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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/76562-0.txt b/76562-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b00ac1d --- /dev/null +++ b/76562-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7295 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76562 *** + + + + + + THE CHILDREN OF OLD PARK'S TAVERN + + A Story of the South Shore + + By FRANCES A. HUMPHREY + + AUTHOR OF "DEAN STANLEY WITH THE CHILDREN" + + NEW YORK + HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE + 1886 + + Copyright, 1886, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER I. HOW DOLLY ATTENDED THE CONVENTION + + CHAPTER II. ON THE MARSHES + + CHAPTER III. THE HOME OF WEBSTER + + CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE MADAM + + CHAPTER V. SKATTA + + CHAPTER VI. THE TOURNAMENT IN THE OLD MUSTER-FIELD + + CHAPTER VII. DEATH OF GASTON + + CHAPTER VIII. THE SECRET CHAMBER + + CHAPTER IX. THE SCHOOL AND ITS MASTER + + CHAPTER X. THEIR FIRST QUARREL + + CHAPTER XI. MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF SKATTA + + CHAPTER XII. NED TO THE RESCUE + + CHAPTER XIII. THANKSGIVING DAYS + + CHAPTER XIV. THE YELLOW SATIN GOWN + + CHAPTER XV. THE MILITARY BALL + + CHAPTER XVI. THE PUBLISHMENT IN THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE + + CHAPTER XVII. YARROW + + CHAPTER XVIII. HOW ULYSSES LOST AND FOUND HIS PENELOPE + + CHAPTER XIX. THE WEDDING + + + + + THE CHILDREN OF OLD PARK'S TAVERN. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + HOW DOLLY ATTENDED THE CONVENTION. + + +"C'nvention? What's a c'nvention?" + +"Oh, it's a lot o' men, 'n they meet and chew tobacco and scatter the +votes all over the floor, till it looks _worse_ than a pigsty, Thankful +says, 'n then they come over here 'n eat 'n eat till they're fit to +burst. But it's fun! I shall be glad when I'm old enough to go to +c'nvention." + +"Do women go?" asked Dolly. + +"No, indeed! 'tisn't fit for women and girls," replied Ned, +emphatically. + +The two speakers were sitting in the veranda of the old tavern at +Byfield. One would have known at once that the long, rambling, +veranda-shaded house was a tavern because of the tall sign-post +standing at its north-west corner. The sign was a huge gilt ball +attached to an arrow-shaped scroll of iron, and had it been an English +inn it would doubtless have been called "The Orange and Arrow," and +have had a story about it like the story of William Tell. As it was, +there was no story at all, and it was known through the county simply +as "Park's Tavern." + +The stage-coach which ran between Boston and Plymouth stopped there +daily, and it came dashing up to the door now, bringing the first +comers to the "c'nvention." These came from Hingham, the remotest town +in the county, and they would spend the night preceding and the night +following the convention at the tavern. Railroads were unknown as yet, +and almost everybody came to the convention, as they went everywhere +else, in their own carriages. The coach was crowded inside and out. +This was a Whig convention, and the stage-driver, who was a Whig, had +tied red, white, and blue ribbons on the harnesses of his six horses, +which gave to the turnout a gay and festive air. + +"A fine day, an' a fine drive, gen'lemen," he said, as he tossed the +reins to the hostler and clambered heavily down the steps of the +stage-coach, for he was immensely fat. + +Dolly had arrived by that same coach eight days before. It was her +first visit to Cousin Ned at Byfield, and as her home was in Boston, +and she had rarely been into the country except for short drives to +Quincy and Cambridge, everything was new, and every experience fresh +and delightful. + +Well, the morning of the "c'nvention" came, and the household at Park's +Tavern were astir early. Dolly heard the first twitter of the robins in +the cherry-tree by her window and was wide awake in an instant, with +her mind full of the "c'nvention." By the time she was dressed Ned had +despatched the chores, which he did with such marvellous promptness +that Thankful remarked, grimly, "'Twas a pity there wasn't a c'nvention +every day in the year." + +"Oh, come now, Thankful, you'll like it yourself next week--see 'f you +don't! 'n won't you be spry!" replied Ned. + +Thereat Thankful said she "hoped she knowed her duty," which meant that +she should do her best, if _'twas_ a Whig convention. For Thankful was +a Democrat, and the next week the Democrats would hold their convention +in the meeting-house at Byfield, and would dine at the tavern. As to +the Whig coachman, she was barely civil when he came into the kitchen +to bring a hamper of turkeys he had fetched from Boston, and she +sniffed scornfully when Ned called her attention to the beribboned +horses. + +The breakfast was quickly eaten, and then the business of the day +began. The cook-stove was taken out by four men from the inner kitchen +and set up in the outer kitchen. A fire was made in the brick ovens +in both kitchens, and when they were hot the coals were raked out +with a long pole with a crook at one end, the whole something like a +shepherd's crook, and the ovens were filled, one with huge sirloins of +beef and spare-ribs of pork, the other with loaves of rye and wheat +bread and plummy pudding. The pies had been made previously--one +hundred mince, apple, pumpkin, and cranberry pies--and were spread +out on tables in the L chamber, imparting to the atmosphere thereof +a deliciously spicy fragrance perfectly intoxicating to any properly +constructed boy. + +Perhaps you wonder why the cook-stove should have been taken out of the +inner kitchen. So did Dolly. + +"You wait and see," said Ned. "That's part of the fun." + +There was a big fireplace in this kitchen, such as you sometimes see +in pictures or in very old houses, big enough to roast an ox whole +in. 'Zekle, assisted by Ned, who liked to have a finger in every pie, +made a fire in this fireplace of hickory and oak, which roared up the +chimney hilariously as if understanding that it, too, was a part of the +fun. Then 'Zekle, still assisted by Ned and followed by Dolly, brought +down from the attic six tin "kitchens," as they were called, which +looked very much like tin caves, Dolly thought. These were arranged in +a semicircle before the fireplace, with the mouth of the cave turned +towards the fire. Within each cave, or tin kitchen, two fat turkeys, +after being carefully stuffed and trussed, were spitted, _i.e._, the +long iron spit which went through the tin kitchen from end to end was +thrust through the turkeys, and on this rod they revolved and slowly +roasted. Under instructions from Thankful, Dolly was permitted as a +great privilege to assist in basting these turkeys. She was supplied +with one of Thankful's blue-and-white check aprons, which enveloped +her little figure from top to toe, and a long-handled iron spoon was +put in her hand. Every few minutes she turned the spit of one of the +tin kitchens, and dipping up the gravy from the bottom, allowed it +to dribble slowly from the spoon over the crisp browning turkey. As +there were six of the tin kitchens, this kept her busy, and her cheeks +grew rosy, but oh it was delicious fun! and, "I say, Dolly," said Ned, +"don't they smell prime! I do hope those greedy Whigs won't eat every +bit, as they did last year. Such pigs! Nothing left but bones to suck. +Going to c'nvention is awful hungry work, I guess." + +From the six pots and kettles on the stove in the outer kitchen came a +bubbling sound, a knocking as the onions and turnips bounced against +the lids, and a fire was made under the huge iron wash-boiler in which +the potatoes were to be cooked. + +"I say, Dolly," put in Ned, tired at last of doing nothing but watch +her at her basting, "let's go out and see 'em come; and bime-by, when +the pudding-sauce is done, we'll have the kettle to scrape, you know." + +But before going out they went up-stairs to view the tables which +Thankful, assisted by a bouncing girl, the daughter of one of the +neighbors, had already set. The dining-hall, for that day, was the +dancing-hall proper. This was a long room running from side to side +of the house, with many windows. It had a smooth, shiny floor of hard +pine, like a skating-rink floor, though of course roller-skating had +not then even been thought of. But Ned would have told you that it was +"prime" for sliding, for he had tried it. + +Two tables were set lengthwise of this room, tables made of boards +upheld by cross-sticks and covered with snow-white cotton cloth. The +dishes were of that deep, beautiful blue so rare to find nowadays, +and which brings such a price when a bit is found; plates, tureens, +platters, cups, all of the same color. + +The pewter casters had been conscientiously polished by Thankful to the +last degree of brilliancy, and were only rivalled by the glitter of the +groups of glass tumblers. Down the centre of each table was a row of +decanters filled with hard cider of a delicate amber color. The forks +were two-pronged and of steel, and napkins seemed to have been looked +upon as superfluous, for there were none on the table. + +Before Ned and Dolly were fairly seated in their place of observation +in the shade of the big cherry-tree, one or two carriages had arrived +and the hostlers were taking out the horses. The vehicles were of all +sizes and shapes. A pretty sulky drawn by a white-eyed racker came +swiftly and silently into the yard, and from it stepped a slight, +brown-eyed man, to whom Ned shouted, "Halloo, Doctor!" Then came the +delegation from the north part of the county, in a hay-cart furnished +with seats, shaded by branches of oak and pine fastened to the stakes. +This was followed by a half-dozen dilapidated carry-alls with flapping +curtains, drawn by horses in every stage of meagreness. + +A light barouche, drawn by a pair of beautiful black horses, now came +into the yard. The driver was a negro, and as he alighted and opened +the carriage door a tall man stepped out. He was _very_ tall, his +shoulders were very broad, and he was very dark. As he lifted his hat +to Mrs. Park, who stood in the east door, he showed a head that looked +like the State-house dome, so Dolly whispered to Ned. His eyes were +black, deep set, and glowed like a smouldering fire, but a fire which +may blaze out at any unexpected moment. He wore black trousers, a blue +coat with brass buttons, and a buff waist-coat. He was a remarkable +looking man, and it is not to be wondered at that Dolly and Ned viewed +him with much curiosity. + +"Who is he, anyway?" whispered Dolly. + +"I don't know," replied Ned. "I never saw him before." + +Faster and faster came the carriages, and the crowd grew, and by +little groups, and singly, they made their way over the Green to the +meeting-house where the business of the convention was to be transacted. + +"I shouldn't wonder if the pudding-sauce was done," remarked Ned. +"S'pose we go and see." + +"I'll get it," said Dolly; "you wait here;" and she flew to the +kitchen, where she found Thankful just in the act of pouring the +sirupy, nutmeggy sauce into the sauce-bowls. Now, Thankful, with all +her grimness, and she could be very grim, had a soft spot in her +heart for children, and for these two especially; and so, though she +conscientiously held the brass kettle inverted till all had run out +that could easily, she did not scrape it, as Dolly observed, but +handed it to her, with the remark, "There, don't go 'n make yourselves +sick now. There's enough to do, in all conscience, 'thout havin' sick +child'en to take care of." + +Dolly started down the flight of five stone steps leading from the +kitchen to the well-yard, caught her foot, and fell headlong, with a +dreadful ringing of the brass kettle as it bounded down in advance, and +there stood two of the "c'nventioners" not three yards off! Dolly's +face was crimson as she got up none the worse for her fall, though the +brass kettle, as she picked it up, showed a bad dent in the side. She +glanced furtively at the "c'nventioners" to see if they were smiling +over her mishap. Bless 'em! they had neither seen nor heard her, so +deep were they in their political schemes. Dolly's respect for the +"c'nventioners" increased. + +"Politics must be very interesting," she said to Ned, as they scraped +the kettle sociably together. "I wish women and girls went. Say, +couldn't we just go over and peep and see what they are doing?" + +"No, indeed, not you!" replied Ned, with his mouth full of sauce, +greatly scandalized at the suggestion. "I might, 'cause I'm a boy, but +'twould never do for a girl, you know." + +But Dolly did _not_ know any such thing; and then and there an idea +popped into her head which she did not share with Ned as usual. + +The meeting-house clock struck twelve, which was the dinner-hour. The +doors of the meeting-house opened, and the convention moved out in long +procession over the Green to the tavern, but Dolly and Ned, being well +screened by the lilacs, did not move, but sat and watched them as they +passed in. + +"There he is again," whispered Dolly, "the big man with the head like +the State-house dome. Who can he be?" + +"I'll ask Doctor Stone, he'll know; he knows everybody," said Ned. And +he accosted the brown-eyed doctor as he passed by, + +"Say, doctor, who's that big fellow with the blue coat and brass +buttons?" + +"That," replied the doctor, smiling down on the two eager faces, "that +is Daniel Webster. And look at him well, my boy, for some time you may +be glad and proud to be able to say that you have even _seen_ Daniel +Webster." + +The convention passed into the dining-hall and a rattling of dishes +ensued. "Oh dear!" said Ned, with a deep sigh from the region of his +empty stomach, "I s'pose they'll be at it two hours." + +But just at that moment an unexpected call came from Thankful, who was +standing in the kitchen door. "Come, child'en, an' git some dinner," +she said. + +And there, as they went in, on a corner of the kitchen-table which she +had cleared, they espied as delicious a little dinner of turkey as two +starving human creatures could ask for. The drumstick and neck and +plenty of crisp skin for Ned, and two wings and a generous supply of +"breast" for Dolly, with unlimited cranberry sauce and onions, together +with the privilege of calling for as much pudding and pie as they liked. + +"Oh, goody, what a spread!" cried Ned. "You're a dear old Thankful, +that's what you are, Thankful!" + +"Well, it did seem too bad for you child'en to wait till all them grown +folks had got through. I never could see no sense in alwa's makin' +child'en wait," rejoined Thankful, with a wisdom that young folks at +least appreciate. + +While they were eating their dinner Ned's father came in. "Ned," said +he, "as soon 's you've done dinner just take Bill and ride over to +Torrey's Mills, and tell 'em to send me a couple o' bags of meal." + +"And," added his mother, "you might as well take the gizzards along to +Aunt Debby. It's on your way, and they'll like them for a stew." + +"Oh, isn't that queer!" said Dolly, "stewed gizzards!" + +"Horrid, ain't it?" rejoined Ned. "But they like 'em. Mother always +sends 'em the gizzards when she has turkeys, and they always ask me to +stay to dinner. But I don't accept, you bet! Say," he continued, "don't +you want to ride over there with me?--it's only a mile, and old Bill +can carry us both, and you can see the three old aunties. It's no end +o' fun. They're awful jolly 'f they do eat gizzards. Aunt Patty's head +goes so," shaking his curly pate in vain imitation of poor aunt Patty's +palsy-stricken head. + +But Dolly declined the tempting proposal, for, as elsewhere hinted, she +was nursing a brilliant idea which Ned's absence would allow her to put +into action. + +So she bade him a cheerful "good-by," and after watching him well out +of sight, with one sweeping glance to assure herself that no one was +at door or window, she ran across the Green to the meeting-house door, +and pausing just an instant to make sure again that no one saw her, +she sprang through the open door, and, speeding like a frightened +fawn up the central aisle, she never stopped to take breath till she +was safely inside the pulpit. This was not a modern pulpit, but an +old-fashioned, roomy one, which could hold comfortably a party of a +dozen people. The sides were high, so high that Dolly could just peep +over. The over-hanging sounding-board lent a cosey, shut-in feeling to +the place which seemed pleasant to Dolly--wilful, inquisitive Dolly, +who wanted to know what a "c'nvention" was like, and had taken this way +to find out. She soon saw, however, that a more secure hiding-place +was necessary, for any one chancing to go into the gallery could look +directly down upon her. + +Across the back of the pulpit was a broad, cushioned seat, down to and +back of which fell the heavy damask window draperies. Here was the very +place! and Dolly lay down upon the shabby velvet cushions and drew the +heavy draperies about her. + +By-and-by, after what seemed to her an interminable time, the +convention began to straggle in. The president called the meeting to +order and business was resumed. Dolly pulled aside the curtains a bit +and looked out. She was relieved to find that the convention confined +itself to the floor of the house and did not invade the galleries. +She listened. Confused murmurs arose of which she could hear only an +occasional word. Somebody made a long speech about free-trade and the +tariff, and the listeners cried "Hear! hear!" and stamped. + +"It's stupid!" thought Dolly. "I thought c'nventions would be more +interesting." And she had a rather mournful dissolving view of Ned +riding on old Bill and carrying the basket of gizzards, and almost +wished she had gone. Almost, not quite; for it was something to be at +a "c'nvention," even if one had to hide behind a curtain, and it _was_ +stupid. + +Soon a great clamor arose. Somebody had said something he oughtn't +to, and somebody else shouted, "Mr. President, I rise to a point of +order," and the clamor increased, and there was stamping and hissing, +and the president brought down his gavel with a prodigious rap-rap, and +then the clamor subsided and became a murmur again, which grew fainter +and fainter till it ceased altogether; for, snug in her nest on the +comfortable cushions, overcome with the fatigues of the long, exciting +day, and heavy, too, with the amount of turkey and pudding she had +eaten, Dolly fell fast asleep, and the convention had lost the ear of +its hidden listener. + +The convention finished its business and adjourned _sine die_. Those +members who lived in the nearer towns ordered out their vehicles and +drove rapidly off. Those from the more remote towns stayed to take +supper, or "a bite," as Thankful phrased it, before starting. At last +all who were going had gone. The sexton, looking in and seeing the +meeting-house apparently empty, locked the doors and went home. The +sun set and the twilight faded. Ned coming home, and not seeing Dolly +about, said to his mother, "Dolly's gone to bed, and I'm going too, +for I'm awful tired." All the inmates of the tavern, among whom were +the delegates from Hingham and Rochester, weary with the fatigues of +the day, went off to bed at an unusually early hour, and the lights +were put out. And still Dolly slept on heavily and peacefully upon the +cushions of the old pulpit, shrouded in the damask draperies. + +About midnight she awoke; she awoke suddenly. As she drew aside the +curtain and saw the great space about her, the blindless windows of +the old meeting-house staring at her like so many wide-open eyes, she +thought at first it was a part of her dreams. Then it all came to +her--how she must have fallen asleep--the people had all gone--it was +night, and she was alone in the building! + +Her first impulse was to cry out. But Dolly was a brave girl. She +suppressed the cry before it had passed her lips. She thought, "I know +it's awful to be alone here, but then I _am_ alone. There's nobody to +harm me. I must stay here till morning. I'll try to go to sleep if I +can, again, and then I sha'n't know anything about it. It's really snug +up here. But, oh, why didn't they miss me and find me?" Here she came +very near crying, as she thought of them all asleep in their beds over +there, only the one little white bed in her own room empty. But she +choked down the cry as she had done the scream, lay down again and drew +the curtains more closely about her, and was just beginning to say over +softly her evening prayer, when she heard a movement and a suppressed +voice: + +"D'ye hear that, Ben?" + +"What?" said another voice. + +"That noise." + +"Rats!" rejoined the other. "These old barracks are always full of 'em." + +I cannot repeat all the conversation to which Dolly listened from +behind the curtains, trembling very much at first, but getting back her +courage as she began to comprehend what they were talking about. + +"Yes, a pile," one of them said. "Fifty cents a head for the dinner, +and two hundred he got from the bank t'other day to pay Wright--it'll +be the biggest haul we've made for many a day." + +"Where's he keep it?" + +"In his chist, clost by his bed." + +"Spos'en he sh'd wake up?" + +"I'll tend t' that," replied the other, significantly. + +Yes, it was her dear, good uncle of whom they were talking, and this +was a plot to rob him of his money, and worse, perhaps, should he wake. + +"It's time, come along," said the voice which belonged to Ben, and they +made their way from the pews where they two had been sleeping to an +open window in the rear of the meeting-house. + +Dolly stood up carefully on the cushions, and, peeping out between the +curtains, saw in the dim starlight, for the night was moonless, two +burly men who climbed heavily out. She waited till their steps died +away, then she ran noiselessly down the pulpit stairs, and cautiously +through the aisles, lest she might hit an open pew-door and so shut it +with a bang that would warn the thieves that they had left something +besides rats behind them. She leaped lightly through the window and, +going in an opposite direction from that taken by the men, crossed +the road through a slight hollow north of the tavern, and so stole up +to its rear through the garden, whose thick-growing quince-bushes and +dwarf trees screened her from observation. She had made no plan of +action--there had not been time to think much; it seemed to come to +her, as she said afterwards, just what to do, and she only felt that it +must be done quickly. + +And now one of her accomplishments, of which she had sometimes felt +a little ashamed, because it had won her the name of "tomboy"--the +ability to climb lightly and swiftly--came into play. Thankful's +wash-bench stood under the edge of the veranda, and springing upon +this, with the help of the grape-vine she gained the veranda roof, +ran lightly around the west and north sides of the house to the great +cherry-tree that stood not far from her uncle's bedroom window. Up, +up its branches she flew like a squirrel, even to the very top, and +she had barely reached it when the feet of the thieves were heard +upon the gravelly way which led into the yard. They crept cautiously +up to the window, their hands were upon it, when suddenly out from +the cherry-tree, almost directly above their heads, there burst +such a volume of happy, rollicking song, such trills and warblings +as of a multitude of song-birds, accompanied with a soft swaying +of the branches, that, terrified beyond measure, they stood for a +moment motionless and then turned and fled. Dolly listened to their +fast-fleeing steps till they died in the distance, and with them died +her song. + +At that instant Thankful's window went up, and Thankful's nightcapped +head was thrust out. "Bless us and save us!" she ejaculated. "What _is_ +a-goin' on!" + +"Oh, Thankful," cried a cheery voice out of the cherry-tree, and a +white figure dropped upon the veranda roof. "I'm so glad it's you! Come +and let me in." + +"The little creetur is a-walkin' in her sleep," muttered Thankful as +she pulled in her head. "She'll break her blessed neck!--unless it's +a spook!" she added, under her breath; and to make sure it wasn't she +looked into Dolly's room on her way down to the door. Sure enough, +there was the little empty bed. No bonny bright head on its pillow! No +sweet confusion of dainty clothes scattered about the room! + +She unfastened the front door, and meanwhile the other inmates of +the tavern, including the delegates, having been awakened, they now +presented themselves in every stage of undress. They all crowded around +Dolly, offering explanations. "She's walking in her sleep," they +reiterated, one after the other. "And it's a marcy she didn't break her +neck a-singin' up in that cherry-tree," added Thankful. + +"Oh, Thankful, I'm not asleep. Please don't say so," entreated Dolly. + +Aunt Anna, who by this time had come out of her bedroom, put her arm +about Dolly and drew her to her side. She was shivering from head to +foot, and her eyes shone as the star we call Venus shines in the April +twilight. Aunt Anna touched her cheek with hers. It was aflame with +fever. "The child is sick," she said. "She's out of her head." + +"Oh, don't talk so, please don't talk so!" said Dolly, bursting into +a passion of tears and sobs, which, happily, came as a relief to the +severe nervous tension which might really have ended in delirium. + +"Well, dear, tell us what it does mean, if you wish," said Aunt Anna, +gently, when Dolly's sobs had ceased. + +And Dolly told her story. It was heard in silence, only Thankful +ejaculating, when Dolly reached the point when she first knew the +thieves were in the meeting-house, "Dear little lamb! it's a marcy the +wolves didn't get her!" + +"And now come out, please," she added, "and you'll know it's all true, +for they tramped right over auntie's 'none-so-pretties.'" + +They went out, 'Zekle having fetched a lantern, and there in truth +were the bright-faced flowers crushed and bruised under the footsteps +of the thieves, and the pet of the flower-garden, a gorgeous root of +tiger-lilies, was broken entirely off. + +"And here's sunthin' else," said 'Zekle, picking up a huge pistol from +out the "none-so-pretties." He pointed it upward and fired. "There! +that'll let 'em know we're awake," he said. + +Aunt Anna, who greatly feared the harmful effect of this adventure upon +Dolly, undressed her herself, and after bathing her in the warm bath +which Thankful had promptly prepared, sat by her till she fell asleep. +She slept far into the morning, and Ned, who was the only one who had +not wakened the night before, heard the whole story before she was out +of her bedroom, and profound was his admiration for Dolly's "pluck." + +"'Twas just like a girl to do that! You never know what a girl will do. +Now I should 'a' just yelled." + +"But why didn't you go straight to some door or window, and pound, +instead of climbing into a tree?" said he to Dolly herself. + +"I think I thought of it," said Dolly, "but I couldn't be sure but +the thieves had got there, and I wanted to get right round to uncle's +window as still as I could, and, too, I knew I couldn't knock loud +enough to wake anybody sound asleep, and besides--well, I don't know +just how it was." + +"But what made you think about the singing, Dolly? that was the very +queerest of all," he asked. + +"I don't know," replied Dolly, "unless 'twas the wolf story. You know, +Ned, when the man was followed by wolves he climbed up on a roof, and +because the roof was low, and he was afraid they might climb up too, +if they were very hungry, he played to them on his violin to entertain +them, and they sat round and listened till somebody came and scared +them off. They were just charmed, you see, and p'raps I thought I could +charm the thieves. At any rate I didn't think much about it--I just did +it." + +"What did you sing, anyway?" asked Ned. + +"Oh, that was the queerest!" replied Dolly. "I couldn't think of +anything but just this fairy song. Nurse Lely taught it to me," and she +sprang up and went dancing up and down the hall (for they were in the +dancing-hall, the tables having been removed) singing: + + "_Oh, dance, dance as the fairies dance, + The fairies dance, the fairies dance; + Oh, dance, dance as the fairies dance, + Trip-trip in the magic ring._ + + "_Oh, sleep, sleep as the fairies sleep, + The fairies sleep, the fairies sleep; + Oh, sleep, sleep and the fairies sleep-- + In the cowslip's bell they swing._ + + "_Oh, fly, fly as the fairies fly, + The fairies fly, the fairies fly; + Oh, fly, fly as the fairies fly + On the black bat's dusky wing._" + +And as she danced to and fro, keeping time to the rhythm, and gently +swaying like the cowslips' bells, and then flew up and down the hall +with her arms beating the air like wings, Ned found it difficult to +give full expression to his delight. + +"Did you really do all that--the dancing and flying, I mean--up in the +tree?" + +"What I could; but I had to hold on with one hand, you know." + +"Say, let me see you do it up there some time, will you?" Ned asked. + +"P'raps so," Dolly replied. + +"But I say," continued Ned, after a moment's reflection, "what cowards +those fellows were, to be scared by a girl singing a fairy song in a +tree!" + +"Ah, Ned," said his mother, who was sorting pies in the L chamber +which opened out of the hall, "sin is always cowardly. It is only +righteousness that is brave." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + ON THE MARSHES. + + +About ten days after the convention the following letter tumbled out +of the mail-bag as it was shaken over the table within the tavern +bar which served as the Byfield post-office, the letters and papers +occupying the shelves whereon formerly wines and liquors had been kept. +The letter was postmarked Boston, and directed to Mrs. Park. It was as +follows: + + "DEAR SISTER ANNA,--When we sent our Dolly to you for a brief + visit, we little thought it might lengthen into months if not a + year. We are going to Southern France, and I take it for granted, + even before asking, that you will take care of her during our + absence. As you know, my health has not been good for a long time, + and Dr. Bowditch insists upon a year in that climate, and so + strenuously that Malcolm has taken fright and has already engaged + our passage in the packet sailing on Saturday next. So there is not + time even for the briefest visit to Dolly; and perhaps it is for + the best, after all. Comfort her, my dear sister, with motherly + comfort, as you know so well how to do. Expect a passionate + outbreak at first. Poor child! it will be hard for her, as it is + for us. In a couple of days you may expect her trunks. + + "I need not assure you again how great a comfort it will be for us, + when the wide Atlantic is between, that she is with you and Harry. + Love to him and to your manly little Ned. Excuse the brevity of + this, for time presses. + + "I enclose a letter for Dolly. + + "Your affectionate sister, + + "HELEN WINSLOW. + + "P. S.--I forgot to say that if we remain over the summer we shall + most probably send for Dolly to come over with the Grays, who sail + the last of May." + +Having read her letter, Mrs. Park went in search of Dolly, whom she +found with Ned in the kitchen, superintending the preparations for the +annual salt-haying. Countless loaves of bread, bushels of dough-nuts, a +boiled ham, and chunks of pink saltpetred beef, were being packed into +boxes and baskets. + +"Oh, Ned, I wish we could go!" Dolly was saying, just as Mrs. Park +entered. Catching sight of the letter, she came eagerly forward. "Is it +from papa?" she asked, "and is he coming?" + +"It is a letter for you, my dear," was the reply. Dolly tore it open +impetuously and devoured the contents with a glance. Then, with a +passionate cry, she threw it upon the floor and ran out of the room. + +"What's the matter, mother?" asked Uncle Harry, who was in the kitchen, +fitting a scythe to its snath. + +"Malcolm and Helen sail on Saturday for Europe," was the reply. "It's +a sudden plan, and there's no time to see Dolly. Helen hinted at +an outburst. Poor child! it's hard for her, and I wish we could do +something to divert her mind for a time." + +"Take her salt-hayin'," suggested Thankful, who was trying to coax a +big cheese into a bag much too small for it. "She was jest a-wishin' +she c'd go. That would divart her if anything can." + +"So it would! I wish we might manage it," said Mrs. Park, looking +doubtfully at her husband. + +"Nothing easier," replied Mr. Park, after a pause, during which he had +been critically surveying his snath with one eye, while he considered +the question of salt-haying as a diversion for Dolly. "I guess we can +manage it. A change 'll do you good; an' there's the old Marchant House +close to the marsh" (he pronounced it "ma'sh"), "and if we take a few +fixings it'll be tolerably comfortable. Thankful will send things +cooked, as she always does, and we can depend on Skipper Joe for +extras." + +So it was arranged, and then Mrs. Park said, "Now I'll go and +find Dolly, or perhaps, Ned, you had better go. Tell her about the +salt-haying, and comfort her as well as you can." + +Ned, nothing loath, and feeling great confidence in his powers as +comforter, especially when backed by anything so alluring as a stay +by the salt marsh, after some search found her on the shady side of +the great hay-rick. She had cried out her grief and was lying on the +ground, with eyes shut, so at first he thought she was asleep. But as +he drew near she opened her eyes. + +"Oh, Dolly, I'm no end sorry!" Ned hastened to say. "But father says we +can go salt-haying, and mother's going, an' it'll be bully! There!" he +added, penitently, "I promised mother I'd never say that word again. A +feller must say something or burst. But I've promised, you know. Just +stop me, will you, Dolly, when you see it coming? And I say, wouldn't +it be first-rate 'f we could ride down in the hay-cart? But I s'pose we +shall have to go in the carry-all. But I'll drive, anyhow; father 'll +let me; an' you shall sit on the front seat, Dolly." And Ned paused, +feeling that he had presented a succession of joys enough to brighten +the most hopeless grief. + +"Oh, I shall like that!" said Dolly. "And now," looking a little +ashamed, "I'll go and get my letter. I wonder what Aunt Anna 'll think +of me, throwing it down in that fashion! Mamma is used to my rages." + +"Oh, she won't mind," said Ned. "She's used t' me. Mothers don't mind, +you know. I guess they're all a good deal alike, anyway. And I think +you're first-rate, Dolly. I always hated t' have girls 'round before; +but I like you. You ain't afraid of anything--don't squeal when you see +a snake or a spider; and I don't b'lieve you'd mind being tipped over +in a boat an' getting all mud." + +"Oh no," said Dolly, brightening more and more under these healing +ministrations, "I should like that--I _know_ I should like that! Papa +says I'm just like him when he was a boy. I just revel in dirt." + +They went back to the house, and Dolly picked up her letter, while +Thankful drew a flaky apple turnover from the oven. + +"Here's somethin' you'll like, I know," she said, offering it to Dolly +on the wooden shovel with which she had taken it from the hot brick +floor of the oven. Thankful had great faith in the efficacy of "good +victuals" for the healing of ordinary wounds of the spirit. + +Then Dolly found Aunt Anna, and apologized for her rage; and Aunt Anna +took her into her motherly arms, and they had a comfortable talk. + +"When I was a little girl, Aunt Anna," said Dolly, "I used to fly into +such rages! When I was a baby, mamma says, just a two-year-old baby, I +used to throw myself down straight and stiff, and knock my curly head +hard on the floor, when I was mad. Wasn't it funny? I don't do that +now, of course, and I thought I was getting the better of it;" and she +looked somewhat doubtfully at Aunt Anna. + +"Well, I'm sure you have every reason to be encouraged," said Aunt +Anna, cheerfully. "Throwing down your letter was a decided advance +upon throwing yourself down and knocking your head against the floor;" +and she laughed, and Dolly with her. "Well, well, Dolly, we all have +our battles to fight, and here's one motto I have found of great +use--'There's no lock but Patience has the key.'" + +The old Marchant House stood close by the marshes, not another house +within a mile in any direction, although by climbing up to the top +of a range of grass-grown hills hard by you might see the spires of +Dukesborough far away to the south-east. The house was a weather-beaten +structure of one story, spreading itself generously over the ground, +and in it lived, the year round, an old sailor known as Skipper Joe. + +Skipper Joe was his own house-keeper and cook. In this latter capacity +he had served on board ship at different times, and could make capital +slapjacks and duff, with other delicacies known to sailors. Every year +his house was opened to the hands who came salt-haying, and he fried +their fish, compounded relishing chowders, and made their coffee, for +which he had a delicious and secret recipe learned from a French cook. + +He had once been to the Banks of Newfoundland in command of a fishing +schooner, and had thus won his title of skipper. Like all old sailors, +he had a fund of stories literally true, although to landsmen they +sounded like romances, which he, sailor-like, was fond of telling to +any chance listener. After his long and lonely winter, varied only by +an occasional trip to Dukesborough, the coming of summer, which brought +not only the salt-haymakers but, later on, the sportsmen for game and +fish, was thrice welcome. To all these his old time-gray house opened +wide its doors, and not infrequently every cranny was filled. + +On the evening of the day upon which the salt-haying party from Park's +tavern arrived, he might have been seen sitting in one corner of the +ample fireplace, in which a wood fire, rendered desirable by the chilly +neighborhood of the sea, burned cheerfully, lighting up the dingy +wainscoted old kitchen till it glowed like the heart of a damask rose. + +In the opposite corner, in an old arm-chair that comfortably held the +two, sat Dolly and Ned, listening in open-eyed wonder as Skipper Joe +poured out a ceaseless tide of story a deal more fascinating than the +"Arabian Nights," and only to be equalled by the thrilling narrative of +"Robinson Crusoe," to which it bore a certain resemblance. + +"It was in th' autumn of 18--," he was saying, "'n I'd jest shipped on +th' _Chandler Price_, Cap'n John R. Pease, bound on a whalin' v'y'ge. +We sailed out o' Edgartown harbor with a fair wind, that kept astern +of us till we run slap inter th' Doldrums, where th' _Chandler Price_ +wallered for ten days, more or less, pitch a-stewin' out o' her at +ev'ry seam, sea like blue ile, an' th' whole air as thick an' steamy as +Nancy Blake's kitchen on a washin'-day. + +"Wa'al, tiresome 'nough 'twas haulin' 'n bracin', 'n tryin' t' ketch +ev'ry little han'ful o' wind, th' sun a-blazin' down 'n makin' th' men +sweat like porpuses, 'n th' rails 'n yards squirmin', as 'twere, in th' +heat. As I said, this kep' up for ten days, more or less, 'n we lay t' +th' nor'ards o' th' Line, waitin' 'n waitin', 'n one day pooty much +like another, 'n th' Southern Cross a-hangin' jest above th' h'rizon at +night. Ah!"--and Skipper Joe took his pipe out of his mouth, with a nod +to Dolly, whose hazel eyes had darkened and brightened as she listened +to his sailor-talk--"them stars beat your eyes, my little lass. It +makes a man feel kind o' queer, a sailor-lad who b'lieves 'n them +things, t' see that cross a-hangin' ther' night a'ter night. + +"'N the sharks kep' round, jest as the pesky critters will, hopin', +I reckon, that we'd rot a hole 'n th' bottom o' th' _Chandler +Price_ 'n drop through inter their jaws. But they were destined +t' disapp'intment, for all 't once come a bust o' wind from the +nor'-east that sent us spinnin', all sails set, with a screechin' wind +astern, straight f' th' whalin'-grounds. Wa'al, we were destined t' +disapp'intment tew, 'n 'twas many a long day before we set eyes on +them whalin'-grounds, an' this was how 'twas." + +Here Skipper Joe paused to empty the ashes from his pipe and to refill +it, settling back at last into his roundabout chair with the air of a +man who has a congenial piece of work to do and means to do it. + +He was a short, fat man, with a face round and jolly as the full moon, +which was completely encircled with a growth of gray, stubbly beard +and hair like a halo. He looked around upon his audience beamingly. +Several of the men, to whom his stories were as familiar as their A +B C's, and to one or two of them perhaps more so, were nodding and +snoring outright. The remainder, to whom, as to Dolly and Ned, they +had the charm of freshness, were waiting patiently for him to take up +the thread of his narrative, having meanwhile made use of the break to +refill their pipes also. + +"Wa'al, as I was a-sayin', we were destined t' disapp'intment," he +resumed, repeating the sonorous phrase with evident relish. "For one +mornin', what did th' man at th' lookout spy but a piece o' spar +driftin', 'n another 'n another, an' planks 'n ropes 'n casks, 'n +then we knew ther' must 'a be'n a wreck, tho' ther' wa'n't nothin' +put down nowheres on the chart round about there f'r anybody t' get +wrecked on. An' so we began cruisin' f'r land, f'r Cap'n Pease wa'n't +th' man t' leave a perishin' feller-critter, t' say nothin' 'bout a +feller-seaman, 'n we cruised 'n cruised f'r six day 'thout seein' signs +o' land, only this drift which stuck close t' th' _Chandler Price_ with +a kind o' feller-feelin' as 'twere. + +"Wa'al, by that time the crew nat'rally began t' get uneasy thinkin' +o' th' time lost an' their wage, an' so th' cap'n finally said, +C'lumbus-like, 'f land wa'n't sighted _that_ day he'd give it up 'n +steer f'r th' whalin'-ground. Wa'al, 'twa'n't sighted, 'n that night +th' _Chandler Price_ was headed ag'in for th' whalin'-ground, 'n th' +cap'n he went off t' his bunk ruther down 'n th' mouth; an' now, +mates," and here Skipper Joe took his pipe from his mouth, and, laying +it on the jamb of the fireplace, looked solemnly from one to another, +"comes th' queerest part o' my yarn. Cap'n Pease was a prayin' man--he +_b'lieved_ in prayer; an' long a'ter this he told a friend o' hisn +that a'ter he'd turned in he couldn't sleep f'r thinkin' o' them poor +shipwrecked critters, an' so he jest prayed t' th' Lord that 'f they +were alive he'd jest d'rect him which way t' steer, 'n he did; f'r +somewhere out o' th' night 'n th' dark there come a voice sayin', +'Steer sou'-by-west,' 'n the cap'n, 'bedient like Paul t' th' heavenly +vision, jumped out o' his bunk 'n rushed on deck, 'thout stoppin' t' +put on his clothes, 'n shouted t' th' man at th' wheel, 'Head her +sou'-by-west!' 