
+
+
+"MAMMA, would you mind _very_ much if I should learn to make pies?"
+
+This request sounds harmless, but Mrs. Sands quite started in her chair
+as she heard it. She and Helen were sitting on either side of a
+wood-fire. The blinds had been pulled down to exclude the chill November
+darkness, and the room was lit only by the blazing logs, which sent out
+quick, bright flashes followed by sudden soft shadows, in that
+unexpected way which is one of the charms of wood-fires. It was a pretty
+room, in a pretty house, in one of the up-town streets of New York, and
+the mother and daughter looked very comfortable as they sat there
+together.
+
+"Pies, my dear? What _do_ you mean?"
+
+"I'll tell you, mamma. You're going to Grandmamma Ellis for
+Thanksgiving, this year, you know, and papa and I are going up to
+Vermont, to Grandmother Sands?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't remember grandmother much, because it is so long since
+she was here, but the one thing I do recollect is how troubled she was
+because I didn't know anything about housekeeping. One day you had a
+headache, and wanted some tea; and you rang and rang, and Jane was ever
+so long in fetching it, and at last grandma said, 'Why don't you run
+down and see to it, Helen?' And when I told her that I wasn't allowed to
+go into the kitchen, and beside that I didn't know how to make tea, she
+looked so distressed, and said, 'Dear me, dear me! Poor little ignorant
+girl! What a sad bringing up for you in a country like ours!' I didn't
+understand exactly what she meant, but I have never forgotten it, and do
+you know, mamma, just that one speech of grandma's has made me want to
+do ever so many things. I never told you, but once I made my bed for
+more than a week,--till Bridget said I was 'worth my salt as a
+chambermaid,' and I used to dust the nursery, and sweep. And the other
+day it came into my head suddenly how pleased grandmother would be if I
+carried her a pumpkin-pie that I had made myself; so I asked Morrison,
+and she said she'd teach me, and welcome, if you didn't mind. Do you
+mind, mamma?"
+
+"You know, dear, I don't like to have you about with the servants, and I
+never wanted you to become a drudge at home, as so many American girls
+are. Then you have your lessons to attend to besides."
+
+"Yes, mamma, I know, but it will only take one morning, and I'll not
+begin till school closes, if you'd rather not. I really would like to so
+much, mamsie?"
+
+Helen's pet name for her mother was coaxingly spoken, and had its
+effect. Mrs. Sands yielded.
+
+"Very well, dear; you may, if you like, only I wish you could wear
+gloves."
+
+"O mamma! nobody makes pies in gloves. But I needn't put my hands in at
+all, except for rolling the paste, Morrison says so."
+
+Mrs. Sands was not so silly a woman as she sounds. Born and bred in the
+West Indies, the constant talk about servants and housekeeping, that met
+her ears when she came to New York, a young married woman, so puzzled
+and annoyed her that she somewhat rashly decided that her child should
+never know anything about such matters. Morrison, the good old cook, had
+lived with her since Helen was a baby, and all had gone so smoothly that
+there had never seemed occasion for interference from anybody. And Helen
+would have grown up in utter ignorance of all practical matters, had not
+a chance remark of her thrifty New England grandmother piqued her into
+the voluntary wish of learning.
+
+It was with a good deal of excitement, and a little sense of victory as
+well, that Helen went downstairs, a few days later, to take the promised
+lesson. The kitchen looked very cheerful and neat, and Morrison was all
+ready with her spice-box, eggs, pie-dishes, and great yellow bowl full
+of strained pumpkin; likewise a big calico apron to tie over Helen's
+dress. First they made the crust. It was such good fun pinching the soft
+bits of lard into the nice, dry-feeling flour, that Helen would
+willingly have prolonged the operation, but Morrison objected. Pastry
+didn't like to be fingered, she said; and she made Helen wash her hands,
+and then mix in the ice-water with a thin-bladed knife, cutting and
+chopping till all was moistened into a rough sort of dough. Next, she
+produced the rolling-pin, and showed her how to beat the dough with
+dexterous strokes, up and down, and cross-ways, till it became a smooth
+paste, which felt as soft as velvet, and then how to roll it into a
+smooth sheet, lay on the butter in thin flakes, fold and roll again.
+
+"Now wrap this towel all round it, and I'll set it into the ice-chest
+till we want it," she said. "It'll puff the minute it goes into the
+oven, never fear; I can always tell. You like it,--don't you,--Miss
+Helen dear?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, ever so much. I _hope_ the pies will be good; grandmamma
+will be so pleased."
+
+"They'll be good," pronounced Morrison, confidently. "Now sift in plenty
+of sugar, miss."
+
+So Helen put in "plenty" of sugar, and then, as directed, grated
+lemon-peel, lemon-juice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, melted butter, a
+pinch of salt, beaten eggs, a dash of rose-water, and then a little more
+sugar, and "just the least taste of cinnamon," till Morrison pronounced
+the flavor exactly right, and Helen declared that for all she could see,
+pumpkin-pies were made of anything in the world except pumpkins. Last of
+all went in a great pour of hot milk; then the pie-dishes were lined,
+filled, and set in the oven, after being ornamented with all manner of
+zigzags and curly-queues of paste round their edges; and Helen rushed
+upstairs to tell her mother that pie-making was "just lovely," and she
+would like to be a cook always, she thought. By Morrison's advice she
+wrote the whole process down in a book while it was fresh in her mind,
+and she was glad afterwards that she had done so, as you will see.
+
+That same afternoon Mrs. Sands went on to Philadelphia, and next morning
+early Helen and her father started for their journey to Vermont. It was
+gray, blustering weather, but neither of them cared for that. Papa was
+in high spirits, and full of fun as a school-boy. Their baggage
+comprised, besides two valises, a big hamper full of all sorts of nice
+things for grandmother, game and fruit and groceries, and Helen carried
+a flat basket in her hand, in which, wrapped in a snowy napkin, reposed
+one of the precious pies.
+
+"Bless me, how raw it is! It looks as though it were going to snow,"
+said Mr. Sands, as he came in from a walk up and down the platform of
+one of the little stations at which the train stopped; and five minutes
+later Helen, with a little scream of surprise, cried out, "Why, papa, it
+_is_ snowing!" Sure enough it was,--in fine snow-flakes, which before
+long thickened into a heavy fall.
+
+"It will only be a squall," Mr. Sands said; but the conductor shook his
+head, and remarked that up there so near the mountains there was no
+calculating on weather. It might stop in half an hour, or it might go on
+all night: no one could pretend to say beforehand which it would do.
+
+By the time they reached Asham, their stopping-place, the ground was
+solid white. The wind, too, had risen, and was drifting the snow in all
+directions. The tavern-keeper at Asham, to whom Mr. Sands went for "a
+team," advised them to stay all night, but this both Helen and her
+father agreed was not to be thought of. It was only fourteen miles.
+Grandmamma was expecting them, and must not be disappointed. So, well
+wrapped in carriage blankets and buffalo robes, they set out in a light
+covered rockaway, with a stout horse, their baggage packed in behind
+them.
+
+Fourteen miles may seem a very short distance or a very long one,
+according to circumstances. Before they had gone half-way both of them
+began to think it an extremely long one. The road lay up hill for the
+greater part of the way. Night was coming on fast, and every moment the
+drift grew thicker and more confusing. Mr. Sands in his secret heart
+repented that he had not taken the tavern-keeper's advice, and stayed at
+Asham. At last the horse, which had halted several times and been urged
+on again, came to a dead stop. Mr. Sands touched him with the whip, but
+he would not stir. He jumped up to see what was the matter, and found
+the poor animal up to his chest in snow. He had wandered from the road a
+little and plunged into a drift. Mr. Sands tried to turn him toward the
+road, when, lo, a loud and ominous crack was heard, and Helen gave a
+scream. One of the shafts had snapped in two.
+
+Matters now looked serious. Mr. Sands undid the harness as fast as
+possible, for he feared the horse might flounder to release himself, and
+upset the carriage. Then he climbed into the rockaway again, and stood
+up to see if he could anywhere see the light of a house. No; a twinkling
+beam was visible farther up the hill, about a quarter of a mile away.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I'll have to ask you to sit here quietly for ten
+minutes or so, while I ride on to a house which I see up there, and get
+some one to help us. Will you be afraid to be left alone? It's only for
+a little while."
+
+"N-o; but O papa! must you go? I'm so afraid the horse will kick, or
+you'll tumble off."
+
+"Never fear,"--trying to laugh,--"I really must go, dear; it's our only
+chance of getting out of this scrape. Promise me to sit perfectly
+still, and on no account to leave the carriage."
+
+It seemed much longer than ten minutes before papa got back, but there
+he was at last, with another man carrying a lantern, both of them white
+with snow up to their waists.
+
+"All right, Helen," he cried cheerily. "Wrap all the blankets round your
+shoulders; I'm going to set you on the horse, and Mr. Simmons and
+I--this is Mr. Simmons, my dear--will walk on either side and hold you
+on; we'll have you up the hill in a trice."
+
+Helen did not like it at all. The horse felt dreadfully _alive_ under
+her, and jerked so, as he plunged up hill through the snow, that she was
+constantly afraid of tumbling off. It did not last long, however. In
+five minutes her father had lifted and carried her in, and set her down
+in a kitchen, where a woman with a candle in her hand stood waiting for
+them.
+
+"This is Mrs. Simmons," he said. "She is so kind as to say that she will
+keep us till to-morrow morning, when perhaps the snow will have
+stopped, and, at all events, we shall have daylight to find our way
+with. Mr. Simmons and I are going back now to fetch up the luggage. The
+rockaway will have to take care of itself till to-morrow, I fancy."
+
+Left alone, Helen looked curiously about her. The kitchen was a
+bare-looking place to her eyes. There was a stove with a fire in it, a
+rocking-chair covered with faded "patch," some wooden chairs, a table,
+and a sort of dresser with dishes. A large wheel for spinning wool stood
+in one of the windows. Everything was clean, but there was an air of
+poverty, and to Helen it seemed a most dismal place. She could not
+imagine how people could live and be happy there.
+
+Mrs. Simmons herself looked very ill and tired.
+
+"I enjoy such poor health," she explained to Helen, as she took some
+plates and bowls down from the dresser. "I got the ague down to Mill
+Hollow, where we lived, and we moved up here, hoping to get rid of it.
+I am some better, but it took me powerful hard yesterday, and I suppose
+I'll have it bad again to-morrow. Mr. Simmons, he's got behindhand
+somehow, and it's hard work trying to catch up in these times. What with
+one thing and another, both of us have felt clean discouraged this fall.
+Glory, fetch the milk."
+
+"Yes, mother." And out of the buttery came a girl of about Helen's age,
+with a pan in her hands. She had apparently tumbled out of bed to help
+in the entertainment of the strangers, for her hair was flying loose,
+and she looked only half dressed; but she had pretty brown eyes and a
+bright smile.
+
+"I feel real bad to think I'm out of tea," said Mrs. Simmons. "Father,
+he was calculating to get some later on, when he'd finished a job of
+lumber-hauling. And the hens have 'most stopped laying, too; I hain't
+but four eggs in the house."
+
+"Oh, don't give us the eggs!" cried Helen; "you'll want them yourself
+for Thanksgiving, I'm sure."
+
+"Thanksgiving! Dear me, so it is!" said Mrs. Simmons. "I'd forgot all
+about that. Not that it'd have made much difference, any way. You can't
+make something out of nothin', and that's about what we've come to."
+
+"I've got a pie," cried Helen, with a sudden generous impulse, but
+feeling a little pang meanwhile, as she recalled her vision of putting
+the pie into grandmamma's own hands. But where was the pie? She
+recollected now,--the basket was in her lap when papa lifted her out of
+the carriage. It must have fallen out, and probably was now buried deep
+in snow.
+
+A great stamping of boots just then announced the entrance of the two
+men with the valises and hamper. Mrs. Simmons renewed her apologies
+about the tea. Hot milk, a little fried pork, two of the eggs, and a
+loaf of saleratus bread were all she had to offer, but it was very
+welcome to the hungry travellers. There was some choice tea in
+grandmother's hamper, but Mr. Sands very rightly judged it better to say
+nothing about it just then, as it might have seemed that he and Helen
+were not satisfied with their supper. They ate heartily, and soon after
+went to bed in two chilly little lofts upstairs, where all the buffalo
+robes and blankets from the carriage could not _quite_ keep them warm.
+
+Helen lay awake a long time, thinking of her own disappointment and
+grandmamma's, but more still about the Simmons family. How hard and
+melancholy their life seemed, struggling with poverty and ague up here
+among the lonely hills, with no doctor near them, and no neighbors! A
+great sympathy and pity awoke in her heart. Her first impulse, when she
+roused next morning, was to hurry to the window. It was still snowing,
+and the drifts seemed deeper than ever! "Oh, dear!" she thought, "we
+shall have to stay in this forlorn place another day, I am afraid." A
+more generous thought followed: "If it seems so hard to me to have to
+spend one day here, what must it be to live here always?" And she made
+up her mind that, if they were forced to stay, she would do all she
+could to make Thanksgiving a little less forlorn than it seemed likely
+to be to Mrs. Simmons and Glory.
+
+It did look forlorn downstairs in the bare little kitchen. Mrs.
+Simmons's chill was coming on. She was up and dragging herself about,
+but she looked quite unfit to be out of bed. Two little children, a boy
+and a girl, whom Helen had not seen the night before, clung close to her
+dress, and followed wherever she moved, hiding their shy faces from the
+strangers. They got over their shyness gradually as Helen laughed, and
+coaxed them, and by the time breakfast was over had grown good friends.
+
+"Now," said Helen, gayly, after a last glance at the window, which
+showed the snow-storm still raging, "I am going to propose a plan. You
+shall go to bed, Mrs. Simmons,--I'm sure you ought to be there at this
+moment,--and Glory and I will wash the dishes, and we will cook the
+Thanksgiving dinner."
+
+"Oh, dear! there ain't nothing worth cooking," sighed poor Mrs. Simmons,
+but she was too ill to make objections. So Glory, or Glorvina, put the
+kitchen to rights with Helen's help, and then the two girls sat down to
+consult over dinner.
+
+"Could you roast a turkey, do you think?" asked Helen.
+
+"There ain't no turkey to be roasted," objected Glory.
+
+"Yes, but could you if there were? Because I think there's one in the
+hamper, papa, and I know grandmamma would let us have it if she knew."
+
+"Why, of course she would. Use everything in the hamper if you like;
+grandma would never think of objecting, and there's plenty more to be
+had where those came from," said her father.
+
+So the hamper was unpacked, and the turkey extracted, and a package of
+tea and another of lump sugar, and a tumbler of currant jelly; and Helen
+filled a big dish with oranges and white grapes, and the preparations
+went merrily on. There proved to be half a squash in the cellar, and
+Glory, wading out in the snow, fetched in a couple more eggs from the
+barn, so pies were possible. Helen produced her recipe-book.
+
+"Now I'm going to show you just how to make pies," she said; "I only
+learned myself day before yesterday." And she thought, "How lucky it is
+that I did learn, for now I can show Glory, and she'll always know. But
+wouldn't Morrison open her eyes if she could see me?"
+
+The spices and lemons came out of the hamper, of course, and the crust
+had to be made of salt butter and no lard; but the pies turned out very
+good, for all that, and no one was in the least disposed to find fault
+with their flavor. Really, the little dinner was a great success.
+Glory's potatoes were a little underdone, but that was the only failure.
+The children ate as though they could never be satisfied. Mr. Simmons
+cheered up and cracked one or two feeble jokes; and even Mrs. Simmons,
+propped high in bed to survey the festive scene, called out that it
+"looked something like," and she didn't know when there had been so much
+laughing going on in their house before.
+
+The clock struck three just as the last nicely washed plate was set away
+on the dresser. Helen quite jumped at the sound. How short, after all,
+the day had seemed which promised to be so long and dismal! And just
+then a bright yellow ray streamed through the window, and, looking out,
+she saw blue sky.
+
+"Papa," she screamed, "it has cleared up! I do believe we shall get to
+grandmamma's to-night, after all!"
+
+And so they did. Mr. Sands, with Mr. Simmons's assistance, fitted the
+rockaway on to a pair of old sledge-runners, and, with many warm
+good-byes from the whole family, they drove off. Just at sunset they
+reached Morrow Hill, and grandma was so glad to see them, and they so
+glad to get there, that it was easy to forget all their disappointment
+and delay. In fact, after a little while Helen convinced herself that
+the whole thing was rather a piece of good fortune than otherwise.
+
+"For, don't you see, papa," she exclaimed, "we had all Thanksgiving
+evening with grandmother, you know, and she had it with us, so we only
+lost part of our pleasant time? But if it hadn't been for the snow and
+the breakdown, the poor Simmonses wouldn't have had any Thanksgiving at
+all--not a bit; so it really was a great deal better, don't you see that
+it was, papa?"
+
+
+
+
+AT FIESOLE.
+
+
+FIESOLE is a quaint old town which perches on a hill-top above the
+valley of the Arno and the city of Florence. You must not pronounce it
+as it is spelt, but like this--Fee-es-o-lee. From the Florence streets
+people catch glimpses of its bell-towers and roofs shining above the
+olive orchards and vineyards of the hillside. A white road winds upward
+toward it in long, easy zigzags, and seems to say, "Come with me and I
+will show you something pretty."
+
+Not long ago there were two girls in Florence to whom, plainly as road
+could speak, the white road seemed to utter these very words. Pauline
+and Molly Hale were the names of these girls. It was six months since
+they had left America with their father and mother, and it seemed much
+longer, because so much had happened in the time. First, the sea voyage,
+not pleasant, and yet not exactly unpleasant, because papa got better
+all the way, and that made mamma happy. Now papa would be quite well at
+once, they thought. His people (for papa was a clergyman) had sent him
+away for that purpose. They were not a rich people, but each gave a
+little, and all together it made enough to carry the pastor and his
+family across the sea and keep them there one year, with very prudent
+management. The Hales, therefore, did not travel about as most people
+do, but went straight to Italy, where they hoped to find that sun and
+warm air which are an invalid's best medicines.
+
+"Going straight to Italy" means, however, a great many pleasant things
+by the way. Molly was always reminding Maria Matilda, her doll, of the
+sights she had seen and the superior advantages she enjoyed over the
+dolls at home.
+
+After this mention of a doll, what will you say when I tell you that
+Molly was almost thirteen? Most girls of thirteen scorn to play with
+dolls, but Molly was not of their number. She was childish for her
+years, and possessed a faithful little heart, which clung to Maria
+Matilda as to an old friend whom it would be unkind to lay aside.
+
+"First, there was Paris," Molly would say to her. "No, first there was
+_Deep_, where the people all talked so queerly that we couldn't
+understand a word. That was funny, Matilda, wasn't it? Then, don't you
+recollect that beautiful church which we saw when we went past _Ruin_?"
+(Molly meant Rouen, but I am sorry to say her pronunciation of French
+names was rather queer.) "And Paris too, where I took you to walk in the
+gardens, and papa let us both ride in a whirligig. None of the home
+dollies have ever ridden in whirligigs, have they? They won't
+understand what you mean unless I draw them a picture on my slate. Then
+we got into the cars, and went and went till we came to that great dark
+tunnel. Weren't we frightened? And you cried, Matilda--I heard you. You
+needn't look so ashamed, though, for it _was_ horrid. But we got out of
+it at last, though I thought we never should; and here we are at the
+padrona's, and it's ever so nice, only I wish papa would come back."
+
+For Florence had proved too cold, and papa had joined a party and gone
+off to Egypt, leaving mamma and the children to live quietly and cheaply
+at Signora Goldi's boarding-house. It was a dingy house in the old part
+of Florence, but for all that it was a very interesting place to live
+in. The street in which the house stood was extremely narrow. High
+buildings on either side shut out the sun, the cobblestone pavement was
+always dirty, but all day long a stream of people poured through it
+wearing all sorts of curious clothes, talking all sorts of languages,
+and selling all sorts of things. Men with orange-baskets on their heads
+strolled along, crying, "Oranges, sweet oranges!" Others, with panniers
+of flowers, chanted, "Fiori, belli fiori!" Pedlers displayed their wares
+or waved gay stuffs; boys held up candied fruits, wood-carvings, and
+toys; women went to and fro bearing trays full of a chocolate-colored
+mixture dotted with the white kernels of pine-cones. This looked very
+rich and nice, and the poor people bought great slices of it. Pauline
+once invested a penny therein, but a single taste proved enough; it was
+sour and oily at once, and she gave the rest to a small Italian girl,
+who looked delighted, and gobbled it up in huge mouthfuls. Whenever they
+went out to walk, there were fresh pleasures. The narrow street led
+directly to a shining sunlit river, which streamed through the heart of
+the city like a silver ribbon. Beautiful bridges spanned this river,
+some reared on graceful arches, some with statues at either end, one set
+all along its course by quaint stalls filled with gold and silver
+filigree, chains of amber, and turquoises blue as the sky. All over the
+city were delightful pictures, churches, and gardens, open and free to
+all who chose to come. Every day mamma and the children went somewhere
+and saw something, and, in spite of papa's absence, the winter was a
+happy one.
+
+Going to and fro in the city, the children had often looked up the
+Fiesole hill, which is visible from many parts of Florence, and Pauline
+had conceived a strong wish to go there. Molly did not care so much, but
+as she always wanted to do what Pauline did, she joined her older sister
+in begging to go. Mamma, however, thought it too far for a walk, and
+carriage hire cost something; so she said no, and the girls were forced
+to content themselves with "making believe" what they would do if ever
+they went there,--a sort of play in which they both delighted. None of
+the things they imagined proved true when they did go there, as you
+shall hear.
+
+It was just as they were expecting papa back, that, coming in one day
+from a walk with Signora Goldi, Pauline and Molly found mamma hard at
+work packing a travelling-bag. She looked very pale, and had been
+crying. No wonder, for the mail had brought a letter to say that papa,
+travelling alone from Egypt, had landed at Brindisi very ill with Syrian
+fever. The kind strangers who wrote the letter would stay with and take
+care of him till mamma could get there, but she must come at once.
+
+"What _shall_ I do?" cried poor Mrs. Hale, appealing in her distress to
+Signora Goldi. "I cannot take the children into a fever-room, and even
+if that were safe, the journey costs so much that it would be out of the
+question. Mr. Hale left me only money enough to last till his return.
+After settling with you and buying my ticket, I shall have very little
+remaining. Help me, padrona! Advise me what to do."
+
+Signora Goldi's advertisement said, "English spoken," but the English
+was of a kind which English people found it hard to understand. Her kind
+heart, however, stood her instead of language, and helped her to guess
+the meaning of Mrs. Hale's words.
+
+"Such peety!" she said. "Had I know, I not have let rooms for week
+after. The signora said 'let' and she sure to go, so I let, else the
+_piccoli_ should stay wiss me. Now what?" and she rubbed her nose hard,
+and wrinkled her forehead in a puzzled way. "I have!" she cried at last,
+her face beaming. "How the _piccolini_ like go to Fiesole for a little?
+My brother who dead, he leave Engleis wife. She lady-maid once, speak
+Engleis well as me!--better! She have _pensione_--very small, but
+good--ah, so good, and it cost little, with air _si buono, si fresco_!"
+
+The signora was drifting into Italian without knowing it, but was
+stopped by the joyous exclamations of the two girls.
+
+"Fiesole! Oh, mamma! just what we wanted so much!" cried Pauline. "Do
+let us go there!"
+
+"Do, do!" chimed in Molly. "I saw the padrona's sister once, and she's
+so nice. Say yes, please, mamma."
+
+The "yes" was not quite a happy one, but what could poor Mrs. Hale do?
+No better plan offered, time pressed, she hoped not to be obliged to
+stay long away from the children, and, as the signora said, the Fiesole
+hill-top must be airy and wholesome. So the arrangement was made, the
+terms settled, a carriage was called, and in what seemed to the girls a
+single moment, mamma had rattled away, with the signora to buy her
+ticket and see her off at the station. They looked at each other
+disconsolately, and their faces grew very long.
+
+"We're just like orphans in a book," sobbed Pauline at last, while Molly
+watered Matilda's best frock with salt tears. The signora had a
+specially nice supper that night, and petted them a great deal, but they
+were very homesick for mamma, and cried themselves to sleep.
+
+Matters seemed brighter when they woke up next morning to find a lovely
+day, such a day as only Italy knows, with sunshine like gold, sky of
+clearest blue, and the river valley shining through soft mists like
+finest filtered rainbows. By a happy chance the Fiesole sister-in-law
+came to Florence that morning, and drove up to the door in a droll
+little cart drawn by a mouse-colored mule, with a green carrot-top stuck
+over his left ear and a bell round his neck. She gladly agreed to lodge
+the children, and her pleasant old face and English voice made them at
+once at home with her. There was just room in the cart for their trunk,
+and about five in the afternoon they set out, perched on the narrow
+bench in front, one on each side of their new friend, and holding each
+other's hands tightly behind her ample back. Signora Bianchi was the
+sister-in-law's name, but "padrona" was easier to say, and they called
+her so from the beginning.
+
+The hill-road was nowhere steep, but each winding turn took them higher
+and higher above Florence. They could see the curvings of the river, the
+bridges, the cathedral dome, and the tall, beautiful bell-tower, which
+they had been told was the work of the great artist Giotto. Further on,
+the road was shut in between stone walls. Over the tops of these hung
+rose-vines, full of fresh pink roses, though it was early March. Pauline
+and Molly screamed with pleasure, and the padrona, driving her mule
+close under the wall, dragged down a branch and let them gather the
+flowers for themselves, which was delightful. She would not stop,
+however, when, a little later, they came to fields gay with red and
+purple anemones, yellow tulips, and oddly colored wild lilies so dark as
+to be almost black; there were plenty of such on top of the hill, she
+said, and they must not be too late in getting home. The black lilies
+were _giglios_,--the emblem or badge of the city of Florence; the
+children had not seen them before, but they remembered the form of the
+flower in the carved shields over the door of some of the old buildings.
+
+The road ended in a small paved _piazza_, which is the Italian name for
+an open square. All about it stood old buildings, houses and churches,
+and a very ancient cathedral with a dirty leather curtain hanging before
+its door. Passing these, the mule clattered down a narrow side-street,
+or rather lane. The streets in Florence had seemed dark and dirty; but
+what were they compared with this alley, in which the wheels of the
+little cart grazed the walls on either side as it passed along? Rickety
+flights of outside stairs led to the upper stories of the buildings;
+overhead, lines of linen, hung out to dry, were flapping in the wind. An
+ill-smelling stream of water trickled over the rough cobble-stone
+pavement. Jolt, jolt, jolt!--then the mule turned suddenly into a dark
+place which looked like a shabby stable-yard. It was the ground-floor of
+the padrona's house, and this was the place where Pauline and Molly were
+to stay! They looked at each other with dismayed faces.
+
+But the padrona called them to follow, and led the way up one stone
+staircase after another till they came to the third story. Here things
+were pleasanter. It was plain and bare; the floors were of brick, there
+were no carpets, and the furniture was scanty and old, but the rooms
+were large and airy, and through the open casement bright rays of
+sunshine streamed in. Pauline ran to the window, and behold, instead of
+the dirty lane, she saw the open piazza, and beyond, a glimpse of the
+blue hills and the Florence valley! She called Molly, and, perched on
+the broad sill, they watched the sunset and chattered like happy birds,
+while the padrona bustled to and fro, preparing supper and spreading
+coarse clean linen on the beds of a little chamber which opened from
+the sitting-room. The padrona's kitchen was about the size of an
+American closet. The stove was a stone shelf with two holes in it, just
+big enough to contain a couple of quarts of charcoal. It was like a
+doll's kitchen, Molly thought; and Pauline stared when she saw the
+padrona produce a palm-leaf fan and begin to fan the fire, as if it were
+faint and needed to be revived. But as she gazed, the charcoal was
+coaxed into a glow, the little pots and pans bubbled, and hey, presto!
+supper was ready, with half the trouble and a quarter the fuel which
+would have been needed to set one of our big home ranges going. It was a
+queer supper, but very good, the children thought; their long drive had
+made them hungry, and the omelette, salad, and _polenta_, or fried mush,
+tasted delicious. Everything was nice but the bread, which was dark in
+color and had an unpleasant sour taste. The padrona smiled when she saw
+them put aside their untasted slices, and said that she too used to
+dislike Italian bread, but that now she preferred it to any other.
+
+The padrona was delighted with her young visitors. She had long been a
+widow. One of her sons was in the army, and seldom at home; the other
+helped her about the house and tilled a little meadow which belonged to
+them. She had no daughter to keep her company, and the sweet,
+bright-faced American girls pleased her greatly. She helped the sisters
+to undress, and tucked them into their beds as kindly as any old nurse,
+and they fell asleep with her pleasant voice in their ears: "Good-night
+and good dreams, little miss."
+
+The morrow brought another fine day, and the girls improved it for a
+ramble about the quaint town. It seemed to them the very _oldest_ place
+they had ever seen--and, in fact, Fiesole is older far than Florence, of
+which it was first the cradle and afterward the foe. They stood a long
+time before the windows of the straw-shop, choosing the things they
+would like to buy _if_ they had any money! Pauline fell in love with a
+straw parasol, and Molly hankered after a work-basket for mamma. Both of
+them felt that it was dreadful to be poor, but there was no help for it.
+Then they climbed to an upper terrace and sat a long time looking on the
+fine view it commanded, and talking in gestures to some brown little
+children who came up to beg from them. After that, they lifted the
+curtain over the cathedral door, and stole quietly about the ancient
+church. It was dark and shabby and worm-eaten; but as they wandered to
+and fro they came upon beautiful things,--tombs of sculptured marble
+with figures of saints and madonnas, wreaths of marble flowers, bits of
+old carved wood as black as ebony. It was strange to find such treasures
+hidden away in the dust and gloom, and to think that there they were,
+dusty and gloomy and old, before Columbus discovered the very new
+continent which we call America! A queer smell breathed about the place,
+a smell of must and age and dried-up incense. Pauline and Molly were
+glad to get away from it and feel the fresh air and the sunshine again.
+They rambled on to the western slope of the hill, and a little way down,
+where the land descends in terraces to the wooded valley below, they
+came upon the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre. They had never seen an
+amphitheatre before, but they guessed what it was from a picture which
+mamma had shown them. On the ledges which once were seats, where
+spectators seated in rows had watched the lions and the gladiators
+fight, crowds of purple violets now lifted their sweet faces to the sky.
+
+After that, the amphitheatre became their favorite walk, and they went
+back every day. The padrona warned them against sitting long on the
+ground or staying out till the sunset dews fell, but they heeded what
+she said very little; it seemed impossible that so pleasant a spot could
+have any harm about it. But at last came a morning when Pauline
+recollected the padrona's warnings, with a great frightened heart-jump,
+for Molly waked up hot and thirsty, and, when she lifted her head from
+the pillow, let it fall back again, and complained of being dizzy. The
+padrona made her some tea, and after a while she felt better and got up.
+But all that day and the next she looked pale, and dragged one foot
+after the other as she went about, and the third day fever came upon her
+in good earnest. Tea did no good this time, and she lay still and heavy,
+with burning hands and flushed cheeks. The padrona tried various simple
+medicines, and Pauline sat all day bathing Molly's head and fanning her,
+but neither medicine nor fanning was of use; and as night came on, and
+the fever grew higher, Molly began to toss and call for mamma, and to
+cry out about her pillow, which was stuffed with wool and very hard.
+
+"I don't like this pillow, Pauline--indeed I don't, it makes my neck
+ache so! Why don't you take it away, Pauline, and give me a nice soft
+pillow, such as we used to have at home? And I want some ice, and some
+good American water to drink. This water is bad. I can't drink it. Make
+the ice clink in the tumbler, please--because if I hear it clink I
+shan't be thirsty any more. And call mamma. I must see mamma. Mamma!"
+
+And Molly tried to get up, and then tumbled back and fell into a doze,
+while poor Pauline sat beside her with a lump in her throat which seemed
+to grow worse every moment, and to bid fair to choke her entirely if it
+didn't stop. She did not dare to sob aloud, for fear of rousing Molly,
+but the tears ran quietly down her cheeks as she thought of home and
+mamma. Where was she? How was papa? Why didn't they write? And, oh dear!
+what should she, should she do, if Molly were to be very ill in that
+lonely place, where there was no doctor or any of the nice things which
+people in sickness need so much? No one can imagine how forlorn Pauline
+felt--that is, no one who has not tried the experiment of taking care
+of a sick friend in a foreign land, where the ways and customs are
+strange and uncomfortable, and the necessaries of good nursing cannot be
+had.
+
+Nobody in the world could be kinder than was the padrona to her young
+invalid guest. Night after night she sat up, all day long she watched
+and nursed and cooked and comforted. Pauline clung to this friend in
+need as to the only helper left in the wide world. Beppo, the padrona's
+son, walked into Florence and brought out a little Italian doctor, who
+ordered beef-tea, horrified Pauline by a hint of bleeding, and left,
+promising to come again, which promise he didn't keep. Pauline was glad
+that he did not; she felt no confidence in the little doctor, and she
+knew, besides, that doctors cost money, and the small sum which mamma
+left was almost gone. Day after day passed, Molly growing no better, the
+padrona more anxious, Pauline more unhappy. It seemed as if years and
+years had gone by since mamma left them,--almost as if it were a dream
+that they ever had a mamma, or a home, or any of the happy things which
+now looked so sadly far away.
+
+Then came the darkest day of all, when Molly lay so white and motionless
+that Pauline thought her dead; when the padrona sat for hours, putting a
+spoonful of something between the pale lips every little while, but
+never speaking, and the moments dragged along as though shod with lead.
+Morning grew to noon, noon faded into the dimness of twilight, still the
+white face on the pillow did not stir, and still the padrona sat
+silently and dropped in her spoonfuls. At last she stopped, laid down
+the spoon, bent over Molly, and listened. Was any breath at all coming
+from the quiet lips?
+
+"Oh, padrona, is she dead?" sobbed Pauline, burying her face in the
+bedclothes.
+
+"No, she is asleep," said the padrona. Then she hid her own face and
+said a prayer of thankfulness, while Pauline wept for joy, hushing
+herself as much as possible, that Molly might not be disturbed.
+
+All that night and far into the morning the blessed sleep continued, and
+when Molly awoke the fever was gone. She was very white, and as weak as
+a baby; but Pauline and the padrona were happy again, for they knew that
+she was going to get well.
+
+So another week crept by, each day bringing a little more strength and
+appetite to Molly, and a little more color to her pale face, and then
+the padrona thought she might venture to sit up. They propped her up in
+a big chair with many pillows ("brickbats" Molly called them), and had
+just pulled her across the room to the window, when a carriage rattled
+on the stones below, somebody ran upstairs, and into the room burst
+mamma! Yes, the little mamma herself, pale as Molly almost, from the
+fright she had gone through; but so overjoyed to see them, and so
+relieved at finding Molly up and getting well, that there was nothing
+for it but a hearty cry, in which all took part, and which did them all
+a great deal of good.
+
+Then came explanations. Papa was a great deal better. The doctor thought
+the fever would do him good in the end rather than harm. But he was
+still weak, and mamma had left him to rest at the hotel in Florence
+while she flew up the hill to her children. Why didn't she write? She
+_had_ written, again and again, but the letters had gone astray somehow,
+and none of the girls' notes had reached her except one from Molly,
+written just after they went to Fiesole. I may as well say now that all
+these missing letters followed them to America three months later, with
+a great deal of postage to be paid on them; but they were not of much
+use _then_, as you can imagine!
+
+There was so much to say and to hear that it seemed as though they could
+never get through. Pauline held mamma's hand tight, and cried and
+laughed by turns.
+
+"It was dreadful!" she said. "It was just exactly as if you and papa and
+everybody we knew were dead and we were left all alone. And I thought
+Molly would die too, and then what would have become of me? The padrona
+has been so kind--you can't think how kind. She sat up nine nights with
+Molly, and always said she wasn't tired; but I knew she was. I used to
+think it must be the nicest place in the world up here at Fiesole, but I
+never want to see it again in all my life."
+
+"Don't say that, for Molly has got well here. And the good padrona too!
+You ought to love Fiesole for her sake."
+
+"So I ought. And I do love her. But you'll not ever go away and leave us
+_anywhere_ again, will you, mamma?"
+
+"Not if I can help it," replied mamma, speaking over Molly's head, which
+was nestled comfortably on her shoulder. There were tears in her eyes as
+she spoke. It had not been possible to help it, but the tender mother's
+heart felt it a wrong to her children that they should have been without
+her in sickness.
+
+It was another week before Molly could be moved. Mamma drove up twice
+during that time, bringing oranges and wine and all sorts of nice
+things, and the last time a parcel with a present in it for the children
+to give to the padrona. It was a pretty silk shawl and a small gold pin
+to fasten it. Pauline and Molly were enchanted to make this gift, and
+the padrona admired the shawl extremely; but Mrs. Hale sorrowfully
+longed to be richer, that she might heap many tokens of gratitude in the
+kind hands which had worked so lovingly for her little girls in their
+trouble.
+
+"I can't bear to say good-bye," were Molly's last words as she leaned
+from the carriage for a parting hug. "Dear padrona, how I wish you would
+just come with us to America and live there. We would call you 'aunty'
+and love you so, and be so glad, you can't think! Do come!"
+
+But the padrona, smiling and tearful, shook her head and declared that
+she could never leave her boys and the hill-top and old neighbors, but
+must stay in Fiesole as long as she lived. So with many kisses and
+blessings the good-byes were uttered, and out of the narrow street and
+across the piazza rattled the carriage, and so down the hill-road to
+Florence.
+
+Pauline and Molly are safe in America now. They tell the girls at school
+a great deal about what they saw and where they went, but they don't
+talk much of the time of Molly's illness; and when Matilda Maria, who
+lives in a drawer now, entertains the other dolls with tales of travel,
+she skips that. It is still too fresh in their memories, and too sad,
+for them to like to speak of it. But sometimes, after they go to bed at
+night, they put their heads on the same pillow and whisper to each other
+about the old church, the amphitheatre, the padrona, those days of
+fever, and all the other things that happened to them when mamma went
+away and left them alone at Fiesole.
+
+
+
+
+QUEEN BLOSSOM.
+
+
+PROMPTLY the bell tinkled for noon recess in the red school-house, and
+boys and girls came trooping out into the sunshine, which was warm as
+summer that day. Nobody stayed behind except Miss Sparks, the teacher.
+She turned the damper in the stove to make it warmer, and put on more
+wood; then took a roll of bread and butter and a large pickled cucumber
+out of her desk and sat down to lunch, and to read Young's "Night
+Thoughts," which somebody had told her was an "improving" book. The heat
+soon made her head ache, and "Night Thoughts" and the cucumber aiding,
+the children, had they only known it, were in a fair way to pass an
+extremely unpleasant afternoon.
+
+Luckily they did not know it, otherwise the pleasure of the recess would
+have been spoiled, which would have been a pity, for the recess was very
+pleasant. There was the sun for one thing; and real, warm, yellow sun is
+a treat in April, not always to be had. There were the woods, beginning
+to be beautiful, although not a leaf-bud was yet visible. Spring was
+awake, and busy at her silent work, varnishing brown boughs to glossy
+brightness, tinting shoots and twigs with pink and yellow and soft red
+colors, arranging surprises everywhere. The children could not have put
+into words the feeling which made the day so delightful, but all were
+aware of it, and each, in his or her way, prepared to enjoy the hour.
+One tiny snow-drift remained in a leaf-strewn hollow. The boys found it
+out, and fell to snow-balling with the zest of those who do not hope to
+see snow again for many a long month. Big girls, with arms about each
+other's waists, walked to and fro, whispering together. The smaller
+children cuddled into a sunny fence corner, and, like Wordsworth's
+village maid,
+
+          "Took their little porringers,
+           And ate their dinners there."
+
+A group of girls, not so big as those, nor so little as these, strolled
+off into the woods, talking as they went.
+
+"Now you just hush up, Winnie Boker," said one. "It's no use, for we
+won't have her. She's been Queen ever so many times, and now it's
+somebody else's turn. There are other girls in town besides Blossom, I
+guess."
+
+"Oh yes, Marianne; it isn't _that_," broke in Winnie, the words running
+out of her eager mouth so fast that they tumbled over each other. "It
+isn't that at all. You'd make a first-rate Queen, or so would Arabella
+or Eunice. But, don't you see, Blossom always _was_ Queen, and now she's
+sick I'm afraid she'd feel badly if we chose somebody else."
+
+"Dear me, what nonsense!" exclaimed Arabella, a tall girl in purple
+calico, with sharp black eyes and a Roman nose. "It wasn't fair a bit,
+ma says, to have Blossom always. Ma says other people have got rights
+too. You needn't be so fiery about that stuck-up Blossom, Winnie."
+
+"Oh, I'm not," began Winnie, peaceably, "but--"
+
+"My father says that Blossom is the prettiest girl in the whole
+township," broke in Charlie Starr, excitedly; "and it's real mean of you
+to call her stuck-up. Don't you recollect how sweet she looked last year
+in her white dress, and what a pretty speech she made when George Thorne
+put the crown on her head? _She_ never said unkind things or called
+anybody names! She's always been May-Queen, and I say it's a shame to
+leave her out just because she's sick."
+
+"You're a goose," responded Arabella. "Who wants a sick Queen of the
+May? She'll never be well again, the doctor says; and as for her
+beauty, that's gone for good. Ma declares that it's absurd to call her
+Blossom any more. It isn't her real name, only her pa named her so when
+she was little, because he was so proud of her looks. Her real name's
+Sarah Jane, and I'm going to call her Sarah Jane always. So there now,
+Charlotte Starr!"
+
+"You bad girl!" cried Charlie, almost in tears. "How can you! Poor dear
+Blossom!"
+
+"Stop quarrelling," said Laura Riggs, "and listen to my plan. Blossom
+can't be Queen, anyhow, don't you see, because she's too sick to come to
+the celebration. So what's the use of fighting about her?"
+
+"I thought we could go to her, and put on the crown and all, and it
+would be _such_ a surprise," ventured Winnie, timidly. "She'd be so
+pleased."
+
+"I suppose she would," sneered Arabella, "only, you see, we don't mean
+to do it."
+
+"I propose that we call all the boys and girls together after school,
+and vote who shall be Queen," went on Laura. "Then to-morrow we can go a
+flower-hunting, and have the wreath all ready for next day. It's
+splendid that May-day comes on Saturday this year."
+
+"I know who I shall vote for,--and I,--and I," cried the children.
+
+Winnie and Charlotte did not join in the cry. They moved a little way
+off, and looked sadly at each other. To them, poor Blossom, sick and
+neglected, seemed still the rightful Queen of the May.
+
+"I've thought of a plan," whispered Charlie.
+
+"What?"
+
+But the answer was so softly spoken that nobody but Winnie could hear.
+
+Did I say _nobody?_ I was wrong. Certain fine ears which were listening
+heard all, question and answer both. These ears belonged to a little
+hepatica, who had stolen up very near the surface of the ground to
+hearken, and, with a tiny leaf-hand curled behind her lilac ear, had
+caught every syllable. Whatever the secret was, it pleased her, for she
+clapped both hands and called out,--
+
+"Listen! listen! Hepsy, Patty, Violet,--all of you,--listen!"
+
+"What is it--what?" cried the other flowers, crowding near her.
+
+"Didn't you hear what those two little girls were saying,--Winnie
+and--what _is_ her name--Charlie?"
+
+"No, we heard nothing. We were listening to the tiresome ones who
+quarrelled. How horrid children are!"
+
+"Go a flower-hunting indeed," tittered a bloodroot. "They are welcome to
+hunt, but they will find no flowers."
+
+"Indeed they won't. I'd bite if they tried to pick me," said a dog-tooth
+violet.
+
+"Ach! fancy their fingers at your stem," shuddered a pale wind-flower.
+
+"How little they guessed that we were listening to it all," laughed a
+white anemone.
+
+          "Ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling,
+           We'll be as late as we can this spring,"
+
+sang a columbine.
+
+"We know when to go and when to stay; when to open and when to shut,"
+said a twin-flower.
+
+"Where is Mamma Spring?" inquired the dog-tooth violet.
+
+"On the other side the wood," replied the columbine. "But she can't be
+interrupted just now. She's very busy cutting out Dutchman's Breeches.
+There are five hundred pairs to be finished before night."
+
+"All of the same everlasting old pattern," grumbled a trillium.
+
+"But listen; you don't listen," urged the lilac hepatica. "_All_ the
+children didn't quarrel. My two--the two I liked--were gentle and sweet,
+and they have a plan--a kind plan--about somebody named Blossom. They
+want to give her a surprise with flowers and a wreath, and make her
+Queen of the May, because she is ill and lies in bed. Let us help. I
+like them; and Blossom is a pretty name."
+
+"Are you quite sure they did not quarrel?" asked the wind-flower,
+anxiously. "It made me shiver to hear the others."
+
+"No, they didn't quarrel. When the rest would not listen, they moved
+away and made their little plan in a whisper."
+
+"And what was the plan?" inquired the bloodroot.
+
+"Oh, they are wise little things. The others are going to have a
+'celebration' on Saturday, with a great deal of pie and cake and fuss. I
+shall tell Mamma Spring to order up an east wind and freeze them well,
+little monsters! But my two are coming into the woods quietly to-morrow
+to search for flowers. I heard Charlie tell Winnie that she knew where
+the first May-flowers always come out, and they would look there. We
+know too, don't we? In the hollow behind the beech-wood, on the south
+bank."
+
+"They're not there yet," said the columbine, yawning.
+
+"No, but they're all packed and ready," said the lilac hepatica. "Do let
+us telegraph them to start at once. I somehow feel as if I should like
+to please Blossom too."
+
+So the trillium, who was telegraph operator, stooped down and dragged up
+a thread-like root, fine as wire.
+
+"What is the message?" he asked.
+
+"Be--in--flower--by--to-morrow--noon--for--Charlie--and--Winnie,"
+dictated the hepatica. "Precisely ten words."
+
+"All right," responded the bloodroot, with his fingers on the wire. Tap,
+tap, tap, tap, tap; the message was sent, and presently came an
+answering vibration.
+
+"All right. We are off." It was the reply of the May-flowers.
+
+"What a fine thing is the telegraph!" sighed a sentimental sand-violet,
+while the hepatica rubbed her little lilac palms gleefully, and
+exclaimed,--
+
+"I flatter myself that job is as good as done. Hurrah for Queen
+Blossom!"
+
+The other girls did not notice Winnie and Charlie particularly next day
+as they stole from the rest and crept away almost on tiptoe to the south
+bank, where the arbutus _might_ be in bloom. Drifted leaves hid the
+bottom of the hollow. At first sight there was no promise of flowers;
+but our little maids were too wise to be discouraged. Carefully they
+picked their way down, brushed aside the brown leaves, and presently a
+shriek from both announced discovery.
+
+"Oh, the darlings!" cried Winnie.
+
+There they were, the prompt, punctual May-flowers, so lately arrived
+that only half their leaves were uncurled, and the dust of travel still
+lay on their tendrils. For all that, they were not too tired to smile at
+the happy faces that bent over them as the little girls lifted the leaf
+blankets and gently drew them from their hiding-place. Pale buds winked
+and brightened; the fuller flowers opened wide pink eyes; all shook
+their ivory incense-bottles at once, and sent out sweet smells, which
+mixed deliciously with the fragrance of fresh earth, of moving sap, and
+sun-warmed mosses.
+
+"Shouldn't you think they had come out on purpose?" said Winnie, kissing
+one of the pinkest clusters.
+
+"We did! we did!" cried the May-flowers in chorus. But the children did
+not understand the flower-language, though the flowers knew well what
+the children said. Flowers are very clever, you see; much cleverer than
+little girls.
+
+Winnie and Charlie hid their treasures in a tin dinner-pail, pouring in
+a little water to keep them fresh, and carefully shutting the lid. They
+did not want to have their secret found out.
+
+Going home, they met the others, looking somewhat disconsolate.
+
+"Where _have_ you been?" they cried. "We looked everywhere for you."
+
+"Oh, in the woods," said Winnie, while Charlie asked,--
+
+"Did you find any flowers?"
+
+"Not one," cried Arabella, crossly; "the spring is so late; it's a
+shame. Carrie Briggs is chosen Queen, and Miriam Gray is going to lend
+us some paper flowers for the crown. They will do just as well."
+
+"Paper flowers!" began Charlie, indignantly; but Winnie checked her, and
+pretty soon their path turned off from that of the others.
+
+"Come early to-morrow and help us make the throne," called out Marianne.
+
+"We can't: we've got something else to do," called back Charlie.
+
+"What?"
+
+"We're going to see Blossom."
+
+"Oh, pshaw! Do let that everlasting Sarah Jane alone, and come and have
+a good time," screamed Arabella after them.
+
+Winnie laughed and shook her head. The others went on.
+
+Blossom lay in bed next morning. She always lay in bed now, and it was
+pitiful to see what a pale blossom she had become. Only a year before
+her cheeks had been rosier, her limbs more active, than those of any of
+the children who daily passed her window on their way to school. One
+unlucky slip on the ice had brought all this to an end, and now the
+doctor doubted if ever she could get up and be well and strong as she
+used to be. The pretty name, given in her days of babyhood, sounded
+sadly now to the parents who watched her so anxiously; but no name could
+be too sweet, her mother thought, for the dear, patient child, who bore
+her pain so brightly and rewarded all care and kindness with such brave
+smiles. Blossom she was still, though white and thin, and Blossom she
+would always be, although she might never bloom again as once she did,
+until set in the Lord's garden, where no frosts come to hurt the
+flowers.
+
+"Happy May-day," she said, as her mother came in. "I wonder what the
+girls are doing. Winnie didn't come yesterday. I don't even know who is
+to be Queen. Have you heard, mamma?"
+
+"I shouldn't think they'd want to have any Queen on such a cold day as
+this," replied mamma. "Look how the boughs are blowing in the wind. It
+feels like March out doors."
+
+"Oh, they're sure to want a Queen," said Blossom. "May-day is such fun.
+I used to like it better than any day in the year."
+
+"Somebody wants to spake to ye, ma'am, if you pl'ase," said Norah,
+putting her head in at the door.
+
+"Very well. Blossom, dear, you don't mind being left alone for a
+minute?"
+
+"Oh no, indeed. I've such a nice book here." But Blossom did not open
+her book after mamma went away, but lay looking out of the window to
+where the elm-boughs were rocking in the wind. Her face grew a little
+sad.
+
+"How nice it used to be!" she said to herself.
+
+Just then she heard a queer noise in the entry--drumming, and something
+else which sounded like music. Next, the door opened, and a procession
+of two marched in. Charlie was the head of the procession. She wore a
+pink-and-white calico, and tied about her neck with a pink string was
+Willie Smith's drum, borrowed for the occasion. Winnie, in her best blue
+gingham, brought up the rear, her mouth full of harmonica. Winnie also
+carried a flat basket, covered with a white napkin, and the two girls
+kept step as they marched across the room to Blossom's bedside, who lay
+regarding them with eyes wide open from amazement.
+
+"Happy May-day, Queen Blossom," sang Charlie, flourishing her
+drumsticks.
+
+"Happy May-day, Queen Blossom," chimed in Winnie, taking the harmonica
+from her mouth.
+
+"Happy May-day," responded Blossom.
+
+"But--how funny--what do you call me Queen Blossom for?"
+
+"Because you _are_ Queen, and we have come to crown you," replied
+Charlie. Then she laid down the drumsticks, lifted the white napkin, and
+in a solemn tone began to repeat these verses, which she and
+Winnie--with a little help from somebody, I guess--had written the
+evening before.
+
+          Never mind who the others choose;
+            You are the Queen for us;
+          They're welcome to their paper flowers
+                    And fuss.
+
+          We bring our Queen a wreath of May,
+            And put it on her head,
+          And crown her sweetest, though she lies
+                    In bed.