'n th' steersman he said nothin', but jest kind o' +stared 't th' old man, thinkin' he was crazy-like, 'n walkin' 'n his +sleep; 'n then th' cap'n he jest shouts ag'in, 'Head her sou'-by-west,' +'n then he down with th' helm 'n steered sou'-by-west, 'n next mornin' +at break o' day I'm jiggered 'f ther' wa'n't land a-lyin' sou'-by-west, +as pooty a little coral island 's y' ever see, covered with cocoa-nut +trees, 'n a white shirt a-flyin' from th' tallest one--leastways we +l'arned 'twas a white shirt a'terwards, tho' 't looked 's much like a +white swab 's anything then. + +"The cap'n, a-smilin' kind o' ser'ous, thinkin' 'bout the voice I +reckon, looked thro' his glass 'n see a boy runnin' 'long th' beach t' +th' other side o' th' island, 'n pooty soon he come ag'in with a dozen +'n more white men, all a-shoutin' 'n wavin' their hands, 'n d'rectin' +us 'round th' other side o' th' island, where ther' was an openin' 'n +th' reef. 'N, mates, I've seen men 'n all succumstances o' grief 'n +joy, but I never see men so crazy with joy 's them men. They laughed 'n +they hugged us when we come ashore, 'n they cried like babies. 'N no +wonder, when y' come t' think on't, f'r th' island was swarmin' with +savages, 'n they'd divided th' men round, each fam'ly takin' care o' +so many, 'n fed 'em on raw fish 'n cocoa-nuts. But th' cocoa-nuts was +givin' out 'n pervisions gittin' scurse, 'n so th' savage critters had +drawn lots 'mong 'em two 'r three times t' see which they'd kill. But +ev'ry time the women--'n women, mates, 're jest alike th' world over, +alw'ys pitiful--th' women had throwed themselves between th' savages 'n +th' men, 'n begged f'r their lives, 'n so they'd spared 'em. But the +very next day a part o' 'em _were_ t' be killed anyhow, f'r the savages +said they couldn't stand it any longer; so we was jest 'n th' nick o' +time, 's 'twere. + +"Wa'al, th' savage critters took advantage o' our necess'ties, 's +civ'lized men will sometimes, 'n made the cap'n pay a good round sum +f'r th' poor fellers. It took all the cap'n's tradin' stuff, tobacker +'n sech, 'n a good part o' the ship stores, t' ransom 'em, 'n then we +steered straight f'r th' S'ciety Islands, f'r th' cap'n thought he'd +find vessels there short o' hands, 'n then he could divide th' poor +fellers among 'em, 'n so give us more sea-room aboard the _Chandler +Price_; but 'twa'n't t' be, 'n we kep' most o' them t' th' end o' th' +v'y'ge. That resc'e cost Cap'n Pease two thousand dollars out o' his +own pocket, 'n he never got a red cent of it back. But I reckon, mates, +that when a man sets sail f'r his final port, the most val'able cargo +he c'n carry 's a good deed like that." + +Here Skipper Joe's narrative ended. He dropped his head upon his breast +and fell into a brown study. The fire burned low. It was late, and Ned +went off to his bed, which consisted of a ship's hammock hung in the +garret, and Dolly to hers, which was a sack of clean straw spread upon +a cot in a closet-like room opening off Mrs. Park's bedroom; and they +were both shortly asleep, lulled by the booming of the surf on the +beach not far away. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE HOME OF WEBSTER. + + +The days that followed were halcyon days to Ned and Dolly. Skipper Joe +supplied them with an old punt to paddle about in; and as Mrs. Park +insisted upon Dolly's learning to swim, if she and Ned were going about +in a boat by themselves, Skipper Joe volunteered to teach her with +Ned's help; for Ned was a perfect duck in the water, and could not have +been a better swimmer even if he had had a Polynesian mother who had +tossed him into the water when a baby, and so taught him to swim once +for all by making him swim for his life. + +Ned was slightly offended because his mother thought it best for +Skipper Joe to superintend Dolly's swimming lessons. + +"Just as if I couldn't teach Dolly to swim, mother! Just look here!" +and he turned a somersault into the water and swam off, floating, +plashing, leaping, and making as much commotion as a school of +gambolling blue-fish. + +"Yes, you are a fine swimmer, Ned," said his mother, consolingly; +"but I shall feel safer about Dolly to have two with her when she is +learning." + +Dolly proved to be an apt pupil, and a very few lessons gave her +confidence in her own powers; and when Mrs. Park saw her going +through the water, looking in her flannel bathing-dress like a blue, +brown-haired mermaid fresh from the "caverns of the deep," and as much +at home, apparently, as the most accomplished mermaid could possibly +be, she bade good-by to all anxiety, and saw with perfect equanimity +the two paddle away day after day in the old punt, to which they had +given the somewhat incongruous name of the _Daisy_. + +The _Daisy_ was a shallow, flat-bottomed boat, looking like nothing +so much as a dripping-pan with one end pointed. But these two could +not have got more fun out of her if she had been a thorough-rigged, +well-victualled steam-yacht; not so much, in fact, for a steam-yacht +could never have penetrated the narrow inlets and tiny streams that +threaded these marshes like net-work. + +So Dolly and Ned paddled about in great content, spearing crabs, +catching cunners, dredging for shell-fish and sea-weed; sometimes +sitting upon the edge of the _Daisy_, with their feet in the water, and +disembarking now and then, when driven by hunger, to get up a private +clam-bake. This was before the epoch of the Rhode Island clam-bake +with which so many of us are familiar. But Dolly and Ned had read +that delightful old book, "Robin's Journal among the Arabs," and knew +the value of hot stones; so, with drift-wood they made a fire in a +hole in the sand and heated their stones therein; then packed their +clams and covered them with sea-weed, if not scientifically, yet with +satisfactory results. And years after, when the grown-up Ned and Dolly +did eat for the first time a real Rhode Island clam-bake, Ned paused +as he was conveying his first clam to his mouth, and smiling roguishly +said, "D' you remember, Dolly, our clam-bakes on the Marshfield +'ma'shes?'" + +One day a couple of men came down from inland with a cart for menhaden. +These are small fish that are often driven up into shallow water by +sharks. Dolly watched the men as they hauled them in by the hundreds. + +"Are they to eat?" she ventured to ask. + +"Bless y'r soul, no," was the grinning reply. "We use 'em f'r manure. +They're chock-full o' ile--tew greasy t' eat." + +"The squire told 'em 'bout 'em. _They'd_ never 'a found out," said +Skipper Joe, contemptuously. (Dolly had learned by this time that the +"squire" was Daniel Webster, whose farm lay near the marshes.) "They're +fust-rate t' enrich the sile," he continued; "but the wust o' 'em is, +they breed a swarm o' pesky green flies, 'n the folks call 'em 'Webster +flies.' He [meaning Webster] is a master-hand f'r knowin' everything. +Knows 'bout everything that's wuth knowin', I reckon." + +It was one of these men who told Dolly the name of a queer-looking +fish she saw one day prowling about in the shallow water, stirring up +other tiny fish and swallowing them. It had a pair of wing-like fins +attached just below its big head, and it ran about, apparently, on +something that looked like orange-colored claws. + +"Them?" said the man; "them's grunters; 'n some folks calls 'em +sea-robins, 'n some Cape Cod ministers." + +Dolly thought he was poking fun at her, though he spoke with the utmost +gravity, but Skipper Joe assured her he was not. + +"When you catch 'em they grunt," explained Skipper Joe, "'n that's why +they call 'em grunters; 'n it's easy 'nough t' see why some folks call +'em sea-robins; but _why_ they're called Cape Cod ministers 's more 'n +I know. Some folks eat 'em, but some folks c'n eat anything," he added. + +Meanwhile the haymakers cut the salt grass and carried it in gundalows +to the high lands to be cured. These gundalows were clumsy boats or +barges, as unlike the graceful gondola in appearance as in name. Dolly +and Ned occasionally took a sail in one of these gundalows on top of +the salt grass, from which expedition they always went back with fresh +pleasure to their beloved dripping-pan of a _Daisy_. + +Mrs. Park improved this bit of leisure out of her busy life with +reading and sketching, and so the still sunny, early September days +drifted by all too swiftly; and just two days before the end of the +haying season an adventure which seemed a fitting close to this golden +period, this cluster of red-letter days, befell our hero and heroine. + +These marshes consisted in part of vast level plains, over which the +damp sea-breezes swept and the shrieking sea-gulls flew to and fro. +These salt plains were inhabited by the kingfisher, the quawk, and the +heron. The quawk, a bird with slender yellow legs and a long beak, +fished at low tide for minnows and tiny crabs. He scarcely moved as the +_Daisy_ paddled noisily by, only looking up with reproach in his fishy +eyes as the waves made by the passing boat swept out of his reach some +dainty bit of garbage. + +These plains were varied with mounds, the work of the ocean in past +ages, when these marshes were sandy beaches and fierce winds piled the +sand in heaps. These heaps gradually hardened, and were held together +by the roots of marine plants, and so in time became round, grassy +hills. And while it might seem almost impossible for any one to be lost +in the intricacies of the small streams which threaded these marshes, +it was, after all, the easiest thing in the world, for they really +formed a labyrinth as bewildering as the famous one of Crete. The tide +ebbed and flowed in these narrow streams, and not a few times the +_Daisy_ was stranded on a muddy bottom and had to wait for the incoming +tide. At such times, however, Mrs. Park felt no anxiety at their +prolonged absence, for, as 'Zekle sensibly remarked, "Nobody c'd git +drownded where there wa'n't no water." + +Well, as I was saying, two days before the time fixed for their return +to Byfield, Dolly and Ned went off after an early dinner for a row--a +long afternoon row. "We must make the most of the time now, Dolly," +said Ned, as they moved slowly along, Ned sculling, "for we shall have +to go away day after to-morrow." + +"How I wish we could take the _Daisy_ with us!" said Dolly, patting the +dingy old punt affectionately. + +"'Twould be no good if we did," replied Ned. "Mother wouldn't let us +go on the pond, an' she's too big for the brook. I say, Dolly, I'll +make a raft when we get back. A raft 'll sail in the brook first-rate, +for I've tried it. I sailed down once 'most to the saw-mill, an' came +mighty near going over the dam. 'Most wish I had." + +"Oh, there's an eel!" shrieked Dolly, and seizing the spear which they +always carried in the boat, she made a lunge, lost her balance, and +went over into the tide mud, much to the discomfiture of the eel, which +squirmed off in company with a dozen spider-crabs, that, like itself, +were feeding on a dead quawk. It was not an unusual thing to happen +to Dolly, and Ned promptly helped her back into the boat, wiped off +the mud with his pocket-handkerchief, and then, in an absent-minded +fit, wiped his perspiring face on the same. Dolly's hat had tumbled +off, and a fresh layer of mud was added to the accumulations of the +previous ten days. The hat was originally white straw, trimmed with a +pink ribbon, but the combined influences of sea-air and water, sun and +mud, had sadly marred its pristine splendor. Dolly herself was as brown +as a Marshpee Indian, and the clothes of the two were interesting as +geological specimens with their daily deposits of varied dirt. Truly, +an exceedingly grimy but very happy pair they looked. + +As they sculled they came within view of the sea. It was of a pale +blue, a tint so exquisite that Ned dropped his oar and let the _Daisy_ +drift while they looked. The blue water seemed a long way off, and just +above the water-line, silhouetted against the silvery horizon, a ship +sailed slowly along with every sail set, even to the graceful sky-sails. + +"Look, look, Ned!" exclaimed Dolly. "It sails in the air! What is it? +Is it the _Flying Dutchman_? Is it a ghost of a ship?" + +"I think," replied Ned, slowly, "it must be a mirage. I've heard +Skipper Joe talk about 'em, and don't you remember Robins saw 'em in +the desert?--not ships, but palms and springs, where there weren't no +palms or springs. It's only a reflection, that's what it is. The real +ship!--look quick, Dolly!" and Dolly, following the direction of Ned's +finger, saw suspended high up in the air a big square-rigged vessel, +and just above it another exactly like it, only inverted, the top-masts +of the one touching the top-masts of the other. + +"Oh, it's like the enchanted horse in the 'Arabian Nights!' only it +would be ever so much nicer to sail than to ride," said Dolly. + +"I think I'd rather sail in the _Daisy_," said Ned, picking up his oar; +and then they waited till the mirage had faded, and nothing was to be +seen but the pale-blue sea and the silvery horizon. + +Fleetest-footed of all those perfect days seemed this one, and before +they were aware the sun was low in the west and it was time to go +home. But when they began to take their bearings, and tried to decide +in which direction the old Marchant House lay, they were completely +puzzled. Ned went up on a mound to look, but he could see nothing save +what appeared to be an endless reach of similar mounds. They hallooed, +but nothing replied. Only the screams of the sea-gulls could be heard, +and even these grew faint as the sun sank and they flew swiftly past to +their nesting-place on some distant island. The two looked blankly at +each other. + +"Well, this is a jolly go!" was Ned's remark. + +"Do you think we shall have to stay all night on the marsh?" asked +Dolly, trying to look anxious, but really thinking it would not be such +a bad thing, after all. + +"It looks like it," replied Ned, "unless Skipper Joe finds us: an' I +don't see how he can find us any better than we can find him." + +"The sand is nice and soft, and it won't hurt our clothes to sleep on +it," said Dolly, looking herself over critically. + +"And I say, Dolly," put in Ned, "I can turn the _Daisy_ over you bottom +side up, to keep you warm, you know." + +"Oh, wouldn't that be fun!" exclaimed Dolly, clapping her hands, brown +with tan and grimy with the experiences of the day. + +But it wasn't her destiny to spend the night on the "ma'sh," with +the _Daisy_ for a blanket. Even while they were talking they heard +footsteps. A hat was seen rising over a sand-hill near by--a big +slouched hat--and this was followed by a tall man bearing a gun on his +shoulder, and carrying a pouch of game at his side, while an English +pointer followed close by his heels. + +At the same instant Dolly whispered, "It's the man with the head like +the State-house dome;" and Ned, in a still more subdued tone with a +shade of awe in it, "Halloo, Dolly, it's Daniel Webster!" Webster +stopped as he caught sight of the pair. It was a queer group to +come upon at dusk in these lonely marshes--the old punt, the tall, +frank-faced, blue-eyed boy, the slender, girlish figure, with the +clustering brown hair, nut-brown cheeks, and hazel eyes--queer but +picturesque, flushed with the rosy hues of the after-glow. + +Webster looked an instant and then spoke. "Good-evening," he said. "May +I ask who you are, and can I do anything for you? Have you lost your +way?" + +"I am Edward Park, sir," replied Ned, manfully, "and this is my cousin, +Dorothea Winslow." + +"Ah!"--and a sunny smile beamed forth from the cavernous black +eyes--"then you are the son of my friend Park, of Byfield, and +this"--turning to Dolly, and raising his old slouched hat with the +same graceful deference he might have shown to a Russian princess or +an English court lady--"and this is the little lady who attended our +convention, and who so bravely frightened off the thieves. But may I +ask how you chance to be here?" + +"We've got lost," replied Ned. "We're at the old Marchant House with my +father and mother and the haymakers. Dolly and I are out with the boat. +We've been out every day, but we never got lost before. Can you tell us +which way to go and how far it is?" + +"I'm afraid it's a long way to the old Marchant House, too far for you +to go at this late hour, and I doubt, with the evening coming on, if +you could find it. The best thing for you to do will be to leave your +boat here and go home with me. My house is not far, and I will send a +man to Mrs. Park to let her know you are safe. Then you shall spend +the night with me, and I count myself happy to have the opportunity of +entertaining the son and niece of my old friend," he added, with that +cordial hospitality which always put every one, old and young, at their +ease. + +"Thank you," replied Ned, with a shade of hesitation in his voice. He +was not quite sure it was the thing to do, but what else could he do? +And as to Dolly, she glanced distressfully at her soiled frock, and was +painfully conscious of her battered hat. But Webster did not wait. + +"This is the way," he said, walking on, "and, as I said, it is only a +short distance." + +As they walked away, Dolly turned to look at the _Daisy_, where she lay +high and dry, as the tide had left her while they were trying to find +the direction of the Marchant House. It was like saying "farewell" to +an old friend, for Dolly had a presentiment that she would never see +the _Daisy_ again. + +"Good-by, dear old _Daisy_," she whispered to herself, as she hurried +on after the two, who had got in advance of her while she lingered. + +They entered the house by a side door, and Dolly was at once consigned +to a maid, who took her to a bedroom and assisted her in her toilet. +She bathed her face and hands, brushed out her tangled curls into a +fluffy mass of ringlets, and after having her shoes brushed and her +dusty frock well shaken, she contemplated with much satisfaction her +renovated figure in the tall pier-glass which enabled her to see +herself from top to toe. The fresh lace in her frock, which Mrs. Park +always insisted should go in every morning, whether Dolly was to pass +the day in the parlor or in the woods, gave a lady-like finish to her +dress. + +"Yes, I think I'll do, after all," she said to herself, with a sigh of +relief. + +Ned had passed through very much the same experience in the hands of +the personal attendant of his host, and the two, as they met in the +parlor, exchanged smiles of congratulation. + +"You look first-rate," whispered Ned to Dolly, as they bent their heads +together above a group of Japanese figures in ivory. "How did you +manage it? girls have such a knack!" + +"I don't look a bit nicer than you," replied Dolly. "It must be the +brushing." + +"And the soap and water," added Ned, and then they followed their host +out to dinner. + +The dining-room was long and low-ceiled, with a circular sideboard of +mahogany inlaid with holly. There were a few guests besides the family. +Webster was very merry all through dinner. He had had a good day's +shooting, and gave the history of his shots in detail, and told how +he had met with two salt-haymakers with whom he had conversed a short +time, and after he had turned away he heard one of them say, "Quite a +sensible old fellow, ain't he?" The speaker had evidently not known +him, and was struck by so much intelligence combined with such shabby +clothes. Ned tried to imagine what his surprise might be should he +ever learn that the "sensible old fellow" was the "great Webster." + +Just before helping to the joint of mutton which he had himself carved, +Webster looked inquiringly at Ned's right-hand neighbor, a young man +addressed as "Port." + +"Yes, _my_ name is Leathers," said Port, promptly sending up his plate. + +"And so is mine," said his opposite neighbor, Jackson. + +Webster, catching Ned's look of surprise, laughed as heartily as a boy, +and then told the story which has since grown so familiar through his +biographies: how a family named Leathers, living in New Hampshire, for +some good office rendered to the town, were each to have a pound of +tobacco and a pint of rum by calling for them. The family was a very +large one, but at last, so great was the number of applicants for the +tobacco and rum, it was thought best to put the question, "Is your name +Leathers?" to each fresh applicant. The phrase had been adopted as a +favorite byword with the Webster family and their familiar guests. + +After dinner Ned and Dolly, with the younger guests, went through the +numerous rooms, looking at the choice bits of bric-à-brac and the +pictures on the walls. The Webster mansion was--we speak of it in the +past tense, as unhappily it was burned a few years ago--a rambling +house, put together piecemeal, the fine library having been built by +Webster and planned with the help of his daughter Julia. On the crowded +walls Dolly espied a silhouette portrait in a small plain frame. This +kind of portrait was made by cutting the outlines of the head and face +from paper, and framing the paper so cut over a bit of black silk. +These portraits were of an era preceding that of daguerreotypes and +photographs. Under this silhouette was written, "My dear Mother. D. W." +Dolly wondered a little that so plain and simple a portrait should have +a place among such fine paintings, not having yet learned that our most +valued possessions are often the portraits, however simple, of those +who have loved us. + +In the library a wood-fire burned in the open fireplace, and +through the window over the mantle Webster pointed out the ancient +burial-ground, or "God's acre," where, as he told them, Peregrine +White is buried--Peregrine White, the baby born on the _Mayflower_, +whose shivering little figure you may see to-day in the painting of +the Landing of the Pilgrims, in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth. There, too, +lies Edward Winslow, one of the early governors of Plymouth, "who is my +ancestor," said Dolly, with pardonable pride. Webster smiled upon her +as she said it, and said himself that "a noble ancestry was a better +inheritance than priceless gems." He told her that he had caused the +trees to be cut and trimmed so as to give him this view of the distant +burial-ground, which Dolly thought a queer thing to do, though of +course she did not say so. + +On either side the chimney hung life-size, full-length portraits of +Webster and Lord Ashburton. Lord Ashburton, one of the guests told +Dolly as he saw her looking at him attentively, was associated with +Webster in the defining of boundaries between Canada and the United +States, and Dolly "made a note of it," like Captain Cuttle, and +secretly resolved to read more history. + +That was a marvellous evening, one never to be forgotten by our Dolly +and Ned. The firelight played over the walls of the spacious library, +making fantastic shadows, while the guests listened to the voice which +had held spellbound so many thousands. Webster talked a good deal about +the older English writers with one of his guests, a distinguished +literary gentleman, and recited in his wonderful voice almost the whole +of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village;" and Dolly dates from that evening +a love for those older writers which has proved a solace under many +adverse circumstances. + +"And now," said Webster, the next morning after they had breakfasted, +"we'll go out to the barn and look at the cattle." + +The night before, what with the dusk and the embarrassment of their +arrival, Dolly and Ned had scarcely noticed the outside of the house. +As they stepped out into the gravelled walk, and looked about them, +it seemed very pleasant and home-like in the morning sunlight, with +its many gables and cosey verandas. At one corner of the house stood a +magnificent elm of great girth and height, whose pendent branches swept +the green turf. In its shade was a rustic chair, a favorite seat of +Webster's. + +Dolly uttered a cry of delight as they entered the breezy, hay-scented +barn, and Webster turned with a smile of pleasure as he heard her. + +"So you like barns and cattle as well as I do," he said, and Dolly +blushed and dimpled to be placed in the same category with so +distinguished a man, if it were only as a lover of cattle. + +The beautiful cattle, with their soft, beseeching eyes and sleek +coats, were standing patiently in their stalls. (The Greeks knew what +beautiful eyes were, and they called their great goddess the ox-eyed +Juno.) As Webster pulled down from the mows handfuls of succulent +corn-fodder and fed them, calling attention to their fine points, he +said to Ned, humorously, "As I tell Fletcher, they are the best of +company, a good deal better than any I find in the Senate Chamber." And +any one could see that he had a genuine love for the fine creatures. + +They lingered long in the barn, for the master seemed loath to go, +although the young Jackson and Port waxed impatient to be gone on their +fishing trip to Cut River, for which the boat on the pond in the rear +of the house was being got ready. But Webster had to take a look at +his hens, and count the eggs laid during the morning. At last they went +out again into the sunshine, and Webster pointed out to Dolly the hill +where his favorite horses were buried--"with all the honors of war," +he said, "standing upright, with halters and shoes on." One of these +horses was named "Wilmot Proviso." + +When word had been sent to Mrs. Park of the whereabouts of Dolly and +Ned, a message had also been added that they would be returned the next +morning. So in due time the barouche, with its span of black horses, +was brought to the door, and the last glimpse of Webster, as they went +down the drive, showed him in the act of taking a flying leap over the +fence in competition with the young Port. + +To this charming adventure there was just one drawback. As she had +feared, Dolly never saw the _Daisy_ again; but a water-color of it, +executed at a later day from memory, now hangs in her cosey of coseys. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE LITTLE MADAM. + + +"How is the Little Madam?" Dolly had heard Skipper Joe ask of Mrs. Park +one day when they were at the Marchant House. + +"She's as well and happy as usual," was the reply. + +"Jest the same here, I s'pose," he continued, touching his forehead +significantly. + +"Just the same." + +"Well, it's queer--queer," said Skipper Joe, meditatively. "Don't never +sense nothin' o' what's happened. It's queer--dum queer." + +So when Dolly heard one morning a buzzing as though a swarm of +honey-bees had taken possession of the dancing-hall, and opening the +door and peeping in saw a little woman spinning off in the south-east +corner who looked exactly like a picture, just as though she might have +stepped that moment out of Grimm's fairy tales, she knew at once, by a +sort of intuition, that this was the Little Madam. + +This small woman was exceedingly small, short as well as slight; her +skin was dark, a clear, soft dark, and she had black, velvety eyes, +with long eyelashes, and small hands and feet, smaller than Dolly's. +She wore over her black hair a kind of mantle of white muslin, which +framed her face like a nun's coif, and was crossed upon her bosom. Her +scanty gown was white, too, a peculiarity which specially struck Dolly +in a latitude where white was reserved for church-going and other state +occasions. + +She was stepping briskly back and forth by the side of her +spinning-wheel, drawing out the long thread, and then with the reverse +motion of her wheel winding it upon the spindle back and forth, like +a true fairy godmother. The sunbeams fell athwart the wheel and the +reel and the tiny tripping figure, and it all did really look so much +like a picture that might dissolve any moment, like the mirage of the +Marshfield marshes, that Dolly did not venture to speak lest it might +vanish. The little woman seemed busy with happy thoughts, for she +smiled to herself as she crooned a song, the air of which was sweet, +but the words were foreign. + +Altogether, Dolly's curiosity was deeply excited; and as she softly +closed the door and ran down-stairs to find Ned, the first words she +said to him were, + +"Who is that little woman in the hall?" + +"The Little Madam," replied Ned, just as Dolly expected, and pegging +away on the kite he was making. + +"And who is the Little Madam?" queried Dolly; "and how did she +come--on a broom, or in a pumpkin-shell coach with mice for horses?" + +"Halloo! what's up?" exclaimed Ned, looking up. + +"I wish you'd tell _who_ the Little Madam is, and _where_ she came +from, and all about her. I never knew a thing about her till this +minute, and where have you kept her hid?" + +"Hid!" ejaculated Ned, bewildered. "Why, she lives on Hemlock Island." + +"And _where_, for pity's sake, is Hemlock Island? Oh, Ned, Ned! I'm +dying with curiosity to know all about her, and do put up that old kite +and tell me--a good long yarn, like one of Skipper Joe's." + +Ned laughed good-naturedly. "I can spin my yarn and work on my kite +too, Dolly; and I do suppose she looks queer to you. But I'm used to +her, you know. I've known her almost ever since I've known anybody. +But there isn't much of a story. Only Skipper Joe picked her up at sea +somewhere, drifting round in an old boat or something, an' brought her +to mother; an' she's sort o' crazy--don't know who she is herself, nor +where she lived, nor what happened to her, nor anything. She likes to +be by herself, so father lets her live in his old house on Hemlock +Island; and she's learned to spin, and spins for folks, an' knits, an' +winters she lives here." + +"Not much of a story, Ned! I should think so, indeed! Why, she might be +a princess, a real princess. Picked up drifting in a boat--oh, it's +splendid! Say, Ned," said Dolly, coaxingly, "take me down to Hemlock +Island, will you?" + +"All right," replied Ned. + +The Little Madam did not dine with the family that day. Her dinner, +such as she liked--a potato salad, a glass of milk, and a custard--was +taken up to her by Thankful herself, who remarked as she walked off +with the tray, "She's a poor loony cretur', one o' them folks mentioned +in Scriptur', I reckon--them that's hungry, 'n sick, 'n in prison." +Thankful never waited upon people whom she considered able to wait upon +themselves, and seemed to consider an apology necessary for so doing. + +The early morning of the next day saw Dolly and Ned on their way +to Hemlock Island. There was a third person with them--I think we +may call him a person. The stage which brought Dolly's trunks from +Boston brought him also. He was walking along by Dolly's side, with +Dolly's hand upon his tawny head and a look of supreme content in his +intelligent eyes. This third person was a magnificent St. Bernard, +Dolly's playmate in her cradle and her faithful friend and servitor +ever since. He had fished her out of the frog-pond on the Common in her +later babyhood, into which she had fallen while Nora her nurse was just +a-speakin' with her friend, a neighboring coachman, and he had badly +bitten an old woman who attempted to kidnap her once upon a time when +she had wandered off down Joy Street. + +The road to Hemlock Island was a true by-way, a serpentine lane which +ran part of the way between high grassy banks overrun with wild vines +and flowering herbs like an English lane, and part of the way was +shaded by trees of hickory and pine. Why called Hemlock Island is a +mystery, unless it was because no hemlocks grew there; neither was it +an island: it was a promontory making out into Wintuxet Lake, and it +had a fine growth of wood, with extensive pasturage, where large herds +of cattle and flocks of sheep grazed through the summer. + +Around the enclosure wherein stood the Little Madam's dwelling a +hundred cattle were placidly feeding that day. The lane came to an end +in the Little Madam's front yard. The house was small, consisting of +one room, besides a bedroom and lean-to, and it was a perfect bower +of a nest, being entirely overgrown with woodbine, with the exception +of the windows and door, even to the chimney-top, from which a long +streamer waved like a ship's pennant. Morning-glories blossomed out +from the woodbine, and the Little Madam's love of flowers betrayed +itself in a perfect burst of bloom on either side of the path leading +from the gate to the door. + +The Little Madam was not the first exile, if exile she may be called, +who had found shelter in this quiet spot. To the west of her dwelling, +in the pasture, was an old well, around which the "Bouncing Bets," or +more politely speaking, the "French Pinks," ran riot, and hard by a +slight depression in the turf indicated the spot where once stood the +dwelling of an exiled family from Acadie. The family had planted a +garden there, and the place was and is known to this day as "the French +Garden." Perhaps Longfellow's Evangeline found a brief resting-place +here--who knows? + +As Dolly and Ned entered the wide-open door, a voice, a soft muffled +voice, said, "How do! how do! Shake hands!" and immediately the owner +of the voice, an imperial white Australian cockatoo, erected his +canary-colored crest, opened wide his wings, and uttered a loud, hoarse +cry. + +"He doesn't like Gaston--he's afraid of him, Dolly," said Ned. + +"Gaston, go out and lie down," said Dolly; and with an indignant look +at the cockatoo as the cause of his expulsion, Gaston walked out with +true canine dignity, and lay down on the door-step in the sun. + +"What a lovely, queer-looking place!" said Dolly, looking around. +The cockatoo had subsided, and from his perch was bowing graciously, +holding out his claw and saying, "Shake hands, shake hands." + +Ned took his claw, when again he shrieked, elevating his crest and +opening wide his wings. "He's showing off, now; he wants you to admire +him," said Ned. + +"Pretty cockatoo! pretty cockatoo!" laughed Dolly, and thereat he +sprang upon her wrist and bestowed a kiss, a true sibilant kiss, upon +her pouting lips, and before she could remonstrate he was back upon +his perch, chuckling audibly, and saying, "Pretty cockatoo! pretty +cockatoo! Kiss me, kiss me!" + +His second scream had brought in the Little Madam, somewhat flushed and +breathless, from her beehives. + +"Ah, it is you, my good Ned, is it?" she said. "I feared the bad boy. +Bad boy tease my pretty cockatoo." She held out her hand and the bird +sprang upon it, making soft, cooing sounds the while, and caressing her +with his beak and wings. + +"Skipper Joe brought it to her, Dolly," said Ned. + +"Yes, Skipper Joe; he my good friend," said the Little Madam. She did +not talk much, but looked smilingly from Ned to Dolly, and brought out +a plate of pink-cheeked peaches and purple grapes for them. She had a +bewildered, seeking look in her beautiful eyes, as though she might +be seeking for that lost life of hers, and Dolly became so absorbed +watching her as she sat with crossed hands, now smiling, now falling +into a reverie, that she quite forgot the peach she was eating. But +Ned, to whom the Little Madam was a more familiar object, ate the +fruit with boyish appetite, and emptied the plate. + +The room, which was an unusually large room,--as well it might be, +being the only one--had the same dainty characteristics as its +mistress. The Little Madam herself and the cockatoo gave to it a +foreign air. Boxes of sweet-scented flowers bloomed in the windows, +which drew the bees that buzzed in and out, and about the Little Madam +familiarly, lighting on her nun's coif. An immense gray, basket-like +fungus, which the Little Madam must have found in some of her wood +rambles, was nailed against the wall and filled with wild vines, which +grew thriftily in this apparently congenial atmosphere. + +There seemed to be a secret understanding between this little lady +and what we human beings are pleased to call the dumb creation--the +birds, the insects, the beasts. But are they really _dumb_? Does not +each kind have a language which we in our ignorance cannot understand? +Did not Gaston speak when he roused from his sleep, walked up to the +Little Madam, and put his big tawny head under her little brown hand? +This was as plain as human speech. It said, "I trust you," and so Dolly +interpreted it. + +"See Ned!" she exclaimed, "Gaston never takes to strangers--he hates +to have them touch him; and there he is asking the Little Madam to pat +him." + +For days Dolly could not get the thought of her out of her mind. + +"She isn't really crazy, is she, Auntie?" she asked one day, returning +again to the exhaustless topic. + +"No," was Mrs. Park's reply. "She has simply forgotten everything up to +a certain time." + +"And what do you suppose made her, Auntie? Ned says Skipper Joe found +her drifting in a boat." + +"Yes; a ship on which Skipper Joe was first mate picked her up +somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Of course they could find out nothing +by her, because she remembers nothing. That was ten years ago. She has +learned to speak English tolerably well, and she never speaks anything +else, though she sings foreign songs which Skipper Joe says are +Portuguese. Skipper Joe brought her here to me. She is fond of being +out-of-doors, and used to wander off in summer-time, till your Uncle +Harry fitted up the old house for her. She seems very happy there." + +"But, Auntie, it must be very lonely down there," continued Dolly. +"Isn't she ever afraid?" + +"She is not like others, you must remember, Dolly; she does not know +what fear is. Though lately I have seen some signs of it, and I am a +little troubled about some things of which, if I tell you, Dolly, you +must not speak." + +"Oh no, indeed!" said Dolly, rapturously, charmed, as most of us are, +at the prospect of a secret being imparted to our keeping. + +"I suppose," continued Mrs. Park, "she is, or rather was, a Catholic, +and some ignorant people here have found it out and profess to look +upon her with horror. And some troublesome boys, who only want an +excuse for doing so, have been teasing her lately. That was what she +meant by 'bad boy.' We could stop the boys teasing her if it were not +for some older people who ought to know better." + +"Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed Dolly, indignantly. "What a mean, mean +thing to tease such a helpless little woman!" + +"My dear Dolly," replied Mrs. Park, with that wisdom we gain by +experience, "that is the very reason they tease her, because she is +helpless. Cowards do not dare to touch those who are able to defend +themselves," and Dolly was silent for some moments. + +"Well, she has some good friends any way," she said at last--"you and +Uncle and Skipper Joe and Thankful." + +"And Thankful is a host in herself," replied Mrs. Park, smiling; "and +you must watch over her too, Dolly. Go and see her often; she seems to +have taken a great liking to you and Gaston." + +And Dolly was proud of the trust reposed in her. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + SKATTA. + + +Among the contents of the trunks sent down to Dolly from Boston was a +copy of "Ivanhoe," bound in drab boards. Now "Robin's Journal among +the Arabs" was bound in dingy leather. So Ned knew from experience +that very good things may have a homely or even rough exterior, like a +watermelon or a chestnut. He opened the book and began to read aloud. + +"'In that pleasant district of Merry England which is watered by the +river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the +greater part of the hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and +the pleasant town of Doncaster.'" + +And Dolly sank down among the litter of things which she had tumbled +out of her two trunks to listen, and there Aunt Anna found them at the +end of three hours, in animated talk, having just finished the tenth +chapter, which closes with Gurth's meeting with Rebecca in the house of +Isaac of York. + +"Rebecca is a trump," remarked Ned, summing up in that expressive word +the universal feeling in regard to the beautiful Jewess. + +"And isn't the Disinherited Knight splendid? I wonder how he came out +the next day. I should so like to see a tournament, Ned. Oh, do read +on!" said Dolly, her cheeks aglow with excitement. + +"After dinner," said Aunt Anna--"dinner is ready now." And after dinner +it was, for they went up into the hay-mow and read till it was time +to fetch the cows home; and if they did not, like Thackeray when he +was a school-boy, sit up far into the night to follow the fortunes of +Rebecca, it was only because they were not allowed to do so. Mr. and +Mrs. Park had gone to Plymouth for the night, and Thankful found the +two after ten o'clock still reading, and swooped them off to bed, right +in one of the most thrilling parts of the story, where Rebecca throws +down her embroidered glove, exclaiming, + +"God will raise me up a champion. It cannot be that in Merry England, +the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are ready to +peril their lives for honor, there will not be found one to fight for +justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by combat--there +lies my gage." + +"Oh, Thankful, it's too bad to make us go to bed now. Do let us just +find out how Rebecca came out. Just read ahead a little bit and see, +Ned. Only ten minutes, Thankful, please," pleaded Dolly, as eager for +the fray as the most accomplished knight could possibly have been. + +But Thankful was inexorable, and Ned, running his eye over a page or +two, and announcing that it looked as though it would take a hundred +pages "to get Rebecca out of the scrape," Dolly went off reluctantly +to bed, and dreamed that _she_ was the Disinherited Knight, and had a +joust with Thankful, wearing a brass kettle for a helmet and carrying a +mince-pie for a shield, and Thankful, having received her death-blow, +was suddenly transformed into the lovely Rowena, and crowned the +Disinherited Knight with a wreath of cabbages. + +As to Ned, he awoke 'Zekle, who slept in an adjoining room, in the +dead of the night, by shouting, "Saint George for Merry England! To +the rescue! to the rescue!" and pommelling the head-board violently. +And it was "a marcy," as Thankful remarked the next morning, "that he +didn't get his death a-readin' novils," for 'Zekle, only half awake, +and possessed with the idea that burglars were entering the house in +the absence of its master, got out his gun, heavily loaded with small +shot for crows, and was just upon the point of firing it off in the +direction of the pommelling when his brain cleared and he became aware +that the voice was Ned's. + +Thankful indulged in many more disrespectful remarks concerning +"novils" the next morning while frying their favorite pancakes for +breakfast, but Ned audaciously brought out "Ivanhoe" into the very +kitchen itself, and he and Dolly finished it comfortably on the +settle, and were pleased to remark that Thankful did not close the door +between the kitchen and the buttery, where she was mixing a batch of +dough-nuts. Indeed, her ordinarily heavy step seemed to grow lighter as +she stepped from the buttery to the frying-kettle, back and forth, and +she held her skimmer suspended a moment in mid-air at that consummate +moment where, his helmet being removed, Brian de Bois Gilbert is found +to be dead, and the Grand Master exclaims, + +"This is indeed the judgment of God. _Fiat voluntas tua._" + +"That's so!" said Thankful, lowering her skimmer and scooping the +dough-nuts from the kettle _en masse_. + +Thankful did not understand Latin, so her fervent response must have +been to the sentiment expressed in English; and Thankful was apt to +look upon the misfortunes of mankind in general as judgments. + +Ned read the closing chapter and kept his voice bravely firm, while +Dolly wept openly and copiously, and Thankful dropped a furtive tear +into the frying-kettle. At least Ned said so, and the fat spluttered +and sizzled suspiciously. + +"Rebecca's wuth a dozen o' that set-up Rowena," remarked Thankful, as +Ned closed the book, and Dolly drew a long sigh. "An' I reckon Ivaner +thought so, only he couldn't help himself. Things is unaccountably +mixed 'n this world. I reckon she hen-pecked him well. She's jest the +kind t' dew it." With which sentiments we most of us, including the +immortal Thackeray, doubtless agree. + +"Wouldn't it be fun to have a tournament, Ned?" Dolly said more than +once during the days that followed the reading of "Ivanhoe." For +nothing in that entertaining book seemed to have taken such hold upon +her imagination as the famous tournament at Ashby-de-la-Zouche. "And if +we only had another horse we'd have one, wouldn't we, Ned?" she said, +confidentially, as the two were riding old Bill down to water one day. + +"Gaston wouldn't make a bad horse," she continued, looking down at the +noble fellow, who, as usual, was following closely in the wake of his +beloved mistress; "but he isn't half big enough. Oh dear! can't you +think of some way, Ned?" + +"We might take the saw-horse or clothes-horse, Dolly. I'm sure I can't +think of anything else," replied Ned, in despair. "I'm afraid Dapple or +Sukey wouldn't do. There's too much go to 'em, an' we should catch it +if anything happened to 'em." + +"Oh no, of course not," replied Dolly, virtuously, but secretly +wondering whether one of them could not be made to "do," after all. + +But Dolly was saved from the probable consequences of riding Sukey in a +tournament by a most happy happening. For things do sometimes happen +just right in real life, as well as in story-books. + +Her birthday was approaching--her thirteenth birthday. In fact, it was +near at hand, and at last it dawned; and the sun, as he thrust his red +face through a cloud of golden mist, sent a quivering dart betwixt +the curtain and the window-frame of Dolly's bedroom, and touched her +eyelids with a "Good-morning, my dear; it's your birthday, and it's +time to get up." + +_Was_ it the sun, or Aunt Anna, or only a dream? As Dolly, not yet +quite out of dream-land, was trying to solve this question, she was +thoroughly aroused by Ned, who knocked at her door and called out, in +a voice of suppressed excitement, "Hurry-up, Dolly! oh, hurry up, do! +If you only kn--" Here a hand was evidently clapped over his mouth--the +hand of his mother, in fact--who laughingly said, + +"Now, Ned, I told you so! It'll pop out before you know it. Come with +me; it's the only safe thing to do;" and she dragged him off protesting. + +"Now, mother, you know I can keep a secret a thousand times better than +you or any other woman," he said, saucily. "I only wanted to sharpen +Dolly's curiosity. But I say, isn't it--" Here his mother's hand went +over his mouth again. + +"There! you see, Ned, it's no use. Dolly will hear you, and the +cat'll be out of the bag unless you're gagged;" and she slipped half a +melocotoon peach into his mouth, which effectually stopped the tide of +speech. + +Dolly had heard, and her curiosity was sharpened to a degree that would +have sufficiently gratified Ned could he have witnessed it. She hurried +with her dressing; but everything was perverse. Her hair twisted into +knots; she pulled on a stocking wrong side out, and an impatient jerk +broke the lacing of her shoe; then an important button flew off. She +stopped to sew it on, and, as a fitting _finale_ to this chapter of +accidents, ran the needle deep into her finger. + +"Oh dear! oh dear!" she exclaimed, sucking the wounded member. "'Haste +makes waste,' Thankful says, and I should think so. It's just like a +dream; the more I hurry the less I get on." + +But at last she was in order, from the snood of blue ribbon in her hair +to the carefully tied lacing of each slender shoe; and as she walked +into the breakfast-room with a sunny "Good-morning!" Uncle Harry was +sure no bonnier lassie could have been found that day throughout the +length and breadth of New England, and indeed, for that matter, he +might have safely challenged the whole United States. + +"Many happy returns of the day, my dear!" he said, as she took her +seat at the table, while Ned remained suspiciously intent upon the +buckwheats he was devouring at a rate that ordinarily would have +called out a remonstrance from his mother. + +The breakfast-room that morning seemed charged with an atmosphere at +once delightful and provoking. Conversation flagged. Nobody seemed +possessed of ideas on any subject except some forbidden one. Aunt Anna +cast looks of warning at Ned and interchanged meaning glances with +Uncle Harry; and the latter, in a fit of extreme absent-mindedness, +poured the sirup over his bacon, and said, "No, my love," when 'Zekle +came in to ask if he should take the oxen to Plympton to be shod after +breakfast. + +The breakfast-table stood in what was called the inner kitchen, +and Thankful, as she put on fresh cakes and dispensed cream and +maple-sirup, wore the inscrutable air of a Yankee Sphinx. Absorbed in +her riddle, she even neglected to snub 'Zekle, as he came in bringing +a pound of dirt on each foot, which he distributed liberally about +the kitchen. He, too, was evidently laboring under the weight of some +mighty secret, or he never would have so forgotten the habits of +neatness into which Thankful, after many years of persistent effort, +had trained him. Indeed, Dolly shrewdly suspected that, after all, the +oxen didn't need shoeing, and his inquiry was only a pretext to come in. + +At last Ned finished his tenth buckwheat, and pushed back his chair, +just as Dolly was thinking that she could not stand it another minute. + +"May I be excused, mother?" he asked. + +"Certainly," replied his mother, significantly, and he was out of the +kitchen in a twinkling, while Gaston, upon whose tail he had trodden in +his haste, set up a howl of remonstrance. + +A profound, expectant silence, broken only by Gaston's plaintive moans, +succeeded. For a brief moment you might have almost heard a fly wink. +Then the door of the outer kitchen opened, a curious clatter as of +brisk feet was heard, the door of the inner kitchen swung back, and +Ned entered, leading a black Shetland pony, "all saddled and bridled," +who, as she stepped daintily over the braided rugs which strewed the +floor, looked as much at home as though she had had a house of her own, +and a breakfast-table to sit down to regularly every day of her life. +From the pony's bridle hung a card, which Ned, leading her up to Dolly, +detached and presented with a low bow. + +"Feed me, curry me, ride me, and love me. My name is Skatta," was on +one side, and on the other was written, "A birthday gift for our dear +daughter Dorothea, from papa and mamma." + +"Old Bill won't have to carry two any more," said Ned, not waiting for +Dolly to speak, who at first struggled between a desire to cry and to +laugh at the same time--between pleasure over her birthday gift and +regret for the absent father and mother. But Skatta made a diversion, +and saved Dolly from the hysterical combination by thrusting her nose +into the wide-mouthed sugar-bowl and taking out a lump. + +"Jump on, Dolly, do, right here," said Ned. "Mayn't she, mother?" and +Dolly with one spring was on Skatta's back and the reins in her hands. +"Look out for your head!" said Ned, as they went out, Thankful and +'Zekle ranging themselves on either side of the kitchen-door like a +guard of honor. + +"Oh, _isn't_ she lovely, Ned?" said Dolly, getting her voice at last. +"And wasn't it good of papa and mamma?" + +"I always knew Uncle Malcolm was a brick!" was Ned's emphatic reply. + +Skatta was next put through her paces and pronounced "perfect." + +"And now, Ned," said Dolly, as she reined her up by the horse-block, +"we can have our tournament," and Ned, nothing loath, assented. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + THE TOURNAMENT IN THE OLD MUSTER-FIELD. + + +The spot selected for the tournament was the old muster-field in the +rear of the meeting-house. This field was completely shut in on the +west by a thick woods; the meeting-house and parochial horse-sheds +screened it from observation on the highway side; the winding lane +leading to the Little Madam's lay along its eastern border, and its +southern extremity was lost in Hemlock Island. Altogether it was a +secluded spot, exactly fitted for a nineteenth-century tournament. + +Considerable time was necessarily spent in preparation. The important +question of armor had first to be settled, and it proved to be a +somewhat difficult as well as important question. In the little +vignette on the title-page of the drab "Ivanhoe" was a mounted knight, +knight and horse being both in complete armor. Skatta promptly settled +the question of armor so far as she was concerned, when Dolly attempted +to strap a tin pot-cover on her breast, by standing on her hind feet +and snorting a vigorous protest. "Well, never mind," said Dolly; +"'Ivanhoe' doesn't say anything about horse's armor, and we won't have +any." + +Great difficulty attended the finding of proper helmets. Ned suggested +tin pails, brass kettles, and even the culinary iron pots, much to +Dolly's disgust, for Ned did not take the tournament so seriously +as she did. He saw the absurdity of it, and was disposed to view it +in a comic light, although he pronounced it "jolly fun." At last a +compromise was made with pasteboard. Dolly, who had a knack at cutting +out things, fashioned two very tolerable helmets of pasteboard, covered +with black cambric, which certainly looked like the genuine thing, +although they would not stand hard thrusts. + +As to breastplates, the covers surreptitiously unhinged from a couple +of brass warming-pans which hung in the garret made capital ones, +really quite pretty in effect. Ned manufactured two slender lances +out of birch, and a pair of tin pot-covers served as shields. These +pot-covers, be it said, were taken from the kitchen during Thankful's +absence, as both Dolly and Ned had an unspoken feeling that this matter +of the tournament had better be kept from the knowledge of the elders. + +The armor of the two knights, at last complete, was taken over one +night at dusk and hidden under a low clump of birches in Bailey's Bowl. +Then the two, starting out the next morning, ostensibly for a ride to +the Little Madam's and thence to the Ridge pasture for hickory-nuts, +made a detour and arrived at Bailey's Bowl by way of Hemlock Island. + +This Bowl was a deep, round depression in the western part of the +muster-field, not deep enough to be called a valley. It seems that +in early colonial times the people used to walk from Bridgewater to +Plymouth to attend church, or, rather, "meeting," an almost incredible +fact, when we remember that the distance by the Indian trail--much of +the highway to-day is that same old trail--was eighteen miles. + +They started on Saturday, and encamped Saturday and Sunday nights on +this muster-field, which is therefore historic ground. And once upon +a time one of their number, named Bailey, hungry from the long march, +said, as he looked into the depths of the Bowl, "I wish it was full of +bean-porridge." Hence the name of Bailey's Bowl. + +Our two nineteenth-century knights, having no esquires to equip them, +as did the knights of old, were obliged to put on their own armor, +mutually helping. The handles of the pot-covers were a tight fit, and +Dolly's plump arm was squeezed more than was agreeable, but she bore +the discomfort manfully, as became a brave knight about to do battle +for his "faire ladye." Skatta shied at the unwonted appearance of her +young mistress, but old Bill, more experienced, looked placidly on, +not surprised at any freak of these two, and utterly regardless of the +clashing tin and brass as Ned mounted his back. + +"I do hope he won't balk," said Dolly, anxiously. Old Bill had a +trick of balking at the critical moment of starting, and nothing would +make him go but a handful of ashes crowded into his mouth. Whether he +thought by going on he should leave the bad taste behind, or whether in +thinking about the ashes he forgot to stand still, it is impossible to +say. As 'Zekle replied, when asked if he knew the philosophy of it, + +"D' know nothin' 'bout y'r pilosophy; it'll make him go, 'n that's +'nough f'r me." + +So Ned had stuffed one of his trousers-pockets with ashes, to use +in case old Bill should prove obstinate. But old Bill behaved as a +well-intentioned horse should at a tournament, and trotted obediently +to his place by a small pine in the eastern part of the muster-field, +while Dolly guided Skatta near a ground savin to the west. These +were the starting-places--the lists. Upon a small birch-tree hung a +somewhat cumbrous laurel wreath, with which to crown the victor. The +meeting-house clock was near the stroke of ten, and it was decided that +its first note should be the signal for the onset. + +The name "Old Bill" may give a wrong impression of that famous and +tractable steed. He was not so very old, but he was lazy and safe, and +so Ned was allowed to use him all he liked. He looked like a Dutch +horse, low, round, and stout. Ned had tied blue ribbons to his bridle, +and wore the same colors on his helmet and lance, while Dolly and +Skatta were decked with scarlet, for which embellishments Dolly's +ribbon-box had been rifled. + +For a moment or two they awaited the signal in silence, motionless, +with uplifted lances, and they really did look extremely pretty and +mediævalish--which means like the knights of those mystical Middle +Ages. It seemed a pity there were no spectators, none but a flock of +crows in the top of some tall pines in the western woods, that cried +"Caw! caw!" as though they scented the battle. + +The clock struck. + +"Deschidado! deschidado!" shouted Dolly, who was the Disinherited +Knight; while Ned, who was supposed to be Brian de Bois Gilbert, +replied with "Beau-seant! Beau-seant!" the war-cry of the Templars. + +I wish I could say that the horses "rushed" to the fray as did those in +"Ivanhoe." But truth compels me to state that Skatta only got beyond a +moderate trot. Neither did they meet with "a crash that might have been +heard at a mile's distance." It having been necessary for the riders +to make their preparations for the tournament secretly, they had not +been able to practise sufficiently, and so found it difficult to manage +their horses and long lances at the same time. + +Ned got his bridle-reins twisted, and old Bill, instead of meeting +Skatta half-way, as he should, ambled off in a north-westerly +direction; while Skatta, urged on by the lance which Dolly helplessly +poked into her ear, galloped away to the south-east, and owing to their +blinding helmets--for they rode, of course, with visors down--it was +some time before the riders could find each other. + +But a second time they were at their starting-places, waiting with +uplifted lances. + +"Now," spoke Dolly, "we must have a signal. We can't wait an hour for +the clock to strike. What shall we do?" + +"Count," said Ned. "We'll count three together and then start"--which +was a sensible if not a knightly arrangement. + +"One, two, three!" counted the combatants in chorus, and this time +they met to some purpose, for Skatta and old Bill barely missed of a +collision, and Dolly's lance proving, as before, unmanageable, struck +Ned's pasteboard helmet with great force, and Brian de Bois-Gilbert +rolled ignominiously in the dust, as he did in the "Gentle and Joyous +Passage of Arms at Ashby." + +Skatta's impetus carried her with her rider well across the field, and +it was some moments before Dolly drew rein at the spot where Ned lay on +the ground, with old Bill standing over him touching him inquiringly +with his nose. + +Dolly sprang quickly from her saddle. At first she thought Ned was +"playing 'possum," as the humming-bird does when caught, making believe +dead. But when she spoke to him and he did not answer, and then lifting +the pasteboard helmet saw how white he looked as he lay with closed +eyes; and then when she tried to lift him, and his head fell heavily +and helplessly back upon her arm, her heart misgave her, terror seized +upon her, and she ran swiftly across the field and the highway and +the Green, never heeding a carriageful of travellers, who looked +inquisitively at the flying maiden--_was_ it a maiden with the black +helmet, the brass breastplate, and the shining shield?--and burst in +upon the astonished Thankful, who had just drawn a pound-cake to the +mouth of the brick oven in order to test it with a broom straw, to see +if it was "done." + +"Oh, Thankful! Thankful!" cried the strange apparition, in a sepulchral +voice, for the pasteboard helmet was thick, "come quick, do! for he's +dead and I've killed him!"--for poor Dolly remembered remorsefully that +it was she who had proposed the tournament. + +"Who's dead? an' who 'r' you, I sh'd like t' know?" said Thankful, +completely bewildered, and not even recognizing the familiar shield and +breastplate. + +"Why it's I--Dolly! Don't you know me?" and she tore off her helmet and +threw it on the floor. "Hateful old thing! I hit him with my lance and +knocked him off. We're playing tournament. Oh, hurry, Thankful, do!" + +"Turnipment!" ejaculated Thankful, seeing a glimmer of light--for very +little escaped Thankful's shrewd observation, and she had "mistrusted," +as she told Mrs. Park afterwards, that "they were up to somethin'," +and had missed the warming-pan covers when she went up into the garret +"a Thursday" to hang up the penny-royal and thorough-wort to dry. + +"Lor', child, he ain't dead, only stunted, I guess. We'll bring him +tew--don't y' worry;" and Thankful caught up the "camphire" bottle and +the opodeldoc, and ran across the road, comforting Dolly by the way, to +find Ned sitting up trying to collect his scattered senses, in which +operation he was greatly assisted by Dolly throwing her arms--to one +of which the tin pot-cover still clung closely--around his neck and +kissing him violently. + +"Halloo!" he exclaimed, surprised at this demonstration--for Dolly, +although warm-hearted and impetuous, as we have seen, was not given to +much kissing. + +"Oh, I thought you were killed, Ned," she said, looking at him with +shining eyes. + +"Not by a long chalk, you bet!" was the reassuring reply, all the more +reassuring from its slanginess. "And I say, Dolly, you beat, an' you'll +have to be crowned." + +"It's crown enough for me to see you alive; an' I'm sick o' the old +tournament," she replied, as she put off her shield and breastplate. + +"Oh, that's nothing," said Ned. "I've been knocked over a dozen times +playing ball. Knocking down don't hurt a fellow." + +Thankful had at once proceeded to bathe his head with the camphor, to +which treatment Ned submitted with a good grace, although it got into +his eyes and made them smart. But when she proposed a rubbing with the +opodeldoc, he rebelled. + +"Oh, pshaw, Thankful! I ain't a molly-coddle. What d'y think a fellow's +made of? I can't be rubbed with opodeldoc every time I tumble down." + +Meanwhile the ungrateful Bill and Skatta had betaken themselves to +the juicy grasses of Bailey's Bowl, and were found feeding peacefully +in its depths, caring naught apparently for the weal of their riders. +But there was one who cared, and that was Gaston. He had watched the +tournament with deep interest; he had stayed by the fallen Ned while +Dolly had gone for help, and he now came up to her and, putting a paw +on either shoulder, looked into hers with his speaking, sympathetic +eyes. + +"Dear old Gaston!" said Dolly, giving him a hug; "we're glad, aren't +we!" + +Having gathered up their armor and taken possession of their recreant +steeds, they returned to the house, and who shall paint Thankful's +dismay when she found the oven-door wide open, as she had left it +in her haste, the pound-cake fallen flat, the loaves of raised cake +ditto, the mince-pies cooled, and their delicate flakiness utterly +spoiled--and the Honorable Mr. Quincy going to stop there that very +night to take supper, on his way to an anti-slavery meeting. + +"I might 'a' known no good 'd come o' that novil," said Thankful, in +her wrath, slamming the oven door. "They're a _de_vice o' the Evil One, +my old mother used t' say, an' that's true 's preachin'." + +But Thankful, even in her wrath, could not help smiling when she +recalled those two in their armor. The pot-cover which served for +Ned's shield had got a fearful dent in the fall, and it kept alive in +Thankful's memory for many a day the lovely Rebecca and her ill-starred +fortunes. + +As to the laurel-wreath which had been woven for the victor, it was +forgotten. It hung on the birch-tree all winter, beaten by storms of +wind and rain, but being securely fastened did not fall, and in the +early spring a pair of robins built their nest among its rusty leaves. +Dolly and Ned saw it there one day when they were out May-flowering. + +That evening, like Topsy, they "'fessed" their shortcomings to Mrs. +Park. Ned, somewhat paler than usual from the effects of his fall, was +cosily settled in his own special corner of the sofa. + +"I thought a tournament must be so lovely," said Dolly, with a sigh, +"and now I think they're just horrid." + +"I wouldn't feel that way about it," said Mrs. Park, smiling. She had +smiled a good deal during the narrative, for they had told her "all +about it" literally, the difficulty in regard to armor and everything, +and it certainly was a very funny experience to which to listen. "After +all, I expect a tournament is a much more charming thing to read about +in books than it ever was in reality. We should not like the dust and +the heat and the wounds." + +"But," Mrs. Park went on, a little more seriously, "the _spirit_ of +knight-errantry is the same in all ages." + +"Why, I thought tournaments were just play, like--like--" + +"Puss-puss-in-the-corner," put in Ned. + +"Yes, only men and women played," added Dolly. + +And then Mrs. Park told them how a young man had to keep a solemn vigil +through all the hours of the night preceding the day on which he took +his vows of knighthood; and about Bayard, who kept his vows so well +that, though he died four hundred years ago, he is still known as the +chevalier "_sans peur et sans reproche_;" and about King Arthur and his +Knights of the Round Table, and the search for the Holy Grail, and what +it meant; and how all these beautiful stories, mythical though many of +them are, teach one principle--love to God and man--which is just as +binding now as when those knights took their solemn vows. And Dolly and +Ned both felt, for a while at least, that though the age of prancing +steeds and shining armor, of jousts, and queens of love and beauty, had +gone by, the _soul_ of it remained. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + DEATH OF GASTON. + + +"Feed me, curry me, ride me, and love me," ran the legend on the card +that hung from Skatta's bridle, and Dolly fulfilled it to the letter. +A special stall was given to Skatta--not in the stable where Suke and +Dapple and Bill, and the horses of the guests of the tavern, were kept, +but in a corner of the clean, well-kept cow-barn, where was also a +closet in which to lock up her saddle and bridle, of which closet Dolly +had the key. + +Every morning Dolly put on her "groom's dress"--an old _delaine_ set +aside for that purpose--gave Skatta her hay and oats, led her to water, +and then curried and brushed her till every hair was straight and +shiny, and her mane as wavy and glossy as Dolly's own. + +Every day, too, except when it stormed, she obeyed the third injunction +and rode her. The pretty Shetland, with Dolly on her back and the +faithful Gaston by her side, became a familiar object to all that +country-side, and rare were the occasions when Ned and old Bill did +not form a part of the cavalcade. As they dashed by, Ned raising his +cap gallantly and Dolly waving a kiss from her finger-tips, the old +aunties breathed a simultaneous "Bless the children!" Not infrequently +they reined up their horses by the broad, flat door-stone which lay +at the entrance of "The Hut"--for that was the name of the somewhat +primitive building wherein the aunties dwelt. The latch-string was +always out, literally, for these two, for The Hut, built of plank and +unshingled, looked like a log-cabin, and had a primitive latch-string, +as it should. + +Dolly found these old aunties delightfully "jolly," as, you remember, +Ned said she would, though the adjective "jolly" could be consistently +applied to only one, and that one Aunt Debby. Aunt Debby was a +plump, cushiony, dumpling of a woman, all the way of a bigness, with +sparkling black eyes and a broad, ever-smiling mouth. She was the one +who took the "heft" of the scrubbing and cooking, while Nanny did the +"puttering." Poor Aunt Patty, palsy-stricken for many years, could only +do a little knitting, and even this became sadly tangled in her shaking +hands, and it was a part of Nanny's puttering to disentangle her yarn +and pick up the numberless dropped stitches. So Aunt Patty, under +Nanny's supervision, was able to knit a couple of pair of stockings a +year, the doing of which was a great comfort to her. + +Nanny was a singularly appropriate name for the simple-hearted, +childlike woman who bore it. With her gentle absent-mindedness, she was +a never-failing source of amusement to Debby. She was always putting +on her things upside down and wrong side out, and going off to meeting +without any bonnet. Once she started without bonnet or "front"--the +front being the indispensable old lady's "bang" of those days--and Aunt +Debby, following her, laughed so at Nanny's absurd appearance in her +best black-silk gown, with muslin kerchief crossed placidly over her +bosom, and her short white hair her only head-covering, that she came +near not catching her at all, and Nanny was barely saved the scandal of +entering the meeting-house with uncovered head. + +Aunt Debby herself, on ordinary occasions, wore a green calash--a +queer head-gear, which looked like a chaise-top and shut up like an +accordeon. This calash could be pulled over the face at will by means +of a ribbon fastened to the front. + +"You favor y'r gre't-gran'ma, my dear," said Aunt Debby to Dolly one +morning, as they drew rein at her door--"now don't she, Nanny?--y'r +gre't-gran'ma Marchant. She's light-c'mplected like Dorothea Williams +was, an' she's got the same high way o' carryin' her head--uppish, +some folks said, but I never did. 'F there ever _was_ a good, kind +woman 'twas Dorothea Williams, 'n she never set up t' be better 'n her +neighbors, t' my way o' thinkin'. I remember, 's if 'twas yisterday, +seein' her come out bride. She 'n Cyrus Marchant were a proper han'som' +couple;" and Aunt Debby's twinkling black eyes took on a retrospective +look. + +"Oh, do you remember my great-grandma Marchant?" exclaimed Dolly, to +whom a great-grandmamma seemed very far away indeed. + +"Ay, lassie, an' she waur a braw leddy an' a bonnie. Her een were like +the stars o' a simmer's night, soft and bright," said Debby, who often +betrayed her Scotch descent by her speech, especially when going back +into the past; but she always shook herself after it with a laugh, as +now. + +"Eh, my dear old mither! her Scotch tongue cleaves to me yet," she +said. "Yes, dearie, I remember her well, and she was a brave leddy as +well as a bonnie. D' y' mind, Nanny, the time she brought home the +robber's ho's'?--leastways we thought 'twas a robber's ho's', for he +never come for it, as an honest man would." + +"Yes; it was a fearfu' happenin' for so young a lassie, but the Lord +takes care o' his own," was Nanny's reply. + +Dolly's eyes opened wide in expectant wonder. "Oh, tell me all about +it, Aunt Debby. I never even heard of it before;" and she dropped the +reins on Skatta's neck and leaned eagerly forward. + +"'Twas the year afore she was merried to y'r gre't-gran'ther, Cyrus +Marchant," said Aunt Debby, bringing her little flax-wheel out on +the broad, flat door-stone, and seating herself beside it, so that +not a moment should be lost. "She'd gone over t' Triphammer f'r a +matter o' ten pounds or so th't Squire Elderkin was owin' t' y'r +gre't-gre't-gran'ther Williams. 'Twas a part o' Dorothea's dowry, an' +was goin' t' buy her weddin'-gown, which Cap'en Nehemiah Higgins had +jest brought home from Chainy--a white satin covered with lilies o' th' +valley in shinin' siller. I saw her merried 'n that same gown, an' she +looked like a lily o' th' valley hersel'; an' when she died, a matter +o' three years a'ter, Cyrus Marchant said she sh'd be buried 'n that +weddin'-gown, an' go down t' th' grave as a bride; an' buried in it +she waur, an' she looked like a pure lily o' th' valley as she lay in +her coffin, wi' her babby on her breast. An' y'r gre't-gran'ther went +a-moanin' all his days, an' never merried ag'in. + +"But this ain't tellin' you about the robber's ho's'," said Aunt Debby, +briskly, giving a vigorous twirl to the wheel with her foot. "I'm +a chatterin' old woman, that's what I am. Well, as I was a-sayin', +she'd gone down t' Triphammer f' the siller, an' was a-comin' home, +an' in th' woods betwixt here 'n there--or that _was_ 'twixt here 'n +there, f'r it's a' gone lang syne--a horseman came canterin' up, an' +stopped an' spoke t' Dorothea, tryin' t' be p'lite; but Dorothea said +she mistrusted him th' minute she set eyes on him. Seems sometimes +'s though the Lord's angels did watch over his'n to warn 'em. An' he +talked about the exc'llent good crops, an' had she heard how Silas +Sweet's ship was lost last year 'n th' Chainy seas an' him just got +home, an' how Colonel Sturtevant's best cow 'd died, an' other things, +t' make Dorothea think he wa'n't no stranger 'n them parts, 'n she +needn't be afeard o' him. But th' more th' crittur talked, th' more +Dorothea mistrusted him; tho' she wa'n't afeard, not she, f'r she had +a high sperit, an' was only a-castin' about 'n her mind how she c'd +git rid o' him; an' then he said 'twas a lonesome bit o' woods f'r a +young leddy t' ride through alone in, 'n 'twas well f'r her t' have his +comp'ny; 'n jest then his saddle-girt' loosed 'n slipped, 'n he jumped +off t' fix it, callin' t' Dorothea t' wait a minute. An' while he was +a-stoopin' t' tighten th' girt', Dorothea see a big pistol stickin' +out o' the bosom o' his ruffled shirt, an' quick as a flash she struck +his ho's' with her ridin'-whip, an' giv' the word t' Sunset, her own +ho's', an' off they both went, knockin' over th' villain in th' dirt, +though he scrambled up 'n fired off his pistol at 'em jest as they were +goin' out o' sight 'n a turn o' the road, an' Dorothea heard th' bullet +whiz close by, an' it clipped off a bit o' Sunset's ear. But that only +made 'em go faster; an' when Dorothea got home, her father said if +nobody didn't come f'r th' ho's' it sh'd be hers, an' what was in th' +saddle-bags sh'd be hers. An' nobody never did come f'r th' ho's', +an' in the saddle-bags was two hundred pounds in gowd an' siller, and +Dorothea had th' biggest dowry 'f any girl in Byfield." + +"Ned!" spoke Dolly. + +They had been riding for some time in a silence rather unusual for +these two. They had left Aunt Debby's, and were on their way to Hemlock +Island to see the coal-pits. + +"Well?" answered Ned. "I've been wondering what you were thinking +about, Dolly." + +"Oh, ever so many things," said Dolly, rousing herself and starting up +Skatta, who had been ambling slowly along, into a brisk trot--"ever +so many things--Skipper Joe's stories, and the Little Madam, and what +Aunt Debby just told us about Great-grandma Marchant; and I've been +wondering why books about people can't be just as interesting. Now, +you know, Ned, 'Robinson Crusoe' is, and so's 'Robin's Journal,' but +history's just stupid." + +"Well, I s'pose _that's_ history," replied Ned. "I heard Dr. Stone say, +the other day, we were making history all the time, we Americans; an' +that's the way we make it, I s'pose." + +"The interesting parts never get into the history-books, then," said +Dolly. + +"That's so," replied Ned, emphatically, who had just begun Greek +history, and hated it, though he liked Homer. He had found a copy of +Chapman's Homer in an old chest in the secret chamber of the tavern, +and had read it with great relish. He had never told Dolly about the +book, nor about the secret chamber: he was keeping them for her. + +As I said, they were on their way to Hemlock Island--to that part of +it where the coal-pits were. It was a mid-October day. A blue mist +lay along the horizon. The golden-rod had faded, but the purple asters +still bloomed by the way-side, and the oak and hickory were rich in +crimson and gold. Great heaps of apples lay in the orchards, and the +yellow pumpkins were piled in the corners of the cornfields. Their way +lay through the fields--a well-defined roadway, but with numberless +bars to let down. + +"Say, Dolly," exclaimed Ned at last, impatient at having to dismount +every other thing to let down bars, "let's leap 'em. Old Bill can do +it, and I'll teach Skatta. Just look!" and giving old Bill a touch with +the whip, he cleared the four-railed fence, and came down on the other +side as lightly as a bird. + +"Oh!" cried Dolly, admiringly. "Do you think Skatta could do that?" + +"Uncle Malcolm wrote she was trained, and a saddle-horse isn't well +trained if he can't leap a fence," replied Ned, as if he knew. "But +you'd better try one rail first. You ar'n't afraid?" he asked. + +"Afraid? not I!" answered Dolly, with a gay laugh. "Didn't Aunt Debby +say I carried my head high like Great-grandma Marchant? and she wasn't +afraid;" and she brought Skatta in front of the one rail, Ned having +carefully removed the others. + +With a slight leap Skatta went over, and as she came down on the other +side she tossed her head, as who should say, "What a _bagatelle_ is +that for a horse!" + +"She's used to it," pronounced Ned; "and you did first-rate, too, +Dolly; you didn't bounce a mite. Now we'll try two rails." + +Skatta went over two rails, and Dolly pronounced it "as good as flying; +and I sha'n't envy the birds any more after this, Ned." Then the three +rails were tried, then the four, and Skatta proved the quality of her +training by going over without a balk, and after that there was no more +dismounting to let down bars. + +As they rode in among the coal-pits, Skatta gave a terrified snort +and began to back. She did not like the smoke, and the fire that was +belching out from a hole in one of the pits frightened her. + +"So, so, Skatta," said Dolly, patting her soothingly; "don't be a +goose! it's only a coal-pit." And using a little judicious coaxing, she +got her past the flaming pit to the farther side, where the smoke was +less dense. As she passed the man who was tending the blazing pit, he +looked up. It was an evil glance that he cast upon the two from under +his ragged, dirty cap. + +"What a dreadful man! Who is he, Ned?" asked Dolly, in a whisper, +bringing Skatta up close to old Bill. + +"I'm sure I don't know. A man always looks horrid, anyway, when he's +coaling. 'Zekle can tell you, I guess, if you want to know. Why, +Dolly?" + +"Seems as if I'd seen him before, Ned;" and Dolly shivered slightly. + +This was not Dolly's first visit to the coal-pits. She had watched with +great interest the whole process, from the building to the firing of +the pits. Some of them were now almost ready to be coaled. + +"They're dewin' fust-rate, mostly," said 'Zekle; "but that feller's +makin' a mess o' his'n," indicating with a nod the man with the evil +eye. + +"Who is he?" asked Dolly. + +"I d'no who he _is_, but I know he don't know nothin' 'bout tendin' a +pit," replied 'Zekle. "He come here 'n wanted work, 'n said he knowed +all 'bout coalin'. But he might 's well quit. Here, you!" he called +out to the man, who turned surlily. "We don't care to keep _you_ any +longer. Y're jest sp'ilin' that pit. Burnt up more coal now 'n y're +wuth." + +The man threw down his hoe, turned upon his heel, and, before 'Zekle +had time to speak again, disappeared into the thick woods that closely +encircled the clearing where the pits were. + +"Wa'al," said 'Zekle, "'f he hadn't b'en 'n sech a 'tarnal hurry I'd +a-gi'n him a quarter, tho' he ain't 'arned a red cent." (Cents were +cents in those days, not nickels, and _were_ red.) + +Dolly and Ned took dinner in one of the cabins. This had been +understood at the tavern when they left that morning. 