+
+          These flowers, dear Blossom, bloomed for you,
+            The fairest in the land;
+          Wear them, and give your subjects leave to kiss
+                    Your hand.
+
+Charlie finished the verses with great gravity. Then, drawing the
+May-wreath from the basket, she put it on Blossom's head, after which,
+instead of kissing the royal hand, according to programme, she clapped
+both her own and began to dance about the bed exclaiming,--
+
+"Wasn't that nice? Aren't they pretty? We made them up ourselves--Winnie
+and I. Why, Blossom, you're crying."
+
+In fact, Queen Blossom _was_ crying.
+
+It was only a very little cry--just a drop or two, with a rainbow to
+follow. In another minute Blossom had winked the tears away, and was
+smiling brightly.
+
+"I didn't mean to cry," she exclaimed, "only I was so surprised. I
+thought you would all be busy to-day, and nobody would come. I never
+dreamed that I should be made Queen of the May again. How kind you are,
+dear Charlie and Winnie, and where _did_ you get the flowers--real
+May-flowers? Nobody has begun to look for them yet."
+
+"They came out on purpose for you," persisted Charlie; and the May-buds
+smiled and nodded approvingly as she said so.
+
+Next, Winnie opened her basket, and behold! a cake, with white icing,
+and in the middle a pink thing meant for a crown, but looking more like
+a cuttle-fish, because of the icing's having melted a little. Mrs. Boker
+had stayed up late the night before to bake and ice this May-day loaf.
+She, too, loved Blossom, and it pleased her that Winnie should plan for
+the enjoyment of her sick friend.
+
+A knife was brought, and slices cut. Blossom lay on her pillows,
+nibbling daintily, as befits a Queen. Her subjects, perched on the bed,
+ate with the appetite of commoners. The sun struggled out, and, in spite
+of the east wind, sent a broad yellow ray into the window. Blossom's
+May-wreath made the air delicious; there could not have been found a
+merrier party.
+
+"Please, dear Duchess, take off my crown for a minute," said Blossom,
+with a pretty air of command.
+
+The Duchess, otherwise Charlie, obeyed, and laid the wreath on the
+coverlet just under the royal nose.
+
+"How lovely, lovely, lovely it is!" said Blossom, with a long sigh of
+delight.
+
+"The sun is streaming exactly into your eyes, dear," said her mother.
+
+She opened the window to close the shutter. A sharp, sudden gust of wind
+blew in, and mamma pulled the sash down quickly lest Blossom should be
+chilled. Nobody noticed that one of the May-flowers, as if watching its
+chance, detached itself from the wreath, and flew out of window on the
+back of the interloping wind. But it did.
+
+The wind evidently knew what was expected of it, for it bore the
+May-flower along to the woods, and laid it on the brown earth in a
+certain sunny spot. Then, like a horse released from rider, it pranced
+away, while the flower, putting her pink lips to the ground, called in a
+tiny voice,--
+
+"Hepatica--Hepsy dear, are you there?"
+
+"Yes; what is it?" came back an answering voice, which sounded very
+close. It was the voice of the lilac hepatica. She and her companions
+were much nearer the surface than they had been two days before.
+
+"It has all gone off so nicely," went on the May-blossom. "We were there
+in time, and I must say I never saw nicer children than that Winnie and
+Charlie. They picked us so gently that it scarcely hurt at all. As for
+Blossom, she's a little dear. Her eyes loved us, and how tenderly she
+handled our stems. I really wanted to stay with her, only I had such a
+good chance to go, and I thought you would all want to hear. It was the
+nicest May-day party I ever saw."
+
+"More--tell us more," said the underground flowers.
+
+"There is no more to tell," replied the May-flower, faintly. "It is cold
+out here, and I am growing sleepy. Good-night."
+
+After that there was silence in the woods.
+
+Winnie and Charlie never knew how the dear little flower-people had
+conspired to make their May-day happy. Perhaps Blossom guessed, for when
+she laid aside her wreath that night she kissed the soft petals, which
+had begun to droop a little, and whispered gently,--
+
+"Thank you, darlings."
+
+
+
+
+A SMALL BEGINNING.
+
+
+A LITTLE ground-floor room, a little fire in a small stove, burning
+dully as fires are apt to do at times when their blaze might be worth
+something in the way of cheer; out doors the raw gray of a spring thaw;
+on the window-seat two girls crouched together and looking out with
+faces as disconsolate as the weather. Such was the picture presented at
+No. 13 Farewell Street, three years ago last March.
+
+Farewell Street was so named because of its being the customary route of
+exit from the old cemetery, the point where mourners were supposed to
+turn for a last look at the gates which had just shut in the newly
+buried friend; and this association, as well as the glimpse of tall
+cemetery fence, topped with mournful evergreens which bounded the view,
+did not tend to make the sad outlook any the less sad on that dismal
+day. For it was only a fortnight since Delia and Hetty Willett, the
+girls on the window-seat, had left within those gates the kind old
+grandmother who for years had stood to them in the stead of father and
+mother both.
+
+"The Willetts," as the neighbors called them, using the collective
+phrase always, were twins, and just eighteen years old. Bearing to each
+other even a stronger personal likeness than twins customarily possess,
+they were in other points curiously unlike. Delia was soft and clinging,
+Hetty vigorous and self-reliant. Delia loved to be guided, Hetty to
+guide; the former had few independent views and opinions, the latter was
+brimful of ideas and fancies, plans and purposes; some crude, some
+foolish, but all her own. Yet, oddly enough, it was Delia, very often,
+who gave the casting vote in their decisions, for Hetty's love for her
+slender twin was a sentiment so deep and intense that she often yielded
+against her own better sense and judgment, simply for the pleasure of
+yielding to what Delia wished. Delia in return adored her sister, waited
+on her, petted, consoled, "exactly as if she were Hetty's wife," Aunt
+Polly said, "and the worst was they suited each other so well that no
+one else would ever suit either of them, and they were bound to die old
+maids in consequence!"
+
+But eighteen can laugh at such auguries, and there was no thought or
+question of marriage in the minds of the sisters as they crouched that
+afternoon close together on the old window-seat.
+
+A very different question absorbed them, and a perplexing one; how they
+were to live, namely, and to keep together while doing so, which meant
+pretty much the same thing to them both. Grandmother's death had left
+them with so very, very little. Her annuity died with her. There was
+the old house, the plain, worn furniture to which they had been
+accustomed all their lives, and about a hundred dollars a year! What
+could they do with that?
+
+"If one of us only happened to be clever," sighed Delia. "If I could
+paint pictures, or you had a talent for writing, how easy it would be!"
+
+"I don't know as to that," responded Hetty. "Seems to me I've heard of
+people who did those things, and yet didn't find it so mighty easy to
+get along. Somebody's got to buy the pictures after they're painted, you
+know, and read the books, and pay for them." She spoke in an absent
+tone, and her brow was knitted into the little frown which Delia knew
+betokened that her twin was puzzling hard over something.
+
+"Don't scowl, it'll spoil your forehead," she said, smoothing out the
+objectionable frown with her fingers.
+
+"Was I scowling? Well, never mind. I'm trying to think, Dely. You can't
+paint and I can't write. The question is, What can we do?"
+
+"That _is_ a question," said a voice at the door. It was Aunt Polly's
+voice. She managed on most days to drop in and "give a look to them, the
+lonely little creeturs," as she would have expressed it.
+
+"You're consultin', I see," she said, taking in the situation at a
+glance: the dismal room, the depressive and tearful cheeks of the two
+girls, the lack of comfort and cheer. She twitched open the stove door
+as she passed, threw in a stick of wood, twirled the damper, and gave a
+brisk, rattling shake to the ashes,--all with a turn of her hand as it
+were,--attentions to which the stove presently responded with a brisk
+roar. "Well, it's time you did. I was planning to have a talk with you
+before long, for you ought to settle to something. Pull the blind down,
+Dely, and, Hetty, you light the lamp, and come to the fire, both of
+you, and let's see what we can make of it. It's a tangled skein enough,
+I don't deny it; but most skeins are that, and there's always a right
+end somewhere, if the Lord'll give us sense enough to get hold of it and
+keep on pulling out and winding up."
+
+Presently the girls were seated close to Aunt Polly's rocking-chair. The
+room looked more cheerful now with the lamplight and the yellow glow
+from the stove, and both were conscious of a sense of hopefulness.
+
+"Now--what _can_ you do?" demanded Aunt Polly, whirling round in her
+chair so as to face them.
+
+"We hadn't got so far as that when you came in," replied Hetty; "I
+suppose we must do what other people do in the same circumstances."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Teach something, or sew, I suppose."
+
+"Sewing's slow starvation, in my opinion, unless you've got a machine,
+which you haven't, and not much better then. What do you know that you
+can teach?"
+
+"Not much," replied Hetty, humbly, while Delia added hesitatingly, "We
+could teach children their letters, perhaps."
+
+"I presume you could," responded Aunt Polly, dryly. "But, though you
+mayn't know it, perhaps, there are about fifty women in this town can do
+the same, and who mean to do it, what's more. And most of 'em have got
+the start of you in one way or another, so what's your chance worth? No,
+girls, sewing and teaching are played out. They are good things in their
+way, but every woman who's got her living to earn thinks of them the
+very first thing and of nothing else, and the market is always
+overstocked. My advice to you is, to _think up something you can do
+better than other people_--that's what gives folks a real chance! Now,
+what is there?"
+
+"There isn't anything I can do better than other people," cried the
+dismayed Delia. "Nor Hetty either--except make gingerbread," she added,
+with a faint little laugh. "Hetty beats everybody at that, grandmother
+always said."
+
+"Very well; make gingerbread then. That's your thing to do," said Aunt
+Polly.
+
+Hetty looked at her with incredulous eyes.
+
+"You're not in earnest, are you?" she said.
+
+"I am. In dead earnest."
+
+"But, Aunt Polly, _gingerbread_! Such a little thing as that! Who ever
+heard of a girl's doing such a thing?"
+
+"All the better if they never did. A new trade has a double chance. As
+for the 'little,' great things often come from small beginnings.
+Fortunes have been made out of gingerbread before now, I'll be bound, or
+if not that, out of something no bigger. No, Hetty, depend upon it, if
+your gingerbread is _best_, folks will want it. And if your teaching or
+sewing is only second best, they won't. It's the law of human nature,
+and a very good law, too, though it cuts the wrong way sometimes, like
+all laws."
+
+"Aunt Polly, you're a genius!" cried Hetty, warmed into sudden glow by
+this vigorous common sense. "I _can_ make good gingerbread, and it's
+just as you say, neither of us know enough to teach well, and we are
+both poor hands at sewing, and we should have a much better chance if we
+tried to do what we can and not what we can't. Why shouldn't I make
+gingerbread? Dely'd help me, and if folks liked our things and bought
+them, we could live and keep together. We could make a kind of shop of
+this room, couldn't we? What do you think?"
+
+"'Tisn't a bad place for such a trade," said Aunt Polly, slowly,
+measuring the room with her eyes. "Being on a corner is an advantage,
+you see; and there's that double winder on the street gives a first-rate
+chance to show what you've got to sell. I never did see no use in that
+winder before. My father, he had it cut for a kind of a whim like, and
+we all thought it was notional in him; but, as they say, keep a thing
+long enough and a use'll turn up. It's a sort of a gain for you, too,
+having the house so old-fashioned. Folks has a hankering for such
+things, nowadays--the Lord knows why. I hear 'em going on about it when
+I'm out tailorin', calling ugly things 'quaint,' and lovely, because
+they're old. Hetty,"--with sudden inspiration,--"here's an idea for you,
+be 'quaint'! Don't try for a shop, keep the room a room, and make it as
+old-fashioned-looking as you can, and I'll bet a cookie that your
+gingerbread'll be twice as popular with one set of folks, and if it's
+first-rate gingerbread, the other set who don't care for old things will
+like it just as well."
+
+What a bracing thing is a word in season! Aunt Polly's little seed of
+suggestion grew and spread like Jack's fabled bean-stalk.
+
+"Your light biscuits always turn out well," said Delia.
+
+"And my snaps. Grandmother liked them so much. And you're a good hand at
+loaf bread, you know. Aunt Polly--I seem to smell a fortune in the air.
+We will begin at once, just as soon as I can get a half-barrel of flour
+and put an advertisement in the paper."
+
+Hetty had a ready wit, and Aunt Polly's hint as to "quaintness" was not
+lost upon her. The advertisement when it appeared the next day but one
+ran thus:--
+
+"After Monday next, the Old-Time Bakery, corner of Farewell and Martin
+Streets, will be prepared to furnish, to order, fresh bread, buns,
+biscuits, and grandmother's gingerbread, all home-made."
+
+People smiled over the little notice, but the odd wording stuck in their
+memories as odd things will, and more than one person went out of his
+way during the next week to take a look into the wide, low window,
+within which, on a broad, napkin-covered shelf, stood rows of biscuits,
+light and white, buns, each glazed with shining umber-brown, and loaves
+of gingerbread whose complexion and smell were enough to vouch for
+their excellence. Acting on Aunt Polly's suggestion, Hetty had set forth
+her wares on plates of the oldest and oddest pattern which could be
+found in grandmother's closet. A queer, tall pitcher flanked them on
+either side, and round the window-frame she had twined the long,
+luxuriant shoots of a potted ivy. Altogether the effect was pretty, and
+no one need be told that the pitchers had for years been consecrated to
+the reception of yeast and corks, or that the plates had long since been
+relegated to kitchen use as too shabby for better occasions.
+
+"Hain't ye no white chany?" inquired their first customer, an old woman,
+as she slowly counted out the pennies for half a dozen biscuit. "It
+would kind of set your cakes off."
+
+"We used what we had," replied Hetty, diplomatically. "But I hope your
+biscuits'll taste just as good as if they came off a white plate."
+
+This old woman, two others, and a little boy were the only customers
+that first day.
+
+"'Tisn't a bit a good beginning," declared Delia, pouring the money
+received out of an old-fashioned china tea-caddy which Hetty had
+unearthed in an up-stairs closet and brought down to serve as a till.
+"Two dozen biscuits, that's twenty-four cents, a loaf of gingerbread,
+and about half the buns. That's fifty-three cents in all. What did you
+say the materials cost?"
+
+"About seventy cents. But then we have our supper and breakfast out of
+them, and nearly half the stock to sell at a reduced rate to-morrow. We
+shan't lose anything, I reckon, but we shan't gain much either."
+
+"Rome wasn't built all in a minute. You'll do yet," remarked Aunt Polly,
+who had dropped in to hear the result of the first day's sales.
+
+But two days--three--a week, went by, and still trade did not materially
+improve, and it took all Aunt Polly's wise saws and hopeful auguries to
+keep their spirits up. Each day showed the same record, no loss, but
+almost no gain. Toward the end of the second week matters mended. Mrs.
+Corliss, the wife of a wealthy manufacturer, having an errand in
+Farewell Street, happened to pass the little window, and her
+bric-a-brac-loving eyes were caught at once by its unusual appearance.
+She stopped, studied the whole arrangement from the ivy wreath to the
+old pitchers; a recollection of the droll little advertisement over
+which she had laughed a few days previously, came over her. "I declare,
+this is the very place," she said to herself; and opening the door she
+entered, precisely as Hetty came from the kitchen through the opposite
+door, a handkerchief tied over her shiny hair, a white apron with a
+little ruffled waist protecting her print gown, her cheeks flushed rosy
+pink with heat, and in her hands a tray full of crisp, delectably
+smelling ginger-snaps.
+
+"A real study--like a Flemish picture," Mrs. Corliss said afterward. She
+fell in love at once with the quaint room, the pretty sisters, the old
+china, stayed twenty minutes nibbling ginger-snaps and looking about
+her, bought a dollar's worth of everything, "on trial," as she said, and
+swept out, leaving a wake of rose-colored hope in the air--and Delia and
+Hetty executing a wild waltz behind her back, for joy and gratulation.
+
+"Luck has turned--I know, I feel it," declared Hetty.
+
+Luck _had_ turned. Mrs. Corliss raved to everybody she knew about the
+room, the twin-sisters, and the excellence of the gingerbread. It became
+a fashion to go to Farewell Street for buns and biscuits. Hetty and
+Delia had to work early and late to fill their orders, but what was that
+"to sewing their fingers off for a bare living"? Hetty said; and toil
+was sweetened now by a gradually increasing profit. At the end of the
+first six months they had not only "lived and kept together," but had a
+little sum laid by, which, as Aunt Polly advised, was treated as
+"business capital," part of it being invested in the purchase of an
+awning for the window and an extra stove to increase their baking
+capacity. Very rarely were there any stale things left now to be sold
+next day at half-price, the regular orders and chance custom consuming
+all.
+
+"We shall have to hire a boy to carry things round, I actually believe,"
+declared Hetty. "Mrs. Malcomb and Mrs. Sayres both said that they would
+order our bread regularly if we could send it home."
+
+"I've been expecting that would be the next step," remarked Aunt Polly,
+"and I guess I've got just the boy you want, in my eye. It's Widow
+McCullen's lad--Sandy, as they call him. He's a good little chap, and
+it'll be a real help to his mother to have him earning a trifle."
+
+So Sandy McCullen was regularly engaged as "bread-boy," and business
+grew brisker still.
+
+"Aunt Polly, we've got to another notch," said Hetty, at the end of the
+first year. "You don't happen to know of a girl, do you, who could help
+us in the baking? Delia and I can't keep up with the orders. She gets so
+tired every now and then that she can't sleep, and that worries me so
+that I lie awake, too."
+
+"That'll never answer; no, I don't know of any girl, but there's a nice
+kind of an oldish woman, if she'll do, that I'd like to recommend.
+Yes--I mean myself," she went on, chuckling at Hetty's amazed look.
+"It's come to me more than once lately that it'd be sort of good and
+restful to make a change, and not go on tailorin' forever, all the rest
+of my days. I used to be a master hand at bread and pie-crust, too, when
+I was your age, and I've a little saved up which can go with the
+business if it's needed; and, if you girls say so, we'll just make a
+kind of family firm of the thing. How does it strike you?"
+
+"Oh, Aunt Polly, the very thing, only it seems too good to be true. Do
+you really mean it? We did so hate the idea of a raw girl to whom we
+should have to teach everything, and who would spoil half she made for
+the first month, and I've fought it off as long as I could. Why, it will
+be like having grandmother come back, to have you living with us.
+There's the west room all ready. Dear me! How delightfully things seem
+to turn out for us always!"
+
+"That wasn't your view always, it seems to me," rejoined Aunt Polly. "A
+year ago you was pretty down in the mouth, if I don't mistake.
+Gingerbread is good for something, you see."
+
+"The Old-Time Bakery" still goes on in Farewell Street, but it has grown
+far beyond its original proportions. If you were to visit it to-day you
+would find a room double the size of the former, and which has been made
+by taking down a partition wall between the sitting-room and a spare
+bedroom and throwing them into one. There are two windows on the street
+now, one full of bread, biscuits, and buns, the other stored with
+Hetty's now famous gingerbread, and with delicious-looking pumpkin-pies
+and apple-tarts with old-fashioned flaky crust, which are Aunt Polly's
+specialty and have added greatly to the reputation of the establishment.
+Still it is not a shop. Hetty, with wary good taste, has scrupulously
+preserved the "quaint" look which first gave character to the little
+enterprise, and by judicious rummaging in neighbors' garrets has
+acquired sundry old-time chairs, bottles, jugs, and platters, which help
+in the effect. Everything is scrupulously clean and bright, as all
+things must be where Aunt Polly supervises; but the brightest things in
+the room are the faces of the twin sisters. They have tested and proved
+their powers; they know now what they can do, and they taste the
+happiness of success.
+
+I tell their little story, in which is nothing remarkable or out of the
+way, for the sake of other girls, who, perhaps, are sitting to-day with
+folded hands and puzzling and wondering, just as Hetty and Delia did,
+over what they are to do and how to set about it. I do not mean at all
+that these girls should all make gingerbread--that indeed would be
+"overstocking the market," as Aunt Polly would say, but only that they
+should hearken to her word of wisdom, "find out what they can do _best_,
+and do that," whatever it is, secure that good work, and hearty striving
+will win some measure of success soon or late, even if its beginnings
+are small and insignificant as a gingerbread loaf or a batch of
+biscuit!
+
+
+
+
+THE SECRET DOOR.
+
+
+KNOWLE, in Kent, is an ancient manor-house. It stands knee-deep in rich
+garden and pasture lands, with hay-fields and apple-orchards stretching
+beyond, and solemn oak woods which whisper and shake their wise heads
+when the wind blows, as though possessed of secrets which must not be
+spoken.
+
+Very much as it looks to-day, it looked two hundred and thirty years
+ago, when Charles the First was king of England. That was the Charles
+who had his head cut off, you may remember. Blue Christmas smokes curled
+from the twisted chimneys in 1645, just as they will this year if the
+world lasts so long as December. The same dinnery fragrance filled the
+air, for good cheer smells pretty much alike in all ages and the world
+over. A few changes there may be--thicker trees, beds of gay flowers
+which were not known in that day; and where once the moat--a ditch-like
+stream of green water covered with weeds and scum--ran round the walls,
+is now a trimly cut border of verdant turf. But these changes are
+improvements, and in all important respects the house keeps its old
+look, undisturbed by modern times and ways.
+
+In the same nursery where modern boys and girls eat, sleep, and learn
+their A, B, C to-day, two children lived,--little Ralph Tresham and his
+sister Henrietta. Quaint, old-fashioned creatures they would look to us
+now; but, in spite of their formal dresses and speech, they were bright
+and merry and happy as any children you can find among your
+acquaintances. Ralph's name was pronounced "Rafe," and he always called
+his sister "Hexie."
+
+Christmas did not come to Knowle in its usual bright shape in 1645.
+Gloom and sadness and anxiety overshadowed the house; and though the
+little ones did not understand what the cause of the anxiety was, they
+felt something wrong, and went about quietly whispering to each other in
+corners, instead of whooping and laughing, as had been their wont. They
+had eaten their Christmas beef, and toasted the king in a thimbleful of
+wine, as usual, but their mother cried when they did so; and Joyce, the
+old butler, had carried off the pudding with a face like a funeral. So
+after dinner they crept away to the nursery, and there, by the window,
+began a long whispering talk. Hexie had something very exciting to tell.
+
+"Nurse thought I was asleep," she said, "but I wasn't quite; and when
+they began to talk I woke up. That wasn't wrong, was it, Rafe? I
+couldn't sleep when I couldn't, could I?"
+
+"I suppose not; but you needn't have listened," said Rafe, whose notions
+about honor were very strict.
+
+"I did pull the pillow over my ear, but the words would get in," went on
+Henrietta, piteously. "And it was so interesting. Did you know that
+there were such creatures as Bogies, Rafe? Dorothy thinks we have got
+one in our house, and that its hole is in the great gallery, because
+once when she was there dusting the armor, she heard a queer noise in
+the wall, and what else could it be? It eats a great deal, does the
+Bogie. That's the reason nurse is sure we have got one. It ate all the
+cold sheep's-head yesterday, and the day before half the big pasty. No
+victual is safe in the larder, the Bogie has such a big appetite, nurse
+says."
+
+"I remember about the sheep's-head," said Rafe, meditatively. "Almost
+all of it was left, and I looked to see it come in cold; but when I
+asked, Joyce said there was none. Cold sheep's-head is very good. Do you
+remember how much Humphrey used to like it?"
+
+"I don't remember exactly, it is so long ago," replied Hexie. "How long
+is it, brother?--since Humphrey went away, I mean. Won't he ever come
+back?"
+
+"I asked Winifred once, but she only said, 'God knew,' that nothing had
+been heard of him since the battle when the king was taken. He might be
+dead, or he might be escaped into foreign parts--and then she cried, oh,
+so hard, Hexie! Poor Humphrey! I hope he isn't dead. But, about the
+Bogie, how curious it must be to meet one! Oh, I say, let us go to the
+gallery now, and listen if we can hear any strange noises there. Will
+you?"
+
+"Oh, Rafe! I'm afraid. I don't quite like--"
+
+"But you can't be afraid if I'm there," said Rafe, valiantly; "besides,
+I'll put on Humphrey's old sword which he left behind. Then if the Bogie
+comes--we shall see!"
+
+Rafe spoke like a conquering hero, Hexie thought; so, though she
+trembled, she made no further objection, but stood by while he lifted
+down the sword, helped to fasten its belt over his shoulder, and
+followed along the passage which led to the gallery. The heavy sword
+clattered and rattled as it dragged on the floor, and the sound was
+echoed in a ghostly way, which renewed Hexie's fears.
+
+"Rafe! Rafe! let us go back," she cried.
+
+"Go back yourself if you are afraid," replied Ralph, stoutly; and as
+going back alone through the dim passage seemed just then worse than
+staying where she was, Hexie stayed with her valiant brother.
+
+Very softly they unlatched the gallery door, and stole in. It was a
+long, lofty apartment, panelled with cedar-wood, to which time had given
+a beautiful light brown color. The ceiling, of the same wood, was
+carved, here and there, with shields, coats of arms, and other devices.
+There was little furniture: one tall cabinet, a few high-backed Dutch
+chairs, and some portraits hanging on the walls. The sun, not yet quite
+set, poured a stream of red light across the polished floor, leaving the
+far corners and the empty spaces formidably dusk. The children had
+seldom been in the gallery at this hour, and it looked to them almost
+like a strange place, not at all as it did at noonday when they came to
+jump up and down the slippery floor, and play hide-and-seek in the
+comers which now seemed so dark and dismal.
+
+Even Rafe felt the difference, and shivered in spite of his bold heart
+and the big sword by his side. Timidly they went forward, hushing their
+footsteps and peering furtively into the shadows. Suddenly Hexie stopped
+with a little scream.
+
+[Illustration: Close by the armor, half hidden by a curtain of heavy
+tapestry, was an open door.--PAGE 142.]
+
+Close to them stood a huge suit of armor, larger and taller than a man.