'Zekle made +coffee, and broiled pickerel fresh from Wintuxet Lake. This gypsy-like +lunch was highly relished by Dolly. The potatoes were roasted in the +ashes; and though much of the smoke which was expected to pass out +through a hole in the roof lingered in the cabin, by keeping in a +strong draught near the door it was endurable. + +How cosey those cabins did look, to be sure, with their bunks filled +with straw and their very primitive stone fireplaces! + +"Coaling must be great fun," remarked Dolly, as she devoured a section +of one of Thankful's plummy mince-pies. + +"I guess you'd think so 'f you 's here once in a storm," said Ned, +who in the past had entertained similar views of the delights of +charcoal-making, and had been permitted by his mother to test them. +"Door shut tight t' keep out wind and rain, cabin chock-full o' smoke, +water pouring in through the cracks, straw sopping wet, an' old shanty +shaking 's if 't might blow away any minute. Oh yes, it's great fun!" +he concluded, ironically. + +They lingered for some time about the pits, and then went down to the +lake. Here they found the remains of a raft, built by Ned the preceding +summer, in conjunction with several other boys. This they launched, and +paddled about, barely escaping a ducking, and so it was well into the +afternoon before they started for home. + +Dolly had well fulfilled the injunction laid upon her by Aunt Anna to +watch over the Little Madam. Rarely a day had passed since that time +that she had not gone once at least to the vine-covered cottage. Ned +often went with her, but not always; and Dolly, leaving Skatta to +nibble the grass by the gate, would go in to nod and smile and talk as +well as she could with the Little Madam over her boxes of mignonette, +her bees, and her quaint embroidery; to cultivate a still more intimate +acquaintance with the cockatoo, who now knew her well, and who no +longer shrieked at the sight of Gaston; and to pet the white, blue-eyed +Persian cat, while Gaston slept peacefully on the sunny door-stone. + +The daily offering of the Little Madam in her office as hostess was +usually a tiny square of honeycomb, dripping with amber honey made by +her own bees, sometimes varied with a pink peach or a russet pear. +Whatever it might be, it was daintily served on some delicate bit of +India ware--another of Skipper Joe's gifts, who seemed to consider +nothing too good or too fine for this little lady. + +Meanwhile, Aunt Anna's solicitude in regard to the Little Madam's +comfort and safety had not lessened. The rumors concerning her had +gained ground. She was not only a Roman Catholic, who kept a cross with +the crucified Christ upon it in her room, and worshipped this graven +image contrary to the commandment, but her forgetfulness was all a +pretence. She knew what she was about well enough. "She was a spy," +said some; spying for what purpose, however, they could not definitely +say. "A Jesuit, without doubt," one woman more learned than the others +declared. "If she were not got rid of in some way she would ruin the +morals and destroy the faith of the young, especially," said others. +"And _what_ was Mis' Park a-thinkin' of, t' let that child (Dolly) +keep a-runnin' down there every day o' her life! Mark my words, Miss +Periwinkle, she'll rue it--she'll rue it yit!" And Aunt Debby, to whom +these words were addressed, "guessed Mis' Park c'd take care o' her own +business, an' didn't want none o' her help." + +But all this unfriendly gossip bore its legitimate fruit. Many who +heretofore had been kind to the Little Madam, and had given expression +to that kindness in words and in gifts, now stood aloof, and, like the +Priest and the Levite, passed by on the other side. The more ignorant +gave active expression to their dislike and distrust, and annoyed her +in many ways. Especially did the children do this. Her grapes were +stolen and the vine pulled up--the vine she herself had transplanted +from its native woods. Her beehive was upset; and it is pleasant to +chronicle that the boy who did it was badly stung; and the brown-eyed +doctor, having to be called in, while he mitigated the sufferings of +his patient, improved the opportunity of administering both to the boy +and his mother a homily on the duty of loving one's neighbor as one's +self. + +Once Dolly, arriving opportunely, found one of these boys fastening a +cord around the neck of the blue-eyed Persian cat, with the intent to +hang her. He was crouching behind the barn, where he thought himself +completely hidden from observation, and was taken by surprise when +Dolly fell upon him "tooth and nail," released the cat, and gave the +young ruffian a sound cuffing. He did not forget the feel of her soft +palm nor the look in her blazing eyes for many a day; and when Dolly, +half ashamed, confessed her passionate outbreak to Aunt Anna, the +latter said she had done just right, and needn't feel called upon to +apologize. + +So, as they came that day to the lane leading down to the Little +Madam's, Dolly said, "It's late, Ned; but I must go down and see the +Little Madam. I haven't seen her to-day." + +"I wouldn't go to-night, Dolly, 'f I were you; no matter 'f you do miss +a day," said Ned. + +Dolly hesitated a moment. Then she turned Skatta's head decidedly. "Oh +yes, I must, Ned," she said. "There's no knowing what those dreadful +boys have done to her to-day. I sha'n't feel a bit easy if I don't see +her. But you needn't come, Ned." + +Dolly trotted off, and Ned rode slowly on towards the tavern; but just +before he reached it he turned his horse and galloped after Dolly, who +was already out of sight. + +As Dolly drew near the cottage she became at once aware that something +unusual was taking place. On the low roof of the barn crouched the +Persian cat, with every hair erect, and her tail bristling like a +lamp-chimney cleaner, while the cockatoo was shrieking loudly within +the house, "Go 'way! go 'way! Bad boy! bad boy!" + +Dolly leaped from her horse and ran in, to find the Little Madam +struggling in the grasp of a man, whom she instantly recognized as the +one she had seen that day at the coal-pits--the man with the evil eye. + +With a savage roar Gaston ran past Dolly, sprang upon the man, and +seized him by the throat. There was a momentary struggle, a flash, a +crack of a pistol, then the man leaped through the open window just as +Ned rode up, and Gaston lay stretched upon the floor, with the blood +pouring out from a wound in his breast. + +Dolly stood for a moment as if dazed, then she threw herself down by +his side, with a piercing cry of "Gaston! Gaston!" The brave fellow +made one last effort to rise and to lap the hand of his beloved +mistress, looked once at her with his human eyes, and then the +faithful, loving heart was stilled forever. + +After that first cry Dolly lay motionless, with her hands clasped +around the dead dog's neck, and her face buried in his shaggy hair, +making half-inarticulate moans, pitiful to hear, Ned felt, as he came +in and spoke to her and she did not answer. + +"Oh don't, Dolly! don't!" he entreated. "Come home to mother." And he +bent down and tried to loosen the tightly clasped hands. But Dolly made +no reply, only lying quite still, with the low heart-breaking moans +coming from her lips at intervals. + +"Take care of her," he said at last to the Little Madam, "and I'll go +for mother." + +When Aunt Anna came she found her still lying there, with the Little +Madam by her side tenderly caressing her, and the Australian cockatoo +talking from his perch in the corner--"Poor Dolly! poor Polly! kiss +Dolly! Gaston! Gaston! dead!" and then he gave a chuckle that sounded +curiously like a sob. + +"Dolly," said Mrs. Park, lifting her gently but firmly, "come with me, +my dear; come home, and we will take Gaston too." At the sound of his +name the flood-gates of her grief were opened and the tears came fast, +with sobs that shook her whole frame. She yielded at once, however, +to the loving command, and Uncle Harry carried her in his arms to the +carriage and they drove home, with Ned following sorrowfully on old +Bill, and leading Skatta. + +'Zekle got out the express wagon to go for Gaston. + +"Seems if 't 'd ought t' be the hearse," he said to Thankful, as he +put some clean straw in the bottom and laid a white sheet over it, +which Thankful had brought for that purpose. "He's a sight humaner th'n +some human critters I know." + +"That's so, 'nough sight," replied Thankful, in her grimmest tone, and +she looked black as a thunder-cloud in a sultry summer's sky. + +Grief always had a singular effect on Thankful, and she forgot how +often she had scolded Gaston for bringing in dirt on his big feet; but +he had also had many a toothsome morsel from her hand, and they had +been on the whole excellent friends. It was Thankful's way to give her +friends an admonitory rap with one hand, while she held out some valued +gift with the other. + +"Now, Ned," she said, "'f you want t' do somethin' for Gaston, you c'n +go 'n git some pine boughs 'nstead o' snivellin' there;" for poor Ned, +utterly broken down with grief for Gaston and the distress of seeing +Dolly's tears, was himself sobbing in the deep window-seat in the +sitting-room, where he had hoped nobody would see him. + +"Mis' Park wants him put 'n the parlor; an' we'll have things done +decent 'f he _is_ nothin' but a dog." And Thankful, slamming the door +behind her, retreated to the parlor to make the necessary arrangements; +and when 'Zekle and the other men arrived, bringing Gaston, he was laid +tenderly on the fragrant pine boughs. + +The next day he was buried in the little grass-plot in Aunt Anna's +flower-garden, and was missed and mourned by the whole household, +but by none so deeply as by his beloved mistress, who refused to be +comforted. + +The spot where Gaston lay was shut in from observation by a trellis +overgrown with the ever-green myrtle, and there Aunt Anna often +found her, lying upon his grave and crying softly. She was becoming +acquainted with Death, for we never really become acquainted with Death +until he takes some one we dearly love. + +"Do you think it is right for you to mourn so for Gaston?" asked Aunt +Anna, one day, finding her there as usual. "Gaston was getting old, and +some day he would have died." + +"Oh dear! that don't make it a bit easier," moaned Dolly, as Aunt Anna +knew very well. "I wanted him to live as long as I did, and now I shall +never see him again--_never!_" and a fresh burst of tears followed. + +Aunt Anna hesitated a moment before she spoke again. "Do you remember, +Dolly, how our Lord said that a sparrow does not fall unnoticed by our +Father? And it is not for us to say whether Gaston shall live again. +Many wise and good men and women believe that life once given is never +taken back. There is nothing in the Bible that forbids our believing +that our beloved companions among what we call the brute creation +shall live again. We have a loving Father, Dolly, and we must trust +ourselves and all we have to His keeping. He will never fail us." And +Dolly, listening, was comforted, and from that hour could think and +speak of Gaston with cheerfulness. + +That night--the night after Gaston was killed--'Zekle passed at the +vine-covered cottage so that no farther harm came to the Little Madam, +and the next day she was transferred, with the blue-eyed cat and +the white cockatoo, her boxes of mignonette and her old India ware, +to a sunny corner of the tavern. Her bees were carefully removed to +winter-quarters, and the dismantled cottage locked until spring, or +until less troublous times should permit her return. + +Dolly, meanwhile, was haunted by a feeling that, after some hesitation, +she imparted to Aunt Anna. + +"I think, Aunt Anna," she said, "that the dreadful man who killed +Gaston was one of the thieves that tried to rob Uncle Harry." + +"What makes you think so, my dear?" + +"Because when he jumped through the window he looked just as one of +them did that night when they jumped through the meeting-house window. +And his voice, too, Auntie--he was swearing dreadfully at the Little +Madam, and it makes me think of that night every time I think of him." + +When Aunt Anna told her husband what Dolly had said, his reply was, +"Very likely. But I don't see what he was after at the Little Madam's. +She hasn't any money or anything of value except her cat and her +cockatoo, and a thief wouldn't be likely to want those." + +And then Mrs. Park told him the latest gossip about the Little Madam; +how it was rumored that she had a large sum of money concealed on her +premises. + +"Where do they think she got it, and what do they think she is going to +do with it?" asked Uncle Harry. + +"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Mrs. Park. "There's no reason in such +a supposition, of course. But who ever heard of a reasonable gossip!" + +Who, indeed! + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + THE SECRET CHAMBER. + + +As has been elsewhere intimated, Ned held a surprise in store for Dolly +which he had been keeping for the right time; and now when he saw her +dull, and moping for Gaston, he felt that time had arrived. + +"Dolly," he said, one morning--there was a pouring rain and no going +abroad on Skatta--"Dolly, come up-stairs, will you? I've got something +to show you." + +Dolly was standing by the window, watching the rain-drops chase each +other down the outside of the panes, and pitying a robin who, having +evidently made up his mind not to go South for the winter, was getting +well drenched on his perch among the almost leafless branches of a +cherry-tree. + +She turned quickly at Ned's call. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"Oh, more hist'ry," replied Ned, enigmatically. "Come on." And Dolly +"came on" gladly, following him up the staircase in the rear of the +big dining-room to the broad landing. This was the oldest part of +the tavern, and was very old indeed--for America--having been built +about the year 1680. The other parts of the rambling old structure had +been added at intervals, the last addition dating somewhere near the +beginning of the present century. These oldest rooms had cedar walls +and ceilings, and were panelled, with rudely carved flowers in the +centre of the panels. + +Ned stopped upon the landing and pressed his finger on what looked like +a large clover-leaf, when the panel slid noiselessly back, revealing a +closet-like room, into which he stepped, followed by Dolly, and closed +the panel. This room was lighted by a narrow opening, screened from +outside observation by the projecting eaves. It was empty, save for a +small oaken chest, the brass lock and hinges of which were green with +damp. + +"Oh, Ned!" exclaimed Dolly, rapturously, taking in the whole delightful +secret at a glance. "I never _really_ believed in the secret doors and +things in the 'Mysteries of Udolpho' before. They're splendid to read +about and think true; but they must _be_ true, for those old castles +are ever 'n ever so much bigger than this house, and there's plenty of +room in them for lots of secret places--O-o-oh!" and Dolly's evident +delight was good to see. + +"Mother says a good many old houses in New England have just such +places. She's seen that one in Hadley where the regicides hid, you +know." + +"No, I don't know a thing about 'em. Who were they?" said Dolly, +impressed with such a remarkable display of erudition. + +"The people who killed Charles I., of course," replied Ned, loftily. +"They ran away to this country, 'n hid in a secret room in Hadley, an' +nobody but the folks in the house knew they were there. An' one Sunday +the Indians made an attack, an' the men rushed out of the meeting-house +with their guns--they carried guns to meeting then--an' the Indians +were getting the best of 'em, when out came one of those regicides and +shouted to the white men to come on, an' encouraged 'em so they drove +off the Indians. Then the regicide went straight back to his secret +room. He had on a dressing-gown an' slippers, an' the people didn't +know who he was, an' so they said 'twas an angel come down from heaven +to help 'em--queer angel, in dressing-gown an' slippers, I sh'd think!" + +"But I say, Dolly," he continued, lowering his voice mysteriously, +"there's a story about this room too." + +"Oh, Ned, you don't say so!" said Dolly, grasping his arm. "A real, +dreadful, _true_ story?" + +"Yes, true 's I live and breathe. Didn't I say so--more hist'ry," he +replied, much pleased with his success in diverting her mind from her +grief. "An' there's another way to get into this room--look!" and he +touched another clover-leaf, and another panel slipped, showing an +entrance from the Little Madam's sunny room. They looked in. The +Little Madam was not there, but the cockatoo greeted them with a +shout--"Halloo, my beauties!" + +"The story's about Grandfather Heath, when he was a boy, you know, +in Revolutionary times," said Ned, closing the panel into the Little +Madam's room. "His father was in the Continental army, an' there was a +wounded spy hid in this room--an American spy, you know. He'd got away, +an' the British were after him. An' they caught gran'pa one day when he +was berrying with his sister, an' asked him questions till they found +out he knew something, an' then they tried to make him tell--coaxed +him, you know, an' offered him money; but he was true blue, an' +wouldn't tell, an' then they tried to scare him. But they couldn't +scare him either, an' then they just carried him off, an' his mother 'n +sister didn't know where." + +"Poor things!" said Dolly, with beaming eyes, divided between her +sympathy for the sorrowing mother and sister, and her admiration for +the pluck shown by her youthful grandfather. + +"Well, they took him to headquarters, where the biggest officer was, +an' he tried to scare him too, an' he couldn't. He _would not tell_." + +"Oh, wasn't he splendid!" broke in Dolly again. + +"An' then they put him down cellar, an' in the night the loveliest lady +came down an' wrapped him in her shawl--for he was a little fellow, +you know, only ten--an' took him on her own white horse an' brought +him home, ever 'n ever so many miles, an' his mother was mighty glad +when he burst into the kitchen, you bet! an' the lady gave him a ring +to remember her by--a beauty, too, f' I've seen it, 'n mother'll show +it to you some time, Dolly." + +"And the spy was hid in this very room!" said Dolly, thoughtfully. "But +what's in that chest?" she asked, suddenly. + +"Oh, nothing but books," answered Ned. "There's where I found 'Robin's +Journal,' an' another book I'll show you some time. It's poetry, but +it's prime, if 'tis poetry." + +After that day Dolly used frequently to press the big clover-leaf and +enter that secret room. Sometimes she went to the Little Madam's room +that way. The Little Madam, too, seemed singularly interested in this +little room. Dolly "wondered" if she had not seen one before. The +Little Madam was her ideal of a princess of Udolpho. Perhaps she had +lived in one of those mysterious and delightful castles--who knew? who +would _ever_ know? Oh, if the Little Madam could only remember, could +only tell, who and what she was! Well, well, Dolly! have patience, and +you will know before long. + +That night they talked it all over with Aunt Anna, as usual. As +usual, I say, for the twilight talk was a fixed fact with which Mrs. +Park rarely allowed anything to interfere. That was the hour for +confession, for sympathy, for loving confidence. Ned had his own +special corner of the sofa in mother's room--the corner where headaches +and heartaches, and all sorts of wounds of body and of spirit, had +been treated by the same gentle yet firm hand ever since he could +remember. And Dolly was given the other corner, with Aunt Anna in her +low rocking-chair in front. + +Dolly propounded what may be called "her theory of history," and Aunt +Anna said it was a sensible one. + +"I think," said that wise woman, "that the true way to study history +is to begin with your own town, and then go on to your county, your +state, etc., etc., till you have taken in the whole world. If _I_ were +going to teach children the theory of our government, I should begin +with the town-meeting, and not, as many do, begin at the wrong end with +Congress." But then, as Uncle Harry said, that was one of "mother's +hobbies." + +"I think that's a beautiful story about Grandfather Heath when he +was a boy. I think it's beautiful to have _such_ grandfathers and +grandmothers as ours," remarked Dolly, with true ancestral pride. + +"There is a pretty French motto, '_Noblesse oblige_,' and it means that +those who are born noble must do nobly," said Mrs. Park. + +"It was the motto of the old French nobility, and very nobly did +they live it, many of those who fled from France during the terrible +Revolution. They left all their possessions behind them, and were very +poor. But they would neither beg nor go in debt for food and shelter +and clothes. 'No,' they said, 'we are French nobles, and we can do none +of these things, but we can work and take care of ourselves.' And so +they taught French and music and dancing and sewing. They did any kind +of work they could get to do, and those delicately bred ladies did all +sorts of household drudgery. They did not care what the work was if +it was honest work. They wore old clothes because they had not money +to buy new ones. But the old clothes were always neat. They patched +and they darned, for though a French nobleman or noblewoman might wear +old clothes without shame, they must not be slovenly. And they did all +this with a brave cheerfulness, a self-respecting pride, truly noble. +They were the _true_ noblesse, you see. And that is what you must be, +my Ned, and you, my Dolly. Take the motto of the old French nobility +for yours. Feel that because noble-hearted men and women are your +ancestors, you, too, must be noble in heart and in life. + +"Scorn to do a mean thing. Be brave like Dorothea Williams. Have +the courage of your grandfather Heath--moral courage. Dare to be +truthful--dare to be honest--dare to be poor, if need be--dare always +to do right." + +Mrs. Park had half risen from her chair in her eagerness, and she +now sank back and there was a moment's silence. Then she went to her +dressing-table, and taking out a box, said, "Here is the ring the +lovely lady gave my father." It was a somewhat heavy gold ring, in +which was set a blood-red ruby. "And this," she continued, holding up +a long string of gold beads, "this is Dorothea Williams's necklace." A +small miniature in colors hung from the necklace, Dorothea's portrait. +It was set in a locket of old red gold. + +"This necklace and locket shall be yours, Dolly," said Mrs. Park; "and +you certainly do look like her, as Aunt Debby said. Ned shall have the +ring. You two are their only descendants, and whenever you look at +these heirlooms remember the old French motto, '_Noblesse oblige_.'" + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + THE SCHOOL AND ITS MASTER. + + +A few days after the twilight talk mentioned in the last chapter, the +school opened for the winter. It had not been Mrs. Park's intention to +send Dolly, but rather to give her lessons at home, yet the two seemed +so unhappy at the prospect of a daily separation--for Ned of course +must go--that she consented for Dolly to try it at least for a while. + +It was a rather cold morning, the morning of Dolly's introduction +to the school-house of the middle district, and the box-stove which +stood in the centre of the school-room was red-hot, and as she went +in, the teacher, Mr. Emerson, was just in the act of smothering Betty +Potter's flaming gown, which, being of cotton, had caught fire as it +touched the stove in passing. This stove stood in a box of sand, and +the ceiling above it was spangled with innumerable stars--black on +a white firmament--which stars Dolly thought at first were intended +to be decorative. But she afterwards learned that they were purely +accidental--that the scholars were in the habit of thawing out their +frozen ink on top of the stove, and not infrequently a bottle burst, +hence the stars. + +The school-room had been planned like most of the early New England +school-rooms, in loving memory of the English schools of Eton and +Westminster, where many of the immigrants from the mother-country had +studied and played as boys. The desks and benches on either side sloped +down to an open space in the centre, where stood the teacher's desk, +and where recitations were heard. It was on a somewhat smaller scale +than those famous English school-rooms, but after all was quite as +comfortable. It was formerly heated by an open fire, but a few years +preceding the time of which I write, that modern invention the stove +aforesaid had been introduced. Since then the huge fireplace had served +as a wood receptacle, wherein the pine and oak cord-wood sticks were +piled far up the gaping chimney. + +The school-house had never been painted inside or out; and while it +was what an artist or a color-loving person would have called a lovely +gray outside, inside the wood-work had mellowed into an equally lovely +yellowish-brown. + +Both desks and benches had been cut and carved by the innumerable +jack-knives of generations of children, till you could not put your +finger on a perfectly smooth spot. There were many initials, every +boy especially having felt called upon to carve his on the desk he +occupied, and it was not unusual to find on the same desk a boy's +initials with those of his father and grandfather, and in rare cases of +his great-grandfather. The deep cuttings and carvings interfered with a +boy's writing somewhat, if he chanced to be writing with only a single +sheet of his copy-book before him; for when he came to "bear down," as +Ned said, on the down stroke of a _y_ or a _p_, "if he didn't look out +his pen would jab right through the paper into a hole." + +One feature of the school-room attracted Dolly's attention at once. +Above the desks where the boys sat, pulleys were fixed to the ceiling +by which the slates were drawn up at night and lowered in the morning, +and after the introductory exercises down they came with a crash truly +appalling to unaccustomed ears. + +Dolly looked at Mr. Emerson wonderingly. Here was a new state of +things. In the girls' school where she went in Boston the utmost +quiet was enforced. Would Mr. Emerson permit such a racket? would he +not speak? But Mr. Emerson was placidly turning over his text-books, +apparently deaf to the noise of the falling slates. + +In truth, the only one thing Mr. Emerson did insist upon was perfect +lessons. He would shut his eyes and ears to any amount of roguery and +mischief if only the lessons were thoroughly prepared. But woe to the +unlucky idler or the stupid boy or girl! For such he had no mercy; +"idiot" was the mildest term applied to the latter. And after all, the +results of this system were not bad, for a boy or girl cannot indulge +in much roguery and have perfect lessons at the same time. + +Mr. Emerson himself was a fine scholar who, as everybody knew, could +command a better place and salary than that of master of the middle +district school in Byfield. But he chose to remain for certain reasons, +and the parents were only too glad to have him; and though the boys had +bestowed upon him the pet name of "piggy," on account of his shrill, +almost squealing voice, yet they had at heart the utmost respect for +him. + +A few days only after school began, Dolly had a chance to see how +severe he could be with a stupid scholar. A great lout of a boy was +up reciting in English grammar. He stammered along in his recitation, +making blunder after blunder, while Mr. Emerson frowned and pshawed +and hitched his chair restlessly about over the small platform, in +momentary danger of going over its edge; and when, in answer to +a question, the boy replied, "Grunters and liables," instead of +"Gutturals and labials," Mr. Emerson's patience gave way, and with one +prolonged hitch over he went upon the floor. But he was on his feet in +an instant, and shrieking at the top of his voice, "There, I'm not dead +yet, thank the Lord--but I shall be if that recitation goes on. Go to +your seat, sir!"--he sent his text-book flying after the retreating +boy. + +So school was to Dolly neither stale nor unprofitable. Mr. Emerson's +eccentricities amused her, and being a good scholar she did not fall +under his displeasure. His sarcasm was at times truly terrible. How +Dolly did pity big, awkward Betty Potter, when one day she came +tumbling into the school-room after a romp at snowballing, loudly +exclaiming, "Oh, how hot I am! how I do sweat!" and Mr. Emerson, +turning upon her those awful spectacles of his, said in his most +cutting tones, "Horses _sweat_, Miss Potter, and men perspire, but +young ladies glow." Dolly's pity, however, might as well have been +reserved, for Betty, not being a sensitive lass, only giggled at the +rebuke given to her uncouthness. + +In due time came the first night of spelling-school. Dolly had asked +Ned if spelling-school was "nice," and he had replied with his usual +formula, "Yes, jolly fun!" + +The school-room was lighted on spelling-school night by home-made +tallow-candles, dipped or moulded, as the case might be. As each boy +and girl brought one, the illumination was decidedly brilliant. You who +despise this method, and may question the truthfulness of my statement, +must remember, however, that even in these days of gas and the electric +light the winter palace of the Tzar of all the Russias is lighted with +candles--of wax, to be sure; for as Theophile Gautier says, "Nowhere, +save in Russia, does the bee still contribute the illumination;" and +light is the same, whether shed by a candle of wax or of tallow. + +But in the matter of candlesticks there was great diversity. In this +respect the middle district school-room failed when compared with the +palace of the Tzar. He has gorgeous chandeliers and candelabra, while +each boy and girl, with rare exceptions, was left to exercise his or +her own ingenuity in providing candlesticks, or, to speak more exactly, +candle-holders for spelling-school night. Many of these holders were +made out of flat turnips and beets, and when cut in the likeness of +roses or dahlias were really triumphs of art and quite pretty. + +These vegetable holders were preferred by the girls generally, because +they were easily cut, but as they had to be renewed each night, the +greater part of the boys whittled out their candelabra once for all +from blocks of wood. A very few, not disposed to do any work they could +avoid, dropped a little melted tallow on the desk, stuck their candle +into it, and the tallow, quickly hardening, held it upright. This last +method, however, was frowned down upon by the authorities, as the +candle, burning down, was apt to set the desk on fire. + +None but members of the day-school were permitted to take part in the +spelling-school, although any who chose could come as lookers-on, and +many did so choose, both old and young. + +Ned and Betty Potter were the leaders for that evening, and they drew +lots for first choice; and the choice falling to Ned, he named Dolly, +not only because he liked to have her next him, but, above all, because +she was a first-rate speller. For, with all his pleasure in Dolly's +comradeship, it is probable she would not have been chosen first had +she not possessed the last-named qualification; for these spelling +contests were hot and fierce, and the first consideration with each +leader was to secure all the best spellers he could on his side. + +The two lines of battle were soon formed, the poorest spellers being +left to the last. These the first fire, as usual, brought down, and the +floor was quickly cleared of all but the few good ones, who obstinately +stood their ground. The championship was contested long and stoutly, +till at last Ned was "floored," and only one was left on either +side--Dolly and Betty Potter. + +"Receive" was the word Mr. Emerson gave out next. + +It was Dolly's turn, and she knew how to spell "receive"--of course she +did--but was it _ei_ or _ie_? + +It is said, "He who hesitates is lost;" and whether true or not in +morals, it is unquestionably true in spelling, as we all know. + +_Ei_ or _ie_--that was the question; and Dolly, whose decision must be +made promptly, as it was one of the rules of the contest that there +should be "no waiting," was just on the point of spelling, having made +up her mind to the _ie_, when Ned whispered softly but incisively, +"r-e-c-e-i-v-e," and Dolly repeated it after him--not with any +triumphal feeling, it must be confessed, for she knew at once she had +no right to do so. + +The next word brought down Betty, and Dolly was declared victor, and +decorated with the pretty silver badge, which she was to wear till the +championship should pass on to some better speller. + +Both Dolly and Ned went home that night feeling extremely +uncomfortable, although Ned tried to think that Dolly would have +spelled "receive" all right, even if he had not whispered. But both +avoided the subject with suspicious persistency, and talked about +anything and everything but the spelling. They drank the hot ginger-tea +which Thankful had in readiness for them, to keep them from taking +cold, for it was her maxim that "a pint of hot ginger-tea before the +cold is taken is better than a quart of salts and senna after." And +then they briefly bade Mrs. Park "good-night," declaring there was +"nothing to tell," and they were "dreadfully tired." + +Nothing to tell! Dolly heartily wished there wasn't, as she tossed +restlessly in bed, until she finally made up her mind to such a course +of conduct as brought peace, and then she fell sound asleep. + +The next morning Ned had a raging toothache, and his face was so +swollen that he could not see out of one eye, and his mother said he +could not go to school, though he begged hard to be allowed to do so. +He had reasons. + +"Dolly, what are you going to do?" he suddenly asked, after studying +her face attentively. + +"Do? why, go to school, to be sure," she said, evasively, tying her +hood, and pulling on a pair of sable-backed mittens that were the envy +of all the school-girls. + +"You know that isn't what I mean," remonstrated Ned, as well as he +could, with one cheek feeling as though there were a cannon-ball in it. +"Where's your badge?" + +"In my pocket. And how should I know what you mean, Ned, if you don't +say it?" And Dolly threw back a laughing, defiant glance as she ran out +and closed the door behind her. + +Ned groaned. "Oh dear! I s'pose I know what she's going to do, and I +wish I was going to be there;" and he proved so "fractious" all the +morning, that Thankful, as she assisted his mother in poulticing his +swollen face, lost all patience, and said she "b'lieved 't do him good +to go away 'n let him ache a spell." But Mrs. Park, with true motherly +instinct, had divined that the toothache and swollen face, bad as they +were, were not the sole cause of the fractiousness, and waited upon him +and coddled him with infinite patience. + +When Dolly came home to dinner she was as inscrutable as the Egyptian +sphinx, and refused to open her lips about anything but the ordinary +school routine. But she looked very happy, and when Ned asked her if +she still had the badge in her pocket, said, "No." + +The next morning, the swelling having subsided, Ned went to school and +heard the whole story. + +Dolly had made up her mind, before falling asleep that night, that +she would give the badge to its rightful winner and confess her +wrong-doing. But the next morning she found it required quite as much +resolution to stick to her decision as it did to make it. So all the +morning, while at breakfast and on the way to school, she kept bracing +herself up with those words of Aunt Anna's, "_Dare always to do +right--dare always to do right._" Over and over and over she said them. +"It isn't so easy a thing to do, after all," she thought. "It's easy +enough talking about it." + +She waited until the close of the introductory exercises, and then +raised her hand. + +Now, Mr. Emerson was in one of his very worst moods that morning, and +that is saying a good deal. He was a dyspeptic at all times, and he +had taken for breakfast both sausages and coffee, either of which was +enough to completely upset his nervous poise, and the two together had +brought on a condition of things truly frightful. + +As Dolly raised her hand he nodded fiercely. She went forward to his +desk and laid the badge upon it, saying, timidly, "I want to return +this, please." + +"What for?" he demanded, and the words came out like an explosive, and +the glance he fixed upon her was hard and piercing as a steel blade. It +was not encouraging. + +"Because--because it doesn't belong to me," stammered Dolly. + +"Why not?" he asked, waxing more irate with each question. + +"Because I did not know how to spell 'receive,'" replied Dolly, in a +barely audible voice. + +"But you did spell it!" Oh, how the angry eyes flashed. + +"But," said Dolly, hesitating now more and more between each +word--"somebody told me." + +"Who?" shrieked Mr. Emerson in most piercing tones, and laying his hand +on the ferule beside him. + +He was evidently "spoiling for a fight," as Cy Pratt told Ned +afterwards. + +Here was a dilemma that Dolly had not anticipated. She had not dreamed, +when resolving to confess her own fault, that she would be bringing +some one else into trouble, and that one to be Ned, of all others! + +A moment she stood silent while she weighed the question--Ought I to +tell? No, was the decision. I may and must confess my own wrong-doing, +but I am not obliged to confess the wrong-doing of others. + +"Who?" demanded Mr. Emerson again, bringing his ferule down upon his +desk with a whack that made everybody in the room jump. + +"I cannot tell," replied Dolly, firmly, but respectfully. + +"Which means that you will not," he said, in a measured tone, more +terrible even than his former shriek. He compressed his lips. "Do you +mean to say that you will not tell?" he again asked. + +"Oh, I can't," said Dolly, lifting up to his face a pair of pleading +eyes that would have melted the soul of any mortal not in the grasp of +a black dyspepsia. + +"Hold out your hand," he said, taking up his ferule; and Dolly, without +an instant's hesitation, held out her plump little hand, with its pink +finger-tips, while she summoned all her firmness to meet the coming +blow. She had never been struck in her life. "But somehow, Ned," she +said, when she told him all about it, "I didn't care one mite about the +blow. I knew it was a disgrace, but it wasn't a disgrace like acting +that lie when I took the badge. I think, Ned, when that big ferule came +down on my hand, I saw just how mean that lie looked." + +But if Dolly did not mind the blow, its effect on Mr. Emerson was +prompt and decisive. He raised the ferule for a second blow, then +dropped it suddenly upon the desk. + +"Take your seat," he said, sternly; "and you," turning to his gaping +pupils, "take your books," and an unusual silence reigned in that +school-room for the remainder of the morning session. + +At noon he stopped Dolly as she was leaving the room. + +"I wish to speak with you," he said; and when they were alone he +continued: "I desire to ask your pardon for that blow, Miss Dorothea. +I had no right to punish you for such a cause. I will not commend you +for confessing your fault, your deception, for that was only doing +right--doing what you ought to do; but the other involved no question +of right--it was more a matter of honor--and no sense of right required +you to betray the person who told you how to spell the word, and I +sincerely ask your pardon." + +Dolly was so utterly taken by surprise at this speech that she could +only gasp, "Oh, please don't, Mr. Emerson, 'twas only just what I +deserved." + +As to Ned, great was his wrath when he heard Cy Pratt's version of +the affair, but after hearing Dolly's he remarked, in a subdued tone, +"Well, Piggy's a prime old brick, after all;" and feeling that he must +have some vent for his emotions or burst, he went out and sawed and +split wood till Thankful said "the m'lennium must be comin'." + +The next day he made a manly confession of his own share in the affair +to Mr. Emerson. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + THEIR FIRST QUARREL. + + +Yes, Cousin Kitty has arrived. She has been looked for at any time from +the first chapter of this narrative, and here she is at last, arrived +in its tenth. "Better late than never," however, at least so far as +Cousin Kitty's arrival is concerned, as Dolly herself would have told +you, who fell in love at first sight with this new and foreign cousin. + +Cousin Kitty has come from a region far away, if distance is to be +measured by the time required to make it--and that would seem to be the +fair way to measure space. She has come from England in a packet-ship, +and has had a tempestuous passage, a seven-weeks' tossing on the +boisterous Atlantic. + +She is Uncle Harry's niece and Ned's cousin. She is not a cousin of +Dolly's, but being Ned's cousin, Dolly claims a relationship, and +Cousin Kitty gladly and graciously admits the claim. + +Cousin Kitty is a young woman of twenty or thereabouts, and she went to +live in England when she was six, and has, therefore, very vague ideas +concerning her native land. Her father is a well-known London banker. +She will stay in America two years, and expects to learn a great deal +about it and its people during that time. She stopped in Boston five +days before taking the stage for Byfield. + +"When I was in Boston I saw Scollay Square, and Bunker Hill, and the +Common, and Daniel Webster," she was saying one day at dinner, soon +after her arrival. "But I did not see the famous beauty, Emily Otis. I +don't know but I wanted to see her more than the other things, but she +was out of town." + +"You'll have a chance to see her before you go back, without doubt, and +she's probably as well worth seeing as anything you name, unless its +Webster," replied Mrs. Park. + +"Oh yes, we've heard about her in London. N. P. Willis went into +raptures over her, and couldn't say enough about her beauty, and her +graciousness, and her endless charms of mind and person," laughed +Cousin Kitty. + +"And for once, certainly, he could not have gone far beyond the truth," +was Mrs. Park's reply. + +"And is she so _very_ beautiful?" asked Cousin Kitty. "Have you ever +seen her?" + +"Oh, I have!" put in Dolly, eagerly, "ever and ever so many times; and +oh, Cousin Kitty, she _is_ so beautiful!" + +"Where have you seen her, Dot?" asked Cousin Kitty, who had bestowed a +new pet name on Dolly. + +"Why, at her own home, don't you know? I and her sister Marianne are +very, _very_ intimate friends." + +"Then you are the very one to tell me about her," said Cousin Kitty, +turning with great animation to Dolly. "You can't be envious of her +because she is so much older than you, and you can tell me the exact +truth. What is the color of her eyes?" + +"A lovely dark, almost black." + +"And is she tall?" + +"Yes, tall like mamma." + +"And her hair?" + +"That is dark, too; a dark brown, and it gleams in the light like--" + +"Oh!" interrupted Cousin Kitty, "_did_ you ever see her dressed--really +dressed--for a party, I mean?" + +"Oh yes, many, many times; that is one of our treats, Marianne's and +mine." + +"Tell me about it; tell me how she was dressed." + +"Well," replied Dolly, thinking a moment, "I remember one time +especially, because Marianne and I were so impatient to see her, and +kept running to her room--her maid was dressing her, you know--but she +wouldn't let us in. She was going that night to a reception at Gardiner +Greene's, on Pemberton Square--" + +"Yes, I saw that place. There's a lovely green lawn in front of it," +interrupted Cousin Kitty. + +"And we kept teasing, an' by-an'-by she said, 'Now, girls, if you will +only stay in the nursery till quarter before nine you shall come then +and look at me to your heart's content.' And we did look at her just as +long as we liked, and she was like a picture, only lovelier than any +picture could possibly be, I think." + +"Ah, Dotty, you might be her lover," laughed Cousin Kitty. + +"And I do love her dearly," was the earnest reply. + +"Tell me how her hair was dressed that night." + +"It was dressed high up on her head, and she wore a big shell comb like +one mamma has, and her front hair in little puffs, with curls behind +her ears, fastened with side combs. But I don't think it was her hair, +nor her shining eyes, nor her smiling mouth that made her look so +beautiful, but something shining through." + +"Dolly speaks better than she knows," said Mrs. Park. "Emily's lovely +character gives the finishing grace to her marvellous personal beauty." + +"Ah! how you excite my desire to see her, you and Dolly," said Cousin +Kitty. "But you haven't told me how she was dressed. What jewels did +she wear--pearls or diamonds?" + +"She wore a white lawn gown with low neck and short sleeves," said +Dolly. + +"No jewels! Not a bracelet nor a necklace! Are you sure, Dolly?" + +"_Very_ sure." + +"You must know, Kitty, that we in Byfield feel a special pride in her +beauty; we claim a sort of ownership in her, in fact, as her mother is +a native of this town." + +"No, I did not know that." + +"Yes, she lived in that old Revolutionary house I showed you yesterday. +She was married young, and I remember her coming from Boston soon +after, and how lovely she looked to my young eyes in a riding-habit of +deep blue. She was an exceedingly handsome and graceful woman, but not +so beautiful as her daughter Emily." + +"I think nobody could be so beautiful as she," said Dolly. + +"Percival has written a poem about her, beginning, + + "'_Maid of the laughing lip and frolic eye!