+The empty eye-holes of the helmet glared out quite like real eyes, and
+the whole figure was terrible enough to frighten any little girl. But it
+was not at the armor that Hexie screamed; the iron man was an old friend
+of the children's. Many a game of hide-and-seek had they played around,
+and behind, and even inside him; for Humphrey had contrived a cunning
+way by which the figure could be taken to pieces and put together again;
+and more than once Rafe had been popped inside, and had lain shaking
+with laughter while Hexie vainly searched for him through all the
+gallery. This had not happened lately, for Rafe was hardly strong enough
+to manage by himself the screws and hinges which opened the armor; but
+he knew the iron man too well to scream at him, and so did Hexie. The
+object which excited her terror was something different, and so strange
+and surprising that it is no wonder she screamed.
+
+Close by the armor, half hidden by a curtain of heavy tapestry, was an
+open door, where never door had been known to be. It stood ajar, and
+dimly visible inside was a narrow staircase winding upward.
+
+"The hole of the Bogie!" gasped Hexie, clutching at Rafe's arm. He
+started, and felt for the sword. It rattled fearfully, and the sound
+completed Hexie's terror. She burst away, flew like a scared lapwing
+down the gallery, along the passages, and never stopped till she reached
+the nursery and her own bed, where, with two pillows and the quilt drawn
+over her head, she lay sobbing bitterly at the thought of Ralph left
+behind, to be eaten perhaps by the Bogie! Poor little Hexie!
+
+Ralph, meanwhile, stood his ground. His heart beat very fast, but he
+would not run away,--that was for girls. It must be owned, however, that
+when a moment later the sound of muffled voices became audible down the
+stairs, he trembled extremely, and was guilty of the unmanlike act of
+hiding behind the curtain. He was only ten years old, which must plead
+his excuse with bigger boys who are confident that they could never,
+under any circumstances, hide themselves or be afraid.
+
+The voices drew nearer, steps sounded, and two figures came out of the
+narrow doorway. Could there be two Bogies? No wonder they ate so much.
+But in another minute all thought of Bogies vanished from Ralph's mind,
+for in one of the figures he recognized his own sister Winifred.
+
+Her companion was a man. There was something familiar in his form. It
+moved forward, and Ralph jumped so that the big sword rattled again.
+Bogie number two was his brother Humphrey, mourned as dead ever since
+the summer before, when so many brave gentlemen gave up their lives for
+King Charles at the battle of Naseby.
+
+"What noise was that?" whispered Winifred, fearfully.
+
+"Some sound from below," replied Humphrey, after listening a moment.
+"Must you go, Winnie?"
+
+"I must, dear Humphrey. I dare not absent myself longer lest I be missed
+and suspected. Oh, if to-morrow were but over, and you safe on the
+French lugger and over the sea! I cannot breathe while this hiding and
+danger go on."
+
+"I suppose I ought to be glad also," said Humphrey, ruefully; "but to me
+that French lugger means exile, and loneliness, and poverty, for the
+rest of my life, perhaps. Better have laid down my life with the rest at
+Naseby, in striking one last blow for the king."
+
+"Don't, don't speak so!" protested Winifred, tearfully. "You are alive,
+thank God; and once these wars are over we may rejoin you, and have a
+happy home somewhere, if not in the land of our fathers. Now, dear
+Humphrey, have you all you need for the night?"
+
+"Christmas cheer," said Humphrey, in a would-be cheerful voice. "Beef
+and ale,--what better fare could be? You are a gallant provider, my
+Winnie, and there is need, for since I have lain in that hole with
+nothing else to do, my appetite has raged like a wolf. That sheep's-head
+was wondrous savory. I say though, Winnie, what do the servants think of
+the famine I create in the larder?"
+
+"Oh, the stupid things fancy that a Bogie has taken up his residence
+here. A very hungry Bogie, Joyce calls the creature!"
+
+The brother and sister laughed; then they kissed each other.
+
+"Good-night, dearest Winifred."
+
+"Good-night, brother." And Humphrey vanished up the stairs. Winifred
+lingered a moment; then, as if remembering something, opened the door
+again and ran after him. Ralph marked that she laid her hand on a
+particular boss in the carved wainscot, and pressed it in hard, whereon
+the door sprang open. He stole out, laid his hand on the same boss, and
+felt the spring give way under his touch. Some undefined idea of
+stealing in later, to make Humphrey a visit, was in his head; but he
+heard Winifred returning, and hurried out of the gallery. Putting back
+the sword in its place, he entered the nursery. No Hexie was visible,
+but a sobbing sound drew his attention to a tumbled heap on the bed.
+
+"Is that you, Hexie? Why, what are you crying about?" pulling away the
+pillow, which she held tight.
+
+"Oh, Rafe! Then the Bogie didn't eat you, after all!" And Hexie buried
+her tear-stained face in his shoulder.
+
+"Bogie! Nonsense! There are no such things as Bogies!"
+
+"What was it, then, that lived up that dreadful stairs?"
+
+"I can't tell you; only it was nothing at all dreadful. And, Hexie,
+don't say a word about that door to any one, will you? It might make
+great trouble if you did."
+
+"I did tell Deborah, when she fetched the candle and asked why I cried,
+that I saw a strange door in the gallery," faltered Hexie, truthful,
+though penitent.
+
+"Oh! Hexie, how could you? I don't like Deborah, and her father is a
+crop-eared knave. Humphrey said so one day. How could you talk to her
+about the door, Hexie?"
+
+"I--don't know. I was frightened, and she asked me," sobbed Hexie.
+"Will it do any harm, Rafe?"
+
+"It may," said Rafe, gloomily. "But don't cry, Hexie. You meant no harm,
+at all events."
+
+"Oh, don't speak so gravely and so like Joyce," said Hexie, much
+troubled. She cried herself to sleep that night. Deborah, who undressed
+her, asked many questions about the gallery and the door.
+
+"It was very dark, and perhaps I mistook,"--that was all Hexie could be
+made to say. Ralph was disturbed and wakeful, and slept later than usual
+next morning. He jumped up in a hurry and made what haste he could with
+dressing and breakfast, but it seemed as though they never took so much
+time before; and all the while he ate he was conscious of a stir and
+bustle in the house, which excited his curiosity very much.
+Knocking--the sound of feet--something unusual was going on.
+
+As soon as possible he slipped away from nurse and ran to the gallery.
+The door was half open. He looked in, and stood still with terror. Men
+in brown uniforms and steel caps were there sounding the walls and
+tapping the floor-boards with staves. The gallery seemed full of them,
+though when Rafe counted there were but five.
+
+"This man of iron was, in all likelihood, a Malignant also," he heard
+one of them say, striking the armor with his fist.
+
+"He is somewhat old for that. Methinks that is armor of the time of that
+man of blood, Harry the Eighth. Move it aside, Jotham, that we may
+search the farther panel."
+
+So the heavy figure was thrust into a corner, and the men went on
+tapping with their wands. Rafe groaned within himself when he heard them
+declare that the wall sounded hollow, and saw them searching for a
+spring. Twenty times it seemed as though they must have lighted on the
+right place. Twenty times they just missed it.
+
+"We were ill advised to come without tools," declared the man who seemed
+leader of the party. "Come thou to my shop, Peter Kettle, and thou,
+Bartimeus and Zerubbabel, and we will fetch such things as are needful.
+Jotham, stay thou here, to see that no man escapeth from the concealment
+behind the wall."
+
+So four of the men went away, leaving Jotham striding up and down as on
+guard. Presently came a shout from beneath the window,--
+
+"Jotham! our leader hath dropped his pouch in which are the keys of the
+smithy. Hasten and bring it to the outer door."
+
+"Aye, aye!" answered Jotham, and, pouch in hand, he ran down the stairs.
+Now was Rafe's opportunity. Like a flash he was across the gallery, his
+hand on the boss. The door flew open, and he fell into the arms of
+Humphrey, who, sword in hand and teeth set, stood on the lower step of
+the staircase, prepared to sell his liberty as dearly as possible.
+
+"Rafe! little Rafe!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Hush! The man will come back," panted Rafe. "Come away--hide--oh,
+where?" Then with a sudden inspiration he dragged his brother toward the
+iron man. "Get inside," he cried. "They will never think of searching
+there! Oh, Humphrey--make haste! Get inside!"
+
+There was no time to be lost. With the speed of desperation, Humphrey
+unscrewed, lifted, stepped inside the armor. Rafe slipped the fastenings
+together, whispered "Shut your eyes," and flew back to his hiding-place.
+Just in time, for Jotham's step was on the stair, and next moment he
+entered the gallery, and resumed his march up and down, little dreaming
+that the man sought for was peeping through the helmet holes at him, not
+three feet away.
+
+Presently the other soldiers came back with hammers and wrenches, and in
+a short time the beautiful wainscot, split into pieces, lay on the
+floor. Suddenly there was a shout. The secret door had flown open, and
+the staircase stood revealed. Four of the men, with pikes and pistols,
+prepared to ascend, while the fifth guarded the opening below.
+
+At that moment Winifred entered the gallery from the farther end. She
+turned deadly pale when she saw the open door and the men.
+
+"Oh! Heaven have mercy!" she cried, and dropped half fainting into a
+chair.
+
+Rafe darted across the floor and seized her hand.
+
+"Hush," he whispered. "Don't say a word, sister. _He_ is safe."
+
+"He? Who?" cried the amazed Winifred.
+
+But now voices sounded from above. The men were coming down. Winifred
+rallied her courage, rose, and went forward. She was very white still,
+but she spoke in a steady voice. Her two brothers, Humphrey in his
+hiding-place and little Rafe by her side, both admired her greatly.
+
+"What is the meaning of this, Jotham Green?" she demanded. "By what
+warrant do you enter and spoil our house?"
+
+"By the warrant which all true men have to search for traitors," said
+Jotham.
+
+"You will find none such here," responded Winifred, firmly.
+
+"We find the lurking-place in which one such has doubtless lain," said
+Zerubbabel. "Where holes exist, look out for vermin."
+
+"You are less than civil, neighbor. An old house like this has many
+strange nooks and corners of which the inhabitants may have neither use
+nor knowledge. If your search is done, I will beg you to make good the
+damage you have caused as best you may, and with as little noise as
+possible, that my mother be not alarmed. Jotham Green, you are a good
+workman, I know. I recollect how deftly you once repaired that cabinet
+for us."
+
+All the men knew Winifred, and her calm and decided manner made its
+impression. Jotham slowly picked up the fragments of the panelling and
+began to fit them together. The rest consulted, and at last rather
+sheepishly, and with a muttered half apology about "wrong information,"
+went away, taking with them the injured woodwork, which Jotham undertook
+to repair. Rafe's first words after they disappeared were,--
+
+"Winifred, you must dismiss Deborah. It is she that has betrayed us."
+
+"How do you know that, Rafe?"
+
+Then it all came out. Winifred listened to the tale with streaming
+tears.
+
+"Oh, Rafe, my darling, how brave you were! You played the man for us
+to-day, and have saved--I trust you have saved--our Humphrey. The men
+will not return to-day, and to-night the lugger sails."
+
+And Humphrey was saved. Before morning, well disguised, he had made his
+way across country to a little fishing-port, embarked, and reached
+France without further accident.
+
+So that strange Christmas adventure ended happily. It was all long, long
+ago. Humphrey and Winifred and Rafe lived their lives out, and lay down
+to rest a century and a half since under the daisy-sprinkled English
+sod. Little Hexie died an aged woman, before any of us was born. But
+still the beautiful old manor-house stands amid its gardens and pasture
+lands, with the silvery look of time on its gray walls. Still the armed
+figure keeps guard beside the secret staircase, the tapestry hangs in
+the old heavy folds, evening reddens the cedar walls and the polished
+floor, and everything occupies the same place and wears the same look
+that it did when little Rafe played the man in that gallery, and saved
+his brother Humphrey, more than two hundred years ago.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO WISHES.
+
+
+PIEROT and Pierotte were a small brother and sister who were always
+wishing to be something that they were not, or to have something which
+they had not. They were not unhappy or discontented children,--far from
+it. Their home, though poor, was comfortable; their parents, though
+strict, were kind: they were used to both, and desired nothing better.
+Wishing with them was a habit, an idle game which they were forever
+playing. It meant little, but it sounded ill; and a stranger, listening,
+would have judged them less well-off and cheerful than they really were.
+
+"I wish I needn't wake up, but might lie still all day," was Pierotte's
+first thought every morning; while Pierot's was, "I wish Pierotte
+wasn't such a sleepy-head, for then we could get out before sunrise, and
+gather every mushroom in the meadow while the Blaize children are still
+snoring in their beds." Then later, at breakfast, Pierotte would say, "I
+wish I were the Princess, to have coffee and white bread for my
+_déjeuner_, instead of tiresome porridge. I am tired of porridge. White
+bread and coffee must be better,--much better!" But all the time she
+spoke, Pierotte's spoon, travelling between her bowl and mouth, conveyed
+the "tiresome" porridge down her throat as rapidly as though it were the
+finest Mocha; and Pierotte enjoyed it as much, though she fancied that
+she did not.
+
+"I wish I were the young Comte Jules," Pierot would next begin in his
+turn. "No fagots to bind, no cow to fodder, no sheep to tend. Ah! a fine
+life he leads! Beautiful clothes, nothing to do. Six meals a day, two of
+them dinners, a horse to ride,--everything! I wish--"
+
+"And a nice yellow skin and eyes like boiled gooseberries," chimed in
+his mother. "Better wish for these while you are about it. Much you know
+of noblemen and their ways! Didst ever have an indigestion? Tell me
+that. When thou hast tried one, wish for it again, if thou canst."
+
+Then Pierot would laugh sheepishly, shoulder his hatchet, and go off
+after wood, the inseparable Pierotte trotting by his side. As they went,
+it would be,--
+
+"I wish I were a bird," or "I wish we could jump like that grasshopper;"
+or, "Pierotte, I wish our godfather had left us his money. We should be
+rich then."
+
+For the children had the same godfather. Pierotte first, and then Pierot
+having been named after their father's cousin, a well-to-do peasant, who
+it was expected would remember his little relatives in his will. This
+hope had been disappointed, and the children's regrets were natural and
+excusable, since even the wise dame, their mother, did not conceal her
+opinion of Cousin Pierre's conduct, which she considered irregular and
+dishonest. Children soon learn to join in chorus with older voices, and
+Pierot and Pierotte, in this case, found it particularly easy, as it
+chimed with the habit of their lives.
+
+One warm July morning their mother roused them for an early breakfast,
+and sent them into the forest after wood.
+
+"My last fagot is in," she said. "You must bind and tie smartly to-day.
+And, Pierotte, help thy brother all that thou canst, for the father
+cannot spare him to go again this week, and on Saturday is the
+sennight's baking."
+
+So they set forth. The sun was not fairly risen, but his light went
+before his coming, and even in the dim forest-paths it was easy to
+distinguish leaf from flower. Shadows fell across the way from the
+trees, which stood so motionless that they seemed still asleep. Heavy
+dew hung on the branches; the air was full of a rare perfume, made up
+of many different fragrances, mixed and blended by the cunning fingers
+of the night. A little later, and the light broadened. Rays of sun
+filtered through the boughs, a wind stirred, and the trees roused
+themselves, each with a little shake and quiver. Somehow, the forest
+looked unfamiliar, and like a new place to the children that morning.
+They were not often there at so early an hour, it is true, but this did
+not quite account for the strange aspect of the woods. Neither of them
+knew, or, if they knew, they had forgotten, that it was Midsummer's Day,
+the fairies' special festival. Nothing met their eyes, no whir of wings
+or sparkle of bright faces from under the fern-branches, but a sense of
+something unusual was in the air, and the little brother and sister
+walked along in silence, peering curiously this way and that, with an
+instinctive expectation of unseen wonders.
+
+"Isn't it lovely?" whispered Pierotte, at last. "It never looked so
+pretty here as it does to-day. See that wild-rose,--how many flowers it
+has! Oh! what was that? It waved at me!"
+
+"What waved?"
+
+"The rose. It waved a white arm at me!"
+
+"Nonsense! It was the wind," replied Pierot, sturdily, leading the way
+into a side-path which led off from the rose-bush.
+
+"Is it much farther where we get the wood?" asked Pierotte, for the
+children had been walking a considerable time.
+
+"Father said we were to go to the hazel copse," answered Pierot. "We
+must be almost there."
+
+So for half an hour longer they went on and on, but still no sign of
+fallen trees or wood-choppers appeared, and Pierot was forced to confess
+that he must have mistaken the road.
+
+"It is queer, too," he said. "There was that big red toadstool where the
+paths joined. I noticed it the other day when I came with the father.
+What's the matter?" for Pierotte had given a sudden jump.
+
+"Some one laughed," said Pierotte, in an awe-struck tone.
+
+"It was a cricket or tree-toad. Who is here to laugh?"
+
+Pierotte tried hard to believe him, but she did not feel comfortable,
+and held Pierot's sleeve tight as they went. He felt the trembling of
+the little hand.
+
+"Pierotte, thou art a goose!" he said; but all the same he put his arm
+round her shoulders, which comforted her so that she walked less
+timorously.
+
+One path after another they tried, but none of them led to the cleared
+spot where the fallen trees lay. The sun rose high, and the day grew
+warmer, but in the forest a soft breeze blew, and kept them cool. Hour
+after hour passed; the children had walked till they were tired. They
+rested awhile, ate half their dinner of curds and black bread, then they
+went on again, turned, twisted, tried paths to right and paths to left,
+but still the dense woods closed them in, and they had no idea where
+they were or how they should go.
+
+Suddenly the track they were following led to a little clearing, in
+which stood a tiny hut, with a fenced garden full of cherry-trees and
+roses. It was such a surprise to find this fertile and blooming spot in
+the heart of the wild wood, that the children stood still with their
+mouths open, to stare at it.
+
+"How strange!" gasped Pierot, when at last he found his voice. "The
+father always said that ours was the only hut till you got to the other
+side the forest."
+
+"Perhaps this _is_ the other side," suggested Pierotte.
+
+An odd chuckling laugh followed this remark, and they became aware of an
+old woman sitting at the window of the cottage,--a comical old woman,
+with a stiff square cap on her head, sharp twinkling eyes, and a long
+hooked nose. As the children looked, she laughed again, and, extending
+her finger, beckoned them to come nearer.
+
+Timidly they obeyed, setting down their big wood-basket at the gate. The
+old woman leaned over the window to await them, her hand on a square
+glass jar full of yellow liquid, in which floated what seemed to be a
+pickled serpent with his tail in three coils, and the tip in his mouth.
+Pierotte shuddered at the serpent, but Pierot was bolder.
+
+"Did you want us, good madam?" he asked.
+
+"Want you? No," replied the "good madam." "How should I want you? I saw
+you staring at my house as if your eyes would pop out of your heads, and
+I thought, perhaps, you wanted me."
+
+"It was only--we were only--surprised," stammered Pierot. "Because we
+didn't know that there was a house here."
+
+"There was none last night, and there won't be any to-morrow morning--at
+least--none for children to stare at," replied the old woman, coolly.
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" cried Pierot, astonished beyond measure. "How can
+a house be built in one night? And why won't it be here to-morrow?"
+
+"Because to-morrow won't be Midsummer's Day--and to-day is," replied the
+old woman; "and a fairy-house is visible to mortal eyes at that time,
+and no other."
+
+"Fairy-house!" faltered Pierot; while Pierotte, jumping more rapidly to
+a conclusion, fairly screamed: "Oh, Pierot! Madam, then, is a fairy! A
+real fairy! Pierot, think of it, only think of it!"
+
+"Very much at your service," said the old woman, with a malicious smile.
+"Do you like fairies, then? Do you admire my pickled snake? Would you
+wish to pull some flowers?"
+
+Something in the smile made Pierotte draw back; but Pierot said
+politely,--
+
+"One rose, perhaps--since Madam is so good."
+
+The fairy leaned out and plucked a rose from the vine which grew on the
+wall close by.
+
+"Now listen," she said. "Each of my roses encloses a wish. You are great
+wishers, I know;" and her eyes twinkled queerly. "This time the wish
+will come true, so take care what you are about. There will be no coming
+to get me to undo the wish, for I shan't be visible again till this time
+next year on Midsummer's Day,--you know."
+
+"Oh, Pierot! what shall we wish for?" cried Pierotte, much excited; but
+the old woman only repeated, "Take care!" drew her head in at the
+window, and all in a minute--how, they could not explain--the cottage
+had vanished, the garden, the gate,--they were in the wood again, with
+nothing but trees and bushes about them; and all would have seemed like
+a dream, except for the red and fragrant rose which Pierot held in his
+hand.
+
+"What shall we wish for?" repeated Pierotte, as they seated themselves
+under a tree to talk over this marvellous adventure.
+
+"We must be very careful, and ask for something nice," replied Pierot.
+
+"It would be better to wait and think for a long time first," suggested
+Pierotte.
+
+"Thou art right. We will. Art thou not hungry?"
+
+"Oh, so hungry! Let us eat the rest of our bread now. I can't wait any
+longer."
+
+So Pierot produced the big lump of bread, and divided it into two equal
+portions.
+
+"Look, look!" cried Pierotte, as her teeth met in the first mouthful. "A
+cherry-tree, brother,--a real cherry-tree here in the woods! And with
+ripe cherries on it! How good some would be with our bread!"
+
+"First-rate!" cried Pierot; and, putting their bread carefully on the
+grass, both ran to the tree. Alas! the boughs grew high, and the
+cherries hung far beyond their reach. Pierot tried to climb the tree,
+but the stem was both slight and slippery. Then they found a forked
+stick, but vainly attempted to hook and draw down a branch.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wish we were both grown up," cried Pierot, panting with
+exertion.
+
+"So do I. If we were as old as father and mother, we could reach the
+boughs without even getting on tiptoe," chimed in Pierotte.
+
+Luckless words! As Pierot spoke, the rose, which he had stuck in his
+cap, shrivelled and faded, while a queer sensation as if he were being
+carried up into the air swept over him. He clutched at something to hold
+himself down. That something was the cherry-tree bough! He could reach
+it now, and as his eyes turned with dismay toward Pierotte, there she
+stood, also holding a twig of the tree, only two or three inches lower
+than his own. Her pretty round cheeks and childish curls were gone, and
+instead of them he beheld a middle-aged countenance with dull hair, a
+red nose, and a mouth fallen in for lack of teeth. She, on her part,
+unconscious of the change, was staring at him with a horrified
+expression.
+
+"Why, Pierot!" she cried at last, in a voice which sounded as old as
+her face, "how queer you look! You've got a beard, and your forehead is
+all criss-cross and wrinkly, and your chin rough. Dear me, how ugly you
+are! I never thought you could be so ugly."
+
+"Ugly, eh! Perhaps you would like to see your own face," said Pierot,
+enraged at this flattering criticism. "Just wait till we get home, and I
+show you the old looking-glass. But stay, we needn't wait;" and he
+dragged Pierotte to the side of a little pool of still water, which had
+caught his eye among the bushes. "Here's a looking-glass ready made," he
+went on. "Look, Pierotte, and see what a beauty you have become."
+
+Poor Pierotte! She took one look, gave a scream, and covered her face
+with her hands.
+
+"That me?" she cried. "Oh! I never, never will think it! What is the
+matter with us, Pierot? Was it that horrid fairy, do you think? Did she
+bewitch us?"
+
+"The wish!" faltered Pierot, who at that moment caught sight of the
+faded rose in his cap. "I wished that we were both grown up, don't you
+remember? Oh, what a fool I was!"
+
+"You horrid boy! You have gone and wished me into an ugly old woman!
+I'll never forgive you!" sobbed Pierotte.
+
+"It was your wish too. You said you would like to be as old as father
+and mother. So you needn't call me horrid!" answered Pierot, angrily.
+
+Silence followed, broken only by Pierotte's sobs. The two old children
+sat with their backs to each other, under different trees. By and by
+Pierot's heart began to smite him.
+
+"It was more my fault than hers," he thought; and, turning round a
+little way, he said coaxingly, "Pierotte."
+
+No answer. Pierotte only stuck out her shoulder a little and remained
+silent.
+
+"Don't look so cross," went on Pierot. "You can't think how horrid it
+makes you--a woman of your age!"
+
+"I'm not a woman of my age. Oh, how can you say such things?" sobbed
+Pierotte. "I don't want to be grown-up. I want to be a little girl
+again."
+
+"You used to be always wishing you were big," remarked her now big
+brother.
+
+"Y--es, so I was; but I never meant all at once. I wanted to be big
+enough to spin--and the--mother--was--going--to teach me," went on poor
+Pierotte, crying bitterly, "and I wanted to be as big as Laura
+Blaize--and--pretty--and some day have a sweetheart, as she
+had--and--but what's the use--I've lost it all, and I'm grown up, and
+old and ugly already, and the mother won't know me, and the father will
+say, 'My little Pierotte--Coeur de St. Martin--impossible! get out, you
+witch!'" Overcome by this dreadful picture, Pierotte hid her face and
+cried louder than ever.
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Pierot, after a pause, "don't let us go home
+at all. We will just hide here in the woods for a year, and when
+Midsummer's Day comes round, we'll hunt till we find the fairy house
+again, and beg the fairy, on our knees, for another wish, and if she
+says 'yes,' we'll wish at once to be little just as we were this
+morning, and _then_ we'll go home directly."
+
+"Poor mother; she will think we are dead!" sighed Pierotte.
+
+"That's no worse than if she saw us like this. I'd be conscripted most
+likely and sent off to fight, and me only twelve years old! And you'd
+have a horrid time of it with the Blaize boys. Robert Blaize said you
+were the prettiest girl in Balne aux Bois. I wonder what he'd say now!"
+
+"Oh, yes, let us stay here," shuddered Pierotte. "I couldn't bear to see
+the Blaize boys now. But then--it will be dark soon--shan't you be
+frightened to stay in the woods all night?"
+
+"Oh! a man like me isn't easily frightened," said Pierot, stoutly, but
+his teeth chattered a little.
+
+"It's so queer to hear you call yourself 'a man,'" remarked Pierotte.
+
+"And it's just as queer to hear you call yourself a little girl,"
+answered Pierot, with a glance at the antiquated face beside him.
+
+"Dear, how my legs shake, and how stiff my knees are!" sighed Pierotte.
+"Do grown-up people feel like that always?"
+
+"I don't know," said Pierot, whose own legs lacked their old
+springiness. "Would you like some cherries now, Pierotte? I can reach
+them easily."
+
+"Cherries! Those sour things? No, thank you. They would be sure to
+disagree with me," returned Pierotte, pettishly.
+
+"Times are changed," muttered Pierot; but he dared not speak aloud.
+
+"Where shall we sleep?" asked Pierotte.
+
+"Under the trees, so long as the summer lasts."
+
+"Gracious! We shall both die of rheumatism."
+
+"Rheumatism? What an idea for a child like you!"
+
+"I wish I _were_ a child," said Pierotte, with a groan. "Here's a tree
+with grass below it, and I'm getting tired and sleepy."
+
+When the brother and sister woke it was broad sunlight again.
+
+"One day gone of our year," said Pierot, trying to be cheerful.
+
+It was hard work as time went on, and with all their constant walking
+and wandering they never seemed to find their way out of the forest, or
+of that particular part of it where their luckless adventure had
+befallen them. Turn which way they would, the paths always appeared to
+lead them round to the same spot; it was like bewitchment; they could
+make nothing out of it. The dulness of their lives was varied only by an
+occasional quarrel. Pierot would essay to climb a tree, and Pierotte,
+grown sage and proper, would upbraid him for behaving so
+foolishly,--"just like a boy,"--or he would catch her using the pool as
+a mirror, and would tease her for caring so much for a plain old face
+when there was nobody but himself to look. How the time went they had no
+idea. It seemed always daylight, and yet weeks, if not months, must have
+passed, they thought, and Pierot at last began to suspect the fairy of
+having changed the regular course of the sun so as to cheat them out of
+the proper time for finding her at home.
+
+"It's just like her," he said. "She is making the days seem all alike,
+so that we may not know when Midsummer comes. Pierotte, I'll tell you
+what, we must be on the lookout, and search for the little house every
+day, for if we forget just once, that will be the very time, depend upon
+it."
+
+So every day, and all day long, the two old children wandered to and fro
+in search of the fairy cot. For a long time their quest was in vain;
+but at last, one bright afternoon, just before sunset, as they were
+about giving up the hunt for that day, the woods opened in the same
+sudden way and revealed the garden, the hut, and--yes--at the window the
+pointed cap, the sharp black eyes. It was the fairy herself; they had
+found her at last.
+
+For a moment they were too much bewildered to move; then side by side
+they hurried into the garden without waiting for invitation.
+
+"Well, my old gaffer, what can I do for you, or for you, dame?" asked
+the fairy, benevolently.
+
+"Oh, please, I am not a dame, he is not a gaffer," cried Pierotte,
+imploringly. "I am little Pierotte"--and she bobbed a courtesy. "And
+this is Pierot, my brother."
+
+"Pierot and Pierotte! Wonderful!" said the fairy. "But, my dear
+children, what has caused this change in your appearance? You have aged
+remarkably since I saw you last."
+
+"Indeed, we have," replied Pierot, with a grimace.
+
+"Well, age is a very respectable thing. Some persons are always wishing
+to be old," remarked the fairy, maliciously. "You find it much
+pleasanter than being young, I dare say."
+
+"Indeed, we don't," said Pierotte, wiping her eyes on her apron.
+
+"No? Well, that is sad, but I _have_ heard people say the same before
+you."
+
+"Oh, please, please," cried Pierot and Pierotte, falling on their knees
+before the window, "please, dear, kind fairy, forgive us. We don't like
+to be grown-up at all. We want to be little and young again. Please,
+dear fairy, turn us into children as we were before."
+
+"What would be the use?" said the old woman. "You'd begin wanting to be
+somebody else at once if you were turned back to what you were before."
+
+"We won't, indeed we won't," pleaded the children, very humbly.
+
+The fairy leaned out and gathered a rose.
+
+"Very well," she said. "Here's another wish for you. See that it is a
+wise one this time, for if you fail, it will be of no use to come to
+me."
+
+With these words, she shut the blinds suddenly, and lo! in one second,
+house, garden, and all had vanished, and Pierot and Pierotte were in the
+forest again.
+
+There was no deliberation this time as to what the wish should be.
+
+"I wish I was a little boy," shouted Pierot, holding the rose over his
+head with a sort of ecstasy.
+
+"And I wish I was a little girl, the same little girl exactly that I
+used to be," chorused Pierotte.
+
+The rose seemed to melt in air, so quickly did it wither and collapse.
+And the brother and sister embraced and danced with joy, for each in the
+other's face saw the fulfilment of their double wish.
+
+"Oh, how young you look! Oh, how pretty you are! Oh, what happiness it
+is not to be old any longer! The dear fairy! The kind fairy!" These were
+the exclamations which the squirrels and the birds heard for the next
+ten minutes, and the birds and the squirrels seemed to be amused, for
+certain queer and unexplained little noises like laughs sounded from
+under the leaves and behind the bushes.
+
+"Let us go home at once to mother," cried Pierotte.
+
+There was no difficulty about the paths now. After walking awhile,
+Pierot began to recognize this turn and that. There was the huntsman's
+oak and the Dropping Well; and there--yes, he was sure--lay the hazel
+copse where the father had bidden them go for wood.
+
+"I say," cried Pierotte, with a sudden bright thought, "we will wait and
+bind one fagot for the mother's oven--the poor mother! Who has fetched
+her wood all this time, do you suppose?"
+
+Plenty of sticks lay on the ground ready for binding. The wood-choppers
+had just left off their work, it would seem. Pierotte's basket was
+filled, a fagot tied and lifted on to Pierot's shoulders, and through
+the gathering twilight they hurried homeward. They were out of the wood
+soon. There was the hut, with a curl of smoke rising from the chimney;
+there was the mother standing at the door and looking toward the forest.
+What _would_ she say when she saw them?
+
+What she said astonished them very much.
+
+"How long you have been!" were the words, but the tone was not one of
+surprise.
+
+"O mother, mother!" cried Pierotte, clinging to her arm, while Pierot
+said, "We were afraid to come home because we looked so old, and we
+feared you would not know us, but now we are young again."
+
+"Old! young!" said the mother. "What does the lad mean! One does not age
+so fast between sunrise and sunset as to be afraid to come home. Are you
+dreaming, Pierot?"
+
+"But we have been away a year," said Pierot, passing his hand before his
+eyes as if trying to clear his ideas.
+
+"A year! Prithee! And the sheets which I hung out at noon not fairly dry
+yet. A year! And the goats thou drovest to pasture before breakfast not
+in the shed yet! A year! Thou wouldst better not let the father hear
+thee prate thus! What, crying, Pierotte! Here's a pretty to-do because,
+forsooth, you are come in an hour late!"
+
+An hour late! The children looked at each other in speechless amazement.
+To this day the amazement continues. The mother still persists that they
+were absent but a few hours. Where, then, were the weeks spent in the
+wood, the gray hair, the wrinkles, the wanderings in search of the old
+woman and her hut? Was all and each but a bit of enchantment, a trick of
+the mirth-loving fairies? They could not tell, and neither can I.
+Fairies are unaccountable folk, and their doings surpass our guessing,
+who are but mortal, and stupid at that! One thing I know, that the two
+children since that day have dropped their foolish habit of wishing, and
+are well content to remain little Pierot and Pierotte till the time
+comes for them to grow older, as it will only too soon.
+
+
+
+
+BLUE AND PINK.
+
+
+TWO valentines lay together in the pillar post-box. One was pink and one
+was blue. Pink lay a-top, and they crackled to each other softly in the
+paper-language, invented long since by Papyrus, the father of
+Manuscript, and used by all written and printed sheets unto this day.
+Listen hard, next time you visit the reading-room at the Public Library,
+and you will hear the newspapers exchanging remarks across the table in
+this language.
+
+Said the pink valentine: "I am prettier than you, much prettier, Miss
+Blue."
+
+Blue was modester. "That may be true, my dear Miss Pink; still, some
+folks like blue best, I think," she replied.
+
+"I wonder they should," went on Pink, talking in prose now, for
+valentines can speak in prose and in rhyme equally well. "You are such a
+chilly color. Now _I_ warm people. They smile when they see me. I like
+that. It is sweet to give pleasure."
+
+"I like to give pleasure, too," said Blue, modestly. "And I hope I may,
+for something beautiful is written inside me."
+
+"What? oh! what?" cried Pink.
+
+"I cannot say," sighed Blue. "How can one tell what is inside one? But I
+know it is something sweet, because
+
+          She who sent me here
+          Is so very fair and dear."
+
+Blue was running into rhyme again, as valentines will.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," said Pink, digging her sharp elbow into
+Blue's smooth side. "Nothing is written inside me, and I'm glad of it. I
+am too beautiful to be written on. In the middle of my page is a
+picture, Cupid, with roses and doves. Oh, so fine! There is a border
+too, wreaths of flowers, flowers of all colors, and a motto, 'Be mine.'
+Be mine! What can be better than that? Have you got flowers and 'Be
+mine' inside, you conceited thing? If not, say so, and be ashamed, as
+you deserve to be."
+
+Again the pink elbow dented Blue's smooth envelope.
+
+But Blue only shook her head softly, and made no answer. Pink grew angry
+at this. She caught Blue with her little teeth of mucilage and shook her
+viciously.
+
+"Speak," she said. "I hate your stuck-up, shut-up people. Speak!"
+
+But Blue only smiled, and again shook her head.
+
+Just then the pillar-post opened with a click. The postman had come. He
+scooped up Pink, Blue, and all the other letters, and threw them into
+his wallet. A fat yellow envelope of law-papers separated the two
+valentines, and they had no further talk.
+
+Half an hour later, Pink was left at the door of a grand house, almost
+the finest in the town. Charles, the waiter, carried her into the
+parlor, and Pink said to herself: "What a thing it is to have a mission.
+My mission is to give pleasure!"
+
+"A letter for you, Miss Eva," said Charles. He did not smile.
+Well-behaved waiters never smile; besides, Charles did not like Eva.
+
+"Where is your tray?" demanded Eva, crossly. "You are always forgetting
+what mamma told you. Go and get it." But when she saw Pink in her
+beautiful envelope, unmistakably a valentine, she decided not to wait.
+
+"Never mind, this time," she said; "but don't let it happen again."
+
+"Who's your letter from, Evy?" asked grandmamma.
+
+"I haven't opened it yet, and I wish you wouldn't call me Evy; it sounds
+so backwoodsy," replied Eva, who, for some mysterious reason, had waked
+that morning very much out of temper.
+
+"Eva!" said her father, sternly.
+
+Eva had forgotten that papa was there. To hide her confusion, she opened
+the pink envelope so hastily as to tear it all across.
+
+"Oh dear!" she complained. "Everything goes wrong."
+
+Then she unfolded the valentine. Pink, who had felt as if a sword were
+thrust through her heart when her envelope was torn, brightened up.
+
+"Now," she thought, "when she sees the flowers, Cupid, and doves, she
+_will_ be pleased."
+
+But it was not pleasure which shone on Eva's countenance.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked papa, seeing her face swell and angry tears
+filling her eyes.
+
+"That horrid Jim Slack!" cried Eva. "He said he'd send me a valentine
+just like Pauline's, and he hasn't. Hers was all birds and butterflies,
+and had verses--"
+
+"Yours seems pretty enough," said papa, consolingly.
+
+"It's not pretty enough," responded Eva, passionately. "It's a stupid,
+ugly thing. I hate it. I won't have it."
+
+And, horrible to state, she flung Pink, actually flung her, into the
+middle of the fire. There was time for but one crackling gasp; then the
+yellow flame seized and devoured all--Cupid, doves, flowers! Another
+second, they were gone. A black scroll edged with fiery sparkles reared
+itself up in the midst of the glow; then an air-current seized it, it
+rose, and the soul of Pink flew up the chimney.
+
+Blue, meantime, was lying on the lap of a little girl of twelve, a mile
+or more from this scene of tragedy. Two plump hands caressed her softly.
+
+"Sister, may I read it to you just once more?" begged a coaxing voice.
+
+"Yes, Pet, once more. That'll make five times, and they say there is
+luck in odd numbers," said another voice, kind and gay.
+
+So Pet read:--
+
+          "My dear is like a dewy rose
+             All in the early morn;
+           But never on her stem there grows
+             A single wounding thorn.
+
+          "My dear is like a violet shy,
+             Who hides her in the grass,
+           And holds a fragrant bud on high
+             To bless all men who pass.
+
+          "My dear is like a merry bird,
+             My dear is like a rill,
+           Like all sweet things or seen or heard,
+             Only she's sweeter still.
+
+          "And while she blooms beside my door,
+             Or sings beneath my sky,
+           My heart with happiness runs o'er,
+             Content and glad am I.
+
+          "So, sweetheart, read me as I run,
+             Smile on this simple rhyme,
+           And choose me out to be your one
+             And only                VALENTINE."
+
+"Isn't it lovely?" said Pet, her blue eyes dancing as she looked up.
+
+"Yes, it's very nice," replied sister.
+
+"I wish everybody in the world had such a nice valentine," went on Pet.
+"How pleased they'd be! Do you suppose anybody has sent Lotty one? Only
+that about the bird wouldn't be true, because Lotty's so sick, you know,
+and always stays in bed."
+
+"But Lotty sings," said sister. "She's always singing and cheerful, so
+she's like a bird in that."
+
+          "Birdies with broken wings
+             Hide from each other;
+           But babies in trouble
+             Can run home to mother,"
+
+hummed Pet, who knew the "St. Nicholas" jingles by heart. "But poor
+Lotty hasn't any mamma to run to," she added softly.
+
+"No; and that's a reason why it would be so specially nice to give her
+the pleasure of a valentine like yours."
+
+"I wish somebody had sent her one," said Pet, thoughtfully.
+
+"I don't suppose there is another in the world just like yours," said
+sister, smiling at Pet.
+
+"Then she _can't_ have one. What a pity!"
+
+"She might have this of yours," suggested sister.
+
+"But--then--I shouldn't have any," cried Pet.
+
+"Oh yes, you would, and I'll tell you how," said sister. "You've had all
+the pleasure of getting it, and opening and reading it, already.
+_That's_ yours to keep. Now, if I copy the verses for you on plain white
+paper, you can read them over as often as you like, till by and by you
+learn them by heart. When you have done that they will be yours for
+always; and, meanwhile, Lotty will have the pleasure of getting the
+valentine, opening, reading, learning, just as you have done--so you
+will get a double pleasure instead of one. Don't you see?"
+
+"That will be splendid," cried Pet, joyously. "Poor Lotty, how glad she
+will be! And I shall have two pleasures instead of one, shan't I?"
+
+"How nice," thought Blue, "to have given two pleasures already!"
+
+Sister copied the verses, a fresh envelope was found, and Blue was sent
+on her way. When she was carried upstairs to Lotty's room, she thought
+it the pleasantest place she had ever seen. Sunshine was there--on the
+wall, on the plants in the window, most of all in Lotty's face, as she
+sat up in bed, knitting with red worsted and big needles. When Blue was
+put into her hands, she laughed with astonishment.
+
+"For me!" she cried. "Who could have sent it? How pretty it is--how
+pretty! A great deal too pretty for me. Oh, what a kind, dear somebody
+there is in the world!"
+
+Everybody in the house was glad because Lotty was glad. Grandmamma came
+in to hear the valentine; so did papa, and Jack, Lotty's big brother,
+and Fred, her little one. Even the cook made up an excuse about the
+pudding, and stole upstairs to hear the "fine verses which somebody had
+sint to Miss Lotty. It's swate as roses she is, any day," said cook;
+"and good luck to him for sinding it, whoiver he is."
+
+By and by Lotty's tender heart began to busy itself with a new plan.
+
+"Grandma," she said, "I'm thinking about little Mary Riley. She works so
+hard, and she hardly ever has anything nice happen to her. Don't you
+think I might send her my valentine--in a different envelope, you know,
+with her name on it and all? She'd be so pleased."
+
+"But I thought you liked it so much yourself, dear," replied grandmamma,
+unwilling to have her darling spare one bit of brightness out of her
+sick-room life.
+
+"Oh, I do; that's the reason I want to give it away," said Lotty,
+simply, and stroking Blue, who, had she known how, would gladly have
+purred under the soft touch. "But I shall go on liking it all the same
+if Mary has it, and she'll like it too. Don't you see, grandmamma? I've
+copied the verses in my book, so that I can keep them."
+
+Grandmamma consented. The new envelope was found, Mary's address was
+written upon it, and away went happy Blue to give pleasure to a fresh
+friend.
+
+"This is best of all," she said to herself, as Mary laid aside her weary
+sewing to read over and over again the wonderful verses, which seemed to
+have dropped out of fairy-land. She almost cried with pleasure that they
+should be sent to _her_.
+
+"I wish I could buy a frame for 'em--a beautiful gold frame," she
+whispered to herself.
+
+Pink would have been vain had she heard this; but Blue glowed with a
+purer feeling--the happiness of giving happiness.
+
+Mary read the verses over a dozen times at least before putting them
+aside; but she did put them aside, for she had work to finish, and
+daylight was precious. The work was a birthday frock. When the last
+stitch was set, she folded it carefully, put on cloak and bonnet, and
+prepared to carry the frock home. Last of all, she dropped Blue into her
+pocket. She did not like to leave it behind. Something might happen,
+she thought.
+
+It was quite a grand house to which the birthday frock went. In fact; it
+was next door but one to the house in which Pink met with her melancholy
+fate. The little girl who was to wear the frock was very glad to see
+Mary, and her mamma came upstairs to pay for the work.
+
+"Have you any change?" she said. "Come nearer to the fire. It is cold
+to-night."
+
+Mary was confused by this kindness. Her fingers trembled as she searched
+for her porte-monnaie, which was at the bottom of her pocket, underneath
+her handkerchief. She twitched out the handkerchief hastily, and with
+it, alas! came Blue. They were close to the grate, and Blue was flung
+into the fire. Mary gave a scream and made a snatch. It was too late!
+Already the flames had seized it; her beloved valentine was gone,
+vanished into ashes!
+
+"Was it anything valuable?" asked the lady, as Mary gave a little sob.
+
+"Oh, n-o--yes, ma'am; that is, it was verses. I never had any before.
+And they were s-o beautiful!" replied poor Mary, half crying.
+
+The lady gave her an extra dollar for the sewing, but this did not
+console Mary.
+
+Meantime the ghost of Blue flew up the chimney. Upon the roof hovered a
+dim gray shade. It was the ghost of Pink, wind-blown for a little space.
+
+"How sad life is!" sighed Pink's ghost--
+
+          "I was young, I was fair,
+           And now I'm in the air,
+           As ugly gray ashes as ever were."
+
+"How sweet life is!" murmured the ghost of Blue--
+
+          "I've only lived a little while,
+           But I have made three people smile."
+
+A chickadee who heard the two ghosts discoursing now flew down from the
+roof-peak. He gathered Blue's ashes up into his beak, flew down into
+the garden, and strewed them about the root of a rose-tree.
+
+"In the spring you'll be a rose," he said.
+
+Then he flew back, took up Pink's ashes, bore them into another garden,
+and laid them in the midst of a bed of chickweed.
+
+"Make that chickweed crop a little richer, if you can," he chirped. "All
+the better for the dicky-birds if you do; and a good thing for you too,
+to be of use for once in your life."
+
+Then the chickadee flew away. Ghosts have to get accustomed to plain
+speaking.
+
+This was the end of Blue and Pink.
+
+
+
+
+A FORTUNATE MISFORTUNE.
+
+
+EMMY GALE was far from anticipating misfortunes or suspecting that she
+was going to have any as she packed her trunk for the much-talked-of
+visit to Elliott's Mills. The very putting of the things into the trays
+was a pleasure, for it meant the satisfaction of a long-deferred wish.
+To go to Elliott's Mills had been the desire of her heart ever since she
+was a little girl of eight, and she was now fourteen; and she folded her
+dresses and patted each collar and pair of stockings into place with a
+glad feeling at her heart.
+
+I must tell you about Elliott's Mills, or you will not understand why
+Emmy was so pleased to go there. It was a very small village in the
+western part of New York. To reach it you had to take, first a whole
+day's journey by rail, and then a two-mile drive over a rather rough
+road. When arrived there you found yourself in an ugly, unattractive
+little wooden hamlet, set down among low hills and tracts of woodland.
+This does not sound over-delightful, does it? But what made Elliott's
+Mills so charming was that Aunt Emma lived there during the summer, and
+the life that she and her family led had an inexpressible fascination
+for all the young people in the connection.
+
+Aunt Emma's home had always been in New York City until her husband, who
+was a lawyer, came into possession some years before of an enormous
+tract of land, some thousands of acres in extent, in the western part of
+the State. It became necessary for him to spend some months there every
+year to look after it. First he built a small law office and a couple of
+bedrooms for use on these occasions. Then Aunt Emma wanted to go with
+him, and another room or two was added for her; and so it went on till
+the little law office had grown into a big, rambling country house of
+the most irregular shape, with small chambers opening out of large ones,
+doors, cupboards, entries, and staircases where you least expected them,
+little flights of steps leading up into rooms and down into rooms--just
+the sort of house, in short, which boys and girls delight in. Aunt Emma,
+who was a woman of admirable sense, made no attempt to introduce the
+elegances of the city into the woods, not even when it grew to be her
+home for the greater part of the year. Air, space, and freedom to do as
+you liked were the luxuries of the place. All the bedrooms were
+furnished with the same small-patterned blue ingrain carpet and little
+sets of oak-painted furniture precisely alike. The big parlor and
+dining-room had wicker chairs and willow tables, roomy sofas and couches
+covered with well-washed chintz, and skins and rugs on the matted
+floors. Deer's antlers in the hall held hats, whips, and coats. There
+was a garden of sweet common flowers to supply the summer vases,
+crackling wood-fires for cool evenings, and a bookcase of light reading
+for rainy days. The table was deliciously supplied with game and trout,
+wild fruits and country cream, and you might sit on the floor and tell
+ghost-stories till midnight if you cared to do so. In the big stables a
+little troop of Indian ponies, broken to saddle or harness, were kept.
+Most of them had Indian names, in honor of the half-civilized tribe
+which lived close by on their reservation. There was Chief Blacksnake
+and Lady Blacksnake and Young Blacksnake, Uncas and Pottomet and
+"Xantego," commonly pronounced "Want-to-go," and riding and driving went
+on the summer through among the visitors who filled the ample,
+hospitable house. There seemed to be a pony for everybody, and everybody
+liked to have a pony, and the ponies themselves enjoyed it.
+
+Emmy Gale was her aunt Emma's namesake, but, as it happened, she had
+never been at Elliott's Mills, though her elder sisters, Bess and Jean,
+had made many visits there. This was partly accidental, for twice it had
+been arranged that she should go, and twice illness had prevented. Once,
+her cousin Lena had measles, and the other time Emmy herself had scarlet
+fever. Nobody was in fault either time, still it rankled in Emmy's mind
+that she should never have seen the place about which Bess and Jean were
+forever raving. And now her time was come; she was actually packing her
+trunk. No wonder she was pleased.
+
+I must just say one word about Emmy before I start her on her journey.
+She was very tall of her age, thin, and rather awkward, as overgrown
+girls are apt to be. A passionate desire to be liked was one of the
+ruling motives of her nature, but she was very apt to fancy that people
+did not like her, and to worry and grieve over it in a morbid manner.
+When quite at her ease, she was an attractive girl, loving and bright
+and funny, but poor Emmy was seldom quite at ease. She could only be
+that when she forgot herself, and that was not often; for what with
+wondering if people would approve of her, and vexing herself with the
+idea that they did not, and fidgeting as to _why_ they did not, she
+contrived to be the subject of her own thoughts for a considerable part
+of the time.
+
+Her escort was an old gentleman, a friend of her father's. He did not
+say much to Emmy, but he was very polite as old gentlemen go, and in the
+course of the long day's journey bought for her three illustrated
+papers, half a dozen beautiful red apples, and a "prize package of
+pop-corn," which, had it chosen to live up to its label, _might_ have
+had a gold bracelet in it, but in reality contained nothing better than
+a brass ring. Emmy liked the apples, and did not at all resent her
+escort's lack of conversation. In fact, she scarcely noticed it, so busy
+was she in thinking of the joys to come. With her eyes fixed on the long
+reaches of soft red and yellow woods which seemed to be running past
+the train as the train ran by them, she made pictures to herself of what
+was going to happen. Lena would come down at the carriage to meet her,
+she was quite sure. And perhaps Bess or Jean, who had been at Elliott's
+Mills for the past month, would come too. It would be about half-past
+five when the train was due, so they could reach the house just before
+supper, which is always a pleasant time to arrive anywhere. It all
+seemed most promising as she thought it over.
+
+The first bit of ill luck which befell Emmy was that the train proved to
+be behind time. There were tiresome stops and unaccountable delays. At
+noon the conductor owned to being two hours late, so they kept on losing
+time. Railroads are like a dissected puzzle--if one piece gets out of
+its place it makes the other pieces wrong. They had to wait for all the
+other trains, and telegraph and stand still. Tired and vexed, Emmy sat
+with her nose pressed against the window, looking out into the
+deepening dusk as the engine puffed and snorted and ran the train slowly
+back and forward, on to sidings and off them. Her impatience grew and
+grew, till it seemed as if she _must_ jump out and push something, the
+locomotive or the conductor--she didn't care which--anything to make
+them go on; and when eight o'clock came and nine, with the Mills station
+still far ahead, she felt so worn out and discouraged that she could
+easily have cried, except that girls of fourteen do not like to cry in
+public. The only thing that diverted her from her woes was watching two
+girls of her own age who sat in front of her, and were "capping verses"
+to pass away the time. The train made a great deal of noise, so that
+they had to scream to make themselves heard; then the roar and rumble
+ceased suddenly in that queer way which is common to all railroads, and
+a very high-pitched voice was heard to shriek out the following
+extraordinary question,--
+
+"Pray how was the Devil dressed? D--" Everybody jumped, and Emmy's old
+gentleman put on his spectacles and gazed long and solemnly at the young
+ladies who seemed to be conversing on such extraordinary topics, while
+they hid their faces and giggled violently for two miles.