_'" + +said Aunt Anna; "and when she was married, N. P. Willis wrote an absurd +thing. It was a rainy day, and he said Nature was in tears because +Emily Marshall had ceased to be a society woman and become a wife." + +"Oh, when she was married--" began Dolly. + +"_Did_ you see her married?" eagerly interrupted Cousin Kitty. + +"No," replied Dolly, "but I marked a pocket-handkerchief for her, and +it was a part of her wedding-dress. She asked me to, but I couldn't +find any black silk fine enough, so I begged some of mamma's hair, +which is black, you know, and I marked it with that, and she liked it. +And then next day I helped cut the wedding-cake, and we children had +great fun eating goodies and laughing; and in the midst of it she came +in, and oh, Cousin Kitty, wasn't she lovely!" and Dolly drew a long +sigh, as a lassie might after looking long at one of Fra Angelico's +angels. + +"Oh, you lucky child, you!" said Cousin Kitty. "I believe I should be +almost willing to take to the nursery again to see her as you have." + +"I know a woman in London," she continued, "who saw the beautiful +Recamier in her prime, and she talks about her just as you talk of +Emily Marshall." + +"They were alike in one respect," said Mrs. Park. "They fascinated +everybody, young and old, men and women, alike." + +"Yes; and I am told the little ragamuffins of Boston followed Emily +Marshall about and admired her, just as the little Savoyards of Paris +did Madame Recamier," said Cousin Kitty. + +"Oh, I do hope you will see her, Cousin Kitty," said Dolly, fervently, +taking up her spoon and returning to the business of the hour--the +eating of custard pudding; for time had flown while they had been +talking, and it was already school-time. + +And now let me tell you, just here, lest you may think Dolly's +admiration of her lovely friend exaggerated, what Josiah Quincy, who +was himself a young man when Emily Marshall was in the pride of her +beauty, says of her in his recent book, "Figures of the Past:" + +"Centuries are likely to come and go before society will again gaze +spellbound upon a woman so richly endowed with beauty as was Miss Emily +Marshall.... She was simply perfect in face and figure, and perfectly +charming in manners." + +And I must also tell you what Dolly did not tell Cousin Kitty, that +the handkerchief she marked was of a fabric so fine that it took a +long time to do it; and said handkerchief was three-quarters of a yard +square, and carried in the bride's hand, as was the fashion of the day. + +In the mean time, Ned, not as yet especially interested in feminine +beauty, had betaken himself to the kitchen, and Dolly not forthcoming +at the proper time, he had gone off to school. + +Dolly finished her pudding, spent some time looking for Ned, and when +Thankful answered the look of inquiry she sent through the half-open +kitchen door by saying, "He's be'n gone t' school this half-hour," it +was then a good half-hour after school-time. + +So she hurried into her "things," spending another five minutes +searching for her mislaid scarf, and as she hurried she grew +unreasonable. + +"Why couldn't Ned have told me when he was going?" she said, +impatiently, forgetting that it was as much her business as his to +look after the time. And as she trudged along alone over the half mile +between the tavern and the school-house, she waxed crosser and more +unreasonable, and when, as she opened the school-room door, she heard +the last line of "John Gilpin," her vexation was complete. + +Twice every week some member of the first class in reading was +permitted to make a selection for the reading-lesson of the day, and +almost invariably the choice fell on "The Diverting History of John +Gilpin," by William Cowper. There were two good reasons for this. In +the first place, "John Gilpin" was considered exquisitely funny; and, +secondly, somebody had discovered that it could be sung to the tune +of "Auld Lang Syne;" and Mr. Emerson, indulgent, as we have seen, in +certain directions, permitted them so to sing the last verse. So, after +the preceding sixty-two verses had been read "in turn," the whole +school broke simultaneously into-- + + "_Now let us sing, Long live the king, + And Gilpin, long live he; + And when he next doth ride abroad, + May I be there to see,_" + +singing with great vim and utter recklessness as to time and tune, +but with the utmost enjoyment. It was always a "jolly lark," and to +have missed it added the final straw to Dolly's displeasure and to her +estimate of Ned's shortcomings. She took her seat without once looking +at him, as she would ordinarily have done; and Ned, waiting to give her +a friendly nod, wondered, but concluded that she was in such a hurry, +her geography lesson coming next, that she didn't think of him. But as +the afternoon passed, and Dolly persisted in looking everywhere but +in his direction, and, when school closed, hurried off with Priscilla +Martin without stopping to speak to him, he began to wonder what was +the matter. + +He shouted after her, "Ho, Dolly! wait for me!" but she neither turned +nor spoke. And he had such a jolly story to tell her, too, about +'Liphalet Taft! 'Liphalet was always furnishing jolly stories for their +amusement; his blunders were so irresistibly funny! He lived in Turkey +Swamp, with two old aunts, far from any other habitation. He first came +out into the world when he was eight years old, and was stricken with +terror at the sight of the town pump. A spring supplied the old aunts +with water, and he had never imagined anything so dreadful as this +creature, with its long arm and gaping spout. Would it eat him? and he +utterly refused to go by it. + +He was now twelve, and could barely read. Mr. Emerson had called him +up, directly after the opening of the afternoon session, for a five +minutes' lesson in geography. He had been trying for several days to +infuse into his dull brain some idea of the tropics. + +"Name _one_ tropical fruit," he said at last, in despair. + +"_Flapjacks!_" promptly answered 'Liphalet; which answer brought +down the school in a burst of laughter, in which Mr. Emerson joined. +'Liphalet evidently had caught the idea that tropical fruits were the +product of a warm place, and so said "flapjacks" at a venture. And Ned +did so want to tell Dolly this story. + +But Dolly did not make her appearance at the tavern till supper-time, +when she greeted Cousin Kitty with effusion, and then fell to eating +her bread-and-milk without looking at Ned. Mrs. Park saw that something +was wrong, but, with a wisdom that it is a pity could not be more +generally practised, said nothing. She shook her head slightly at +Cousin Kitty, who seemed about to speak, and then they two went on +talking about mutual acquaintances in Boston and elsewhere, and no +notice was taken of the silent pair. + +There was no twilight conference in mother's room that night. Ned +went off to the barn, where 'Zekle was husking, and looked in only to +say "Good-night" when it was time to go to bed. Dolly read "Robin's +Journal," or pretended to, but Aunt Anna's observant eyes noted that +the pages were very slowly turned, and the narrative did not seem to +possess its usual absorbing interest. She went off to bed earlier than +usual, and cried herself to sleep. + +Foolish Dolly! _why_ didn't she make up? Why, indeed. Why don't we +always make up at once when we quarrel with those we love? Why do we +keep on making their hearts ache and our own too? Why do we ever begin +a quarrel, for that matter? It was a little thing that began this +quarrel, but then, as a general thing, quarrels always do begin in +little things. Give up? No, _never_! Let us stick it out, though it +half kills us and the one we love too! + +So Dolly, despite the tears and heartache, came down to breakfast the +next morning resolved to keep up her cool behavior till Ned should +do--what? Well, I don't think Dolly could have told exactly what she +did expect Ned to do; but of one thing she was sure--she was going to +make him feel as badly as she could. + +And Ned, now thoroughly exasperated by Dolly's behavior, had resolved, +on his part, to make no more advances. (He had passed the bread to her +at supper the night before, meaning the act as a friendly overture, +and she had taken a piece without looking at him or thanking him.) He +guessed he could stand it as long as Dolly could. + +So the two met in the breakfast-room with a cold "good-morning," for +neither liked, in the presence of the family, to be guilty of the +discourtesy of not speaking at all at this first meeting of the day. +The breakfast went off very like the supper of the night before, the +rest keeping up an animated conversation, while Dolly and Ned ate in +absolute silence. + +Ned went off to school alone, and Dolly called for Priscilla Martin, +and she and Priscilla got up the most surprising intimacy, promenading +to and from school with their arms about each other's waists, and +whispering together apart in the most confidential manner at recess. +Now, Dolly had never liked Priscilla; and as to Ned, he "couldn't bear +her," and never called her anything but "Pris;" and I am afraid that +was one reason why Dolly made such a parade of their sudden intimacy. + +At night the twilight talk was once more omitted, and Aunt Anna's heart +ached for the two wayward creatures, who were evidently as unhappy as +they could be; but she still kept her neutral position, and cautioned +Cousin Kitty, who was inclined to try to persuade them to make up. + +"No," said Aunt Anna, "it is better they should find their way out of +this alone. They are both thoroughly miserable, and I want it to be a +lesson they will not soon forget. I have questioned Thankful, and I do +not think there is any really serious grievance at the bottom." + +The next morning Dolly's resolution was somewhat shaken. She had passed +a miserable night. She had been restless and wakeful, and when she +had slept had dreamed of Ned. In one dream he was far up some steep +height where she could not reach him. In another he was sailing away +in a boat, leaving her on the shore. In still another she was seeking +him through a wild, tangled wood. She looked rather piteously at him +when he came in to breakfast, and if he had shown the least sign of +relenting, the quarrel would have probably ended then and there, for +they were alone. But Ned only said "Good-morning," just as he might +have said it to "Pris" Martin or anybody else that he hated, and walked +up and began drumming on the window-pane, and Aunt Anna and Cousin +Kitty coming in directly, the opportunity for making up at that time +was lost. + +Neither had much appetite for breakfast, and Dolly looked so pale and +unhappy, Aunt Anna began to think she might be obliged, after all, to +abandon her neutrality. Ned stopped at his third buckwheat, and asking +to be excused, left the room, remarking casually, just as he closed the +door, that he was going to look after his traps. + +_His traps!_ This was the way, then, he was going to pay her off! Dolly +fairly choked as she tried to drink her mug of milk, but she made a +brave and successful effort not to give way to tears. But wasn't it +_cruel_ in Ned to say that, when he knew how much she wanted to go! He +was a cruel, cruel boy, and she hated him! And for a brief interval the +spirit of evil took possession of Dolly. + +Those traps he had set were not steel-traps, that might catch some +little creature by the leg and tear it frightfully; they were big +box-traps, that would hold their prisoners firmly but tenderly, and Ned +was hoping to catch a white rabbit for Dolly's own. Dolly knew just +where that rabbit-trap was set, under a laurel-bush by the side of the +brook. + +It was only Thursday morning, and this was Saturday, that she went with +Ned to set those very traps. How far away it seemed, and how happy they +were that morning! How sweet the breath of the pine woods! how merry +the flocks of chickadees in the oaks! What a pretty woodland carpet the +trailing partridge-vine, with its scarlet berries, made in the sunny +openings! And the feathery princess-pine and the trailing ground-pine, +what loads of them they brought home! and together they hung them about +the Little Madam's room. How good Ned was that day! (At this thought +the spirit of evil spread its wings and made ready for flight.) How +he helped her to climb up to the crow's nest in the tall pine! How +good he was, anyway! Ah! Ned's goodness was a dangerous subject to +contemplate in Dolly's then state of mind, and she quickly turned her +attention to the apple-fritters which Thankful was heaping on her plate +sympathizingly. + +Dear, grim, crusty, tender-hearted Thankful! She couldn't bear, as she +said afterwards, to see "them child'en makin' themselves miser'ble +f'r nothin'. 'F they only waited a spell they'd have plenty o' misery +'thout makin' it." + +Ned got back from his traps a little before noon. He came back much +subdued. He had not had a happy time. He had found nothing in his +traps, and every step of the way he had seen something that made him +think of Dolly. Here was where he fixed the stones for her to cross +the brook. There were the white birches from the tops of which they +had swung, climbing up to the very tip-top of the tree, then clutching +it with both hands and swinging clear, while the supple tree bent till +their feet almost touched the ground. How fearlessly Dolly had swung +off!--she wasn't one bit afraid. + +There, too, was the big pine they had climbed together, while he told +her how once he went up that same tree for crows' eggs, and came down +bringing one in his mouth because he had to use both hands in climbing, +and when he jumped from the last branch the jar broke it, and it was +addled--faugh! and how merrily Dolly laughed! She was a jolly girl, +anyhow, and he liked her better than any girl he knew; and he wished +she hadn't gone round with that hateful "Pris" Martin, and--"I'll go +home an' ask her what's the matter, anyway, an' we'll make up, I guess." + +And now I must tell you how they did make up their quarrel, and how +droll it was that Skatta should have been the one, after all, to help +make it up. + +They were standing each by a window of the sitting-room. Aunt Anna, +wise Aunt Anna, had gone out and left them together. Each was wanting +to speak, and each was hoping the other would say something to break +the ice. + +Skatta was in the side-yard, where 'Zekle had turned her for exercise. +She was prancing up and down, tossing her head, kicking up her heels, +and investigating everything within reach of her nose. At last she +espied the clothes-pin basket hanging high, with the Little Madam's +blue-eyed cat curled comfortably therein, on top of the clothes-pins. +That clothes-pin basket was a favorite resort of the blue-eyed cat. +Skatta trotted up to it and put up her nose in a friendly way, but +kitty resented the familiarity and returned Skatta's gentle touch with +a vicious scratch. Skatta turned instantly, and lifting her heels, +sent kitty and basket and clothes-pins spinning high into the air, and +then trotted off with a satisfied whinny, while kitty landed upon the +wood-shed roof, spitting furiously. + +Then Ned and Dolly laughed outright, the ice was broken, and Ned, +crossing over to Dolly's window, put his hand on her shoulder and said, +"I say, Dolly, let's go this afternoon and look at those traps again." +And Dolly replied, with somewhat "tearfu' een," "How good you are, Ned!" + +And so ended their first and last real quarrel; and on the way to the +traps Ned told her the "flapjack" story. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF SKATTA. + + +Old Bill had been transferred (at Ned's special desire) from the stable +to the stall beside Skatta, and one morning while they (Ned and Dolly) +were taking care of their respective horses, Ned suddenly stopped his +currying of old Bill, struck an attitude, and recited the following: + + "_And from their traces loosed + Their sweating horse, which sev'rally with headstalls they repos'd, + And fasten'd by their chariots; when others brought from town + Fat sheep and oxen, instantly, bread, wine, and hewèd down + Huge store of wood. The winds transferr'd into the friendly sky + Their supper's savor; to the which they sat delightfully, + And spent all night in open field; fires round about them shin'd, + As when about the silver moon, when air is free from wind, + And stars shine clear, to whose sweet beams high prospects and the brows + Of all steep hills and pinnacles thrust up themselves for shows, + And ev'n the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight, + When unmeasured firmament bursts to disclose her light, + And all the signs in heav'n are seen that glad the shepherd's heart; + So many fires disclos'd their beams, made by the Trojan part + Before the face of Ilion and her bright turrets show'd. + A thousand courts of guard kept fires, and ev'ry guard allow'd + Fifty stout men, by whom their horse ate oats and hard white corn, + And all did wishfully expect the silver-thronèd morn._" + +Ned recited these lines from Chapman's translation of Homer as though +he liked them and had read them a good many times, while Dolly stayed +her brushing of Skatta's mane and listened with all her might. + +"What is that? What a swing there is to it," said Dolly. + +"Isn't there? That's what I like--the swing. It's the other book I told +you I found in the chest in the secret chamber. I'll show it to you +to-night." And so in the evening Ned brought out the big old folio, +and spent an hour or so reading out to Dolly the parts he liked. It +was during that evening that Dolly added another bit to her store of +historical lore. Cousin Kitty had been peeping over her shoulder and +reading scraps from Homer too when she said, suddenly turning to Aunt +Anna, + +"What a charming Penelope the Little Madam makes, with her eternal +spinning, Aunt Anna! But where is her Ulysses? Is he never coming?" + +"I'm afraid not," replied Aunt Anna. + +"Ulysses!" and Dolly looked up. "What do you mean, Cousin Kitty?" for +Dolly was always very much awake to anything that concerned the Little +Madam. + +"Oh, it's here!" was Cousin Kitty's reply, giving the huge folio a +lift. "It's in the Odyssey--how Penelope spins and spins and waits for +Ulysses, who has gone to the wars, and by-and-by he comes back and they +live happy ever after." + +"Oh, Dolly," she exclaimed again, suddenly--such a quick, bright, +charming, birdlike way Cousin Kitty had--"I saw that beautiful picture +of the spinning on Boston Common." + +Spinning on Boston Common! Dolly looked puzzled. Surely she never heard +of such a thing! When! how! What could Cousin Kitty mean? + +"What! Did you never hear of that, Dolly?" asked Cousin Kitty, rightly +interpreting her look. "Well, I didn't till I saw the picture, and then +I hunted it up, of course. The Little Madam and her wheel made me think +of it. + +"It seems that, once upon a time, when our great-grandmammas were +young, cloth was scarce in Massachusetts; so it was decreed by the +powers that _were_ that spinning should be done in every family. About +that time, too, the Scotch-Irish came over from Londonderry, Ireland, +bringing their pretty wheels for spinning linen, and a spinning craze +set in; and they had a spinning-school in Scollay Square, or where +Scollay Square is now, and everybody, old and young, rich and poor, +fell to spinning; and they even took their wheels on to the Common, +and a charming sight it must have been, and a humming like a myriad +of bees; and every woman and girl who could wore a gown of her own +spinning and weaving; and some young girls had a spinning-match at +the minister's house one day, and when they got through they had two +hundred and thirty skeins of yarn, which they bestowed on the minister, +lucky man!" + +One morning as Dolly opened the door of the cow-barn, old Bill looked +around and whinnied; but there was no greeting from Skatta's stall--it +was empty! + +It was early, and twilight still lingered in the recesses of the barn. +Dolly drew nearer for a second look; it was possible the first look had +deceived her. But no, the stall was certainly empty. She gazed about +her helplessly. Old Bill whinnied again and reached out his nose, and +the cows chewed their cud leisurely while waiting for the cow-boy to +turn them out into the sunny yard. They could tell her nothing. + +She flew out of the barn, and meeting Ned, exclaimed, "Oh, Ned, +Skatta's gone!" + +"Gone where?" + +"Oh, I don't know," was the distressed reply. + +"She's somewhere about, I guess; we'll look her up," was Ned's +consoling reply. + +Ah yes--perhaps she had only strayed a short distance, loosed her +halter herself--the little mischief!--and gone in quest of the green +pastures of last summer. The cow-boy, when he came to milk, doubtless +left the door ajar. A little prancing, a brief tossing of the heels, +and she would come to her mistress's call. So they went out and looked +over the meadows that lay far and wide to the south and west, but no +Skatta was to be seen. + +Then they searched the barn anew. Perhaps she had strayed into an +empty manger, and was hiding--the rogue!--as she sometimes hid behind +a bush in the pasture when Dolly was looking for her. Or she may have +leaped the bay for a taste of the sweet rowan. These possibilities Ned +suggested by way of comfort, but in neither of these places was she to +be found. + +They looked under the barn where the sheep were kept; they even +instituted inquiries in the hen-house and the piggery, but without +avail. + +In despair they went back to the empty stall, and there an ominous +sight presented itself. The door of the harness-closet was open--the +lock had been forced--the saddle and bridle were gone! There was but +one conclusion to be reached. + +"Somebody has stolen her," said Dolly, and Ned was silent. + +"It's that dreadful man again, Aunt Anna," said Dolly, as she told her +the heavy news--"the man that killed Gaston." + +"That doesn't look reasonable, Dolly," replied Aunt Anna. + +But when Aunt Anna came to talk with Uncle Harry about it, he said +'twas the only reasonable solution. + +"If they'd really wanted to have stolen a horse, they'd have taken +Suke or Dapple instead. Besides, there isn't another Shetland within +fifty miles, and it's risky taking her--everybody knows her. Dolly's +right; it's that fellow, and I'll do my best to get him, for there's no +knowing what he'll be at next." + +"But why should he have stolen Skatta if he doesn't want her, as you +say," persisted Mrs. Park. + +"For revenge," was Uncle Harry's reply. "The child has thwarted him +twice, and such fellows are revengeful." + +And Uncle Harry did do his best. Notices of Skatta's disappearance and +descriptions of her were sent as fast and as far as was possible before +the era of railroads and telegraph wires. Uncle Harry scoured the +country far and near searching for traces of her; word was forwarded by +stage to the police of Boston to be on the watch for a Shetland pony +answering the description sent. A description of the supposed thief was +also sent. + +Every day the stage-driver was questioned for news of her, and all +along his route people hailed him to ask if she had been found, and +Dolly and her Shetland Skatta shortly became famous, if fame consists +in having one's name in everybody's mouth. + +Everybody, too, learned of Gaston's death, and the attempt to rob the +Little Madam, and of Dolly's escapade at the time of the convention. +One maiden of thirteen, living in Quincy, even sent Dolly a letter--a +delightful letter, too--which ran thus: + + "MY DEAREST DOLLY,--I think your life is just like a story. Now + nothing ever happens to me. My dog Gypsy is well and fat. Nobody + tries to rob us. We haven't any queer Little Madam--oh, how I + should like to see yours! I do quite envy you, having such romantic + things happening all the time. My little brother got lost the other + day, but we found him right away, and he was only asleep on one + of the pigs. Nothing happens to us. I have longed, ever since I + read the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,' that something would happen, or + I could see something horrid--like a skeleton or something, you + know. But our house is spandy new, and there isn't even a dark + closet in it. And somebody told me there's a secret room in your + tavern. Oh, how lovely! Do you suppose anybody was ever boarded up + in it, and died in it, as they did in 'Marmion?' Oh, it must be so + interesting to live in a house with a secret chamber! It would make + me crawl all over, nights, to think of it. Do you ever go into it + alone? and wasn't it splendid to get shut up in the meeting house? + I should have _shrieked_ if it had been me, I know I should. But + papa says you are a heroine. I think it's lovely to be a heroine. + But my brother Jack--he's an awful tease, and sometimes I get awful + mad with him--says he never heard of a goose being a heroine. I + wouldn't have Jack know I wrote this letter for anything. He would + laugh at me so. But I felt I _must_ write to you. It's almost as + good as writing to Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams in 'The Children of + the Abbey.' Did you ever read that? It's sweet, but I like 'The + Mysteries of Udolpho' better--it's more dreadful. I wish you would + write me a letter. I should like to be your friend. I should like + to send you my Gypsy. I love him, but I should like to give him to + you to comfort you, because your Gaston was killed. + + "Your very true and loving friend, + + "PAMELA S. DRAKE." + +Dolly had never heard of this little lady before, but she answered the +letter. The offer of Gypsy quite touched her, but she declined the +gift; and although Pamela S. Drake has nothing further to do with this +story, the fact may as well be mentioned here that the friendship thus +begun has proved a life-long one. + +This was the only letter Dolly received on the subject, though +doubtless, had postage been as cheap then as now, she would have had +a peck. But letter-writing in those days was a serious business, and +postage ran all the way from five cents to twenty-five for even short +distances. + +While Uncle Harry was scouring the country for traces of the thieves, +'Zekle and Thankful constituted themselves a home-guard. 'Zekle +furbished up the big pistol dropped by the thieves on the night of the +Whig convention, and cleaned and loaded his gun anew, while Thankful +went to bed every night with the biggest carving-knife handy on the +light-stand by her bed, after having searched more vigorously than +usual under the bed and behind her gowns in the closet for the possible +man. Everybody in and about the tavern, if questioned, would have +confessed to being a trifle "nervous," but all, with one exception, +kept a brave front. That exception was Betty, the farmer's bouncing +daughter, who helped at the tavern on extra occasions, and who had been +summoned to assist in the preparations for Thanksgiving. + +Betty's apple-round cheeks and plump waist were no proof of courage, +and she was quite as much of a coward as though she had been slim and +pale. She saw a robber behind every door, and as to looking under +her bed o' nights!--she dared not do it; but having undressed, with +one wild leap she plunged into the depths of the feather-bed, and +covering her head with the bedclothes, did not emerge therefrom till +peremptorily routed by Thankful at five o'clock in the morning. + +Thankful delighted in sending her on various errands in the evening to +remote parts of the tavern, and Betty would scurry timorously along +with half-shrieks and little jumps, coming back all out of breath, sure +she had seen a face peering in at a certain window, or heard a hand +fumbling at a certain door-latch. + +One evening Thankful sent her down cellar for apples. + +"Harrington 'll be 'long 'n a couple o' days, an' I might 's well make +a beginnin' on the mince-pies," said Thankful, by way of explanation. + +(Harrington was the famous wizard who entertained so many generations +of children, and who made a yearly visit to Park's Tavern, and +exhibited in the dancing-hall.) + +Betty did not dare to decline going down cellar, though her heart sank +within her as she took a candle and she looked imploringly towards +Thankful, who was cheerfully kneading dough. + +'Zekle was busy examining his gun, which had kicked that day when he +had fired at a flock of migrating geese; and had he not been so intent +upon learning the cause of such behavior, he would have seen Betty's +evident reluctance and gone down cellar with her; for 'Zekle did not +approve of the tests to which Thankful was continually putting Betty's +courage. + +But he did not look up, and Thankful went on cheerfully kneading, and +there was nothing for Betty to do but to obey the order and go down +cellar for the apples. + +The tavern cellar was as rambling in its way as the tavern itself. +Underneath the principal stairway--there were three--was a dark cave, +which terminated in an equally dark extension under the older part of +the tavern. Betty never went down these stairs, even in the daytime, +without feeling as though a hundred invisible hands were ready to catch +at her ankles. This cellar was divided into rooms, and had arches for +ashes, and arches for apples, and arches for potatoes, and for every +other kind of a vegetable, each one apparently blacker and gloomier +than the others. The arch which held the particular apple--the Holmes +apple--which Thankful wanted was at the end of the cellar farthest from +the main staircase, and the brick walk leading thither lay along a +succession of these grewsome arches. + +Thankful was still cheerfully kneading, and 'Zekle still intent upon +his gun, when a piercing shriek arose from the cellar directly from +under their feet; and in an incredibly short space of time--before +they could reach the cellar-door, in fact--Betty burst into the room, +shrieking, "I've seen him! I've seen him!" and sank into a chair. + +"Seen him! seen _who_?" demanded Thankful, shaking her vigorously, for +she showed symptoms of hysterics. + +"The thief! And oh, he grinned, and opened his horrid mouth, and +gnashed his teeth at me--and--and--I think he had a tail!" she +concluded, in a whisper, looking fearfully around. + +"Don't be a fool!" said Thankful, contemptuously. "'Fraid o' y'r own +shadder--a thief with a tail! Well, you _are_ a gump!" and, disgusted +beyond measure, Thankful went back to her kneading. + +But 'Zekle questioned Betty: "Where d' y' see him, Betty?" + +"In the flat-turnip bin 'n the shadder, an' I couldn't make him out +first. I saw his eyes, an' I says to myself, says I, now, Betty, don't +be scared 't nothin', an' then he give a kind o' a fling, an' I see +his tail!"--lowering her voice and looking furtively at Thankful. "Oh, +'Zekle, he was horrid--_wus_ than horrid!" + +"Diabolical" was probably the word Betty was groping after, only she +didn't know it. + +Then 'Zekle said he "guessed he'd jest go down an' see f'r himself;" +and taking his lantern and gun, he preceded Betty down the +cellar-stairs; for Betty had no thought of remaining behind to be +scoffed at, and--in modern phrase--to be set down upon by Thankful. + +They went slowly and cautiously down the stairs and along the brick +walk till they came to the flat-turnip bin, when 'Zekle suddenly +stopped. Yes, there were the eyes, sure enough!--sly, mischievous, with +a spice of malice in them--peering through the darkness, and presently +the grinning mouth opened, displaying a double row of sharp, white +teeth. 'Zekle opened the door of the lantern and threw the full light +of the candle into the bin. + +"A monkey, by gosh!" he exclaimed, dropping his gun in his +astonishment. Now, 'Zekle rarely used that expletive--hardly twice a +year, in fact--and his doing so was expressive of extreme surprise. + +The monkey, for it was a monkey, had on a scarlet coat and a +scarlet-and-gilt cocked hat. He raised the latter politely, and, coming +forward, held out his paw to 'Zekle graciously. + +"Wa'al, I vum 'f th' critter don't want t' shake hands!" said 'Zekle, +taking the monkey's paw. "He's 'scaped from th' menadgeri at Braintree. +I heered 'bout it yest'day. Si Prince was down t' Braintree--saw th' +richenceros, but th' monkey 's gone--couldn't git no track o' him +nowheres; an' I'll be hanged 'f this ain't him, clothes an' all! + +"Wa'al, Betty, no wonder you's scared. We'll jest take him up an' +interduce him t' Thankful;" and 'Zekle chuckled as he anticipated +Thankful's amazement. + +They returned, Betty leading the way, carefully keeping 'Zekle between +herself and the monkey; for, never having seen one before, she did not +place implicit confidence in 'Zekle's assurance that he "wouldn't hurt +nobody." + +"Thankful," said 'Zekle, as he opened the kitchen door, "let me +interduce the thief; an' he has got a tail, sure." + +The monkey, whisking by 'Zekle and Betty, doffed his hat with a low +bow to the astonished Thankful, and then, his natural love of mischief +getting the better of his artificial politeness, he leaped upon the +table, snatched from the kneading-bowl the elastic ball of dough, and +began tossing it to the ceiling and catching it. + +It was impossible not to laugh at the creature's pranks. Even Thankful +gave way, and the noise brought Ned and Dolly, together with Cousin +Kitty, from the sitting-room, where they were having a romping game of +blind-man's-buff; for Cousin Kitty was trying every method to cheer +Dolly during the uncertainty concerning Skatta. + +After some consultation, it was decided to chain their unexpected +though not wholly unwelcome guest near the fireplace, to give him a mat +upon which to lie, and an old shawl wherewith to wrap himself up. + +"F'r they're cold critters, monkeys are," said 'Zekle, "an' sly, +too--'tarnal sly." "Sly as J. B.," 'Zekle would probably have said, had +he been acquainted with Dickens; but this was before the creation of +the delightful "Dombey and Son." + +Thankful herself went down cellar this time for fresh "emptins" for a +new batch of dough, while Betty went off to bed, with the comfortable +assurance that for once, at least, she hadn't been "scared at nothin'." +Absorbed in this pleasant reflection, she forgot to make her usual leap +and plunge, and so got into bed in a civilized manner. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + NED TO THE RESCUE. + + +A week had elapsed from the date of Skatta's disappearance, and every +effort to find some trace of her had failed. Dolly was in despair, and +both Uncle Harry and Aunt Anna had given up all hope of ever seeing her +again, although keeping up a show of hopefulness for Dolly's sake. + +It was on the afternoon of the seventh day, and Ned was sitting in the +barn door, thoughtfully whittling. + +"I don't see," Uncle Harry had remarked that day at the +dinner-table--"I don't see how the fellow ever got off with her without +anybody seeing him." + +_Had_ he got away with her? was the question Ned was now asking +himself. Was it not possible that both he and Skatta were hidden +somewhere not far away? Certainly it would not be a difficult thing to +do, to keep himself and Skatta in hiding till such time as the search +for her should be over. So Ned whittled and revolved these questions in +his mind. + +"That's it, I'll bet!" he shouted out at last, bringing his hand down +upon his knee with a resounding slap that made old Bill jump. The +next minute he was on his feet, and thrusting his jack-knife into his +trousers-pocket, he struck a bee-line across the old muster-field for +the Little Madam's cottage. He came out into the winding lane just +before reaching it. + +What an atmosphere of peace seemed to brood over the little domain, +lying so securely within its encircling pastures! The sun lay warm +within the narrow yard. Close by the door-stone blossomed a pale-yellow +chrysanthemum; but the crimson leaves of the woodbine had fallen, save +one at the summit of the chimney, that fluttered in the warm south wind +like the "one red leaf" in "Christabel"-- + + "_The last of its clan, + That dances as often as dance it can, + Hanging so light and hanging so high + On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky._" + +Ned peeped in at a window. Some one had evidently been there since the +room had been put in order under Thankful's careful supervision. A fire +had been kindled on the hearth, and the ashes and brands had encroached +upon the white scoured floor. A litter of straw in one corner showed +where some one had slept. Ned tried the door: it was unfastened and he +went in. Some of the boards of the floor had been lifted, and one was +still out of place. Ned recalled the gossip about the Little Madam's +hidden treasure. But there was no sign of fire among the ashes on the +hearth, and the bricks were cold. Evidently no one was making use of +the cottage then. + +He went out and stood a few moments on the door-stone. He took out his +knife and stooped to cut off the yellow chrysanthemum blossoms. + +"She will like them," he was thinking, remembering the Little Madam's +love of flowers. But he drew back his knife. "No, I'll look for them," +was his determination. "I'll wait till I come back." And then, with a +deliberation and slowness that contrasted oddly with the headlong haste +of his passage from the tavern to the cottage, he climbed over the +fence into the pasture and made for the woods. + +Following him, you would have noticed how he avoided every bit of open +ground and kept close to the woods, choosing those of pine and hemlock +rather than of the deciduous trees that, now the leaves had fallen, +afforded less shelter from observation. He chose, too, the woods where +the underbrush was thick; and as he went on, he examined cautiously and +carefully every thicket, explored every hollow, stopping frequently to +listen. + +With these woods on Hemlock Island he was familiar. He had tracked +them through and through many times when in pursuit of stray cattle or +sheep. He had set traps in them, too. But that day he barely noticed +the scolding squirrels that leaped from branch to branch over his head, +nor the rabbits that scurried across his path. Even the flight of a +bevy of partridges failed to stir the hunter's heart in his bosom. He +was in quest of quite another sort of game. + +After about an hour of this cautious progress he came to the opening +where the coal-pits were. He recalled the day Dolly rode down there so +gayly on Skatta, with Gaston by her side. He paused and reconnoitred +before venturing out into the open space. The cabins were still there, +but the pits had been coaled long since and the coal carted off. +Nothing remained to tell of that busy scene but the big black circles +in the turf, which was still green as in spring with the late mild +rains and the wash from the coal-pit bottoms. + +The grass showed no sign of recent foot-falls, so Ned ventured forth +and peeped into each solitary, empty cabin. There was the straw and the +old quilts, the pieces of battered tin-ware and stumps of pipes, just +as they had been left when the last load of coal was carted off. How +still it was! Not a leaf stirred, not a solitary bird rustled among the +branches. The utter silence of the place was oppressive; earth and sky +seemed to listen. + +Presently the cry of a flock of geese was heard. They were flying low, +and wearily seeking a place to rest. As they neared Wintuxet Lake, a +shot cut clear and sharp through the air and two fell swiftly, while +the V-shaped line broke in disorder. + +"Sportsmen," thought Ned. "_He_ wouldn't dare to be firing guns." + +As he turned away with a feeling of keen disappointment from the empty +cabins, he thought of another place, still more secluded, where it +was possible that Skatta and the thief might be hidden. This possible +hiding-place was a good mile farther on, and away from home. The sun +had already sunk low in the west, for these were the year's shortest +days. + +But Ned pushed resolutely on, for somehow, with every fresh +disappointment he felt more and more certain that he was on the right +track. He made his way through the thick underbrush and over the swampy +tracts cautiously, as before. He crossed a tremulous piece of turf, +about half an acre in extent, known as "the tilting ground." It bent +under even his light weight at every step, and tradition said that +under that springing turf was a bottomless pit of liquid mud, and that +any one by chance breaking through would go on sinking till he came +out, say, at Hong-Kong, China, or some other place at the antipodes. + +But Ned did not mind the springing turf; he had never really believed +the fabulous story, though he had told it to Dolly, and they had +speculated together over the probable fate of any human being who might +happen to break through. He had promised to show it to her some day. + +Just as the sun had dropped below the horizon, sending up a flight of +golden arrows to the zenith by way of a farewell to the eastern world, +Ned reached his destination. This was also an old coaling ground, +though it had been years since any pits had been coaled there. The only +time Ned remembered ever being at this exact place was about a year +previous, when he went through this tract of woods with his father, in +search of a pine fit for a ship's mast. At that time the coal-cabins +were in a ruinous state; but on this day, as Ned parted the branches of +a young pine and peeped out into the open space, his eye fell upon two +comfortable cabins. The fallen slabs had been picked up and carefully +nailed in place--there were the brown stripes in the turf where they +had lain--and each cabin was thatched with branches of hemlock and +white pine. + +"Treed at last!" ejaculated Ned, under his breath, and this was all +the outward expression of joy he allowed himself, though he could have +danced a jig in sheer delight. He drew quietly back into the depths of +the young pine, and reflected. + +The situation was indeed a serious one. It was already sunset, as I +have said, and were he to go home at once and carry the news of his +discovery, the probability was that his father would think it unwise to +attempt Skatta's rescue and the arrest of the thief before morning--and +what might not happen between that time and morning? Before sunrise +they might both be far away. No! such risk as that was not to be +thought of for a moment. He, acting alone, could not secure both, of +course; but if he could only get Skatta, take her that night to her +young mistress safe and sound--ah! he could see Dolly's shining eyes +even through the gathering mists of the twilight as he thought of it. +_That_ was worth running a little risk for. + +But how was he to do it? How was he, a mere boy, to carry her off with +safety both to her and himself, from this daring, reckless man? He +must plan with wisdom, and act with discretion and promptness. There +must be the least possible risk of detection in the act. For Ned felt, +and rightly too, that the fellow would not hesitate to fire at him, +to kill him even, as he had done Gaston, if he thought the so doing +were necessary to his own safety. Ned had accepted, as we see, without +any reservation, Dolly's theory as to _who_ the thief was--viz., the +murderer of Gaston. + +While he was casting about in his mind for a plan of rescue, a man +stepped out into the opening from the woods on the opposite side. Ned +recognized him at once. It was the man with the evil eye, whom they saw +that day by the blazing pit, the man whom Dolly said had killed Gaston, +one of the meeting-house thieves. He held a gun in one hand, and from +the other hung a couple of dead geese. His was the shot, after all, +that Ned had heard. He entered one of the cabins, and presently smoke +was seen coming out of the hole in the top. + +"He's getting supper," reflected Ned. "Wish I had some! Going to roast +one of those geese, I'll bet!" and Ned's mouth fairly watered at the +thought. "Oh, dear! how hungry I am! Wish I'd thought to take a couple +o' dough-nuts." + +Ned's conjecture was right. The man _was_ going to have goose for +supper; for, leaving his fire to get well under way, he came out and +proceeded to pick and clean one of the geese. A cloud of downy feathers +hid him from view as he worked. + +"What'd Thankful say to such a waste o' feathers," commented Ned, as he +watched the man with an interest that made him almost forget his own +perilous situation. "Oh, what a fool! He don't know anything! he's no +sportsman!" as he saw the way in which he mangled the plump, fat bird. + +The process of dressing, or _undressing_--for why should we call the +pulling off of all a bird's feathers "dressing it?"