+
+It was exactly ten when they finally reached the Mills station. The old
+gentleman helped Emmy out, the train rushed on, and she found herself
+standing alone on a wet platform beside her trunk. Her aunt's man
+William came to meet her, swinging a lantern.
+
+"Didn't any one come down to meet me?" she asked.
+
+"No, miss. Mr. Tom drove down for the two o'clock express, and sent back
+word that your train would be late, and I must be sure to fetch a big
+lantern, for the road is all washed away by the freshet. Is that your
+box, miss? We'd better start at once, for it's going to take us two
+hours and a half to get over to the village."
+
+"Two hours and a half!" gasped Emmy.
+
+"Yes, miss, because of the roads. They're almost dangerous. We'll have
+to walk nearly the whole way, for it's so dark that we can't see where
+we're going."
+
+It was quite two hours and a half before they reached the house. Emmy
+had fallen asleep half a dozen times, and waked up to be conscious that
+she was stiff, chilled, and aching in every bone, and that William was
+walking at the horses' heads, holding the lantern up high to make sure
+of the road. At last they turned in at a gate and he came to the window
+to say encouragingly, "Just there, miss."
+
+"What time is it?" asked Emmy.
+
+"Nigh on to one, miss."
+
+"Oh dear, and they will all be in bed!" thought Emmy; but she was really
+too tired to care much about it. A sleepy-looking maid was sitting up to
+receive her. Mrs. Elliott had left her love, she said, and the young
+lady must take some hot soup and get to bed as fast as possible. It was
+not at all the reception which Emmy had dreamed of, but she was so worn
+out with fatigue that bed seemed the only thing in the world worth
+thinking of just then, and there, with the assistance of the maid, she
+soon found herself.
+
+When she woke, the room was bright with sun, which streamed into the
+window with such an "up a long time ago" expression, that Emmy knew she
+must have slept late. She was still tired, and lay quietly looking about
+her and recognizing all the little conveniences and devices of which she
+had heard from her sisters, till a little tap sounded, the door softly
+opened, and Aunt Emma's kind, handsome face looked in.
+
+"Good morning, my dear; I hope you are rested," she said, with a kiss.
+"I would not let any one wake you, for you must have been tired out. Now
+you must have some breakfast." And in another moment, with the ease
+which seemed to characterize all arrangements in which Aunt Emma had a
+share, in came a napkin-covered tray borne by a neat little maid, with
+_such_ a nice breakfast! A big pink-and-white cup full of hot cocoa,
+broiled chicken, delicious potato stewed with cream, two white rolls,
+and a baked pear in a saucer. Nothing could have been more tempting to
+hungry Emmy, but even as she sipped the first spoonful of cocoa, the
+question at her heart found its way to her lips: "Aunty, where are the
+girls?"
+
+"The girls," said aunty in her pleasant, decided voice, "are gone to
+Niagara for two or three days. A party was made up for some friends of
+your cousin May's who are staying with us, and Bess and Jean and Lena
+went too. They will be back day after to-morrow, and meanwhile you will
+have a chance to get thoroughly rested."
+
+"Gone to Niagara!" exclaimed Emmy. "Oh, why didn't they wait till I
+came!"
+
+"That would not have been possible, my dear," said her aunt. "The
+Jarvises, for whom the party was made, only stay with us till next
+Thursday, and May expects other guests early in the week, so she could
+not be away later." Then some one called her, and Aunt Emma went away,
+just saying kindly as she walked off, "Make a good breakfast, dear!"
+
+Poor Emmy! she was too hungry not to eat, but the meal was literally
+mingled with tears. She sobbed with each mouthful, and more than one
+salt drop hopped down her nose to flavor the baked pear. It was foolish
+of her, I admit, but disappointments are hard to bear when one is only
+fourteen years old and very tired into the bargain, and this was a
+really great disappointment. Three whole days all alone with aunty, and
+the others away enjoying themselves at Niagara without her! She was
+rather afraid of her aunt, and, though very desirous to win her good
+opinion, this hidden fear made Emmy so shy and awkward that she never
+appeared at her best when in her company.
+
+Sadly and languidly she got up and began to dress, feeling as if the
+heart was taken out of everything. Raising the lid of the soap-dish,
+there on the nice little pink cake of soap lay a note with "Emmy"
+written on it. Much wondering, she opened. It was from her sister Bess,
+and it read:--
+
+          "DEAR EMMY,--Don't be poky because you find us
+          gone. It's only for a day or two, and we shall be
+          back almost before you miss us." ("Not much chance
+          of that!" reflected Emmy, dolorously.) "Be a good
+          girl, laugh and talk with aunty, pet Uncle Tom,
+          _don't poke_, and be glad to see us on Saturday
+          night.
+
+                                        "Your loving
+                                                    "BESS."
+
+"How can I help poking, and what does she mean anyway?" thought Emmy.
+However, this proof that she had been remembered cheered her a little,
+and she went on with her dressing in better spirits. A long folded slip
+of paper was pinned round the handle of the water-jug. Another note!
+from Jean this time.
+
+          "DEAR LITTLE EMMY," (Emmy was half a head taller
+          than Jean!)--"We hate to go away and leave you,
+          and we wouldn't if it were not so perfectly
+          splendid to see Niagara. It won't be long before
+          we come back, and you mustn't be lonely. Aunty is
+          so nice, and, dear, if only you wouldn't be afraid
+          of her! She doesn't like shy people, so don't be
+          shy. There's a lovely story-book in the bookcase
+          in the dining-room: 'The Dove in the Eagle's
+          Nest.' It's on the third shelf from the top. Do
+          read it while we are away! You will like it, I am
+          sure.
+
+                                  "Your affectionate
+                                                  "JEAN."
+
+Jean was the kindest little soul in the world, but this hint about Aunt
+Emma's not liking shy people was a mistake. It made Emmy more frightened
+and ill at ease than ever.
+
+Washing over, she went to the dressing-table to braid her hair. Behold!
+another billet on the pincushion. This was in rhyme:--
+
+          "O Emmy tall, O Emmy fair,
+           Don't forget to brush your hair.
+           Pin your ruffle neat and straight,
+           Be down to breakfast at half-past eight;
+           Don't crook your shoulders when you sit down,
+           Don't rip the gathers of your gown,
+           Don't set up to be lonesome, pray,
+           Because we girls are gone away,
+           But cheer up auntie and Uncle Tom,
+           And we'll be back anon, anon!"
+                                        "ANON-Y-MOUS."
+
+This made Emmy smile, and she did her hair quite cheerfully. When she
+opened the top drawer to put away her comb and brush, she spied a small
+parcel directed to herself, and laid there to catch her eye. She gave a
+little laugh. How nice in the girls to do this for her!
+
+The parcel was from Lena. It contained a very pretty velvet pincushion,
+mounted on a fluted shell, and a note.
+
+          "DEAR EMMY,--We are _so_ sorry not to be here when
+          you come, but we shall only be gone a little
+          while. Marian Jarvis is such a nice girl! She
+          wants to see you _dreadfully_. I do hope you will
+          like her. You must do everything pleasant that you
+          can think of till we come back.
+
+                                      "Your loving
+                                                "LENA."
+
+One more surprise awaited Emmy. She was just leaving the room when she
+spied a large piece of brown paper pinned to the wall. On it was the
+following mysterious inscription,--
+
+"N. E. corner of room, under edge of carpet. Search rewarded."
+
+It took her some time to make out which was the northeast corner; when
+at last she identified it, all that appeared from under the carpet was a
+similar bit of paper with another mysterious inscription,--
+
+"S. W. corner of room, under edge of carpet. Search rewarded."
+
+The reward of search in this instance was a long narrow parcel
+containing two brand-new hair-pins and a single line of writing,--
+
+"Behind looking-glass on bureau."
+
+Highly diverted, Emmy hastened to tip the glass, and there, stored away
+behind it, she beheld a small white jam-pot. A label tucked in between
+lid and jar said succinctly,--
+
+"Plum jam at bedtime eaten with a hair-pin is _goloptious_! Try it!"
+
+All these jokes and surprises raised Emmy's spirits so that she ran
+down-stairs quite gleefully. But there things went wrong again. Aunt
+Emma was deep in household accounts. She nodded kindly to Emmy and said
+a few pleasant words; then she became absorbed in her reckonings and
+forgot her for the moment. Emmy was by no means one of those children
+who can be trusted to entertain themselves _in the room where any one
+else is sitting_. She was too self-conscious, too apt to imagine that
+people were criticising what she did or said. She wanted to ramble about
+the house and identify the things and places she had heard described,
+and if she had done this simply and naturally as Jean would, or Bess, no
+one would have been disturbed, least of all Aunt Emma. But a sense of
+shy awkwardness prevented, and what she did was to wait till her aunt
+was in the very middle of a long column of figures, and then say
+timidly,--
+
+"Aunt Emma, may I--may I--go into the dining-room?"
+
+Mrs. Elliott stopped, lost her count, and after trying in vain to
+recover it, said with a little natural impatience,--
+
+"My dear, never interrupt any one who is adding up a sum, if you can
+help it. You have lost me all my last ten minutes' work. What did you
+say? go into the dining-room? why, of course, go just where you like."
+Then she began to cipher again.
+
+This was quite enough to make Emmy miserable. She had done wrong. She
+had put Aunt Emma out. Aunt Emma did not love her. She never would love
+her as she loved the other girls! These reflections passed through her
+mind as she sat before the glass door of the bookcase, not even trying
+to look up the story which Jean had recommended. Uncle Tom coming into
+the room noticed her melancholy attitude, and said in his hearty voice,
+"Well, my little maid, you look dumpy. All your contemporaries gone,
+heh! Never mind; they will all be back soon, and meanwhile you must
+cheer up the old folks." Jean or Bess would have dimpled and giggled at
+such an address, and perhaps run across the room and given Uncle Tom a
+kiss; but Emmy only shrank a little and said nothing; so that her uncle,
+as he drank his glass of Apollinaris water, said to himself, "A sulky
+child, I'm afraid." So easy it is to be misjudged in this world.
+
+At dinner, Emmy's evil angel took possession of her again. She answered
+in monosyllables when her uncle and aunt spoke to her, and poked her
+food into her mouth with a nervous haste which brought on a fit of
+choking. This mortified her deeply, for she imagined that Aunt Emma was
+thinking, "What an ill-mannered girl she is!" whereas Aunt Emma was
+really thinking, "Poor thing! what can I do to make her feel more
+comfortable?" It would be a convenience, sometimes, if we might have
+glass panes in our hearts, so that people could look in and see what we
+are really feeling.
+
+The evening seemed dreadfully long. Emmy pretended to read "The Dove in
+the Eagle's Nest," but a sort of spell of stiff misery was over her all
+the while. She was conscious of her knees and elbows, her upper lip kept
+twitching, she neither acted nor spoke naturally. Mrs. Elliott pitied
+her, but she could not help saying to herself, "What a self-conscious
+child she is; how different from Jean and Bess!" And what was worse,
+Emmy suspected that aunty was thinking exactly that, and suffered
+accordingly.
+
+Tom came home next day. He was an immensely tall, handsome, good-natured
+young man. Bess and Jean adored him, and were always telling stories
+about the things he said and did, but to Emmy he seemed a formidable
+person. He was fond of teasing and of banter, and it was another of his
+peculiarities to be particularly observant about a lady's dress. He
+noticed at once that the braid was ripped off the edge of Emmy's skirt
+so as to form a dangerous little loop, and told her of it. She went away
+at once, and sewed it fast, but she felt disgraced somehow, and marked
+out as a slattern, and could not help shedding a few tears as she
+worked. Then Tom, who saw everything, observed the red marks under her
+eyes, and the melancholy droop of her mouth, and he too set her down as
+sulky, and, supposing that she had taken offence at some of his harmless
+pleasantries, forbore to joke with her thenceforward. This made her sure
+that Tom did not like her either, which was another affliction, for
+Emmy was most anxious to be taken into the circle of his pets and
+favorites.
+
+In the afternoon she had another mishap. Aunt Emma sent her to get a
+paper out of her writing-desk, and Emmy somehow managed to hamper the
+lock so that the key could not be turned. Nobody scolded her, but Mrs.
+Elliott looked sorry and perplexed, as well she might, with the nearest
+locksmith twenty miles distant, and Emmy felt that her cup of misfortune
+was full. That night she cried herself to sleep.
+
+On the third day the party from Niagara came back, and the house all in
+a moment seemed to fill with bright life and gayety. Cousin May's
+friends, the Jarvises, were handsome, well-bred girls, with a great deal
+of air and style about all their appointments. Cousin May herself was a
+belle and beauty, and had always been the object of Emmy's wildest
+admiration. Several gentlemen were of the party, and there were Jean and
+Bess running about with the rest, on the friendliest terms with
+everybody, and as much at home as Lena. It made Emmy feel left out and
+lonely, for her shyness was by no means lessened by the arrival of all
+these strangers, and she had the painful sensation of being separated
+from the others by a sort of invisible wall, which she could not, and
+they would not, pass over. Jean and Bess did what they could to cheer
+her, but a great deal was going on in the large gay household, and they
+had not much time to spare for the little sister who could not explain
+even to herself why she felt so forlorn.
+
+Lady Blacksnake was supposed to be Lena's own particular pony. Lena had
+a little wagon of her own too; and on Monday she took Emmy out with her.
+This went delightfully till, as they were coming home late in the
+afternoon, Emmy coaxed Lena to let her drive. What she did to Lady
+Blacksnake no one ever knew, but all in one minute that excellent animal
+put her head down and ran away.
+
+"Oh," screamed Emmy, "shall we jump out?"
+
+"No," said Lena, perfectly calm, though her face was very white. "Saw
+her mouth."
+
+So she took one rein, and Emmy the other, and they sawed Lady
+Blacksnake's mouth with hard, regular pulls, till the wild pace
+slackened first to a gallop and then to a trot, and they were going
+along at their old rate, only Lady Blacksnake's heaving flanks and their
+own frightened countenances telling the tale of their late danger. It
+was real danger, for once during the run the hind wheel absolutely
+grazed the edge of a sharp bank, and had they met another carriage they
+could scarcely have escaped a collision; but they both agreed to make as
+light of the incident as they could when they got home, lest they should
+be forbidden to go out again by themselves. Their account of the
+accident therefore was given with a levity which quite angered Uncle
+Tom.
+
+"Upon my word, young ladies," he said severely, "you seem to think it a
+fine thing to have been in danger of your lives. If you had really
+broken all your bones it would have been funnier still, I suppose. What
+on earth _are_ you laughing at?" for somehow this address tickled the
+girls' half-hysterical mood into paroxysms of giggling which continued
+till they cried, and the more Uncle Tom frowned the more they giggled.
+Aunt Emma saw how it was, and ordered them off to bed, and next morning
+the reaction had come, and they were pale and nervous and depressed
+enough to please the most exacting friend who might be anxious to make
+them "sensible of their escape."
+
+Wednesday, the day before the Jarvises were to leave, had been set aside
+for a picnic. Emmy had looked forward eagerly to this; so you can
+imagine her feelings when on Tuesday a hard toothache set in which kept
+her awake all night, and left her next morning still in such pain and
+with such a swollen face that it was manifestly impossible for her to
+leave the house. Kind little Jean offered to give up the picnic and stay
+at home with her; but neither Emmy nor Aunt Emma would hear of this,
+and it ended in everybody's going and leaving her in the care of old
+Eliza, aunty's housekeeper, who had been nurse to all the children in
+turn, from Tom to Lena, and liked nothing better than a chance to cuddle
+and cosset any one who was ill.
+
+Her warm fomentations and roasted raisins and pettings and pattings were
+so effectual that by afternoon Emmy felt quite comfortable again. She
+grew very fond of kind old Eliza, and her heart being opened by the
+situation, she ended by telling her how miserable and "unlucky" she had
+been all the week.
+
+"And indeed I can't see any reason for it, though I'm sorry enough it is
+so, Miss Emmy," declared Eliza when she had listened to the tale. "Never
+any young person came here before who didn't look upon this house as a
+kind of a paradise."
+
+"I know. That's just the way Jean and Bess feel. But then they are
+different from me. Everybody likes them," said Emmy.
+
+"And pray why shouldn't they like yourself, miss, I'd like to ask?"
+
+"I--don't--know," slowly. "I'm always getting into scrapes and making
+mistakes, and things don't happen nicely with me as they do with them.
+Just think of all the misfortunes I've had this week since I came! My
+train was late, and I was all tired out, and the girls went to Niagara
+without me, and I broke Aunt Emma's lock, and the horse ran away, and
+now this toothache! I am _very_ unfortunate."
+
+"Well, I _have_ heard of other people's trains being late afore now,"
+replied Eliza, dryly. "And though I'm sorry you didn't have the trip
+with the rest, miss, it wasn't nobody's fault that you didn't come in
+time. It was a pity about the lock, to be sure--the Madam hasn't got it
+open yet, I know--but so far as the horse goes, it's no more than I'm
+always expecting, letting Miss Lena drive out by herself with them
+vicious little rats of ponies. And God sent your toothache, miss, I
+suppose you know that."
+
+"Well, God made me shy, too, I suppose, and that's my worst misfortune
+of all," declared Emmy.
+
+"I'm not so sure about that, either," remarked the shrewd old Eliza. "In
+my opinion, what folks call shyness is very often just another name for
+selfishness. If you thought about yourself less and about other people
+more, Miss Emmy, you wouldn't be so shy, as you call it. You'll get
+better of it as soon as you're old enough to find out that for the most
+part of the time nobody is noticing what you do or thinking about you at
+all."
+
+There was a certain tonic in this speech of Eliza's which did Emmy good.
+She lay meditating upon it that night after the girls had come in to
+kiss her and say how dreadfully they had missed her at the picnic, and
+how she must get quite well before next Monday, when they were going to
+have another. She had slept so much during the day that she was not
+sleepy now, and she lay turning over in her mind what Eliza had said.
+_Was_ shyness selfishness? and was it her own fault that she got on so
+badly and made so many mistakes? or was she really marked for misfortune
+and doomed to be misunderstood, as she had sometimes imagined? She
+thought of Bess and Jean with a little wonderment of envy. How pretty
+and nice they were! how people liked them! how easy it seemed to them to
+be graceful and natural and at ease with strangers!
+
+While she was thus thinking, a queer little noise met her ear, like some
+one snapping two sticks together. Again it came and yet again, and Emmy
+was sure that she smelt a slight smell of burning. All her little
+foolish fancies fled at once. She jumped out of bed, lit a candle,
+slipped on her dressing-gown, and opened the door. The burning smell was
+stronger in the entry, and the air was dim with smoke. Not nervous now
+nor cowardly, Emmy ran down-stairs with all her wits about her,
+following the smoke till she came to Uncle Tom's office. The door
+stood half open, and inside she saw a flaring light. The carpet was on
+fire in front of the grate, flames were creeping up the legs of the
+table, which was covered with papers. Emmy knew that some of these
+papers were valuable, and without a thought of fear she hurried in,
+gathered as many as she could in her hands, flung them into the hall,
+ran back for more, and never stopped till all were safe. Then she ran to
+Uncle Tom's dressing-closet for a pitcher of water which she knew was
+kept there, and dashed it on the flames, all the time calling at the top
+of her voice, "Fire! fire! fire! O Tom! O aunty! O Uncle Tom! O
+somebody! Come, please come! Oh, why don't you hear!"
+
+It is astonishing how long it takes to wake up people who are sound
+asleep. Emmy had time to fetch another pitcher of water from the
+kitchen, and the fire was nearly out before the family came rushing
+down, half dressed and bewildered, to her aid. Fires are easily
+managed if they are taken in hand exactly at the right time, but half
+an hour more or less makes a great difference. Emmy had acted at the
+critical moment, and her courage and presence of mind had probably saved
+the house.
+
+Uncle Tom declared that he owed her ten thousand dollars. Part of this
+debt he paid the very next week by the present of the prettiest little
+gold watch and chain ever seen, with the date of the fire engraved
+inside the watch-lid. Aunty, too much agitated to speak, folded Emmy in
+her arms and gave her a great squeeze which said more than words. Tom,
+when he understood the whole, said that she was "a brick," and that not
+one girl in a thousand would have been so plucky or shown so much sense.
+So poor, awkward Emmy, who had fared so ill up to this time, got up next
+morning, like Lord Byron, to find herself famous, and the heroine of the
+house.
+
+To be praised and made much of does some people harm, but to others it
+does a great deal of good. Emmy did not grow vain when she found
+herself thus made important. She only felt that she was liked, and
+approved of, and it set her at her ease. From that day Elliott's Mills
+grew delightful to her as it had always been to her sisters. She ran
+about freely among the others, talked, laughed, shared in the fun that
+was going on, and enjoyed every moment of her visit.
+
+Years afterward, when she and Aunt Emma had grown intimate, Emmy told
+that dear friend and relative whom she had learned to love and admire
+better than any one else except her own mother, the story of her foolish
+troubles.
+
+"But indeed," she ended, "they were lucky troubles to me, for I never
+was so bad after that. I think what old Eliza said about selfishness
+stuck in my mind, and I found out after a while that she was pretty much
+right, and that the way to be comfortable and at ease was to think about
+other people instead of myself."
+
+"And I am sure," replied Aunt Emma, "that your troubles were lucky
+troubles for us. If you hadn't had the toothache and lain awake
+meditating on that and your other sorrows, I'm sure I don't know where
+we should all be now, my dear little Emmy."
+
+
+
+
+TOINETTE AND THE ELVES.
+
+
+THE winter sun was nearing the horizon's edge. Each moment the
+tree-shadows grew longer in the forest; each moment the crimson light on
+the upper boughs became more red and bright. It was Christmas Eve, or
+would be in half an hour, when the sun should be fairly set; but it did
+not feel like Christmas, for the afternoon was mild and sweet, and the
+wind in the leafless boughs sang, as it moved about, as though to
+imitate the vanished birds. Soft trills and whistles, odd little shakes
+and twitters,--it was astonishing what pretty noises the wind made, for
+it was in good humor, as winds should be on the Blessed Night; all its
+storm-tones and bass-notes were for the moment laid aside, and gently,
+as though hushing a baby to sleep, it cooed and rustled and brushed to
+and fro in the leafless woods.
+
+Toinette stood, pitcher in hand, beside the well. "Wishing Well," the
+people called it, for they believed that if any one standing there,
+bowed to the East, repeated a certain rhyme and wished a wish, the wish
+would certainly come true. Unluckily, nobody knew exactly what the rhyme
+should be. Toinette did not; she was wishing that she did, as she stood
+with her eyes fixed on the bubbling water. How nice it would be! she
+thought. What beautiful things should be hers, if it were only to wish
+and to have! She would be beautiful, rich, good--oh, so good! The
+children should love her dearly, and never be disagreeable. Mother
+should not work so hard--they should all go back to France--which mother
+said was _si belle_. Oh, dear, how nice it would be! Meantime, the sun
+sank lower, and mother at home was waiting for the water, but Toinette
+forgot that.
+
+Suddenly she started. A low sound of crying met her ear, and something
+like a tiny moan. It seemed close by, but she saw nothing.
+
+Hastily she filled her pitcher, and turned to go. But again the sound
+came, an unmistakable sob, right under her feet. Toinette stopped short.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she called out bravely.
+
+"Is anybody there; and if there is, why don't I see you?"
+
+A third sob--and all at once, down on the ground beside her, a tiny
+figure became visible, so small that Toinette had to kneel and stoop her
+head to see it plainly. The figure was that of an odd little man. He
+wore a garb of green, bright and glancing as the scales of a beetle. In
+his mite of a hand was a cap, out of which stuck a long-pointed feather.
+Two specks of tears stood on his cheeks, and he fixed on Toinette a
+glance so sharp and so sad, that it made her feel sorry and frightened
+and confused all at once.
+
+"Why, how funny this is!" she said, speaking to herself out loud.
+
+"Not at all," replied the little man, in a voice as dry and crisp as the
+chirr of a grasshopper. "Anything but funny. I wish you wouldn't use
+such words. It hurts my feelings, Toinette."
+
+"Do you know my name, then?" cried Toinette, astonished. "That's
+strange! But what is the matter? Why are you crying so, little man?"
+
+"I'm not a little man. I'm an elf," responded the dry voice; "and I
+think you'd cry if you had an engagement out to tea, and found yourself
+spiked on a great bayonet, so that you couldn't move an inch. Look!" He
+turned a little as he spoke, and Toinette saw a long rose-thorn sticking
+through the back of the green robe. The little man could by no means
+reach the thorn, and it held him fast prisoner to the place.
+
+"Is that all? I'll take it out for you," she said.
+
+"Be careful--oh, be careful!" entreated the little man. "This is my new
+dress, you know--my Christmas suit, and it's got to last a year. If
+there is a hole in it, Peascod will tickle me, and Bean Blossom tease
+till I shall wish myself dead." He stamped with vexation at the thought.
+
+"Now, you mustn't do that," said Toinette, in a motherly tone, "else
+you'll tear it yourself, you know." She broke off the thorn as she
+spoke, and gently drew it out. The elf anxiously examined the stuff. A
+tiny puncture only was visible, and his face brightened.
+
+"You're a good child," he said. "I'll do as much for you some day,
+perhaps."
+
+"I would have come before if I had seen you," remarked Toinette,
+timidly. "But I didn't see you a bit."
+
+"No, because I had my cap on," replied the elf. He placed it on his head
+as he spoke, and, hey, presto! nobody was there, only a voice which
+laughed and said: "Well--don't stare so. Lay your finger on me now."
+
+"Oh!" said Toinette, with a gasp. "How wonderful! What fun it must be to
+do that! The children wouldn't see me. I should steal in and surprise
+them; they would go on talking, and never guess that I was there! I
+should so like it! Do elves ever lend their caps to anybody? I wish
+you'd lend me yours. It must be so nice to be invisible!"
+
+"Ho!" cried the elf, appearing suddenly again. "Lend my cap, indeed!
+Why, it wouldn't stay on the very tip of your ear, it's so small. As for
+nice, that depends. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. No, the
+only way for mortal people to be invisible is to gather the fern-seed
+and put it in their shoes."
+
+"Gather it? Where? I never saw any seed to the ferns," said Toinette,
+staring about her.
+
+"Of course not--we elves take care of that," replied the little man.
+"Nobody finds the fern-seed but ourselves. I'll tell you what, though.
+You were such a nice child to take out the thorn so cleverly, that I'll
+_give_ you a little of the seed. Then you can try the fun of being
+invisible, to your heart's content."
+
+"Will you really? How delightful! May I have it now?"
+
+"Bless me! do you think I carry my pocket stuffed with it?" said the
+elf. "Not at all. Go home, say not a word to anybody, but leave your
+bedroom window open to-night, and you'll see what you'll see."
+
+He laid his finger on his nose as he spoke, gave a jump like a
+grasshopper, clapping on his cap as he went, and vanished. Toinette
+lingered a moment, in hopes that he might come back, then took her
+pitcher and hurried home. The woods were very dusky by this time; but,
+full of her strange adventure, she did not remember to feel afraid.
+
+"How long you have been!" said her mother. "It's late for a little maid
+like you to be up. You must make better speed another time, my child."
+
+Toinette pouted, as she was apt to do when reproved. The children
+clamored to know what had kept her, and she spoke pettishly and crossly;
+so that they too became cross, and presently went away into the outer
+kitchen to play by themselves. The children were apt to creep away when
+Toinette came. It made her angry and unhappy at times that they should
+do so, but she did not realize that it was in great part her own fault,
+and so did not set herself to mend it.
+
+"Tell me a 'tory," said baby Jeanneton, creeping to her knee a little
+later. But Toinette's head was full of the elf; she had no time to spare
+for Jeanneton.
+
+"Oh, not to-night!" she replied. "Ask mother to tell you one."
+
+"Mother's busy," said Jeanneton, wistfully.
+
+Toinette took no notice, and the little one crept away disconsolately.
+
+Bedtime at last. Toinette set the casement open, and lay a long time
+waiting and watching; then she fell asleep. She waked with a sneeze and
+jump, and sat up in bed. Behold, on the coverlet stood her elfin friend,
+with a long train of other elves beside him, all clad in the beetle-wing
+green, and wearing little pointed caps! More were coming in at the
+window; outside a few were drifting about in the moon-rays, which lit
+their sparkling robes till they glittered like so many fire-flies. The
+odd thing was, that though the caps were on, Toinette could see the
+elves distinctly, and this surprised her so much, that again she thought
+out loud, and said, "How funny!"
+
+"You mean about the caps," replied her special elf, who seemed to have
+the power of reading thoughts. "Yes, you can see us tonight, caps and
+all. Spells lose their value on Christmas Eve, always. Peascod, where
+is the box? Do you still wish to try the experiment of being invisible,
+Toinette?"
+
+"Oh, yes--indeed I do!"
+
+"Very well--so let it be!"
+
+As he spoke he beckoned, and two elves, puffing and panting like men
+with a heavy load, dragged forward a droll little box about the size of
+a pumpkin-seed. One of them lifted the cover.
+
+"Pay the porter, please, ma'am," he said, giving Toinette's ear a
+mischievous tweak with his sharp fingers.
+
+"Hands off, you bad Peascod!" cried Toinette's elf. "This is my girl.
+She shan't be pinched." He dealt Peascod a blow with his tiny hand as he
+spoke, and looked so brave and warlike that he seemed at least an inch
+taller than he had before. Toinette admired him very much; and Peascod
+slunk away with an abashed giggle, muttering that Thistle needn't be so
+ready with his fist.
+
+Thistle--for thus, it seemed, Toinette's friend was named--dipped his
+fingers in the box, which was full of fine brown seeds, and shook a
+handful into each of Toinette's shoes, as they stood, toes together, by
+the bedside.
+
+"Now you have your wish," he said, "and can go about and do what you
+like, no one seeing. The charm will end at sunset. Make the most of it
+while you can; but if you want to end it sooner, shake the seeds from
+the shoes, and then you are just as usual."
+
+"Oh, I shan't want to," protested Toinette; "I'm sure I shan't."
+
+"Good-by," said Thistle, with a mocking little laugh.
+
+"Good-by, and thank you ever so much," replied Toinette.
+
+"Good-by, good-by," replied the other elves, in shrill chorus. They
+clustered together, as if in consultation; then straight out of the
+window they flew like a swarm of gauzy-winged bees, and melted into the
+moonlight. Toinette jumped up and ran to watch them; but the little men
+were gone--not a trace of them was to be seen; so she shut the window,
+went back to bed, and presently, in the midst of her amazed and excited
+thoughts, fell asleep.
+
+She waked in the morning with a queer, doubtful feeling. Had she
+dreamed, or had it really happened? She put on her best petticoat, and
+laced her blue bodice; for she thought the mother would perhaps take
+them across the wood to the little chapel for the Christmas service. Her
+long hair smoothed and tied, her shoes trimly fastened, down-stairs she
+ran. The mother was stirring porridge over the fire. Toinette went close
+to her, but she did not move or turn her head.
+
+"How late the children are!" she said at last, lifting the boiling pot
+on the hob. Then she went to the stair-foot, and called, "Marc,
+Jeanneton, Pierre, Marie! Breakfast is ready, my children. Toinette--but
+where, then, is Toinette? She is used to be down long before this."
+
+"Toinette isn't up-stairs," said Marie, from above. "Her door is wide
+open, and she isn't there."
+
+"That is strange!" said the mother. "I have been here an hour, and she
+has not passed this way since." She went to the outer door and called,
+"Toinette! Toinette!"--passing close to Toinette as she did so, and
+looking straight at her with unseeing eyes. Toinette, half frightened,
+half pleased, giggled low to herself. She really was invisible then! How
+strange it seemed, and what fun it was going to be!
+
+The children sat down to breakfast, little Jeanneton, as the youngest,
+saying grace. The mother distributed the hot porridge, and gave each a
+spoon, but she looked anxious.
+
+"Where can Toinette have gone?" she said to herself.
+
+Toinette was conscience-pricked. She was half inclined to dispel the
+charm on the spot. But just then she caught a whisper from Pierre to
+Marc, which so surprised her as to put the idea out of her head.
+
+"Perhaps a wolf has eaten her up--a great big wolf, like the 'Capuchon
+Rouge,' you know." This was what Pierre said; and Marc answered,
+unfeelingly,--
+
+"If he has, I shall ask mother to let me have her room for my own!"
+
+Poor Toinette! her cheeks burnt and her eyes filled with tears at this.
+Didn't the boys love her a bit, then? Next she grew angry, and longed to
+box Marc's ears, only she recollected in time that she was invisible.
+What a bad boy, he was! she thought.
+
+The smoking porridge reminded her that she was hungry; so brushing away
+the tears, she slipped a spoon off the table, and whenever she found the
+chance, dipped it into the bowl for a mouthful. The porridge disappeared
+rapidly.
+
+"I want some more," said Jeanneton.
+
+"Bless me, how fast you have eaten!" said the mother, turning to the
+bowl.
+
+This made Toinette laugh, which shook her spoon, and a drop of the hot
+mixture fell right on the tip of Marie's nose, as she sat with upturned
+face waiting her turn for a second helping. Marie gave a little scream.
+
+"What is it?" said the mother.
+
+"Hot water! Right in my face!" spluttered Marie.
+
+"Water!" cried Marc. "It's porridge."
+
+"You spattered with your spoon. Eat more carefully, my child," said the
+mother; and Toinette laughed again as she heard her. After all, there
+was some fun in being invisible!
+
+The morning went by. Constantly the mother went to the door, and,
+shading her eyes with her hand, looked out, in hopes of seeing a little
+figure come down the wood-path, for she thought, perhaps the child went
+to the spring after water, and fell asleep there. The children played
+happily, meanwhile. They were used to doing without Toinette, and did
+not seem to miss her, except that now and then baby Jeanneton said:
+"Poor Toinette gone--not here--all gone!"
+
+"Well, what if she has?" said Marc at last, looking up from the wooden
+cup he was carving for Marie's doll. "We can play all the better."
+
+Marc was a bold, outspoken boy, who always told his whole mind about
+things.
+
+"If she were here," he went on, "she'd only scold and interfere.
+Toinette almost always scolds. I like to have her go away. It makes it
+pleasanter."
+
+"It _is_ rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, "only I'd like her to be
+having a nice time somewhere else."
+
+"Bother about Toinette!" cried Pierre. "Let's play 'My godmother has
+cabbage to sell.'"
+
+I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy in her life, as when she
+stood by unseen, and heard the children say these words. She had never
+meant to be unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered, dreamy, wrapped
+up in herself. She did not like being interrupted by them, it put her
+out, and then she spoke sharply and was cross. She had taken it for
+granted that the others must love her, by a sort of right, and the
+knowledge that they did not grieved her very much. Creeping away, she
+hid herself in the woods. It was a sparkling day, but the sun did not
+look so bright as usual. Cuddled down under a rose-bush, Toinette sat
+sobbing as if her heart would break at the recollection of the speeches
+she had overheard.
+
+By and by a little voice within her woke up and began to make itself
+audible. All of us know this little voice. We call it conscience.
+
+"Jeanneton missed me," she thought. "And, oh dear! I pushed her away
+only last night and wouldn't tell her a story. And Marie hoped I was
+having a pleasant time somewhere. I wish I hadn't slapped Marie last
+Friday. And I wish I hadn't thrown Marc's ball into the fire that day I
+was angry with him. How unkind he was to say that--but I wasn't always
+kind to him. And once I said that I wished a bear would eat Pierre up.
+That was because he broke my cup. Oh dear, oh dear! What a bad girl I've
+been to them all!"
+
+"But you could be better and kinder if you tried, couldn't you?" said
+the inward voice. "I think you could." And Toinette clasped her hands
+tight and said out loud: "I could. Yes--and I will."
+
+The first thing to be done was to get rid of the fern-seed, which she
+now regarded as a hateful thing. She untied her shoes and shook it out
+in the grass. It dropped, and seemed to melt into the air, for it
+instantly vanished. A mischievous laugh sounded close behind, and a
+beetle-green coat-tail was visible, whisking under a tuft of rushes. But
+Toinette had had enough of the elves, and, tying her shoes, took the
+road toward home, running with all her might.
+
+"Where have you been all day, Toinette?" cried the children, as,
+breathless and panting, she flew in at the gate. But Toinette could not
+speak. She made slowly for her mother, who stood in the doorway, flung
+herself into her arms, and burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"Ma chérie, what is it, whence hast thou come?" asked the good mother,
+alarmed. She lifted Toinette into her arms as she spoke, and hastened
+indoors. The other children followed, whispering and peeping, but the
+mother sent them away, and, sitting down by the fire with Toinette in
+her lap, she rocked and hushed and comforted, as though Toinette had
+been again a little baby. Gradually the sobs ceased. For a while
+Toinette lay quiet, with her head on her mother's breast. Then she wiped
+her wet eyes, put her arms around her mother's neck, and told her all
+from the very beginning, keeping not a single thing back. The dame
+listened with alarm.
+
+"Saints protect us," she muttered. Then feeling Toinette's hands and
+head, "Thou hast a fever," she said. "I will make thee a _tisane_, my
+darling, and thou must at once go to bed." Toinette vainly protested; to
+bed she went, and perhaps it was the wisest thing, for the warm drink
+threw her into a long, sound sleep, and when she woke she was herself
+again, bright and well, hungry for dinner, and ready to do her usual
+tasks.
+
+Herself,--but not quite the same Toinette that she had been before.
+Nobody changes from bad to better in a minute. It takes time for that,
+time and effort, and a long struggle with evil habits and tempers. But
+there is sometimes a certain minute or day in which people _begin_ to
+change, and thus it was with Toinette. The fairy lesson was not lost
+upon her. She began to fight with herself, to watch her faults and try
+to conquer them. It was hard work; often she felt discouraged, but she
+kept on. Week after week and month after month she grew less selfish,
+kinder, more obliging than she used to be. When she failed, and her old
+fractious temper got the better of her, she was sorry, and begged every
+one's pardon so humbly that they could not but forgive. The mother began
+to think that the elves really had bewitched her child. As for the
+children, they learned to love Toinette as never before, and came to her
+with all their pains and pleasures, as children should to a kind older
+sister. Each fresh proof of this, every kiss from Jeanneton, every
+confidence from Marc, was a comfort to Toinette, for she never forgot
+Christmas Day, and felt that no trouble was too much to wipe out that
+unhappy recollection. "I _think_ they like me better than they did
+then," she would say; but then the thought came, "Perhaps if I were
+invisible again, if they did not know I was there, I might hear
+something to make me feel as badly as I did that morning." These sad
+thoughts were part of the bitter fruit of the fairy fern-seed.
+
+So with doubts and fears the year went by, and again it was Christmas
+Eve. Toinette had been asleep some hours, when she was roused by a
+sharp tapping at the window-pane. Startled and only half awake, she sat
+up in bed, and saw by the moonlight a tiny figure outside, which she
+recognized. It was Thistle, drumming with his knuckles on the glass.
+
+"Let me in," cried the dry little voice. So Toinette opened the
+casement, and Thistle flew in and perched, as before, on the coverlet.
+
+"Merry Christmas, my girl," he said, "and a Happy New Year when it
+comes! I've brought you a present;" and, dipping into a pouch tied round
+his waist, he pulled out a handful of something brown. Toinette knew
+what it was in a moment.
+
+"Oh, no!" she cried, shrinking back. "Don't give me any fern-seeds. They
+frighten me. I don't like them."
+
+"Now, don't be silly," said Thistle, his voice sounding kind this time,
+and earnest. "It wasn't pleasant being invisible last year, but perhaps
+this year it will be. Take my advice, and try it. You'll not be sorry."
+
+"Shan't I?" said Toinette, brightening. "Very well then, I will." She
+leaned out of bed, and watched Thistle strew the fine, dust-like grains
+in each shoe.
+
+"I'll drop in to-morrow night, and just see how you like it," he said.
+Then, with a nod, he was gone.
+
+The old fear came back when she woke in the morning, and she tied on her
+shoes with a tremble at her heart. Down-stairs she stole. The first
+thing she saw was a wooden ship standing on her plate. Marc had made the
+ship, but Toinette had no idea that it was for her.
+
+The little ones sat round the table with their eyes on the door,
+watching till Toinette should come in, and be surprised.
+
+"I wish she'd hurry," said Pierre, drumming on his bowl with a spoon.
+
+"We all want Toinette, don't we?" said the mother, smiling as she poured
+the hot porridge.
+
+"It will be fun to see her stare," declared Marc. "Toinette is jolly
+when she stares. Her eyes look big, and her cheeks grow pink. Andre
+Brugen thinks his sister Aline is prettiest, but I don't. Our Toinette
+is ever so pretty."
+
+"She is ever so nice, too," said Pierre. "She's as good to play with
+as--as--a boy!" he finished triumphantly.
+
+"Oh, I wish my Toinette _would_ come!" said Jeanneton.
+
+Toinette waited no longer, but sped up-stairs with glad tears in her
+eyes. Two minutes, and down she came again, visible this time. Her heart
+was light as a feather.
+
+"Merry Christmas!" clamored the children. The ship was presented,
+Toinette was duly surprised, and so the happy day began.
+
+That night Toinette left the window open, and lay down in her clothes;
+for she felt, as Thistle had been so kind, she ought to receive him
+politely. He came at midnight, and with him all the other little men in
+green.
+
+"Well, how was it?" asked Thistle.
+
+"Oh, I liked it this time," declared Toinette, with shining eyes. "And I
+thank you so much!"
+
+"I'm glad you did," said the elf. "And I'm glad you are thankful, for we
+want you to do something for us."
+
+"What can it be?" inquired Toinette, wondering.
+
+"You must know," went on Thistle, "that there is no dainty in the world
+which we elves enjoy like a bowl of fern-seed broth. But it has to be
+cooked over a real fire, and we dare not go near fire, you know, lest
+our wings scorch. So we seldom get any fern-seed broth. Now,
+Toinette--will you make us some?"
+
+"Indeed I will," cried Toinette, "only you must tell me how."
+
+"It is very simple," said Peascod; "only seed and honey dew, stirred
+from left to right with a sprig of fennel. Here's the seed and the
+fennel, and here's the dew. Be sure and stir from the left; if you
+don't, it curdles, and the flavor will be spoiled."
+
+Down into the kitchen they went, and Toinette, moving very softly,
+quickened the fire, set on the smallest bowl she could find, and spread
+the doll's table with the wooden saucers which Marc had made for
+Jeanneton to play with. Then she mixed and stirred as the elves bade,
+and when the soup was done, served it to them smoking hot. How they
+feasted! No bumble-bee, dipping into a flower-cup, ever sipped and
+twinkled more rapturously than they.
+
+When the last drop was eaten, they made ready to go. Each, in turn,
+kissed Toinette's hand, and said a little word of farewell. Thistle
+brushed his feathered cap over the door-post as he passed.
+
+"Be lucky, house," he said, "for you have received and entertained the
+luck-bringers. And be lucky, Toinette. Good temper _is_ good luck, and
+sweet words and kind looks and peace in the heart are the fairest of
+fortunes. See that you never lose them again, my girl." With this, he
+too kissed Toinette's hand, waved his feathered cap, and--whir! they all
+were gone, while Toinette, covering the fire with ashes, and putting
+aside the little cups, stole up to her bed a happy child.
+
+
+
+
+JEAN'S MONEY, AND WHAT IT BOUGHT.
+
+
+THE last recitation of the last day of the district school-term was
+over, and the boys and girls shut their books and put away slates and
+pencils, with a glad sense of liberty immediately at hand, which made it
+doubly hard to sit still for the few remaining moments. Jean Thompson,
+their teacher, was almost as impatient as they. She was but seventeen,
+scarcely older than her oldest scholar, and in her joy at getting
+through the term would doubtless have made short work of the closing
+exercises, had not Mr. Gillicraft been there. Mr. Gillicraft was the
+senior member of the school board,--a slow, formal man, who liked things
+done ceremoniously, so for his sake there had to be a little delay. He
+made a speech to the children, speaking at length and deliberately. They
+were all pleased to have vacation begin, no doubt, but he hoped, etc. He
+was sure they would join him in thanking their excellent teacher, Miss
+Thompson, for the judicious manner in which, etc. He trusted the moral
+discipline inculcated during the term would not, etc. And he hoped some
+at least of them would find time to study somewhat during the vacation,
+and thus redeem time which otherwise would be idly spent. The children
+fidgeted dreadfully during these remarks. The blue sky and bright air
+wooed and coaxed them through the open door; their feet were dancing
+with impatience, how _could_ they attend to Mr. Gillicraft? At last the
+end came, the long-desired bell tinkled; and whooping, jumping, rioting,
+out they all rushed into their twelve weeks' freedom. One or two of the
+lesser girls waited to kiss "Teacher" for good-by; then they followed
+the rest.
+
+When the last child was gone, Mr. Gillicraft approached Jean, who was
+setting matters straight in her desk. His hand was in his pocket, from
+which he presently drew a fat leathern wallet.
+
+"Ahem!" he said. "It is my duty and my privilege, too, as I may say, to
+hand you this, Miss Thompson." Mr. Gillicraft called her "Jean" usually,
+having known her all her life, but this was a formal occasion.
+"Nine--ten--eleven," he went on, counting the bills which he had drawn
+from his wallet--"twelve. You will find that correct, I believe, $120,
+and I desire to say, in the name of the board, that we are quite
+satisfied with the manner in which you have conducted the school, and
+gratified at your decision to continue with us during the ensuing year."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Jean, modestly.
+
+"Count it," remarked Mr. Gillicraft, dropping the official and resuming
+the friend--"always count your money, Jean, it's business-like. And
+don't put it loose in your pocket--that's a careless trick. You never
+had so much money at a time before in your life, did you? What are you
+going to do with it all?"
+
+"I don't quite know yet," replied Jean, "I shall have to talk with
+father about it. I'll lock the door now, Mr. Gillicraft, if you're
+ready, and give you the key."
+
+"Have you got it?" whispered her brother James, as Mr. Gillicraft and
+the key disappeared around the corner. "Have you got it, Jean?"
+
+Jean nodded.
+
+"How splendid," said Elsie, a younger sister, coming to Jean's other
+side. "Show me. Oh! What a lot of money!"
+
+"What will you get with it?" asked James. "Don't I wish it was mine! I
+know well enough what I would buy."
+
+"So do I," chimed in Elsie.
+
+"What?" said Jean, with a smile.
+
+"A piano! And the dearest little dog--just like Ruth Parsons's dog, if I
+could find one. And ever so many books. And a watch." And Elsie's list
+was interrupted by the necessity of taking breath.
+
+"Hoo! Isn't that just like a girl? Why, you couldn't get half those with
+that, you silly," put in her brother. "I'd get something quite
+different. I'd get a pony, a real strong useful pony, which father could
+plough with when I wasn't riding him. That would be something like."
+
+"Your pony would cost as much as Elsie's piano," remarked Jean.
+
+"Well, what would you get?" said James. "Will you get some nice
+clothes?"
+
+"Pshaw! Clothes! Will you get a watch, Jean? Or a breastpin and
+ear-rings?"
+
+"Now, what use would ear-rings be to her when she hasn't any holes in
+her ears, Elsie? Do tell us, Jean--what will you get?"
+
+Jean laughed. It seemed as if all the world was bound to find out what
+she meant to do with her money.
+
+"I'll tell you by and by," she said. "I've made up my mind, I _think_,
+what I'd rather do, but I want to talk to father first." They reached
+the top of the hill as she spoke, and she pushed open the gate for the
+others to enter, paying no attention to Elsie's rather fretful--
+
+"By and by. That's a long time. Tell us now, Jean, please do."
+
+After tea was the best time to catch Farmer Thompson at leisure. At that
+hour he usually treated himself to half an hour's rest and a pipe in the
+porch, and there Jean found him on this particular night.
+
+"Mr. Gillicraft paid me this to-day," she said, handing him the roll of
+bills.
+
+"Ay. They're prompt with it, but that's but fair. Well, my lass--it's a
+good bit of money. What'll ye do with your gains?"
+
+"I'll tell you something I was thinking of, father--if you approve, that
+is. It's a great many years since mother and you came from Scotland
+here, and she's never been home since, you know."
+
+"Twenty-one years come October. 'Tis a long time, truly," replied her
+father, letting a curl of smoke escape from the corner of his mouth.
+
+"Well--there was an advertisement in the paper, awhile ago, about a
+steamboat line, the Anchor Line, it's called, I think, which goes to
+Glasgow, and it said great reductions for this summer, and people could
+go and come back in the second cabin for forty-five dollars. Now if
+mother'd like it, and I know she would, she and I could go for what I've
+got, and she could visit grandmother, and there'd be thirty dollars left
+for other things, such as going down to New York and from Glasgow to
+Greenock. Grandmother lives in Greenock, doesn't she? Do you think it's
+a good plan, father?"
+
+"Well, it depends on your mother. If she likes to go, I'd say nought
+against it," replied her father. Then, his habitual Scotch caution
+relaxing, he added: "You're a good lass, Jean. A good, dutiful lass to
+think of this. Your granny's an old woman by now, and I've known this
+long back that your mother was wearying to see her again before she
+dies, and I'd have sent her myself, only I never could see the way to do
+it. Scotland's a long travel, and money's none too plenty now-a-days
+with any of us. I'll just smoke my pipe out, and then you and I'll go in
+and talk it over with mother."
+
+Mrs. Thompson heard the proposal with a tremulous mixture of
+bewilderment and joy. She was not a strong woman, and fever-and-ague,
+that insidious scourge of so many country districts, had struck at the
+hill-farm the year before, and left her weakened and languid for months
+afterward. The neighbors were told the new plan, and preparations set on
+foot at once, that Jean might lose as little as possible of her brief
+vacation time. Everybody was interested and excited. Mrs. Parsons
+brought warm knitted hoods to be worn at sea; Mrs. Wright, a waterproof
+clothes-bag and a box of Ayer's Pills; Mrs. Gillicraft two linen
+catchalls for state-room use, with pockets, and pincushions well
+furnished with pins.
+
+"I envy you," said Maria Parsons, who was Jean's special friend. "I
+always was wild to travel, but there! I don't suppose I ever shall, so
+long as I live. Some folks are born lucky. You'll have a splendid time,
+Jean."
+
+"Do you think so?" replied Jean, rather dismally.
+
+"Think so? Why, girl alive, don't you _know_ it?"
+
+"Well no, I don't. The fact is, Maria--the fact is--well--I _hate_
+travelling. I don't look forward to it one bit. I shall be horribly sick
+first, and then I shall be horribly homesick: I'm perfectly sure of it.
+Dear me--how I wish it was over, and we safely back."
+
+"Good gracious!" cried Maria, opening her eyes. "What on earth do you go
+for, Jean, if you feel that way?"
+
+"Only to take mother. _She_ wants to go, and I always said she should,
+if ever I could earn any money to take her. Except for that, I'd gladly
+give you the chance, and stay at home instead."
+
+This was not a very bright beginning for so long a journey. But Jean did
+not think about that. She had the sturdy old Scotch blood in her, and
+having once put her hand to a task, did not look back.
+
+Her expectations were realized so far as the voyage went, for they had a
+rough passage, and both she and her mother were sick for more than half
+the way over. It was dull work enough for a strong, active girl to lie
+day after day in a narrow berth, watching the curtains swing and the
+vessel rock, and very often Jean said to herself, "I can't imagine what
+people want to go to Europe for. It's _horrid_! I only wish Maria were
+in my place--since she wanted to come so much, and I at home instead.
+I'm sure I'd change in a minute, if I could."
+
+Matters mended toward the last, and by the time the steamer entered the
+Frith of Clyde, Mrs. Thompson, as well as Jean, was able to be on deck.