--was soon ended, +and the man again vanished into the cabin. As he disappeared, Ned felt +as though he would risk almost anything just for one peep, in order to +see how he would cook the goose. "I should hang it before the fire with +a string fastened to the top of the cabin," he decided in his own mind; +for Ned was a born sportsman, and fertile in invention, as indeed most +bright boys are, for that matter. + +Presently the man, having arranged his goose to his satisfaction, came +out and crossed over to the other cabin. A moment or two passed, and he +reappeared, leading Skatta--for it _was_ Skatta, though so covered with +dust, so frowzy, with wisps of dry grass clinging to coat and mane and +tail, as to look little like the sleek, glossy creature her mistress +was wont to groom daily with such loving care. + +She had apparently been well fed, however, for she pranced about gayly +and seemed in the best of spirits, though she shied suggestively when +the man raised his hand or came very near her. + +"The brute's been abusing her," thought Ned, and his blood boiled at +the thought. + +The man led her to a spring at the edge of the woods, not far from the +spot where Ned lay in a tangle of ferns, laurel, and white pine. At +first she refused to drink, and held her head high, seemingly searching +the woods with her soft, spirited eyes. The man swore at her and kicked +her, and then she began to plunge and rear, but she subdued herself +quickly, as though knowing it was of no use to rebel. Then she bowed +her head and drank long and deeply, and as they were returning from the +spring, again her soft, spirited eyes seemed to question the shadowy +woods. Was she conscious that a friend was hidden there? Possibly. + +She was led back to the cabin, and then Ned waited and waited while +the man ate his dinner and smoked his pipe. He could catch glimpses of +him through the chinks in the cabin as he moved about in the firelight, +and a delicious and tantalizing odor of broiling goose was wafted upon +the night air to the nostrils of the hungry boy. + +Ned had drawn up his plan; it was a simple one, viz., to wait till the +man was sound asleep, and then make off with Skatta. It was tedious +waiting, and he sometimes felt cramped, but he dared not move lest a +rustle among the bushes--for the night was breathlessly still--might +betray him. Once or twice he came near falling asleep, but he pinched +himself awake. + +The man occasionally came to the door and looked out, leaning up +against the side of the cabin, and smoking in a contemplative manner. +At such times Ned hoped he wasn't thinking about leaving that night; if +he did, what was he (Ned) to do? To see Skatta carried off from right +under his nose, as it were, he felt would be more than he could endure. + +At last, however, after what seemed an interminable time, the fire in +the cabin died down and all was still. Ned waited a good while even +after that, curbing his impatience with the thought that if he should +make a movement one moment too soon all would be lost. The time seemed +to lengthen into a week, as he said afterwards, and how he did wish he +knew exactly what time it was! And what were they thinking at home +when he failed to appear at supper-time? Well, he guessed he should +surprise 'em when he did come. + +At length he ventured out from his covert into the opening. It was a +clear, starlight night; the moon had not yet risen. Ned looked up. +How thoroughly comfortable and comforting was the sight of those +familiar constellations, the "Little Dipper," the "Big Dipper," and +Orion's dazzling belt! He had to pass close by the cabin wherein the +man lay asleep. He stopped an instant and listened. He heard his heavy +breathing, but even while he listened he turned restlessly in his sleep +and groaned. + +Ned slipped, silently and swiftly as a ghost glides, over the space +which separated the two cabins and entered Skatta's. + +"Skatta!" he whispered, warningly. He was in mortal terror lest she +should whinny when she recognized him. Not she! She had not yet lain +down, and she turned her head as he came up to her, and rubbed her nose +over his head, his shoulders, anywhere where she could reach him. + +He groped for her saddle and bridle. He could ride Skatta bare-back, +with only her halter to guide her, if necessary, but he had no mind to +do that. He would take her back to Dolly "all saddled and bridled" as +she first came, if he took her at all. + +Skatta stepped carefully to his leading, slipped her head promptly into +the bridle, and would doubtless have assisted with right good-will in +buckling the saddle-girths if she could, for well she knew that the +hour of her deliverance had come. + +He then led her out, and mounted at once, to be ready for any +emergency. He walked her slowly over the open space towards a wood's +road which led into the country road, slowly and silently as possible, +and it was only just as they reached that road that the thief, awaking, +saw his prey escaping. He sent a pistol-shot after them, but it was too +late. + +"Now, Skatta," said Ned, "as fast as you please!" and the little +creature, fresh from her week's rest, and turned towards home, +literally flew over the ground. Part of the way, the last part, they +took to the fields, the tireless Skatta leaping fences and ditches at +full speed, doing herself, in her small way, as much credit as did +Browning's famous Roland himself when he brought the good news from +Ghent to Aix. + +The moon was rising over the eastern pines as they passed the +Little Madam's cottage, and as they dashed by, Ned gave a sort of +a view-halloo as a vent to his so long pent-up feelings, and the +man-in-the-moon seemed to beam upon him with more than his usual +benignity. He did not stop for the yellow chrysanthemum blossoms. Oh +no! _they_ could wait. Seen in the white moonlight, they clustered like +stars around the big flat door-stone. + +A brief time and they had crossed the old muster-field, leaped the +meeting-house fence, and were in the tavern door-yard, Skatta panting +and with reeking sides, but whinnying most joyously as she caught sight +of the waiting group there. For the whole family force was out--Aunt +Anna and Uncle Harry, Cousin Kitty and the Little Madam, together with +Thankful and Betty and 'Zekle and Skipper Joe, who had arrived that +day--all shouting out a welcome and filled with wonder. + +And there, too, was Dolly, flying up from her station by the +guide-post, where she had been listening to the sound of the coming +hoofs, which she had at once recognized as Skatta's, and upon whose +neck she instantly fell in a mingled transport of tears and laughter. +And just then the meeting-house clock struck nine. + +There had been much anxiety at the tavern when supper-time failed to +bring Ned. He had done such a thing once or twice in his life as to go +off in company with other boys, fishing or trapping, without saying +anything about it. And this time, perhaps, he had gone down to the lake +for a shot at the geese and ducks, which were now on their passage +south. So said Uncle Harry, and so they all tried to think; and they +engaged in their usual evening occupations, or pretended to do so. + +But Dolly had not been content to sit down and wait. Every few minutes +she made a raid out into the road, and looked up and down for the +missing Ned; and at last she was rewarded by the sound of Skatta's +swift-coming hoofs, and her joyous shout had brought out the whole +family, as we have seen. + +Skatta, after being duly patted and petted, was led off by 'Zekle, +accompanied by Dolly--not to her old stall in the cow-barn, but to a +more secure place in the stable; and Ned was taken in to supper, which +Thankful, always practical, had kept hot and comfortable for him on the +kitchen hearth. + +He refused to open his mouth, however, about the rescue of Skatta, +until Dolly, having seen her rubbed down, fed, and bedded, came in, and +then he told them all about it. + +And the next morning he and Dolly, once more in happy companionship +on old Bill and Skatta, rode down and gathered the pale yellow +chrysanthemums for the Little Madam. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + THANKSGIVING DAYS. + + +"It's just like another c'nvention," said Dolly. + +"'Tis," was Ned's reply. "It's mother's c'nvention; the +tag-rag-'n-bobtail c'nvention." + +"Oh, what a shame to call it that!" remonstrated Dolly. + +"'Tis," persisted Ned. "You just wait an' see! There'll be an awful +spread, an' everybody that hasn't got anywhere else t' go will be +invited to come here to dinner. An' 'f that isn't a tag-rag-'n-bobtail +thing, I'd like to know what is!" and he conveyed a plump raisin to +his mouth, into which receptacle had disappeared so many during the +operation of stoning that Thankful felt called upon to remonstrate. + +"'F y' eat many more o' them plums, th' puddin's 'll fall short." + +"Oh, I'll risk that!" said Ned, and well he might; for Thankful, never +submitting at any time to be "skinched," demanded such a supply of +raisins for her Thanksgiving puddings and pies that it was difficult to +crowd them all in; and looking at his operations from that stand-point, +Ned might have been considered as a happy provision whereby to make +way with the surplus. + +He and Dolly were stoning the raisins, of which the monkey--still +unclaimed by the menadgeri--had managed to grab a handful by swinging +dexterously down from his perch on top of the eight-day clock in the +corner. + +What a cosey, spice-laden, cheery interior was that kitchen on this +evening of which I am writing! With the advent of cold weather the +cook-stove had been removed permanently to the outer kitchen, while a +roaring wood-fire burned nineteen hours out of the twenty-four in the +huge fireplace in the inner kitchen. The remaining six hours the fire +was raked up, dispensing a luxurious warmth even in its ashes. + +On this evening 'Zekle, with Skipper Joe to "spell" him, was chopping +raw beef and pork for sausages, which beef and pork required great +strength of muscle to reduce to the fineness required by Thankful, who +was as intolerant of a "chunk" of beef in her sausages as she was of a +raisin-stone in her puddings. + +The Little Madam was busy pounding and sifting spices, sticks of +cinnamon, beads of allspice, and whole cloves; no adulteration in those +spices! It was dainty, fragrant work, just suited to her, and done +so neatly that not a trace of it powdered the white of her homespun +woollen gown. + +Cousin Kitty, leaving Aunt Anna to read her favorite "Goldsmith," had +deserted the sitting-room for the kitchen, and insisted upon having a +share in the preparations for Thanksgiving. To her Thankful consigned +the bunches of summer savory, sage, and thyme, to be carefully dried by +the fire, and then powdered into shallow pans. + +Betty, having reduced to a fine dust the meat for the one hundred +mince-pies, was now engaged in chopping the apples, while Thankful went +from one to another inspecting, suggesting, scolding, flying every +now and then into the outer kitchen to stir vigorously two huge pots +of pumpkin stewing over a moderate fire, stirring up at the same time +the cow-boy, who had been stationed there to watch the fire, lest, +burning too freely, the pumpkin should scorch, and who, between this +responsibility and an overpowering inclination to fall asleep, was +well-nigh distracted. + +Upon this cheerful scene a traveller entered. The main entrance to the +tavern was not through the kitchen, but two classes of travellers often +came in that way--its old frequenters and strangers. The former knew +well its comforts, and the latter were drawn thither by the light which +streamed out so hospitably from above the short curtains which covered +the lower half of the windows only. + +But this traveller was no stranger. To all but Cousin Kitty his face +was familiar. It was Harrington, the famous wizard. A pleasant stir +greeted his entrance. The monkey, after a careful survey of the +new-comer, came down from his perch and cordially offered his paw. + +"Ah, who have we here?" said the wizard. And then a strange wild cry +was heard, which seemed to come from some mysterious and far-away +region, and the monkey slunk back, trembling with fright. It was the +savage cry of a bird of prey, a cry which the monkey had often heard in +South American forests. + +The wizard laughed, "It's too bad to frighten the creature," he said, +offering him a bit of barley candy by way of a peace-offering. + +Having laid aside his riding-coat, he took his stand on the hearth with +his back to the fire and looked smilingly around. + +"Going t' have snow?" he asked, looking at 'Zekle. + +"Guess so," was the reply. "Geese 'r goin' over putty thick." + +Presently, with the air of one quite at home, he moved across the +kitchen, and stooping over Betty, who was chopping somewhat at random +with her wide-open eyes fixed upon the wizard, he took an egg from out +the apple in her tray. + +"Well, Betty," he said, laughing, "is this where your hens lay?" And +Betty stared in open-mouthed wonder. + +"How'd that come there an' I a-choppin', I sh'd like to know!" + +Pretty soon a queer state of things prevailed in the kitchen. 'Zekle's +chopping-knife disappeared while in the act of chopping, and after an +ineffectual search, it was found in the tray under his very nose. + +Dolly, dipping her hand into the deep stone jar for the last handful +of raisins, withdrew it with a shriek, and out popped a tiny squirrel, +which scampered up one of the wizard's coat-sleeves. + +"Up t' y'r old tricks ag'in, Mister Harrington," said Skipper Joe, +pulling his red silk pocket-handkerchief out of the pocket of his +sailor jacket. A score of silver dollars followed the handkerchief and +rolled over the floor. + +"Had a successful summer, eh, skipper?" asked the wizard. "It isn't +everybody that's got the dollars to carry about in that way." + +"None o' mine," growled Skipper Joe, picking up one. "Lead, by thunder! +Now just turn them into silver, Mr. Harrington, an' your tricks 'd be +worth somethin'." + +"Lead!" retorted Harrington, taking the dollar from Skipper Joe's hand, +and ringing it upon the table. The clear, silvery sound proved the +purity of the metal. "D'y' call that lead?" + +"Wa'al, wa'al, reelly, now, 't's no use t' try tricks with you, Mr. +Harrington," said Skipper Joe, resignedly. "Y' c'n make lead silver, +an' silver lead." + +The wizard looked smilingly at Dolly, who had been following his tricks +with the deepest interest. Just beside the cushioned settle where she +and Ned were seated stood a light-stand, with a candle and snuffer-tray +upon it. The candle had burned down, leaving a long wick, and Dolly +took up the snuffers to snuff it. As she opened them, out dropped a +fragrant red rose of the kind known as the monthly rose. She picked it +up. + +"Oh, Mr. Harrington, how lovely! I wish I could turn candle snuff into +red roses! Is it mine?" + +"With all my heart," replied the wizard. "The rose-queen must have sent +it to match your cheeks." + +"Perhaps she has some more for you," he added, mysteriously. + +Dolly again tried to snuff the candle, and this time out flew from the +open snuffers a canary, which, alighting on her hand, burst into song. + +"Well, who ever see the beat o' that!" ejaculated Thankful. "How d'y' +c'ntrive t' carry all them live creeturs about y' t' onct, Mister +Harrington?" + +"Easy enough if you only know how," was the reply; and Thankful was +that instant confronted by a snow-white rabbit, which raised itself on +its haunches upon the table and piped out, "Easy enough if you only +know how." + +"Massy sakes alive!" said Thankful, looking aghast at the uncanny +creature as it sat motionless, with the exception of its long white +ears, which moved slowly back and forth. "Dew stop, Mister Harrington. +'Taint right--no, 'taint right--t' make dumb creeturs speak." + +The rabbit chuckled, "Dumb critters can't speak. If they speak they +aint dumb critters, and if they're dumb critters they can't speak." +And having delivered himself of this bit of wisdom he disappeared as +mysteriously as he had come. + +Harrington laughed. "And now," he said, "I think I'll go and pay my +respects to Mrs. Park." And he went out with the canary circling about +his head, the monkey calling out just as the door closed, "Good-by! +good riddance!" At least it seemed to be the monkey, although he looked +as surprised as the rest at hearing a voice apparently issuing from his +stomach. + +"Wa'al, he's a master feller f'r a joke," said 'Zekle, as the door +closed upon him, "an' it's dum queer how he does them things!" + +"I' my way o' thinkin' them things 'd better be let alone," remarked +Thankful, who had not quite recovered from her rabbit scare. + +"Oh, pshaw! don't dew any harm, them things don't," said Skipper Joe, +good-naturedly. "'F he rode on a broomstick now like a witch! They dew +say old Granny Cary us't t' go t' Bermuda an' back 'n a night after +rosemary to cure folks o' rheumatiz. Benev'lent old crittur, 'f she +was a witch. But Harrington, now--Lor, Thankful, it's only jes' fun." +But Thankful continued to shake her head; she could not quite forgive +Harrington for giving her such a start. + +The day before Thanksgiving was a busy one for Ned and Dolly. Chickens, +turkeys, puddings, pies, spare-ribs, sirloins, and assorted vegetables +were to be delivered to Aunt Anna's numerous protégés: to the three old +aunties, to bedridden Matty, to the McLouds, to the tailoress Phœbe, to +crippled Susy Stone and her mother, and to Lute Atkins, a friendless +drunkard, who lived alone in a half or wholly savage way. + +It is always pleasant to be the bearer of gifts--doubly so, perhaps, +when the gifts supply some real want--and Ned and Dolly had a happy +time. The three old aunties were grateful, though not effusively so, +for the thoughtful kindness that for so many years had helped them to +make both ends meet out of a scanty income. + +Poor Mrs. McLoud, with six hungry mouths to fill and only one small +chicken for her Thanksgiving dinner, came very near crying for joy when +Ned laid a plump, fat turkey on her kitchen table, with his mother's +"compliments and kind wishes;" and as to the six children, they joined +hands and circled around it in a sort of sacrificial dance, which +Dolly, catching glimpses of through the window, thought very charming +indeed. + +Dolly did not go in at the several houses; she felt a little delicacy +about witnessing the bestowal of these gifts. As they drew up by +the gate of Phœbe, the tailoress, she herself came to the door. +Phœbe lived in a corner of Deacon Hart's house, in a state of happy +independence, having "bought into" said house with her savings. "She +wa'n't beholden t' nobody f'r a livin'," and no one except Mrs. Park +ever ventured to offer her a gift. She prided herself on payin' her +own way; and at the very moment that old Bill stopped at her gate she +was busy in stuffing a five-pound turkey, which she had bought from +the butcher's cart for her Thanksgiving dinner. But she had once been +heard to say that Thankful was a "beater" for plum-puddings, and _she_ +couldn't come "nigh her." So for several years Mrs. Park had ventured +to send her at Thanksgiving a small, round, crumbly, rich plum-pudding. +Phœbe always graciously accepted it, and was "obleeged to Mis' Park," +but some gift in return invariably found its way to the tavern, to take +off the edge of the obligation as it were. Sometimes it was a basket +of apples from her famous golden-sweet; sometimes it was a pound of +equally golden butter from Whitefoot's cream. On that day it was a loaf +of "riz" cake, made from the famous Waterman recipe, that had been in +the family two hundred years--ever since the emigration of the family +from England, in fact. It had been handed down from mother to daughter, +and had been considered a strictly family inheritance, not to be +imparted to any outsider. She handed the loaf up to Dolly, wrapped in +a snow-white napkin of home-made linen, with P. W. in cross-stitch in +one corner. + +"I think, Dolly, you had better go in and see Matty; she used to know +your mother." This was what Aunt Anna had said as they drove away from +the tavern that morning. So Dolly went in to see Matty, rather sorry on +the whole that she must, for, she reflected, an old woman, bedridden +for so many years, could not be a very nice person to visit. + +They knocked at the door, and a cheerful voice saying "Come in," they +entered. + +"Dear, dear me! is _that_ Matty?" thought Dolly, coming very near, in +her surprise saying it out loud. + +A woman was lying on the bed in a corner of the room, propped up by +pillows. A small face was on the pillow, pallid, it is true, and +encircled with snow-white hair, but luminous with a pair of laughing +eyes that made Dolly's face fairly dimple as her own glance met them. + +"Come here, my dear," she said, cordially, holding out a thin, white +hand. "I know you; you are Helen Heath's daughter; I should know you +anywhere. And I know what has brought you, Master Ned. And how you +grow! Come and stand up here, and let me see how much you have grown +since last year. Just look here!" and she pointed out to Dolly a row of +pencil marks on the door-casing beside her bed. "I always make Mahala +scour round those when she cleans. That," pointing to the lowest one, +"was his height when he brought me his first Thanksgiving turkey. He +came tugging it in, in his short arms, with his mother behind, and +how we laughed to see him!" and she laughed a low, happy laugh at the +remembrance. "And he's brought me one every Thanksgiving since." + +"Here's something else I thought you'd like, Matty," said Ned, bringing +out, rather shamefacedly, a plump partridge, which he had trapped and +dressed the day before, though, boy-like, he had kept his gift out of +sight, and this was the first glimpse Dolly had had of it. + +"Oh, thank you! and you left the pretty tail-feathers on for me to see, +didn't you? And how do the woods look now? Are the box-berries thick? +and is Wild-cat Brook as full as common? I used to love that brook when +I was a girl; and sometimes in the night I think I hear it dashing over +its stones. And does the little gray owl still keep house in the old +apple-tree by the lane? I like to think of him there cold nights, warm +and cosey, only I wish he wouldn't eat orioles and bluebirds. I don't +begrudge him his mice. But just hear me! he's as much right to his +oriole as I have to my partridge," and she laughed a laugh so heartily +happy, so in contrast with her pale face and apparent helplessness, +that Dolly, forgetting her good manners, stared in bewildered +astonishment. + +But such good spirits are infectious, and both Dolly and Ned were soon +laughing heartily over her account of Mahala's mishap of that morning, +whose pet lamb had butted her over as she was bringing in Matty's +breakfast. Matty lost her breakfast, of course, or as good as lost it, +for there wasn't another egg in the house, but she said the fun made +up for that. And if she hadn't lost her breakfast, most likely she +would have had no appetite for dinner, and now she could have broiled +partridge, and that would be "nice." + +And then they said "good-by" and hurried off to deliver the rest of +their gifts. + +"Is she really so sick?" asked Dolly, as they drove along. "And how can +she be so merry?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Ned. "She's always just so when I see +her. But mother says she has awful pain." + +Ah, if they could only have looked in upon her at that very moment. +For the sound of their departing wheels had hardly died away when a +spasm of fierce pain contracted the delicate features, and a look of +anguish came into the laughing eyes. None but the faithful Mahala ever +quite knew how much Matty suffered. For, years before, when her happy +girlhood went out in life-long anguish, she had resolved that "whatever +I may have to endure, my sufferings shall never darken the lives of +others." + +What a dismal place was that where Lute Atkins lived! All the +traditional shabbiness and decay of the drunkard's home were there--if +"home" it could be called--broken windows, hingeless doors, and falling +fences. Ned knocked, but no cheerful voice said "come in." He opened +the door, pushed in the basket, and shut the door quickly. + +"He's there," he said to Dolly as he jumped into the buggy and caught +up the reins. He shuddered with disgust. "It's dreadful to think that +a boy can ever turn into a man like that!" he said. "An' mother says +she remembers him when he was a nice, jolly boy. Well, I've signed the +pledge, Dolly, an' I'm glad I have, an' I mean to keep it too. I b'long +to a teetotal society. Oh, did I ever tell you about Johnny Tuttle when +he was sick? He's a teetotaler too." + +"No." + +"Well, he was awful sick, an' he was going to die; that's what Dr. +Stone said, an' that's what everybody thought. An' Dr. Stone said they +must give him brandy every fifteen minutes, p'r'aps that would save +him, an' p'r'aps 't wouldn't, anyway they must try it, an' Johnny said +he couldn't take it nohow, for he'd signed the pledge, an' he was going +t' keep it anyway. An' his mother cried an' begged him to, and his +father begged, and doctor said he must, an' he said he wouldn't an' he +didn't." + +"And did he die?" asked Dolly, anxiously. + +"No, you bet he didn't! Such a boy 's that don't die easy! Why he goes +t' school now, don't y' know? an' he's coming t' the menagerie--going +t' be the elephant. Deacon Hart said 'f he'd been _his_ boy he'd +a-turned the brandy down him; an' he said 'twas tempting Providence, +but father said 'twas true grit." + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + THE YELLOW SATIN GOWN. + + +A good Thanksgiving dinner being assured to everybody within the limits +of Byfield, the household at Park's tavern slept the sleep of the just +on the night preceding that time-honored festival, and assembled in +excellent spirits around the breakfast-table on Thanksgiving morning. +The party was strictly a family party, and the principal dish was +chicken pie, or pies rather, as there were two of them, and one was +sweetened. Thanksgiving would not have been Thanksgiving at the old +tavern without chicken pie for breakfast. Uncle Harry's father had +always had chicken pie for Thanksgiving breakfast, and his father +before him, and I was about to say that _his_ father before _him_ had +eaten it, too, in Yorkshire, England. Doubtless the latter did eat +chicken pie, for the English have always been famous for their rich +pasties, but it could not have been _Thanksgiving_ chicken pie, as +Thanksgiving, we all know, is a Puritan festival, and had its origin in +New England. + +The two pies which graced Uncle Harry's breakfast-table that morning +were baked in deep, wide pans, and were so stuffed with chicken that +the top crusts had taken on a pyramidal form. They were brought in +steaming hot, with the gravy bubbling out of a hole in the apex of each +pyramid, and bearing no slight resemblance to a couple of small but +spunky volcanoes. + +Uncle Harry had just inserted the point of the carving-knife into the +sweetened pie, and was opening his mouth to inquire where Ned was--that +young gentleman's place at the table being empty--when the door flew +open and he appeared quite out of breath and bursting with news. + +"The McLouds were all burned out last night!" he said. + +There was a second's silence, such as usually follows the announcement +of an unexpected and surprising bit of news, and then a volley of +exclamations and interrogations was discharged at him. + +"When? how? at what time? save anything? all safe?" + +"About two o'clock. Mr. Emerson saw it first all of a blaze, an' rushed +over an' got' em out in their night-clothes, all sound asleep." + +"Children all safe, I hope," said Aunt Anna. + +"Yes, though they like to have forgot the baby. Mr. Emerson pulled him +out after the bed was afire." + +An exclamation of horror burst from Aunt Anna and Cousin Kitty at this +announcement. + +"Didn't they save _anything_?--no clothes? nothing?" + +"Not a rag," was the decisive answer. + +"Dear me, that is hard indeed!" + +Only six weeks before the father of this family had died, and his +kind-hearted townsmen had been much exercised as to how, even with the +house and bit of land which she owned, Mrs. McLoud was going to feed +and clothe her young brood of ravens, the oldest of which was only ten, +and here was an added complication. + +"Where are they now?" asked Mrs. Park. + +"At Aunt Debby's," replied Ned, chuckling. "I just saw 'em sitting +'round the breakfast-table, an' Aunt Debby an' Aunt Nanny fussing and +clucking about like a couple of old hens with a new lot of chickens." + +"Ned!" remonstrated his mother, but his father only laughed. + +"Well," remarked the latter, "I don't see how they ever squeezed them +all into that coop of a place." + +"If Aunt Debby's house were as elastic as her heart, there would be no +limits to her benevolence," said Mrs. Park. "But we mustn't let them +eat her out of house and home. Thankful!" she called through the open +door, and Thankful appeared, grim and expectant. "Just fill a couple of +baskets, will you, and let 'Zekle take them over to Aunt Debby's. The +McLouds are all there. Put in another turkey, and anything else you +think best. And oh, tell him to tell Aunt Debby I'll drive over after +dinner and see about them. Perhaps we'd better let them go into the +Little Madam's cottage for the present," she said, looking inquiringly +at Uncle Harry, who was carefully dissecting the sweetened chicken pie. +"There's plenty of old furniture in the garret we can take down." + +"Just as you say," answered Uncle Harry, heartily. He never blocked the +course of his wife's benevolence. He trusted her excellent judgment. +Once, hearing somebody say that "Mis' Park's warm heart would run away +with her yet," he had made answer, "My wife has a cool head as well as +a warm heart, and I'll risk her." + +Dolly had said "when" and "how" with the rest, and then suddenly lapsed +into silence, and, with her eyes fastened upon the chicken's breast +with its wish-bone, to which she had been helped, ate rapidly. But +somehow the chicken had lost its flavor. + +"We had just got them comfortably clothed for the winter," Aunt Anna +was saying to Cousin Kitty, "and now it is all to do over again. Well, +we must look over our belongings and see, not what we can spare, but +how little we can get on with ourselves, and give them the rest. A +woman and six children to clothe is no small matter." + +"Oh dear!" thought Dolly, "I wish they would talk about something +else. They can have that old blue merino--I'd just as lief they would +as not." But she did not say so aloud. She kept thinking of "something +else." When Ned said, "Not a rag!" she instantly thought of that +"something else." + +That "something else" was a pile of five-dollar gold-pieces in a +corner of the small drawer in her dressing-table. She rarely went +into her room without opening that drawer and taking a peep at those +gold-pieces. They were hidden under a pile of handkerchiefs. There were +five of them. + +Mamma had sent her that twenty-five dollars to do what she pleased +with. That was what the note that came with the money said--"Do just +what you like with it, darling. Buy what you please." + +Dolly had been for some time making up her mind as to what she _did_ +want. She wanted a harp--Cousin Kitty could play the harp; but +twenty-five dollars would not buy a harp. She had thought of a pair of +pink coral bracelets. Dolly liked pretty jewellery, but she knew mamma +did not approve of girls wearing it. But at last she had come to a +decision. + +There was to be a ball at the old tavern on the 22d of December, a +military ball, and Aunt Anna had said that Dolly and Ned might sit up +until twelve, at which time the turkey supper was to be served. Now, +Dolly had known how to dance almost ever since she could remember. +She had been to the afternoon dancing-school, and once to an evening +dancing-party that lasted till nine o'clock. + +But a _ball_! The instant she heard about that ball she knew what she +wanted to do with the five five-dollar gold-pieces. She would buy a new +gown with it--a gown of that lustrous yellow satin that looked so much +like sunlight. She at once took Cousin Kitty into her confidence, and +Cousin Kitty said she had shown good taste in the choice of color. + +"It will just suit your dark hair and eyes," said Cousin Kitty. "And +I tell you what I'll do, Dolly. I'll write to Cousin Maud, and she'll +get it for you. And those lovely yellow chrysanthemums of the Little +Madam's will be just the thing to wear with it. She'll let us have +them, I know. And you shall wear the biggest ones on your hair and +skirt, and at the girdle, and I'll make a necklace out of the tiny +ones--there'll be lots of blooms by that time, for they are all over +buds--and you shall go to the ball as 'The Chrysanthemum!'" and as she +concluded she had seized hold of Dolly, and they had _chasséed_ up and +down the long hall where they had chanced to be, in sheer delight over +the idea. + +And such a lovely idea! Dolly thought; every girl will understand how +often she thought it all over, and how she imagined over and over again +how she was going to look as "The Chrysanthemum," arrayed in the gown +of lustrous satin. It is the most natural thing in the world for a girl +to wish to look pretty--why shouldn't she? So we can well imagine what +a pang wrung Dolly's heart as something seemed to whisper to her, when +Ned was telling about the burning out of the McLouds, "There's that +twenty-five dollars! Give them that." + +"It is altogether too ridiculous," thought Dolly. "There's that old +blue merino, they can have that and one of my bonnets, and I can spare +two pairs of stockings." + +"But those are not yours to give," whispered the something again. +"Those belong to your father and mother." + +"Well, I shouldn't wonder if Cousin Kitty had written to Maud to buy +the satin, and so it's too late, anyhow," replied Dolly, defiantly. And +the something ceased whispering, and Dolly finished her breakfast quite +cheerfully. + +Shortly after breakfast, however, to make everything sure, she asked +Cousin Kitty if she had sent for the satin. + +"No, I haven't," said Cousin Kitty. "I meant to have sent yesterday, +but I certainly will to-morrow. There's plenty of time," she added, +observing Dolly's fallen countenance. + +Then the something began its work again, and managed to make Dolly so +unhappy with its hints and suggestions, that, to strengthen herself in +her resolution _not_ to listen, she went up and took a look at the +gold-pieces, and then spent half an hour in the Little Madam's room, +playing with the cockatoo and admiring the opening blossoms of the +yellow chrysanthemums. The Little Madam was already pulling over her +scanty wardrobe to see what could be spared for the destitute McLouds, +and showed Dolly the beginning of a pair of white woollen socks for +the baby. This wasn't, after all, an encouraging atmosphere, and she +soon betook herself to the carriage-house, where Ned was setting up his +menagerie. + +"I'll tell you what 'tis, Dolly," said Ned, confidentially, "we'll ask +five cents admission instead of one cent. And see what I've got on my +sign;" and he took down a board whereon he had painted, in very black +ink, + + MENAGERIE OF WILD BEASTS. + FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE McLOUDS. + _Admission, Five Cents._ + +"That'll fetch 'em, I guess," he said, complacently. "The fellows +are going t' have a game of ball on the Green this afternoon, an' I +shouldn't wonder if we took five dollars," hammering away at a hen-coop +which he was converting into a wild-beast cage. + +"'Menagerie' means a lot of wild beasts, anyway," said Dolly, +petulantly, and beginning to hate the very name of McLoud. + +"So 't does," responded Ned, good-naturedly. "But I can't help it +now--can't print it over again. Took all my ink t' do that." + +"It's only a good specimen of tautology," said Cousin Kitty, putting in +her head to see what they were about. + +"Of _what_?" asked Ned, with hammer arrested in mid-air. + +"Of tautology, Ned. It isn't a wild beast--it's rhetoric. Did you ever +read the 'Diversions of Purley?'" + +"No, but it sounds good," said Ned. + +"It's grammar," said Cousin Kitty, mischievously. + +"Oh, thunder!" exclaimed Ned, bringing down his hammer. He wasn't fond +of grammar. + +Cousin Kitty caught sight of the sign. + +"Oh, that's a good idea, Ned," she said. "The poor things will need +every cent they can get. And, Ned, I'll do something. Isn't there a +place? Oh yes, there's the harness room; that's nice and clean, and +has a window just right. I'll have something in there. Five cents +admission, too. It'll be great fun!" + +"What is it?" asked Ned. + +"Oh, that's my secret--mine and Dotty's," laughed Cousin Kitty. "She'll +help me, and you'll have to pay to come in and find out, Master Ned." + +"All right!" answered Ned, cheerfully. + +"And you must print me a sign to put over the harness-room door." + +"Can't," was the laconic reply--"used up all my ink." + +"Take a piece of coal," said Cousin Kitty, "and print in large letters, + + "ART GALLERY. + "ADMISSION, + "_Five Cents, and a Promise not to Tell what you See_." + +"Oho! that's your game, is it?" said Ned. + +"Why, of course. If those who went in first told, the rest wouldn't +want to go in. And I shouldn't wonder if, between us, Ned, we got +enough to clothe the baby, and the fun thrown in." + +Then Cousin Kitty carried off Dolly to the Little Madam's room, where, +with much frolic and laughter, Cousin Kitty explained her plan, and +together they made out the programme, and got together their specimens +of the fine arts. + +The dinner-bell rang just as they had completed their preparations. So +busy had Dolly been all the morning, that the troublesome something had +not had a chance to get in even one whisper. But beginning to plume +herself a little upon her fore-noon's work for the benefit of the +McLouds, it immediately whispered, "Well, what of that? What sacrifice +have you made? you've had a good time." And Dolly, out of sorts again, +passed into the dining-room. + +Here were assembled what Ned had saucily called the "tag-rag-'n-bobtail +c'nvention," and a very respectable convention it was as to size and +quality. One of its members was Mr. Emerson, who was accompanied by his +mother. Dolly had never before seen the latter, an eccentric little +woman, who never went away from home except to the annual Thanksgiving +dinner at the tavern. She wore a canary-colored silk petticoat, with a +kind of blue short gown of the fashion of her girlhood, a blue shawl +of another shade over her shoulders, and a pink necktie. She carried a +large yellow bag, embroidered with purple flowers, and her Marie Stuart +cap of white lace was surmounted by a huge red bow. The dear old lady +looked so deliciously absurd that Dolly, meeting Ned's laughing eyes, +could hardly keep from laughing outright. + +"She's wore that same rig every year since I can remember," whispered +Ned. "Isn't she a guy? and arn't she and Piggy a funny pair?" + +Mr. Emerson was a devoted son to his queer little mother, who was "no +fool," the Byfieldites said, but a remarkably shrewd, observant woman. + +After the preliminaries--the carving, and helping each one of the +numerous guests--the talk naturally clustered about the McLouds and +their misfortune, and Dolly again suffered tortures as that impertinent +and persistent something began its suggestive whispers. It was decided +that the Little Madam's cottage should be at once put in order for the +homeless family. The furniture would be forthcoming from the tavern +attic. + +"But there's bedding--beds and sheets and pillow-cases and blankets and +quilts," said Mrs. Park. "A body does not realize how much it takes +to keep a family like that going till you come to fit it out with +everything." + +"I can spare a few sheets and pillow-beers, I think," said Mrs. +Emerson, "although 'tisn't a question so much of what we can spare, I +think, as 'tis of what we can get along without ourselves. I never did +believe in giving away only what you don't want yourself--getting rid +of things and pretending it's charity." + +"I don't, nuther," put in Thankful, who was changing plates and looking +after the wants of the Tuttle children, who, their mother being down +with a fever, had been invited to eat their Thanksgiving dinner at the +tavern. "My old mother used t' say, 'Give till y' _feel_ it, then what +y' give 's _wuth_ somethin'.'" + +The red bow on the top of the Marie Stuart cap nodded approvingly, +and Dolly began to admit that it was within the bounds of possibility +that she might give that twenty-five dollars, and give up the lustrous +yellow satin. She sighed so deeply over her turkey at the thought, that +Cousin Kitty, hearing her, whispered, "What's the matter, Dolly?" + +"Oh, nothing!" replied Dolly, trying to smile, and succeeding only in +producing a very watery smile, which Cousin Kitty attributed to the +abundance of pepper on the turnip. + +"Oh dear!" thought poor Dolly, "this is a dreadful funny world to live +in, where, if you want to be good and happy, you've got to give up the +very things you want." + +"And there's shoes and such things," Mrs. Emerson was saying. "You've +got to have money to get those things, and money's _skerce_ with us." + +"That is true," replied Mrs. Park. "When it comes to provisions, +vegetables, and meat, we can most of us give something; and Mr. Trask +(the keeper of the Byfield "store") no doubt will do his share. But, as +you say, we've got to have money for many things." + +"And just think," suggested that meddlesome something, "how much +twenty-five dollars would buy. Wouldn't it be such a nice thing to +do--to fit out that chubby little Archie McLoud with everything he +needs?" + +"He _is_ a cunning little fellow," acknowledged Dolly; "but how _can_ +I give up being 'The Chrysanthemum?'" + +And so the war waged in Dolly's soul between her good and bad +angel--between selfishness and the love which never faileth. And +when, the puddings and pies having been brought in, Ned called her +attention to his plate, on which were six sections of pie, viz., +custard, mince, pumpkin, cranberry, apple, and dried huckleberry, +forming a complete variegated circle, she could not even smile; and as +to appetite, she could not have eaten a morsel of even the plummiest +piece. + +After dinner she went to her room, half resolved to take the five +gold-pieces out of her drawer and give them to Aunt Anna for Archie +McLoud. She lifted the handkerchief and looked at them. How suggestive +was their golden glitter of the sunlit satin! Just then Cousin Kitty +called, "Dolly, Dolly, come!