+It was a fine day, and as they slowly steamed up the beautiful Frith,
+between richly cultivated shores, with wooded hills dotted with
+country-seats rising behind, and purple mountain outlines still farther
+back, something new stirred in Jean's mind, a quite unlooked-for
+excitement and pleasure, which roused and woke her mind to the glad
+reception of fresh impressions. It was the first reward of her
+unselfishness, but she had looked for no reward, and had been conscious
+of no unselfishness; so it came with the zest of unexpectedness, and was
+doubly delightful.
+
+"Mother, there's a castle!" she exclaimed. "I truly think it's a real
+castle. It looks just like the pictures of them."
+
+"And what for no?" replied her mother, whose Scotch seemed to revive and
+broaden with the very aspect of her native shores--"what for should it
+na' be a castle? Mony's the castle I've seen in my childish time. Oh!
+there's the Cathedral, Jean, and the Custom House, and the bonny
+Monument. I weel remember them a', lang as 'tis. And there--Jean, see by
+the pillar--I'm most sure that's your uncle Andrew. I know him by the
+bonny shoulders, and the head above everybody else's; but dear, he's
+grown much older since--much older."
+
+This was no unnatural result of twenty-one years of separation, but at
+that moment Mrs. Thompson did not remember this. "It's like a dream,"
+she kept on repeating. "This is Glasgow, and that's my brother that I
+never looked to see again! It's like a dream, Jean."
+
+If they had turned back then and there for thirteen more days of weary
+sea, Jean would have felt rewarded for her journey by the half-tearful
+rapture which shone in her mother's face at that moment. But they did
+not turn back. They landed instead, and, with Uncle Andrew's assistance,
+were soon in the train for Greenock. He and his sister plunged at once
+into conversation in Scotch so much broader than Jean was used to, that
+she could hardly follow it. So she looked out of the window instead of
+talking, and there was plenty there to keep both eyes and mind happily
+busy. The trees, the buildings, the silver links and windings of the
+Frith, the pearl-gray shimmering atmosphere which enveloped all--it was
+unlike anything she had ever seen, and gave her a pleasure which she had
+not expected to feel.
+
+Grandmother's house, or flat, was in an old-fashioned street. It was
+rather barely furnished to American eyes, but very clean and orderly,
+and there was nothing bare in the greeting given by the sweet-faced old
+Scotchwoman to her long-unseen child and that child's child. Jean was
+amused to hear her mother spoken to as if she were still almost a baby,
+while to herself granny accorded a certain respect and distance as to a
+stranger and a woman grown. Her size and age seemed an entire surprise
+to her Scotch relations, who had apparently never realized a growth of
+which they had only heard in letters.
+
+"She's a big hearty lass, indeed, she's a very goodly lass!" granny kept
+on saying. "She's as large for a maiden as Sandy is for a lad. Aweel, I
+can't understand it, Maggie. Ye were always the least of my weans,
+always the wee one of the flock, and it's muckle strange that your lass
+should be bigger than ony of her cousins, and your sisters all bigger
+than yersel. I'm clear puzzled about it."
+
+But puzzlement was lost in pleasure when she understood that the whole
+journey was the gift of Jean, the earnings of a year's hard work. She
+took the girl into her arms, held her tight, and kissed her heartily.
+
+"She who goes a mithering shall find violets in the lanes," she said,
+quoting the pretty old English proverb. "Ye'll find it so, my dear
+lassie. Ye'll be the richer all your life for giving your mither and me
+the chance of meeting again once more on this side the grave, trust me,
+Jean, ye will."
+
+"I'm richer already, granny," whispered Jean, warmed through and through
+by the words and the embrace. There was no stiffness between her and
+grandmother after that. So granny's love was the first thing bought with
+Jean's money.
+
+"Sandy" was Uncle Andrew's son. His mother had long been dead, and he
+and his father lived with granny in her flat. He was a manly young
+fellow, steady and cheery both, and doing well as clerk in one of the
+large Greenock shipping-houses, with good chances of promotion. The
+advent of a cousin from America was an event in his life. He liked Jean
+at once and Jean liked him, so they grew friends speedily.
+
+Under his guidance, Jean's "violet" gathering went on prosperously.
+There were many interesting things to see and do in the neighborhood of
+Greenock, and of Glasgow, to which place they ran down more than once
+in a cheap train. There were rows on the Frith, and walks into the
+lovely hill country, and visits to the different aunts and cousins, all
+of whom wanted to see Mrs. Thompson and make acquaintance with Jean, and
+once they went as far as Edinburgh with third-class return tickets, and
+Jean saw the wonders of Holyrood, the Castle, and Arthur's Seat. It
+seemed to put new color and life into history and all the past, this
+glimpse of the places where great things had happened. Jean's interest
+in books waked up, and as Sandy owned a share in a good People's
+Library, she was able to get at various histories and fictions which,
+read on the spot, had a value and meaning which they could not have had
+elsewhere. Her mind broadened, she took in more of the width and grasp
+of life, and this mental growth and stimulus was another thing--and a
+very good one--bought with Jean's money.
+
+So the short two months sped swiftly away, and the time came to go
+back. It was a hard parting, as partings must be, where seas roll
+between, and old age makes fresh meetings improbable. But with all its
+hardness, all of them felt that it had been blessed to meet. Sandy was
+even more cast down than granny, but he consoled himself by a long
+whispered talk with Jean the last evening, in which he promised to come
+out to America in two years from then; and Jean, I am inclined to think,
+half promised to go back again to Scotland with him. But this is neither
+here nor there in our story, and, as we all know, it is not polite to
+listen when people whisper. So the travellers sailed again over the wide
+Atlantic, the journey not seeming half so long or so hard, now that
+their faces were set the other way; and in a very few days after the
+homecoming, all they had seen and done began to recede into dream-like
+distance, and they found it almost impossible to realize that they had
+gone so far and achieved so much.
+
+"I told you you would enjoy it," remarked Maria Parsons. People always
+enjoy being able to say "I told you so."
+
+"And is your money really all gone?" said little Elsie, "every bit of it
+gone! And you haven't got one single thing of your own to keep out of
+it, Jean. What a pity!"
+
+"Ah, but I have," replied Jean. But she made no answer to the further
+"What?"
+
+"Elsie is sorry that I've spent all my money," she told her father that
+night. "She doesn't think I got much for it. But it seems to me no one
+else ever got so much as I have. I never thought I should learn to like
+travelling, father, but I did; I enjoyed it ever so much. Then I know
+granny now, and Uncle Andrew, and I've seen a great deal of Scotland,
+and mother is so much stronger, and we have so many nice things to
+remember and think about--that's a great, great deal to get with a
+hundred and twenty dollars, don't you think so, father? And besides--"
+
+But here Jean stopped and blushed. I think that blush meant--Sandy.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE STORKS CAME AND WENT.
+
+
+WHEN the storks came, the spring came too. Till then the skies had been
+gray and the air cold and raw, while the leaf-buds on the branches
+seemed afraid to peep from their coverings. But when the call of the
+storks was heard, and the click of their large white wings, the leaves
+took courage, unrolled their woolly blankets, and presently the trees
+were green. Soon other birds came too. The doves went to housekeeping in
+their cote under the peak of the roof-gable. Just beneath, a pair of
+swallows built a nest of plastered clay: the cherry-tree in the garden
+was chosen as home by a colony of lively sparrows. All the air was astir
+with wings and songs, and the world, which for months had seemed dead
+or asleep, waked suddenly into life and motion.
+
+"What a droll house Mother Stork seems to be building!" said the saucy
+swallow, cocking up one eye at the long-legged pair on the roof above.
+"I shouldn't like such an one at all. Sharp sticks everywhere, no
+conveniences, great holes for eggs to drop into and be broken. And how
+the wind must blow up there! Give me a cosey place like this of ours."
+
+"Give _me_ a nice, smooth wooden box," cooed the dove. "I don't fancy
+plaster; it's damp and rheumatic, my mate says. But you needn't worry
+about Mother Stork's eggs. They're too large to drop through the holes
+in the branches and be broken."
+
+"What coarse things they must be!" remarked the swallow, looking
+complacently at the tiny clouded spheres beneath her own wings.
+
+"They _are_ big," agreed the dove. "But then, Mother Stork is big too."
+
+"Listen to those absurd creatures!" said Mother Stork to her partner.
+"Coarse, indeed! My eggs! I like that."
+
+"Never mind them," replied Papa Stork, good-humoredly, giving a crooked
+twig the final shove to the side of the nest.
+
+Below on the grass, which was still winter-brown, three little children
+stood gazing wistfully up at the storks.
+
+"They flew straight to our roof," said Annchen. "Frau Perl says that
+means good luck before the year ends."
+
+"What does good luck mean?" asked Carl, the youngest boy.
+
+"It means--oh, all sorts of things," replied Annchen, vaguely: "that the
+mother should not work so hard; that we should have plenty,--plenty to
+eat every day,--and money, I suppose,--and my new shoes I've waited for
+so long;--all sorts of things."
+
+"Perhaps my father'll come back," suggested Fritz, with a joyful leap.
+
+Annchen shook her brown head. The boys were too little to understand,
+but she knew well that the father would never come back. She recollected
+the day when he marched away with the other soldiers to fight the
+French. He had lifted her in his arms. She had played with his beard and
+kissed him, and Fritz had cried after the glittering helmet-spike, till
+at last the father took the helmet off and gave it him to play with.
+Then the drum-tap sounded, and he had to go. The mother had watched
+awhile from the window, and when she could no longer see anything, had
+sat down to sob and cry with her apron over her face. Annchen
+recollected it perfectly, and that other dreadful day when Corporal Spes
+of the same regiment had come, with his arm tied up and a bandage round
+his head, to tell how the father had been shot in one of the battles
+before Paris, and buried in French soil. Everything had been sad since.
+There was less black bread at dinner-time, less soup in the pot,
+sometimes no soup at all, and the mother worked all day and far into
+the night, and cried bitterly when she thought the children were not
+looking. Annchen was too young to comprehend the full cause of these
+tears, but she _felt_ the sadness; it was like a constant cloud over her
+childish sun. Now the stork was come to their roof, which all the
+neighbors said meant something good. Perhaps the happy days would begin
+again.
+
+"How I hope they will!" she whispered to herself.
+
+"Hope who will?" asked the mother, passing behind with an armful of
+wood.
+
+Annchen felt abashed.
+
+"The storks," she murmured. "Frau Perl said when they build on a roof it
+brings good fortune always." The mother sighed.
+
+"There is no good fortune for us any more," she said sadly. "Even the
+dear stork cannot undo what is done."
+
+"But aren't the storks lucky birds?" asked Fritz. "Jan Stein said they
+were."
+
+"Ah, luck, luck!" answered the mother. "That is a word only. People use
+it, but what does it mean?"
+
+"Isn't there any luck, then?" asked Annchen.
+
+"There is the good God, dear,--that is better," replied the mother, and
+carried her wood into the house.
+
+"Jan said the stork was God's bird," observed little Carl.
+
+"That's it," said Annchen, brightening. "God's bird; and the good God
+may let the stork bring us good fortune. Dear storkie, do! If only you
+would!"
+
+Mamma Stork looked solemnly down on the children, and wagged her head
+gravely up and down. Annchen thought it was in answer to her appeal.
+
+"See, Fritz! see, Carl! She says she will!" The stork kept on nodding,
+and Annchen went in to supper, feeling happy.
+
+Days grew into weeks, and spring into full summer. The big eggs and the
+little eggs had in turn cracked and given place to young birds, who sat
+in the nests clamoring for food, and being fed, caressed, and kept warm
+by their mothers. At first the nestlings were ugly, featherless
+creatures, and seemed all beaks and appetites; but presently they began
+to grow, to put out plumage, and become round and fat. Soon they could
+hop; then they could flutter their wings; the air was full of their
+calls and their swift-moving bodies. Mother Stork's babies were white
+like herself, and had long legs and big bills. The swallow thought them
+awkward, and contrasted them proudly with her own brisk, glancing brood;
+but in Mother Stork's eyes they were perfect in every way, and graceful
+as birds should be. The dove thought the same of her plump squabs,--each
+parent was entirely satisfied with the kind of child which the Lord had
+sent her; and that was a happy thing, was it not?
+
+Summer was over, and now it was September, but Annchen had not ceased to
+hope for the good fortune which the stork's coming prophesied. Each
+morning, when she woke, she ran to the window to see if the lucky birds
+were still in the nest. There they were, but nothing else happened, and
+the mother worked harder than ever, and the black loaf grew smaller.
+Still Annchen hoped.
+
+"Do you notice what a kind bird the stork is?" said the mother one
+night, as she was putting the children to bed. "She never gets tired of
+taking care of her babies, nor beats them with her wings, nor scolds
+them. Do you not love her for being so amiable?"
+
+"Sometimes the babies scold her," remarked Fritz from his corner.
+
+"I don't think that is scolding. What they say is, 'Mother, we are
+hungry. We want a fish or a couple of young frogs; when will the father
+bring them?' The little storks do not like to wait for their dinners any
+more than you children do. I heard once a story about a good Mother
+Stork. Shall I tell it you?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried the children; but the mother went first for her
+knitting-work, for even at the twilight hour she dared not let her
+fingers be idle for a moment.
+
+"Once there was a Frau Stork," she began, "who built a nest in the roof
+of an old shed, and in it laid three blue eggs. Presently out of the
+eggs came three baby storks, large and hungry. Then was Frau Stork very
+proud and glad. All day she sat in the nest, keeping her little ones
+warm under her feathers, while Papa Stork flew to and fro, seeking
+places where were ponds with fish and frogs; and these he fetched home
+in his beak, and with them fed his brood, who sat always with open
+mouths ready for anything good which should come along.
+
+"One day when Papa Stork was absent, and Mother Stork had hopped from
+the nest to the roof, she heard a crackling sound which she did not at
+all understand. Then the air grew thick and smoky, and there was a smell
+of burning wood. The shed was on fire! Frau Stork became uneasy, and
+called loudly for her mate, but he was too far away to hear her voice.
+Presently the smoke became more dense, and a little red tongue of flame
+crept through the thatch. When it felt the air it grew large, swelled,
+and at last, like a fiery serpent, darted at the nest and the screaming
+brood within."
+
+"Oh dear! oh dear!" cried the children, sitting up in their beds. "What
+_did_ the poor stork do?"
+
+"She could easily have flown away, you know," continued the mother.
+"There were her strong wings, which would have borne her faster than the
+fire could follow. But she loved her babies too well to leave them like
+that. She seized them with her beak, and tried to drag them from the
+nest. But they were too heavy, and flapped and struggled, hindering her,
+for they did not understand what she wished to do. The flames drew
+nearer, the branches began to blaze. Then Mother Stork took her usual
+place in the nest, gathered her brood under her wings as if to shield
+them, bent her poor head, and--"
+
+"Oh, she didn't burn up!--please don't say she did!" interrupted
+Annchen.
+
+"Yes. When Papa Stork came from the pond with a fresh fish in his beak,
+there was no roof there, no nest, no little storks,--only a heap of
+ashes and curling smoke. Frau Stork loved her children too well to
+desert them, and they all died together."
+
+There was silence for a minute or two. Annchen was sobbing softly, and a
+suspicious sniff was heard from the direction of Fritz's pillow.
+
+"I hope _our_ stork won't burn up," said Carl, solemnly.
+
+"Yes,--because then she won't bring us good luck, you know," added
+Fritz.
+
+"Do you think the stork has forgotten?" whispered Annchen to her mother.
+"I've waited and waited for her so long that I'm tired. Do they forget
+sometimes?"
+
+"She will have to bestir herself if she is to do anything for us this
+year," said the mother; and though her heart was heavy enough just then,
+she smiled into Annchen's eager eyes. "Autumn is here; the winter will
+come before long. Frau Stork and her family may fly off any day."
+
+"I shall _have_ to remind her," murmured Annchen, sleepily.
+
+She remembered this resolution next morning, and went out into the yard.
+The day was chilly; the blue sky, all dappled with gray, looked as if a
+storm were coming. Mother Stork was alone on the roof. Her young ones
+could fly now, and they and their father were off somewhere together.
+
+"Mother Stork," said Annchen, standing close to the wall, and speaking
+in a loud, confidential whisper, "you won't forget what you promised,
+will you--that day when you nodded your head, you know? The mother says
+you will fly away soon, but please bring us our good luck first. Poor
+mother works so hard and looks so pale, and sometimes there is almost no
+dinner at all, and the cold winter is coming, and I don't know what we
+shall do, if you don't help us. Please do, Mother Stork. We can't wait
+till you come again, it's such a long time. Pray fetch our good luck
+before you go."
+
+Mother Stork, perched on one leg on the roof's edge, nodded her head up
+and down, as if considering the point. Then she rose on her large wings
+and flew away. Annchen marked her course through the air, and her eyes
+grew large and eager with delight.
+
+"She has gone to the fen!" she cried. "That's where she keeps it. Oh,
+the dear stork!"
+
+"What is it? Who has gone where?" asked the boys, running into the yard.
+
+"Frau Stork," explained Annchen. "I reminded her about it,--our good
+luck, you know,--and she flew straight off to fetch it. She went to the
+fen, the beautiful fen, where I went once with the father--_such_ a
+place! How I should like to go there again! You never saw such a place,
+boys!"
+
+"I want to go to the fen too," said Carl.
+
+"I wonder if we might!" went on Annchen, thoughtfully. "It isn't so very
+far. I didn't get tired at all that day when I went before. And we could
+help Frau Stork, perhaps. I wonder if we might."
+
+"I'll go in and ask the mother," said Fritz, running to the door with an
+eager demand: "Mother, may we go for a walk,--Annchen and Carl and I?"
+
+The mother, who was very busy, nodded.
+
+"Don't go too far," she called after him.
+
+"Mother says we may," shouted Fritz, as he ran again into the yard; and
+the children, overjoyed, set forth at once.
+
+It was quite a distance to the fen, but the road was a plain one, and
+Annchen had no difficulty in following it. When she went there before,
+not only her father had been along, but Ernst the wood-cutter, with his
+donkey; so, when tired, she had rested herself by riding on top of the
+fagots. She was three years older now, and the sturdy lads did not mind
+the distance at all, but ran forward merrily, encouraging each other to
+make haste.
+
+The sun had broken through the clouds, and shone hotly on the white
+road. But as they neared the fen, they passed into shade. Softly they
+lifted the drooping branches of the trees, and entered, moving
+carefully, that they might not disturb the stork. A little farther, and
+the ground grew wet under foot. Bright streams of water appeared here
+and there. But between the streams were ridges and island-like tufts of
+moss and dried grasses, and stepping from one of these to the other, the
+little ones passed on, dry-shod. Tall reeds and lance-shaped rushes rose
+above their heads as they crept along, whispering low to each other.
+The air was hushed and warm, there was a pleasant fragrance of damp
+roots and leaves. The children liked the fen extremely. Their feet
+danced and skipped, and they would gladly have shouted, had it not been
+for the need of keeping quiet.
+
+Suddenly a beautiful glossy water-rat, with a long tail, glanced like a
+ray of quick sunshine from under a bank, and at sight of the intruders
+flashed back again into his hole. Fritz was enchanted at this sight. He
+longed to stay and dig into the bank in search of the rat. What fun it
+would be to take him home and tame him! But Annchen whispered
+imploringly, and Carl tugged at his fingers; so at last he gave up
+searching for the rat, and went on with the others. They were near the
+middle of the fen now, and Mother Stork, they thought, must be close at
+hand.
+
+Pop! glug! An enormous bull-frog leaped from a log, and vanished into
+the pool with a splash. Next a couple of lovely water-flies, with blue,
+shining bodies and gauze-like wings, appeared hovering in the air. They
+rose and sank and circled and whirled like enchanted things; the
+children, who had never seen such flies before, felt as if they had met
+the first chapter of a fairy-story, and stood holding their breaths,
+lest the pretty creatures should take alarm and fly away. It was not
+till the water-flies suddenly whirled off and disappeared, that they
+recollected their errand, and moved on.
+
+All at once Annchen, who was in advance of the rest, stopped short and
+uttered an exclamation. The parting of the reeds had shown her a pool
+larger than any they had seen before, round which grew a fringe of tall
+flowering water-plants. Half in, half out of the pool, lay a black log
+with a hollow end, and beside it, dabbling with her beak as if searching
+for something, stood a large white bird. At the sound of voices and
+rustling feet, the bird spread a pair of broad wings and flew slowly
+upward, turning her head to look at the children as she went.
+
+"It _was_," cried Annchen. "Oh, Mother Stork, we didn't mean to frighten
+you. Please come back again. We'll go away at once if you don't like to
+have us here."
+
+But Mother Stork was no longer visible. She had dropped into some
+distant part of the fen--where, the children could not see.
+
+"Her eyes looked angry," said little Carl.
+
+"Oh dear!" sighed Annchen. "I hope she isn't angry. That _would_ be
+dreadful! What will poor mother do if she is? And it would be all our
+fault."
+
+"I want to go home," whined Carl. "It's dinner-time. I want my dinner
+very much."
+
+All of them wanted to go home, but it was not an easy or quick task to
+do so. The children had wandered farther than they knew. It took a long
+time to find their way out of the fen, and when at last they reached the
+rushy limits, and stood on open ground, it was an unfamiliar place, and
+much farther from home than the side where they had entered. Weary,
+hungry, and disheartened, they trudged along for what to them seemed
+hours, and it was long past midday when at last they reached the
+familiar gate.
+
+Frau Stork had got there before them, and stood on the roof beside her
+mate, gazing down as the sorry little procession filed beneath. Annchen
+had no heart to greet her as she passed. She was tired, and a dread lest
+their long absence should have frightened or angered the mother added
+weight to her fatigue, and made her heart sink heavily as they opened
+the door.
+
+The mother did not start or run forward to meet them as the children
+expected she would do. She sat by the table, and some one sat opposite
+her--a tall, stately officer in uniform, with an order on his breast.
+His helmet lay on the table, with some papers scattered about it. When
+the children came in, he turned and looked at them out of a pair of kind
+blue eyes.
+
+"Ah," he said. "These are the little ones, dame?"
+
+"Yes," said the mother, "these are _his_ children. Take off your hats,
+boys; and, Annchen, make your reverence. This is the Herr Baron, your
+father's captain, children."
+
+[Illustration: The Captain lifted Fritz and perched him on his
+knee.--PAGE 296.]
+
+Carl stared with round eyes at the splendid Herr Baron, while Annchen
+demurely dropped her courtesy. The captain lifted Fritz and perched him
+on his knee.
+
+"My fine fellow," he said, "you have your father's face,"--and he
+stroked Fritz's yellow hair, while Fritz played with the bright buttons
+of the uniform. The captain and the mother went on talking. Annchen did
+not understand all they said, but she saw that her mother looked happier
+than for a long time before, and that made her feel happy too.
+
+At last the captain rose to go. He kissed the children, and Annchen saw
+him put a purse into her mother's hands.
+
+"I take shame to myself that I left you so long without aid," he said;
+"but keep up heart, dame. Your pension will no doubt be granted you,
+and I will see that you and the children are cared for, as a brave man's
+family should be. So good-day, and God bless you!"
+
+"May He bless you, Herr Baron," sobbed the widow, as he went away.
+
+"What is it, mother,--why do you cry?" asked little Carl at last,
+pulling her sleeve.
+
+"For joy, dear. The good Baron has brought your father's back pay. I can
+discharge my debts now, and you need hunger no more."
+
+"It is the good luck come at last. I knew it would," said Annchen.
+
+"We will thank God for it," said her mother. And they all knelt down and
+repeated "Our Father," that beautiful prayer which suits equally our
+time of joy and our time of sorrow.
+
+But when the prayer was said, and the mother, smiling through her tears,
+was bustling about to cook such a supper as the little family had not
+tasted for many a day, dear, superstitious little Annchen stole softly
+to the door and went into the yard.
+
+The young storks were asleep with their heads under their wings, and
+Frau Stork, poised on one leg, was gazing about with drowsy eyes. She
+looked bigger than ever against the dim evening sky.
+
+"Thank you, dear stork!" said Annchen.
+
+
+          University Press, John Wilson & Son: Cambridge.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+
+A GUERNSEY LILY;
+
+OR,
+
+HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED.
+
+A Story for Girls and Boys.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+          BY
+          SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+          Author of "What Katy Did," "Clover," "In the High Valley," etc.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          NEW EDITION. Square 16mo. ILLUSTRATED. Price, $1.25.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS,
+          BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration: Nurse's Lecture.]
+
+
+CROSS PATCH,
+
+And other Stories, adapted from the Myths of Mother Goose. With 44
+Illustrations by ELLEN OAKFORD. One volume. Square 16mo. Cloth, black
+and gold. Price $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, _Boston_.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+IN THE HIGH VALLEY.
+
+Being the Fifth and last volume of the "Katy Did Series." With
+illustrations by JESSIE MCDERMOTT.
+
+          One volume, square 16mo, cloth. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+
+[Illustration: ENTERING PARADISE.--PAGE 23.
+
+So in they marched, Katy and Cecy heading the procession, and Dorry,
+with his great trailing bunch of boughs, bringing up the rear.]
+
+        WHAT KATY DID. With Illustrations by Addie Ledyard.
+          One handsome square 16mo volume, bound in
+          cloth, black and gilt lettered. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration: NANNY'S SUBSTITUTE.
+
+Nanny at the Fair, taking orders and carrying trays.--PAGE 171.]
+
+
+MISCHIEF'S THANKSGIVING, _AND OTHER STORIES_.
+
+          WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADDIE LEDYARD.
+
+        _One handsome square 16mo volume, bound in cloth,
+          black and gilt lettered. Price_ $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+
+[Illustration: "As there was nobody to see, he just sat down and cried
+as hard as Dotty herself."]
+
+THE NEW-YEAR'S BARGAIN.
+
+WITH TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADDIE LEDYARD.
+
+          _One handsome, square_ 16_mo volume, bound in
+          cloth, black and gilt lettered. Price_, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
+                                           _Boston_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Varied hyphenation has been retained as in now-a-days and nowadays.
+
+Page 300, period added (of Mother Goose. With)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Round Dozen, by Susan Coolidge
+
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