--it's time we opened our art gallery. The +people are beginning to come." And Dolly, covering the gold-pieces +with the handkerchiefs, shut the drawer and ran down to join Cousin +Kitty, saying to herself all the way, "Oh, I can't! I can't!" + +The art gallery was a success. Everybody who visited the menagerie +paid another five cents and went into the harness room. Almost +everybody, too, gave ten or twenty cents admission, and would take no +change. + +"No, keep it; it's for the McLouds," they said. + +The game of ball on the Green was a semi-annual affair, played on +Thanksgiving-day and the day of the April fast; and if the weather was +fine a large part of the town, that is, of the masculine portion, were +present, either as players or as lookers-on, and hardly any of the +crowd failed to visit the menagerie. + +They were admitted to the art gallery four at a time, after promising +not to tell what they saw. Bursts of laughter issuing from behind +the closed door, whetted the curiosity of those who had not been +in, while those who had, laughed again. A few, it is true, came out +looking bewildered. They belonged to those hapless folk who cannot see +a joke. Here is the catalogue written out by Cousin Kitty to assist +the visitors to the art gallery. If you are one of those hapless +individuals who cannot see a joke, you will find little of interest +or of wit in this catalogue. But if you have, as I trust, a sense of +humor, you will appreciate Cousin Kitty's efforts, as most of her +visitors did. + + ART GALLERY. + + EXHIBITION OF PAINTINGS AND STATUARY + + IN THE HARNESS ROOM + + OF + + PARK'S TAVERN. + + NO EXPENSE HAS BEEN SPARED TO MAKE THIS COLLECTION + ONE OF THE BEST IN THE COUNTRY. + + _Connoisseurs declare that nothing like these artistic gems can be + found, even in the finest European galleries._ + + 1. View of Boston (_wood-cut_) _A. Wheelwright._ + + 2. A Marble Group _M. Clay._ + + 3. Mustered In and Mustered Out + (_companion pieces_) _G. Ullem._ + + 4. View of the Red Sea and Plains Beyond _Unknown._ + + 5. Old English Lyre _Lon. D. Ontimes._ + + 6. Lay of the Last Minstrel _Hennessey._ + + 7. A Bridal Scene _S. T. Able._ + + 8. Bonaparte Crossing the Rhine _Sol. D. A. Gain._ + + 9. A Commentator on the Acts _D. Seave._ + + 10. Cain and Abel _Unknown._ + + 11. Things to Adore _H. Ware._ + + 12. View of Cologne _N. Farina._ + + 13. The Seasons _C. Ondiment._ + + 14. The Drill _Steele._ + + 15. Flower of the Family (_very fine_) _Wheatleigh._ + + 16. One of the Constellations _T. Inman._ + + 17. Alpine Scenery (_after Bierstadt_) _A. Carpenter._ + + 18. Last Hop of the Season _Beers._ + + 19. Sweet Memories of Childhood _B. Stick._ + + 20. The Skipper's Home (_a spirited + scene_) _Cheeseborough._ + + 21. Ho, for the Diggings! _Farmer._ + + 22. The Last Shot _Schumaker._ + + 23. Hart and Doe _Baker._ + + 24. Wayworn Travellers _Crispin._ + + 25. Handel's Bust _B. Room._ + + 26. Little Indian _C. Cobb._ + + 27. All Afloat (_a marine view_) _Waterman._ + + 28. The Lost Heir (_a subject from Hood's + poems_) _H. Dresser._ + + 29. Village on the Rhine _Cheeseborough._ + + 30. The Last of the Crispins (_wood-cut_) _Schumacher._ + + 31. The Light of Other Days _T. Chandlers._ + + 32. The Old Mill _C. Grinder._ + +The menagerie, too, was a success. The monkey outdid himself, and +went through all the performances to which he had been trained in his +original menagerie. He posed as a dandy with a lighted cigar, and rode +Skatta in a ring, leaping through a hoop which Ned had hung from the +ceiling. It was with sorrow that his audience learned that he was to +be returned to his rightful owners by stage the next day. + +Johnny Tuttle made an admirable half of an elephant, of which Jimmy +Trask was the other half, and the combined two moved about as clumsily +and disjointedly as the real beast could have done. It was pronounced +to be an admirable and accurate representation, in color and texture +of skin, in trunk, tusks, tail, and feet. + +There was a white rabbit in a cage, a weasel, a rat painted red, some +blue-and-pink mice, and Johnny Tuttle's crow, who could talk like Mr. +Emerson and cough like Phœbe, the tailoress, who was afflicted with a +chronic cough. There was, at first, talk of adding the Little Madam's +Australian cockatoo to the collection, but Skipper Joe said monkeys +and parrots were natural enemies, and it would never do to have them +together in the same room "loose;" they'd be sure to fight, and one of +the two, if not both, would be killed. But the blue-eyed Persian cat +was there, and conducted herself with perfect propriety, and was much +admired. + +Summing up the proceeds from the menagerie and art gallery, Cousin +Kitty and Ned found they had nineteen dollars and seventy-three cents, +"which will clothe the baby handsomely," said Cousin Kitty; "and I +shall hereafter consider myself as a foster-mother to the little +witch." + +Through all the stir and interest and merriment of the afternoon, the +meddlesome something had kept silence, but now it began to bestir +itself, and whispered, + +"Dear little Archie! What a pity somebody couldn't clothe him." + +"Well, there's Aunt Anna and lots of folks. I don't see why I should +give up something I've planned and want so much." + +"But don't you _want_ to do it? I don't believe you'd be half as happy +going to the ball as 'The Chrysanthemum' as you would to see him in a +cunning little suit you had bought for him." + +And then Dolly began to think about Archie, remembering how one day +she had found him far from home, picking buttercups by the roadside, +and had taken him home on Skatta, and how cunning the little +bareheaded fellow was, with his rings of curly black hair like a baby +Bacchus. + +And then she made a sudden resolution, and ran quickly up to her room, +saying all the way, "I will; yes, I will! I will! I will!" snatched +the pile of gold coins from the corner of the drawer, and running down +again, thrust them into Aunt Anna's hand, saying, "I'll give those to +buy clothes for Archie." + +Aunt Anna, who had known all about the gold-pieces and the plan about +the yellow satin, looked astonished, and said, "Do you know what you +are doing, Dolly?" + +"Oh, please, don't say a word, Auntie! just take them," entreated +Dolly, distressfully. And so Aunt Anna, understanding by intuition +the situation, forebore to say anything more, having had herself, in +former years, many a fierce battle with selfishness, and knowing how +spent and sore such a battle often leaves the victor. + +After Dolly got to bed that night she had a good cry, in which all +regrets for the vanished chrysanthemum dream were washed away. She +did not tell anybody about that battle, not even mamma. But years +after, when she was obliged to choose a fancy dress for a brilliant +party in London, she remembered that old dream, and went to the party +as "The Chrysanthemum," in a gown of lustrous yellow satin, bordered +with exquisite chrysanthemums and with ornaments of yellow amber. +And then, for the first time, she told some one who had become even +dearer than mamma, the story of Archie McLoud and the five five-dollar +gold-pieces. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + THE MILITARY BALL. + + +On the night of the ball Dolly early betook herself to the "ladies' +drawing-room," so called. This was simply the big spare room, or +bedchamber. A fire had been burning since dusk in the fireplace, but +a chilliness, mingled with a faint odor of smoke, still lingered in +the atmosphere of the room. In one corner stood a huge tent-bedstead, +draped with Indian chintz, upon which strange birds of brilliant +plumage perched among still stranger and more brilliant flowers. The +window and dressing-table draperies were of the same pattern, so was +the covering of the great arm-chair in the chimney-corner. + +I hesitate in telling you that this chair came over in the +_Mayflower_. There is enough so-called _Mayflower_ furniture in +existence in this A. D. 1885 to have filled twice over a +bigger vessel than that historic bark, whose tonnage, if I remember +aright, fell considerably below two hundred. + +But this chair did _really_ come over in the _Mayflower_, and landed +at Plymouth December 21, 1620, with the rest of the Pilgrims. It +certainly looked ancient enough and battered enough to have been in +the Ark at the time of the Deluge, when Aunt Anna hid its age and +shabbiness under the aforesaid Indian chintz, and stuffed it with the +softest of live-geese feathers. It was a true Sleepy Hollow, and Dolly +sank into it with a keen sense of luxurious comfort. + +The interval of waiting was not long. She had snuffed the candles +in the candelabra on either side of the mirror but once, when a +jingling of sleigh-bells was heard, and directly after the door of +the bedchamber opened, and a bundle of wraps, from out which a pair +of china-blue eyes peeped, came in. The bundle rolled up to the fire, +holding out a pair of mittened hands, and exclaiming, "Oh, it's +dreadful cold, but the sleighing's gorgeous!" + +Pretty soon the hands, getting warm, began to peel off sections of +wrapper, as one gets at the heart of an onion--or, to use a prettier +and more appropriate simile, the wraps began to unfold like the calyx +of a flower, blossoming at last into a pretty little lady with light +hair, pink cheeks, and china-blue eyes, and clad in gossamery white +tarlatan, with low neck and short sleeves. + +"Oh," exclaimed Dolly, with a sympathizing shiver, "weren't you cold +riding in that gown?" + +"Not a bit!" laughed Blue-eyes. "I was wrapped up so, you know, an' +then we had lots o' buffaloes." (She meant carriage-robes.) "An' ma +heat two bricks for my feet an' one for my hands. Silas says he'll +have 'em heat again when we go home. Oh no--I wa'n't cold a mite!" + +She then pulled off two long blue-yarn stockings, displaying a pair of +pink silk slippers. + +"Ain't they pretty?" she asked, putting them out for Dolly to admire. +"Oh, I do hope nobody else won't have pink silk slippers! Silas got +'em for me in Boston. Silas goes to Boston real often." + +Having carefully rolled up her wraps, she put them in a corner of +the tent-bedstead, where she could get them in the general scrimmage +for wraps that would ensue at the close of the ball, and then opened +a round purple bandbox which "Silas" had brought to the door. It +contained an assortment of artificial roses, mostly pink, which were +to be disposed about her small person. + +"Ma said I must have a bunch on my skirt where it is caught up, an' +another right here"--indicating the edge of her low corsage--"an' +some in my hair. I wonder if you could fix me?" she added, looking +doubtfully at Dolly. "I expect Daisy ev'ry minute. I call her 'Daisy,' +though her real name's Phœbe Ann, you know. She always fixes me, an' I +fix her. But p'r'aps you'll do." + +"Oh yes," said Dolly, cordially, "I'll like to do it. I sometimes help +dress mamma. She says I'm almost as good as Norah--that's her maid, +you know," and she took the roses and began draping the somewhat stiff +tarlatan. + +"Who is your ma?" asked Blue-eyes, "and don't you live here?" + +"Oh no, I live in Boston," said Dolly. + +"Do tell!" exclaimed Blue-eyes. "Why, I guess you're the little girl +we heard about who is visiting here an' lost her pony, ain't you?" + +"Yes," replied Dolly, beginning to feel the inconvenience of being +famous. "But don't you think this wreath is too heavy for your hair? +Let me put just one or two roses in your braids. There! now look." + +Blue-eyes tipped her head first on one side and then on the other, +and smiled at herself in the mirror, not a little vain of her rustic +prettiness. + +"Oh yes, I like that real well; they kind o' bring out the plaits, +don't you think so? It took ma four hours to do those plaits, an' I +thought I _should_ die--I _was_ so tired! But it pays," she added, +smiling again at herself in the mirror. + +Before Dolly had altogether finished Blue-eyes there was another +entrance--a rush, an embrace, a sound of broken kisses, and then +Daisy, _alias_ Phœbe Ann, blossomed out from her calyx, a brown little +lady, with brown hair and brown eyes, clothed in pink tarlatan, with +low neck and short sleeves. She had a green bandbox containing white +roses. + +"Why, where's your wreath, Pansy?" she asked, in a disappointed tone. +"We were goin' to fix our hair just alike, I thought." + +"Oh, this little girl fixed my hair. She thought it looked nicer so, +an' so do I. She'll fix yours just like it, I guess." + +Blue-eyes, or Pansy, as we may call her now, was just sixteen, and to +her, thirteen-year-old Dolly was still a "little girl." There's a vast +distance between thirteen and sixteen--a good deal more than there is +between twenty-five and twenty-eight. + +So Dolly, ready to oblige and always liking to do that sort of thing, +proceeded to "fix" Phœbe Ann's plaited brown locks, and before that +was done there were more arrivals. + +The jingling of sleigh-bells became almost incessant, and the door of +the "drawing-room" only closed to open upon a new arrival. The room +grew crowded, the bundles of wraps on the tent-bedstead multiplied, +and there was a continuous chattering and fluttering, and mingling of +rainbow tints, and a sweet odor of musk and rose as in a garden of +blossoming plants. Half a dozen faces at a time were mirrored in the +looking-glass, one above another, and the owners nodded and smiled at +each other, and displayed their white teeth in joyous anticipation of +the near pleasures of the ball. + +Pansy and Daisy, having got "fixed" to their satisfaction, came and +sat down on low stools upon the hearth-rug by the fire, and chattered +like a couple of English sparrows. + +"Silence Rose 'll be the belle o' the ball, I s'pose," twittered +Pansy. "Nobody else has a chance when she's 'round." + +"An' she's twenty-five, 'f she's a day. An' it's time she gave way +to us young ones, ma says," returned Daisy, who had also reached the +mature age of sixteen. + +"Well, she _is_ handsome," sighed Pansy. "Oh, there she comes now!" + +Dolly looked with some curiosity to see this Silence emerge from _her_ +calyx. Her head was swathed in a cloud-like wrap of soft white wool, +and from head to foot she was clothed in a garment of white fur. She +was tall, and looked like a lily in her white wraps. + +The calyx unfolded and displayed a slender young woman with jet-black +hair, a complexion of cream-and-roses, and a pair of eyes of the soft +brilliancy of stars. + +A cry of admiring surprise, followed by a murmur of unqualified +delight, accompanied the falling of the wrap of white fur on the floor. + +"It's a military ball, you know," said Silence, with a comprehensive +smile around the room, "and so I thought I'd come as the Daughter of +the Regiment." + +She had chosen the colors of our national flag for her dress. The +skirt was of alternate stripes of red and white, the waist of blue, +trimmed with scarlet bands and gilt buttons, while a cunning little +epaulet adorned either shoulder. On her head she wore the jaunty cap +our Goddess of Liberty usually wears. A strap went over her right +shoulder and under her left arm. There were thirteen gilt stars on +this strap, and to it was attached a canteen, around the edge of which +was printed in gold letters, "THOMAS ROSE, 1775." + +"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the multitude. "Where _did_ you get that, Silence? +Isn't it cute?" + +"My grandfather carried it in the revolutionary war," she replied, +somewhat proudly, turning her head and stretching her neck to get a +glimpse of it where it rested on the full skirt. + +She then went up to the looking-glass and surveyed herself hastily, in +an indifferent sort of way. + +"Oh!" said the envious Daisy, "_she_ can afford not to look at +herself." + +Just then the squeak of violins was heard from the dancing-hall, from +which a single partition only separated the ladies' drawing-room. At +the sound Pansy and Daisy hastily arose and began to settle their +skirts; Dolly, too, sprang from the depths of the Sleepy Hollow, and +there was a simultaneous preening of fine feathers. + +"When you hear the fiddles begin to tune up, Dolly, you must start," +Ned had said. "Just come up to the back door of the hall, an' I'll be +there, an' we'll get in time enough to see 'em come in." + +So Dolly slipped out from the room, and ran down-stairs through the +long entrance-hall and the dining-room, to the flight of stairs +that led up into the L, in the rear of the dancing-hall. Ned was in +waiting as he had promised, and there was just time to seat themselves +comfortably on one of the benches that stood against the wall, and +look about a bit, before the entrance of the dancers. + +The walls of the hall were dazzlingly white, having been recently +whitewashed, and were draped with flags and trimmed with evergreens, +with which were mingled the plumes of the Byfield Light Infantry. +These were tall, stiff made feathers of white, tipped with scarlet. +Custom, of course, would not permit the wearing of these plumes at the +ball with the accompanying box-like hat of shiny leather, decorated +with a gilt eagle and scarlet tassels, so they had been put to this +decorative purpose. The hall was lighted with the best of sperm-oil, +in small globe lamps with tin reflectors. In these days of the +brilliant and odorous kerosene, not to mention gas, the hall would +doubtless seem dim, but it certainly did not seem so to Dolly and Ned. + +"Oh," said Dolly, with a deep sigh of content, "it's perfectly lovely!" + +The musicians sat on a platform built into a recess on one side of the +fireplace at the upper end of the hall. There were three violins, a +'cello, a harp, cymbals, and a bugle. + +"D'ye see that man with the bugle? That's Kendall," said Ned. "He's +tip-top." + +The players having at last brought their various instruments into +harmony, struck into the first chords of the "Wood-up Quickstep;" +and presently in swept the Daughter of the Regiment, led by a tall, +handsome man whom Ned said was her brother, the captain of the light +infantry. They were followed by the whole company in pairs, who +moved up the hall, then across, and down past where Dolly and Ned +were sitting, and so round and round many times, moving gracefully +and slowly, with soft rustle of tarlatan and silk and muslin, and +manly tread of soldierly feet, and bewildering color of scarlet and +white and blue. The uniform of the light infantry consisted of white +trousers with a scarlet stripe down the outside, and coats of blue, +decorated with scarlet and gilt, a very effective costume for a +ballroom. + +At the very last came Cousin Kitty. + +Cousin Kitty had brought with her to Byfield no ball-dress proper, and +at first said she would wear a pale blue cashmere. But Aunt Anna had +remonstrated. + +"My dear," she said, "it will be a great pleasure for our young +people to see you in full dress. We don't often get a glimpse of such +elegancies here; not once in a lifetime, indeed. Besides, I'm afraid +if you wear an ordinary dress they may take offence, and feel that you +didn't think it worth while to 'dress up' for country-folk." + +So Cousin Kitty had one of her party dresses sent down from +Boston--the very gown, in fact, in which she had been presented at the +court of the good Queen Adelaide, which fact being whispered about the +ballroom, caused her at first to be regarded with considerable awe, +until it was ascertained that she was much like other mortals. + +Her gown was of white silk with a long, undulating train, but with no +garniture except the Little Madam's chrysanthemums, which, you may +remember, Dolly had fondly hoped to have worn on this occasion, as an +accompaniment to the yellow satin. She did wear chrysanthemums, as it +was. She and Cousin Kitty had divided them, and very pretty they were, +with her blue velvet frock for background. + +Cousin Kitty's partner was not in military dress, but wore the usual +full dress of a gentleman, and Dolly did not at first recognize in +him the brown-eyed doctor whom she was most used to see driving at +headlong speed behind his white-eyed racker, with a small trunk of +medicines at his feet. + +"How pretty Pansy looks!" said Dolly, as Blue-eyes went dimpling by +with Silas, a diminutive, fair-haired young soldier. + +"Pansy!" repeated Ned, scornfully. "Her name's Betsey Jane Bump. What +geese girls are!--some girls, I mean," bethinking himself that he was +talking to one of the "geese." "I'd knock a boy into the middle o' +next week that called _me_ 'Pansy.'" + +"Oh, well, that's different," said Dolly. "Of course a boy wouldn't +want to be called Pansy." + +"Well, I shouldn't think a girl would, either, 'f she had any sense." + +A cotillion followed the polonaise, and this was succeeded by +money-musk, which in turn was followed by another cotillion, and +Dolly found herself taken out by a tall, military gentleman, who was +presented to her by her friend the brown-eyed doctor, and she danced +her very best, while Ned looked on admiringly. + +The Little Madam came in and formed a part of the group of lookers-on +at the lower end of the hall, of whom Thankful was one and Betty's +mother, who had come in to help about the supper, another. They had +left the turkeys comfortably browning in the brick ovens while they +took this outing. + +"Wa'al," sighed Betty's mother, a stout, middle-aged woman weighing +about two hundred and fifty pounds, "my dancin' days 're over. But I +did use t' like it when I's a gal. An' I like t' look on now 's well +'s I ever did." + +"Wa'al, for my part, I never had no dancin' days," rejoined Thankful. +"Never had no time f' caperin'." + +"You don't mean t' say, now, Miss Makepeace, that y' don't a'prove o' +dancin'?" asked Betty's mother, anxiously. + +"I a'prove on't if anybody c'n do it," said Thankful. "Look at Miss +Kitty there! I a'prove o' _her_ dancin'." + +Cousin Kitty was dancing the Spanish Dance, in which she managed her +long train so admirably as to call forth the unqualified commendation +of her admirers at the foot of the hall. + +"Dew see now!" exclaimed Betty's mother. "She jest giv' a kind o' a +fling an' scooped it round quicker'n a wink! Anybody else 'd 'a' sot +down on it." + +"Wa'al, a young woman that's be'n t' a real court an' shook han's 'ith +th' queen, an' jest as like's not danced 'ith th' king, 'd ough' t' +know how t' manage the tail o' her gown!" said Thankful, with some +asperity. + +"Dew tell, now! Y' don't say so, reelly, Miss Makepeace! Be'n t' +court! Wa'al, wa'al, this is new times f' Byfield!" + +And so the winged moments flew by all too swiftly, and twelve o'clock, +the hour for serving the supper, drew nigh. + +"I s'pose we'll have to go to bed as soon as we've seen the tables," +said Dolly, as she seated herself by Ned, flushed and sparkling from a +"grand right and left" all around the hall. + +"Yes, I s'pose so," replied Ned, discontentedly. "I wish we could have +some turkey, but mother said only bread and butter. I say, Dolly, when +I'm a man I don't believe I'll touch bread and butter. I'm just sick +of it!" + +"I don't care much about the turkey, but I do love the dancing," was +Dolly's reply. + +"Dotty," said Cousin Kitty, coming up just then, "will you run down +and ask Auntie exactly the hour that supper is to be served? Doctor +Stone would like to know. He is to visit a patient at one o'clock." + +"Stay just there, Ned, and I'll be back in a minute," said Dolly; and +she ran quickly down the long passage and the stairway leading to the +outer kitchen, opened the kitchen door, and stepped into a pan of +gravy which Betty, not expecting arrivals from that quarter, had left +upon the floor. She had come down with such vehemence that she sent a +shower of greasy drops over the floor, and, what was still worse, over +her pretty frock of blue velvet. + +"Oh! oh!" she cried out in dismay, withdrawing her foot well covered +with "thickening." "I didn't mean to! I didn't know 'twas there!" + +"Of course you didn't," was Aunt Anna's reply, who always took the +sunny view of things. "I'm glad it wasn't hot, that's all. Just run +to your room now, my dear, and change your dress. Lay it carefully by +itself--we can take it all out, I think." + +Dolly paused for only just one look around the kitchen, which was just +then so full of steam from the boiling vegetables as to obscure the +light of the many candles, each of which seemed isolated in a little +island of mist. Then she turned, by force of habit, to take what Ned +would have called the "short cut" to her room--viz., that leading +through the main entrance hall. As she opened the door of the great +dining-room which led into this hall, however, she caught a glimpse of +a group of gentlemen in military dress standing at the farther end. + +No; that would never do! she could not go that way; she could +not expose to the eye of any one she might chance to meet her +gravy-bedaubed velvet. She paused, with her hand resting on the latch, +to consider. + +There was one other way--a way, too, where there would not be the +remotest possibility of meeting anybody. That way led from the +dining-room up the old flight of stairs to the secret chamber, thence +through the Little Madam's room to the passage which passed by her own +door. The Little Madam she had just left busy at mashing turnips in +the kitchen, and the coast was clear in that direction. + +So, leaving the dining-room, she groped along with outstretched arms +through the narrow entry and up the dark stairs, making a slight +noise as she stumbled once or twice over the unfamiliar steps; for +though she had often gone over them in the daytime, when the light, +though dim, was sufficient, she had never attempted to do so in the +night. Having arrived, as she judged, at the panel, she put out her +hand in search of the magic clover-leaf--the "open sesame" to what +she sometimes called her Ali Baba's cave--when she felt it seized by +another hand, and she was drawn firmly but gently within the secret +chamber, while a familiar voice hoarsely whispered, "'Sh! 'sh! don't +y' make no noise! It's me, Dolly! y' needn't b' scared. I'm mighty +glad y're come!" + +"Why, 'Zekle, what's the matter, and what are you doing here?" asked +the startled Dolly, suppressing by a hair's-breadth the scream that +had rushed to her lips when 'Zekle touched her hand. + +"'Sh! 'sh! don't make no noise! the critter 'll hear. He's right +here, a-gittin' in t' the Little Madam's winder. I see him a-skulkin' +'roun', an' jes' kep' watch o' the pesky critter; an' he's a-walkin' +inter th' trap 's innercent 's a weasel." And 'Zekle chuckled a very +subdued chuckle, as befitted the situation. + +"But who is it? Who's a-getting into the window?" asked Dolly. + +"Why, the identikle vill'in that stole Skatta, an' killed Gaston, an' +tried t' rob the squire; an' _this_ time he's a goner." + +"But where is he?" persisted Dolly, still slightly bewildered. + +"Why, a-gittin' inter th' Little Madam's winder, didn't I tell y'?" +replied 'Zekle, impatiently. "Jest look 'n here!" and he slipped the +noiseless panel into the Little Madam's room, and Dolly saw the thief +by the window quite plainly, for the night was clear though moonless. +While they were looking, he slipped out the pane of glass upon the +setting of which he had been at work. + +"There!" said 'Zekle, closing the panel. "Now you jest run an' git +the squire here quicker 'n scat. He'll find that spring in a minute, +an' I might manage him alone, an' then ag'in I mightn't." And while +he was yet speaking, Dolly was off, flying with winged feet, utterly +unmindful of the gravy-bedaubed velvet, in search of Uncle Harry, whom +she found at last talking politics in the bar-room with some of the +neighbors, who had sauntered in, as usual, to look at the dancing and +partake of the good cheer. + +She whispered just a word or two in his ear, and he immediately +followed her out of the room. She had only said, "Oh, Uncle Harry, +he's come again, and 'Zekle's got him." + +But as they hurried along she told him who had come, and explained the +situation, and he took down his musket in passing. + +"Don't come any farther, Dolly," he said, peremptorily, as they +reached the stairs leading to the secret chamber, and she was forced +to obey, though fired with a sudden courage, and an intense desire to +be in at the capture of her old enemy. She listened, however--she was +not forbidden to do that. A few whispered words passed between Uncle +Harry and 'Zekle; then there was the sound of a window cautiously +lifted, a muffled footstep upon the floor of the Little Madam's room; +these were succeeded by a brief struggle, and then there was silence. + +Presently Uncle Harry came to the door of the secret chamber, from +which a light was now streaming, and peered into the dark depths below. + +"Are you there, Dolly?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Just go and get Doctor Stone, will you? And don't tell anybody else." + +Doctor Stone! Where was Doctor Stone? In the ballroom, of course. And +how am I to get to him without everybody seeing me? And if everybody +sees me, how can I keep them from finding out that something has +happened, anyhow? + +These were some of the perplexing questions that slipped through +Dolly's mind as she half-mechanically made her way to the rear +entrance of the hall, where she had left Ned, and where she hoped +still to find him. There he was, with his eyes fixed on the door, +momentarily expecting her to come in to report the exact hour for +supper, and wondering what was keeping her so long. + +She beckoned to him. "Ned," she said, holding the door open a couple +of inches, "just tell Doctor Stone to come down into the little entry +off the dining-room. Don't let anybody hear you tell him, and he +mustn't tell and you mustn't." And having so spoken, she attempted to +close the door, but Ned was too quick for her: he grasped her sleeve, +exclaiming, + +"What's the matter, Dolly? How your eyes shine! 'Tisn't mother?" he +added, anxiously. + +"Nothing's the matter to trouble about; but oh, let me go! And do +hurry, Ned! You'll know by-and-by." And shutting the door, she hurried +to the entry, where it seemed ages before Doctor Stone appeared, +although it was really only about two minutes. She explained at once: +"'Zekle and Uncle Harry have got the thief that killed Gaston. He was +getting in at a window, and they caught him, and Uncle Harry wants +you." + +Doctors are never taken by surprise, whether it's an earthquake or a +fit, a revolution or a gunshot wound. But they always feel safest when +they have their remedies at hand; so the doctor said, "Oughtn't I to +go out and get my medicine-chest?" + +"Oh no, I don't believe it's that," said Dolly. "I didn't hear +anything." + +"Oh, but--halloo!" said the doctor, incoherently, "how did you happen +to be there?" + +"I wasn't there--only part way there," said Dolly; "and I mustn't go +any farther," she added, as they reached the staircase. + +"Well, this is interesting!" said the doctor. "Seems like the first +chapter in a first-rate novel. I never saw this secret chamber before; +heard of it, though." + +Uncle Harry only wanted to consult with the doctor, as the most +judicious person at hand, as to what disposal to make of the thief +until morning, when of course he could be taken to the county jail at +Plymouth. They had already tied his hands with a rope which 'Zekle had +taken the precaution to have at hand. + +"It's just as well to get the fellow off quietly," Mr. Park said. "I +suppose nobody knows anything about it but you," turning to 'Zekle. + +"I said nothin' t' nobody," replied 'Zekle. "Tho' 'f I'd had time when +I see him a-makin' f' th' winder, I might 'a' got some help." + +"Everything's so full here to-night, outbuildings and all, there don't +seem to be any place to put him," continued Mr. Park. + +"Put him in my office," rejoined the doctor. "'Zekle can keep watch +over him, I suppose." + +"I reckon he won't be likely to get away," was 'Zekle's grim response. +"Here's his own wep'n," displaying the huge pistol. + +So between them Mr. Park and 'Zekle led the thief out by a side door +opening into the garden, and over to Doctor Stone's office, and +neither the dancers in the ballroom, nor the busy caterers in the +kitchen, nor the gossiping neighbors in the bar-room, got a hint of +this comedy which had come nigh to being a tragedy, and the knowledge +of which the next day stirred Byfield to its very depths. + +The doctor stayed to replace the pane the thief had taken from the +window, and then going home he laid aside his dress suit for his +ordinary suit of tweed, and went off for a five-mile ride, to visit a +patient dangerously ill with lung fever. + +Meanwhile Dolly soothed the perturbed cockatoo, whose midnight +slumbers had been abruptly broken by the sharp though brief struggle +made to secure the thief. + +"Oh dear! oh dear! Where is she? Where's my love? Kiss poor +Polly--poor Polly--poor--poor--Pol--ol--ol--" and he was again asleep. + +"I'll go to bed. It'll never do for me to see Ned. He'll get it out of +me," Dolly was saying to herself, as she stepped out into the passage, +and almost ran plumply into that young gentleman himself, who had been +seeking her vainly everywhere. + +"Good-night!" she cried out, hastily retreating towards her own room. + +Ned made a plunge at her, attempting to seize her arm again, and only +missing it by half an inch, and the next instant she was inside her +room with the door shut. + +He retreated from the field beaten and not a little sore. What _was_ +this wonderful secret, and he went off in search of the doctor. He +was not to be found, neither was his father, and even 'Zekle had +mysteriously disappeared. + +He went to the dining-room, where his mother was superintending the +taking in of the supper. + +"Mother, what's the matter with Dolly?" he asked. + +"She stepped into a pan of gravy," was the unsatisfactory reply. + +"But she's gone to bed," persisted Ned. + +"Well, I dare say she felt too tired to change her clothes," said Mrs. +Park, absently, as she indicated to Betty where to place the last of a +long line of vegetable dishes. + +"Too tired!" reflected Ned, in disgust. "Why, not half an hour ago she +was for setting up all night." And utterly baffled, he, too, went off +to bed. + +Here the slayer of Gaston, the thief, drops out of our story. He was +tried and condemned to fifteen years' imprisonment on two indictments, +viz., "assault and battery" and "breaking and entering." His doings +were more than a nine-days' wonder in Byfield. He made no confession, +but it was supposed he had been hanging about ever since the return of +Skatta, waiting for a chance to get possession of the Little Madam's +reported "treasure," in the existence of which everybody but himself +had ceased to believe. He had fixed upon the night of the ball as a +favorable time in which to make the attempt, with what success we have +seen. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + THE PUBLISHMENT IN THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE. + + +How Ned came to do such a thing will always remain something of +a mystery. Mr. Emerson laid it to the account of the "general +cussedness" of boys. But Mr. Emerson was fearfully out of sorts at +that time. Whether it was the succession of Thanksgiving-dinners to +which he had been invited, and of which he had recklessly partaken, or +whether it was only a perennial visitation of his arch-enemy, the fact +remains, that with the drawing near of the new year his dyspepsia had +increased in violence, and his temper worsened in proportion. + +Ned had got into scrapes before; he would not have been a genuine boy +if he had not. But he had usually had "some regard for the decencies +of life," as his father remarked in his wrath. + +When he, with three other boys, dragged the Perkins's family carriage +to the top of Crow Hill, and then coasted over the turf into the +mill-pond, barely escaping with their lives, and leaving the ancient +chariot soaking in its waters, people were scandalized. But Mr. +Perkins having good-naturedly remarked that he was "glad the old +thing was at last disposed of satisfactorily," and at once entered +into negotiations for a new carriage, they said, "Well, boys will be +boys," and then forgot all about it. + +Then, too, when he with the same boys made that memorable raid on +Deacon Hart's watermelon patch, in which they were caught, and Ned was +forced to expend all his allowance of pocket-money for three months to +pay his share of the damage, the people in general sympathized with +the boys. "Nobody ever expects to eat their own watermelons," they +said. "Watermelons always get stole." + +It was the same with that Fourth-of-July episode, over which the +Byfield folks laughed so at Phœbe's expense. Phœbe, the tailoress, was +a courageous woman, who liked to boast of her courage. Like another +woman known in literature, she had been heard to say that she did not +fear the face of "mortial man." + +On this Fourth-of-July night--it was a dark, thundery night, following +a thundery day--her boasted courage was put to a severe test. At +twelve o'clock she was aroused by a knock at her door. The neighbors +were in the habit of calling upon her in emergencies. She was a +capable woman, knew just what to do for a baby with croup, or for a +boy in convulsions from over-eating. It was no unusual thing for her +to be called up in the night in this way. + +She partially dressed and went to the door. She had spoken from the +window at first, demanding "Who's there?" But at the instant she put +her head out there had come a blinding flash of lightning, followed by +a deafening peal, and she had drawn in her head without waiting for a +reply; for, though not afraid of "mortial man," she had a slight dread +of a thunder-storm. + +So she hastened to the door, and, throwing it open, her light revealed +a man standing a little one side--a man of remarkable height and +breadth, wearing his hat well over his face, and carrying a small +carpet-bag, a genuine _carpet_-bag of tapestry carpeting. He was +standing at the foot of the three stone steps leading up to the door. + +Phœbe said "Good-evening," and waited for him to speak, but he neither +spoke nor moved. + +"Well?" she said, at last, impatiently. But still no answer. + +"Can't y' speak? what d' y' want? I can't stand here all night," said +Phœbe, when, with a tremendous explosion, his head flew in pieces, his +carpet-bag burst, and Phœbe, "scared t' death," as she confessed the +next day, banged the door, bolted it, and waited till the first pale +rays of daylight revealed the remains of the fearful apparition lying +at the foot of the steps. These remains consisted of a suit of clothes +of ancient make, which Phœbe recognized as the work of her predecessor +in the tailoring business, fragments of a hat, and bits of tapestry +carpeting scattered over a large area. The clothes had been propped on +rails, which accounted for the prodigious height of the scarecrow. + +Bits of red paper betrayed the cause of the explosion, and Phœbe +comprehended at once the joke that had been played upon her. + +"It's some o' that Ned Park's work," she had said, smiling in spite of +the chagrin she felt at being so frightened. For Ned, notwithstanding +his pranks, was a prime favorite with her, indeed, if the truth be +told, she liked him all the better for them. The hat as well as the +carpet-bag had been filled with fire-crackers, and a fuse arranged to +explode them at the right moment. + +"An' I s'pose th' young rascals were hid out there somewhere laughin' +at me," thought Phœbe, and her supposition was correct. They were +hidden about six feet from the door, behind the rain-water hogshead, +where they enjoyed to the utmost the success of their original +firework piece. + +But this last prank of Ned's which I am about to relate indicated a +much greater depth of depravity, so some people thought--his father +among the number. He was not alone in this nefarious transaction. +He had an accomplice, none other than Johnny Tuttle, the hero of +the temperance tale, who, my boy readers will like to know, was +not altogether good--not too good to live, by any means--and who, +although a hero, was a fair specimen of uproarious boyhood. + +At that time it was the law in Massachusetts that people intending +marriage must have the banns read or posted in some public place. +In Byfield they were usually posted, though occasionally read or +"cried," as it was called. As, for instance, on one Sunday while +Dolly was there, after the benediction, as the people were going out, +the town-clerk arose from his seat in the gallery and announced the +"intention of marriage" of Samuel Latham and Priscilla Weston. + +The banns were always posted in the meeting-house. This old +meeting-house, built in 1732, with square pews and diamond-paned, +leaded windows, had been remodelled a hundred years later, and a spire +and vestibule and porches added, the latter admirably arranged for +nest-building on the part of mud-swallows, and as a lounging-place +for the church-goers before and after service. In one corner of the +vestibule, where you turned to go up the stairs to the galleries, the +"publishments," as they were called, were posted, written on a slip of +paper and fastened up with four tacks. The pair thus posted were said +to be "published." + +On Sunday mornings almost everybody, the young people of the +congregation especially, cast a glance of inquiry into that corner +as they entered, to see if there were any fresh publishments. There +were often surprises, for engagements of marriage were not announced +then as now. People liked a little air of mystery to hang about these +matters; they fancied too great publicity lessened their charm, as +contact with rough winds spoils the tender grace of the rose. + +On the morning of the last Sunday of the year 18--, a surprise awaited +the church-goers in Byfield. The morning was clear and frosty, the +sleighing good, and a more than usual number betook themselves to this +last service of the year. At this service the pastor usually gave a +sort of resumé of local events of the year, with the lessons to be +drawn therefrom, and few cared to miss his pithy and apt teachings. + +The first arrivals immediately espied a fresh bit of paper in the +publishing corner. The sight was unexpected, for Thanksgiving-day, +the day of family reunions, was also the popular day for weddings, +and there had been no less than four on the Thanksgiving just past. +People were not looking for another so soon. But the surprise of these +first-comers deepened into the profoundest astonishment as they read +of the intention of marriage between Hiram Emerson and Amanda Matilda +Mortimer. + +Who _was_ Amanda Matilda Mortimer? + +"Never heard her name before," remarked one. "Sly, ain't he?" + +"Where upon earth did he find her? He never goes anywhere." + +"Lovely times she'll have with him and his queer old mother!" remarked +one spiteful soul. + +"Oh, oh!"--running up to a fresh arrival--"who _do_ you think's +published?--Mr. EMERSON!" pausing to see the effect of her +words. The effect was satisfactory. + +"_Mr. Emerson!_" incredulously. "You don't mean it! I don't believe +it!" + +"Well, just go up there and see for yourself!" triumphantly. + +The unbeliever went up and read the notice carefully, not then fully +crediting even the evidence of sight. "Well, I _am_ beat!" was her +sole comment. + +Meanwhile the crowd in the vestibule grew dense, for no one dreamed +of going inside and seating herself while under the stress of this +astounding bit of news. The report of it at last crept out into the +open porches, where the men were discussing "swamping" and "milling" +and the probabilities of a cold winter. + +"Goin' t' git merried, eh?--Mr. Emerson? Wa'al, I'm glad on't. 'Tain't +good f' man t' be alone," quoted Deacon Hart, who had been married +four times. "Who's 't tew?" + +"Well, I d'n' know," was the reply of his neighbor. "D' you?" he asked +of the man next in line, who had told him the news. + +"No, I don't. Who's he published to, Sam?" passing the question +on; and Sam learns from a roguish-looking girl at the door of the +vestibule that the lady's name is Amanda Matilda Mortimer. + +"It sounds like a hoax," said Sam to his right-hand neighbor. Sam +had read "The Children of the Abbey" in his young and innocent days, +and thought the name sounded familiar. "But don't say anything. The +joke's too good to spoil. The boy that did it--it's a boy, I'll bet a +dollar!--ought to have a leather medal." + +"Mortimer!" echoed Deacon Hart, the name at last reaching his ears. +"Never _heer'd_ o' no Mortimers 'n these parts. Must 'a' come from +York State, where his mother's folks be." + +And so query and speculation, astonishment and laughter alternated, +and two boys leaning over the railing of the stairs midway of the +vestibule looked down upon the excited multitude, shaking at one +moment with laughter over the success of their prank, and at another +shivering with fear of its possible consequences, but it must be +acknowledged that the laughter outweighed the fear. + +The pastor, a grave and courtly gentleman, arriving, made his way +in surprise through this chattering, giggling crowd, who, suddenly +brought to the remembrance of the fact that the day was Sunday, and +the service about to begin, hastily followed him in. + +The two boys fled before the crowd of singers and others that came +surging up the stairway, and betook themselves to the "niggers' +seats," as they were called, though at that time not one of the +despised race for whose use they had been set apart lived within the +limits of Byfield. + +These "nigger seats" were in either corner of the gallery, square pews +raised above the level of the gallery floor, and infested the greater +part of the year with wasps. + +From time immemorial the understanding had been that boys were not +to occupy these seats during service. They might eat their pies and +dough-nuts there at noon if they liked, but they were altogether too +far away from the sober portion of the congregation to be a fit and +safe place for them during service. These seats were entirely hidden +by the galleries from the people in the pews below--the fathers and +mothers--and as to the singers and players on violins, and the young +men who habitually sat in the galleries--well, _their_ conduct was +not always above reproach, and they would be likely to view with a +lenient eye any shortcomings on the part of the boys. Furthermore, +by closing the doors of these "nigger seats," and dropping upon the +floor, the occupants could be entirely hidden from everybody in the +meeting-house, galleries included. + +Yes, it certainly was a wise decision that had closed those seats +to occupancy during service. And had not our two boys been utterly +reckless under a sense of deserved and impending punishment, they +would never have thought of breaking this unwritten law. But +remarking that "they might as well be killed for an old sheep as a +lamb," they buttoned the door of the "niggers' seat" and abandoned +themselves to the consequences. + +The congregation having at last all gone in, there arrived in the +vestibule, almost simultaneously, two men who belonged to that class +of humanity that are always just a minute late--Mr. Emerson and the +town-clerk. Mr. Emerson adjusted his spectacles at the right angle and +walked up to read the publishment. So taken by surprise was he that +he did not at first reading comprehend that he was the Hiram Emerson +announced therein as intending marriage. He was reading it a second +time when the town-clerk came up. + +"Halloo! what's that?" he said. He was equally surprised to find a +notice of which he knew nothing posted in his special corner. + +"You ought to know, if anybody," was the reply. + +"Well, 'tain't signed," said the town-clerk, who at once noticed a +defect that had apparently escaped the observation of those who had +read it. + +"Who's Amanda Matilda Mortimer, anyhow?" he asked, looking +suspiciously at Mr. Emerson. + +"Hanged 'f I know!" was the reply, and Mr. Emerson's eyes twinkled. +"I'm thankful the young scamps had the grace to use a fictitious +name." It was apparent that he, too, had read "The Children of the +Abbey." + +"I think I know who did it," he resumed. "It's a piece of revenge, and +I don't much blame them." + +The town-clerk took down the notice and made a move to tear it up. + +"Let me have it," said Mr. Emerson, and he stowed it carefully away in +his breast-pocket. + +At noon the congregation learned that they had been hoaxed--that the +publishment was spurious--that Amanda Matilda Mortimer was a myth, and +great was their rage. + +The boys stood ready, caps in hand, and as the final "amen" dropped +from the pastor's lips, they slipped from the "nigger pew," and were +out of the meeting-house and away before any other of the congregation +had fairly reached the vestibule. And it was well understood who were +the rogues; their final act had betrayed them; it was not that of +innocents. + +"Ain't published, eh?" asked Deacon Hart, striving in vain to +comprehend; and when the iniquitous joke did dawn upon him, adding, +"Well, well! them boys ought'er be dealt pooty severely with." With +which opinion a majority of the congregation agreed. + +When Mr. Park reached home he looked up Ned. He found him leaning idly +against the barn door, thoughtfully kicking the snow with his foot. He +was wondering how his father and mother would view the joke, and was +not at all startled when he heard his father's voice say, "Ned, come +to my room; I wish to speak with you." + +He obeyed, not with any great alacrity, and on arriving found his +father already seated at the table where he transacted business as +justice of the peace. Ned did not feel at liberty to sit down, as he +would ordinarily have done, and so stood as a culprit might who was +awaiting his sentence. + +"Is this true that I hear, Ned?" his father began--"that you could so +far forget all decency as to stick up a publishment of Mr. Emerson +to--to--" hesitating at the lady's name. + +"Amanda Matilda Mortimer," suggested Ned, a gleam of fun stealing out +of the corner of either eye, in spite of himself. + +But his father was not to be softened by a comic view of the affair. +His face grew stern as he noticed that gleam of fun. + +(Mr. Park had left the meeting-house so promptly that he had only +learned that the publishment was a hoax. He had not learned that +Amanda Matilda Mortimer was a myth.) + +"It may seem fun to you, sir," he said; "but it seems to me you are +getting too old for such tricks, and ought to have manliness enough to +be done with them." This last thrust hurt Ned. + +"It's no worse than Mr. Emerson does himself!" he burst out. "'Tain't +so bad. The other day I spelt _isosceles_ with two o's, an' he said +there _was_ a word spelt with two o's that just described me, an' +nobody's going t' call me a fool 'f I can help it--not even Piggy." + +"Ned, how often have I told you that whatever nickname you boys may +choose to give Mr. Emerson, it's not to be repeated in my presence. In +my day, a boy who did such a thing would have got a sound flogging, +and served him right." + +Ned muttered something in reply. + +"What's that you say?" asked his father. + +"I'm glad I didn't live in those days, then." + +"And how do you think your mother feels about it?" his father resumed. +"I should think you might have a little regard for her feelings, if +your own sense of what is right and decent is no restraint." + +This was a still harder thrust, for Ned had a boy's chivalrous feeling +for his mother. She was the true Madonna of his youthful worship; and +although he might try her sorely at times, none knew better than he +how the thought of her--of what she might think and feel--had kept him +back from many a scrape. He felt that the scrapes he hadn't got into +just on account of his consideration for his mother far outnumbered +those he had. He did not say anything for a moment. + +"Well, I wish I hadn't done it, for mother's sake," he said at last, +"but I don't care a darn for Mr. Emerson. I tell you, father, you +don't know anything about it--the way he's knocked us boys round +lately. He's as savage as a bear. An' I wish he was one, an' could be +caged." This last sentence _sotto voce_. + +"Well, Ned," replied his father, soothingly, "you know Mr. Emerson +is a great sufferer, and allowances must be made. At the same time, +he's a first-class teacher. He'll put you through and fit you well for +Harvard, and few country school-teachers can do that. And you've got +to learn to put up with things. A little knocking round won't hurt +you: it'll do you good. + +"But that isn't the question. I must say I am truly grieved that a son +of mine could do what you have done to-day. Had it been on a week-day, +or in any other place, it would not seem so bad. But to forget all the +proprieties of time and place--As to Mr. Emerson and Miss--Miss--" + +"Amanda Matilda Mortimer," put in Ned again, and he smiled. He could +not help it, as he recalled the combination over which he and Johnny +had labored so successfully. + +"As to Mr. Emerson and this Miss Mortimer, how do you think they must +feel?" + +"Why, father," exclaimed Ned, "there's no such person as Amanda +Matilda Mortimer!" + +"No such person!--no such person!" repeated the bewildered Mr. Park. + +"Why no! she's only a name--Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams, don't y' +know? an' Lord Mortimer, in 'Th' Children of the Abbey.'" + +"No, I don't know," replied Mr. Park, somewhat ruffled at his blunder, +but at the same time greatly relieved. "I never read that delightful +romance. _My_ father didn't allow me to read novels." Which statement +was strictly true, though Uncle Harry had long since got bravely over +the interdiction, as Ned knew. He was a great lover of the Waverley +Novels--as great a lover of "Ivanhoe" as Ned himself--and had sat up +till three o'clock one night to finish it, after his return from that +trip to Plymouth alluded to in an earlier chapter of this story, about +the time of the tournament. But Ned discreetly kept silence. + +"Well, that doesn't make it so bad--not quite. I'm glad you had the +decency to use a fictitious name. Mr. Emerson can settle with you as +he likes; I sha'n't interfere," he concluded. "Now I think you had +better go to your room until dinner-time." + +Dinner was served at the tavern at four o'clock on Sundays, and Ned +had a long interval for reflection. About an hour before dinner there +was a gentle knock at his door and his mother entered. The interview +may be safely left to your imagination. + +If our two boys expected a burst of wrath on the part of Mr. Emerson +they were disappointed. Mr. Emerson was a man of surprises. He never +did exactly what you expected he was going to do. After a season of +irritability and petulance, just when appearances indicated nothing +less than a perfect cyclone of angry passion, a gleam of humor like a +ray of sunlight would pierce the clouds, the clouds would scatter and +disappear, and a calm ensue as serene as the blue depths of a June sky. + +So it was in this instance. The boys had had a hard time with Mr. +Emerson, and he knew it. As was stated in the beginning of this +chapter, the demon of dyspepsia had held full possession of him, and +he had been merciless. And although, as he said to Mr. Park, when they +talked the matter over a few days later, the outrageous hoax might be +laid at the door of the "general cussedness of boys," in his heart +he did not blame these two. He really had a profound sympathy for +boyhood; he could easily put himself in a boy's place. + +So as he went home on that Sunday, with the spurious publishment +stowed away in his breast-pocket, he was in a more amiable frame of +mind than he had been for weeks. As he sat in his comfortable library, +he pulled out the bit of paper, smoothed it, and read it anew. He +smiled a little, and then fell into a reverie. How many years ago was +it that Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams was his boyish ideal of a lovely +woman? Twenty years?--thirty years? He was a yellow-haired laddie +then, studying Greek and Latin, and consoling himself for the hours +spent over those tough mental gymnastics with "The Children of the +Abbey," "The Mysteries of Udolpho," and "Evelina." This last, he +remembered, he did not like so well as the other two. It was vastly +entertaining, but it was not so full of delightful mystery, not so +poetic, perhaps. + +How that dreamy, poetry-loving little laddie had changed with the +years! But had he changed so much, after all? He had crusted over, so +to speak. Contact with the world, the tussle which comes sooner or +later with principalities and powers, had hardened him outwardly. But, +as he mused, the man of forty felt that there was a good deal of the +yellow-haired laddie left in him yet. Why couldn't he bring it out +more? Why couldn't he let his boys see--he called them _his_ boys, +this childless man!--why could he not let them see that his youth was +as truly a part of himself as his graver middle life? that, in fact, +of every true life childhood and youth are as much a part as middle +life and old age. It is youth that is immortal, perennial--constantly +renewing itself as one grows in years, taking deeper root, bearing +richer fruit, but still immortal _youth_. + +Wasn't this a blessed truth to teach his boys? Should he not let them +know it was a truth by showing them that he could sympathize with them +on all sides--could see their possibilities as well as their faults? + +He went to the book-shelves and took down from an obscure corner the +three dingy leather-bound volumes of "The Children of the Abbey." It +was years since he had looked into them. He dusted them tenderly +with his pocket-handkerchief, and began to turn over the yellow +leaves. He fell into another reverie, which lasted till twilight stole +in, filling the room with its soft memory-haunted shadows. Then he +aroused himself briskly, replaced the books, and betook himself to his +mother's sitting-room. + +Well, after all, Ned and Johnny had done no great harm; they had only +given him a few hours of pleasant retrospection; and he went to school +the next morning in the most amiable of tempers, and it remained with +him through the day. Ned's manly apology was graciously received, +and a few kind, sympathetic words in reply did more to secure Ned's +loyalty than years of the smoothest intercourse could have done. + +At the close of the afternoon session he invited the whole school +to a candy-pull that evening in his big kitchen, where they were +received and delightfully entertained by the quaint little old lady +in her bizarre dress, whose acquaintance we have already made at the +Thanksgiving dinner at the tavern. + +"I don't know whether I'm sorry or not I stuck up that publishment," +said Ned to Dolly, as they were returning home from the candy-pull, +blissful and sticky. "If 't hadn't been f' that we shouldn't have had +this candy-pull to-night, I'll bet. Queer, ain't it? Everybody said +Mr. Emerson 'd be as mad 's fire. But I b'lieve I never liked him +half as well 's I do this minute. Anyway, I don't b'lieve I'll ever +try to plague him again." + +As to whether he ever did or did not, let each boy judge for himself. +Human nature is weak, and, to quote from Thankful, "dretful human." + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + YARROW. + + +The days lengthened, the cold strengthened, in accordance with the +proverb, and one late February day Dolly was standing at dusk by the +sitting-room window, looking out upon what was visible of the wintry +landscape through the snow that was falling silently and in great +flakes. She was looking out upon the spot where Gaston lay, thinking +about him, as she often did. One hand held back the window drapery, +while the other hung listlessly by her side. + +Presently, into the hand hanging by her side, a cold, dewy nose was +thrust. She turned quickly, and there in the uncertain firelight +stood a dog with head uplifted, his wistful eyes seeking hers, and +his magnificent tail waving slowly to and fro. A very ghost of a dog +he seemed to Dolly's first, startled glance, but a second thrust of +the cool, dewy nose proved him to be, without question, a substantial +creature. + +He was a stranger. Dolly had never before seen him, or any dog like +him. He was entirely unlike the huge, broad-muzzled, tawny Gaston. +This dog had thin flanks and a sharp muzzle, with a tan spot under +either eye. + +"Who are you, and where did you come from?" she asked, as she might +of a human being; and the dog answered with a whine, still moving his +tail to and fro friendlily. + +Dolly dropped the curtain and walked forward to the fire, the dog +following. She lay down upon the hearth-rug, a favorite place and +position with her, and he lay down, too, beside her, giving a sigh of +content as he did so, and with his paws and head resting on the edge +of her gown. Tucked under his collar she espied a note tied with a +blue ribbon, and directed to "Mistress Dorothea." + +"I wonder," she said, untying the blue ribbon, "do you come from the +same place as Skatta." + +As she opened the note a sprig of something dropped, which a label +attached to it said was white heather, and brought good-luck. There +were also some verses purporting to be + + + "_AN ADDRESS TO MISTRESS DOLLY, FROM HER FAITHFUL COLLIE._ + + "_I've crossed the blue Atlantic wave, + I've come from distant Yarrow, + Where poets sing of birken shades + And tell a tale of sorrow._ + + "_From where the blissful skylark sings, + Upspringing from the heather, + While the proud eagle, soaring high, + Sees Yarrow flow beneath her._ + + "_There blooms the yellow gowan still, + And there the rabbits burrow: + Green are the holms as when was sung + The bonny Braes of Yarrow._ + + "_The swan on fair St. Mary's lake + Still floats--as sweet and rare, O, + The apple frae the rock hangs low + Above the flowing Yarrow._ + + "_Sad, sad the day they led me frae + Those bonny Braes of Yarrow! + But if you'll love me, sweet, ah soon + Will flee all dule and sorrow!_ + + "_Fair art thou as the 'bonnie bride,' + The poet's 'winsome marrow!' + And I? A faithful collie I! + My name? My name is--Yarrow!_" + +The door opened, a curly head was thrust in, and "Do you like him, +Dolly?" asked Ned. + +"Oh, Ned, is that you? Come in and tell me all about him!" and Ned +entered, followed by Cousin Kitty. "Where did he come from? and who +sent him? Ah, Cousin Kitty, it was you!" catching sight of Cousin +Kitty's smiling, conscious face. "I couldn't bear to have had him if +he had looked one bit like Gaston, but he doesn't. Nobody can take +Gaston's place," said the loyal Dolly, speaking of Gaston in the way +she always thought of him, as a real person. + +"I meant to have got him along for New-year's, but I couldn't," said +Cousin Kitty. "He had a sorry time getting across. The vessel was +almost three months." + +"And did he really come across the--the"--consulting the slip of paper +in her hand--"'the blue Atlantic wave?'" + +"Really and truly," was the reply. + +"And where is Yarrow?" continued Dolly. + +"If I'm to be catechised I may as well sit down, too," said Cousin +Kitty, taking possession of a section of the rug, while Ned leaned +against the mantle-piece, and looked down upon them in true masculine +fashion. + +"Yarrow is a small river in the south of Scotland, not much in itself, +but made famous by the poets." + +"Oh yes, I see!" and Dolly consulted her slip of paper again. + + "_Where poets sing of birken shades, + And tell a tale of sorrow._" + +"Now, what are 'birken shades?' and what 'tale of sorrow' did the +poets tell?" + +"Well, my dear, 'birken shades,' turned into Yankee prose, are +birch-trees; and as to the 'tale of sorrow,' there are some lovely old +ballads that will make your hair stand on end to read, written in the +fifteenth century, called 'Rare Willie drowned in Yarrow,' and 'The +Dowie Dens of Yarrow,' and two in the eighteenth, and one is called 'A +Song,' and a grewsome song it is, too." + +"Well," rejoined Dolly, running her eye down the verses, "I think I +know how the English skylark sings, and what heather is. Oh, thank you +for this, Cousin Kitty!" and she held up the sprig of white heather. +"And does it really mean 'good-luck?'" + +"Yes; if you should ever visit the Scottish Highlands as a guest, your +host will probably present you with a sprig of white heather the first +thing." + +"And I know that the gowan is a daisy," Dolly went on, "but I don't +think I know what holms are." + +"Something like green meadows," replied Cousin Kitty; "and there's +always a 'brae' in a Scotch song." + +"Same's there is in a donkey," put in Ned, who began to feel that he +was not getting his due share of this conversation. + + "'_The swan on fair St. Mary's lake + Still floats_,'" + +read Dolly, ignoring Ned's vile pun. "Whose swan was it? and why is he +always floating?" + +"It's Wordsworth's swan, and he's likely to go floating down the river +of time forever and a day," laughed Cousin Kitty. "And as for the +'apple sweet and rare, O'--I had a fearful time making that rhyme, +Dotty--one of those deliciously dismal old ballads has a good deal to +say about the apple that 'hangs frae the rock.'" + +"And what's a 'marrow?' I don't know as I like to be called a +'marrow.'" This was said doubtfully, Dolly's chief association with +that word being a marrow squash. + +"Oh, Dotty, Dotty, just listen to this!" and Cousin Kitty sang, + + "'_Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride! + Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow! + Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride, + And think nae mair of the Braes of Yarrow._' + +"'Marrow' means (in Scotch, mind you, my dear) one of a pair; it means +somebody very dear and sweet, and that's what you are, Dotty." And +seizing her in her arms, Cousin Kitty lost her balance, and together +they rolled over Yarrow, who jumped up, looking his surprise at this +specimen of American manners. + +"There! and now that you've had the verses annotated by the author, +just put 'em away and look at doggie himself. Isn't he a beauty? And +to name him 'Yarrow' was _such_ a happy thought!" And Cousin Kitty sat +up on the rug, and gathered up her hair from which her comb had fallen. + +"These verses I shall always keep," remarked Dolly, folding them up +carefully. "I wish I could write verses." + +"P'r'aps you will some time. P'r'aps you'll be the great American +poetess Mr. Emerson says is coming," said Ned, consolingly. + +So Dolly put the verses away, and neither she nor Cousin Kitty nor +Ned ever dreamed that some day they would be printed as part of their +veracious history. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + HOW ULYSSES LOST AND FOUND HIS PENELOPE. + + +"And now I think I'll go and show him to Thankful," said Dolly, after +they had talked a little more, and Ned had learned that "Busk ye" +means "prepare," "get ready;" and as she got up from the hearth-rug +Yarrow executed his first circling dance around his new mistress. + +There was not a guest in the house, and the rising wind which began to +moan and shriek around the north-east gables, and the thickening snow, +were prophecies of a quiet evening within. For any chance wayfarer +would be likely to put up for the night at some hospitable farm-house, +rather than to push on to the tavern through the storm and darkness. + +Dolly and Ned, followed by Yarrow, ran into the kitchen, while Cousin +Kitty, who had an eye for the picturesque, stopped a moment in the +open door to take in the whole cosey interior, with the pair sitting +on either side of the fireplace. It was that hour when there always +seemed to be a pause in the rush and hurry of the day; the hour when, +the chores being in progress outside, and the supper well under way +inside, there was nothing to do but to wait with knitting or sewing in +hand, or even with folded hands, if one chose. It was the one brief +daily interval of leisure in that busy household. + +Between these two women sitting in the firelight and talking quietly +together there was a marked contrast. Between the Little Madam, with +her tiny, graceful figure, clad in her gown of soft white woollen, +with her nun's coif bringing out by contrast the velvety blackness of +her eyes, sitting by her flax-wheel diligently spinning like another +Penelope, and Thankful, tall and angular, her dark gown of print, +though scrupulously neat, without finish of lace or linen, her hair +twisted in a defiant knot on top of her head, sitting bolt upright +in the straightest of straight-backed chairs, and knitting for dear +life on a pair of stout blue stockings--between these two the distance +seemed wide indeed. + +But in reality they were the warmest and closest of friends, and +always had a great deal to say to each other. Perhaps because they +were both lonely and in some sense apart from others. For Thankful, +despite her unattractive exterior and porcupinish temper, had a +history, having, like most of us, once possessed a youth--a youth of +sunny hopes, with eyes as bright as any that read these pages. During +that glad spring-time she had--following the traditions of both Old +and New England--spun and woven a chestful of household linen; and +when Cyrus Hatton should return from the last voyage he intended to +make to the East Indies it was understood they were to be married. But +Cyrus never came back; his ship, from the time she left Hong-Kong, +was never heard from. She went down, doubtless, with all on board, in +some fierce typhoon; and with the lapse of time the chest of household +linen had grown yellow, and the rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed girl had +merged into the angular, crotchety, but withal tender-hearted woman +with whom we have become partially acquainted in the progress of this +story. + +For all helpless creatures she had an almost infinite compassion, and +to this feeling the Little Madam appealed strongly. For who could be +more helpless than she, living in a sort of twilight with the past a +blank? + +Thankful often said she was "loony," which adjective puzzled Cousin +Kitty. + +"What does she mean, Auntie?" she asked Mrs. Park one day. + +"Country people say, 'crazy as a loon,' you know," replied Mrs. Park, +"and loony is the adjective of loon, I suppose." + +"Pshaw!" said Cousin Kitty, "that's begging the question, Auntie. Why +is a loon crazier than a coot, or any other sea-fowl, I beg to know?" + +And Mrs. Park said, "I'm sure I don't know," absently. She was just +then looking over flannels, with a view to making warm petticoats for +the McLouds, and was more interested in that just then than in the +derivation of "loony." + +But Cousin Kitty pondered the question. + +"I have it!" she exclaimed at last. "'Tisn't from loon at all. Loon, +used in that sense, is only the corruption of Luna. Dialects are full +of such corruptions. Luna--the moon--is said to take away people's +senses, you know, especially when they sleep in the moonlight, and +that's where Thankful gets her 'loony,' d'ye see, Auntie?" And Cousin +Kitty felt all the pride of a discoverer in the realm of language, +and Mrs. Park said, absently, "It's very likely." She was still +considering the subject of the warm flannel petticoats. + +The fireside _tête-à-tête_ was broken up by the entrance of Ned and +Dolly, followed by Yarrow. Neither Thankful nor the Little Madam had +seen the latter, as on his arrival by stage he had been conveyed +directly to Cousin Kitty's room. He was duly admired and praised, +to which praise and admiration he responded in true doggish fashion +by prancing, cocking his silken ears, and waving his superb tail. +He took to the Little Madam at once, as was to be expected, and +Thankful secured his undying affection by giving him a huge lump of +brown sugar. Having thus been cordially received into the bosom of +the family, he stretched himself on the rug near the settle, in the +warmest corner of the kitchen. + +The chores were finished, supper was eaten, and the dishes washed, but +instead of going into the sitting-room for an evening of reading and +games, the three lingered in the kitchen. The hearth was swept up, +a fresh relay of wood piled upon the iron dogs, and 'Zekle settled +himself in one corner of the fireplace for his after-supper smoke. +Tobacco-smoke was offensive to Thankful, so he always contrived to sit +so the smoke from his pipe should pass off up the chimney. + +Not long ago I read in the life of the distinguished Thomas Carlyle +that he used to smoke in that way because tobacco-smoke gave Mrs. +Carlyle a headache; and I suspect a good many smokers have found out +that way to be rid of the dead odors of tobacco--those smokers, I +mean, who are so fortunate as to have an open fireplace by which to +smoke. + +"Let's blow soap-bubbles a while," suggested Cousin Kitty. "That is, +if Thankful will let us," she added, smiling upon the autocrat of the +kitchen. + +Thankful graciously assented, and she herself brought out the +huge yellow mince-meat bowl in which to make the suds. Fresh clay +pipes with which to blow the bubbles were to be had in abundance; +for Thankful was always breaking 'Zekle's pipes--accidentally, of +course--by knocking them off the mantle-piece or the jamb by the oven, +where he always left them "clus t' th' edge," as she said. Whether +broken accidentally or not, 'Zekle took the precaution to have a good +store on hand, lest some night, thinking to take his usual smoke, he +might find himself pipeless, and nothing for it but to pull on his +boots again and tramp over to "Jacob's" for a pipe or go without. Out +of this store he presented to each of the three a long pipe of purest +white. + +Presently the kitchen was gay with prismatic bubbles. They floated +in the draught towards the fireplace; they rose up to the ceiling, +breaking against its smoky surface. Yarrow, after watching them a +while, seized one, and gave a whine of disappointment as it vanished +in his grasp. Up and down the kitchen flew the three soap-bubble +blowers, laughing and breathless, trying to see how many bubbles they +could keep afloat at a time. 'Zekle watched the fun with a broad +smile, Thankful's countenance relaxed over her knitting, and the +Little Madam drew her wheel near the table whereon stood the bowl, +so as to be in the thick of the sport. Only the Persian cat looked +on with grave indifference. He had seen too much of life to be taken +in by a soap-bubble. He fell asleep, and dreamed of mice and other +substantial things. + +The storm without increased in violence. Occasionally a strong blast +swept down the chimney, sending tongues of flame out into the room. +The gathering snow upon the windows crept up to the middle of the +sash. The cow-boy coming in from the barn, whither he had been to +give the cows their nightcap of sweet rowan, "guessed there'd be some +diggin' t' do in the mornin'," and, taking his candle, went off to bed +in the open chamber over the wood-room, where the snow already lay in +little drifts upon the floor. + +Still the mad romp went on, still the rainbow-hued bubbles floated up +and burst, while merry shouts within alternated with wild storm-bursts +without. + +Presently, in a lull of both storm and merriment, a faint jingling of +sleigh-bells was heard. They ceased just under the kitchen windows; +they ceased in a confused jangle, as though the horse wearing them had +fallen in the deep snow. + +"I vum 'f there ain't a traveller! Must be druv t' be out 'n this +weather." And 'Zekle, laying aside his pipe, took down the lantern and +proceeded to light the candle. This proved to be a work of time. The +lighter of fat pine first refused to burn, and then the candle-wick +proved obstinate. + +"That's b'cause you alwa's will pinch it out with y'r fingers," said +Thankful, alluding to 'Zekle's habit of wetting his fingers in his +mouth before pinching out the snuff of the blown-out candle. + +Meanwhile a renewed jangling of bells indicated that the horse was +scrambling up. No one, however, except 'Zekle and Thankful, paid any +heed to the sound. Dolly had just succeeded in blowing an enormous +bubble, and a fresh chase ensued around the kitchen. + +Having at last lighted the candle, 'Zekle shut the old tin lantern and +went out. It was a queer old lantern, with holes punched in the tin to +let out the light, such as may be found to-day in country garrets, if +indeed they may not still be in use in primitive districts. + +The big bubble finally burst, and the blowers were standing around the +bowl beginning anew, when the door opened, and 'Zekle came in with +the traveller, who looked more like the popular conception of Santa +Claus than anything else. He was clad in fur from top to toe, to every +hair of which, apparently, a snow-flake clung. He advanced to the +fire, took his stand upon the broad hearth, and shook himself like +a Newfoundland dog, sending a shower of snow into the corner of the +settle where lay the Persian cat, that awoke spitting. + +The three standing around the yellow bowl dipped in their pipes, +giving no heed at first to this by-play, for guests came as naturally +to the old tavern as did the days and nights. But just as they were +about to send off simultaneously three superb bubbles, their attention +was distracted by the Little Madam. + +She had risen from her wheel, and was standing with parted lips, +gazing with all her soul in her eyes. As has been said before +somewhere in the course of this story, and perhaps it has been said +more than once, her eyes ordinarily had a bewildered, questioning +look. She seemed to grope continually in the past. This expression was +now intensified, as though something had struck with extraordinary +force one of the always vibrating chords of her memory. One would have +said that she was about to grasp a definite recollection. + +Dolly and Ned, standing on either side of Cousin Kitty, grasped each +an arm without speaking, and the eyes of the three followed hers and +rested upon the stranger. He had drawn off his driving-gloves, and was +now leisurely laying aside his long fur cloak. As he did so, he talked +with 'Zekle, who was asking questions about the storm and the state +of the roads. He spoke English with a foreign accent. He was tall +and slight, and his hands, which he held to the fire for a moment, +were small, muscular, and patrician. At last he took off his fur cap, +which, drawn closely down, had entirely hidden his face with the +exception of a drooping mustache, which fell over his mouth and was +heavy with frost. + +He then turned to greet the other inmates of the kitchen. As he did +so his eyes fell on the Little Madam, who had now advanced into the +middle of the room, still gazing fixedly at him. + +For a brief second--an eternity it seemed to those who stood by--the +two looked at each other. Over the countenance of the stranger +passed an expression of intense astonishment, of incredulity, of +recognition, of joy, one quickly following the other. He, too, stepped +forward into the room. + +"Anita!" he said, holding out his arms, and with a cry of supernal +gladness the Little Madam flew to their shelter. + +In that supreme moment three more of 'Zekle's pipes, dropping from +nerveless hands, fell to the floor in irremediable smash, while +Yarrow, springing to his feet, gazed doubtfully at the pair, not being +able to decide whether he ought to fly at the stranger's throat, or +circle about them in a welcoming dance. + +Over the little figure lying motionless in his arms the stranger +murmured a few words in a strange tongue, but there was no response. +The recognition, that one glimpse into the closed past, had been too +much for the frail little woman. She lay upon his arm with closed +eyes, pale and sweet as an Easter lily. + +"Is she dead?" he asked, fearfully. + +"No," replied Thankful, recovering her scattered senses, which had +been quite knocked out of her by this astonishing scene. She advanced +promptly, reaching down, in passing, the "camphire" and opodeldoc +bottles from the cupboard over the mantle-piece. "She's only fainted; +fetch her right in here." And she led the way to. Mrs. Park's private +sitting-room. + +That good lady was not a little surprised at the sight of this +unexpected and singular procession. 'Zekle still carried the old tin +lantern in his hand, and Dolly and Ned followed closely in the rear in +a state of fearful yet delightful expectancy. They scented afar off +the coming story. + +"Now we shall know all about it," Ned ventured to whisper to Dolly, as +they stood back from the sofa whereon lay the Little Madam. "Who d'y' +bet he is, anyhow?" + +"Oh, don't, Ned," said Dolly, tearfully. "P'r'aps she's dead." + +"No she isn't," was Ned's sturdy reply. "Didn't you ever see anybody +faint before? Jerushy Potts fainted away once in meeting-time, an' +fell an' hit her head an awful crack on the cricket, an' didn't know +it--kept right on fainting. Oh, she'll come out all right. But, I say, +I hope he'll tell pretty quick who he is, an' who she is, an' how she +come in that boat an' don't know anything. Don't you, Dolly?" + +"Ye-es," Dolly replied, still doubtful, but inclining to the +indulgence of a little curiosity. "But see--her eyes are open!" + +Yes, her eyes were open, and they were moving from one to another +of the anxious faces about her, and each one saw in them a clear +intelligence. After all these years of mental wanderings, the Little +Madam had come to herself once more. + +"The Lord be praised!" ejaculated Thankful, in a choked voice. "The +dear soul 's all right." And the opodeldoc poured in a stream from +the bottle, which, in her agitation, she held at an unsafe angle. But +nobody noticed it. Other eyes besides hers were dim, and Ned caught +himself sniffing, to his great disgust. He winked hard, however, and +fixed his eyes on Anita. He wasn't going to break down if he could +help it. It was well enough for Dolly to be wiping her eyes with her +handkerchief--_she_ was a girl; but boys were made of different stuff. + +Anita, as we may now call her, tried to rise from the sofa. "No, my +dear, you had better rest a while," said Mrs. Park. She lay quietly +for a few moments, with her eyes fixed upon her new-found friend. Her +nun's coif had fallen off, and her rippling black hair lay in great +waves of luminous darkness about her. The two talked together for a +few moments in their own tongue, while Dolly and Ned were consumed +with curiosity. Then she turned to Mrs. Park. + +"Luis will tell you all about me," she said. "I remember now, but Luis +will tell you." + +And Luis did tell--how he and Anita grew up together in one of those +sunny islands that lie midway between North and South America, where +grow the orange and lemon and banana, and other luscious tropical +fruits, where the jewelled humming-bird builds in bowers of orchids +and hanging ferns, and the cicada strikes together his big black wings +till they resound like a blacksmith's anvil. + +(I am not telling you this just in the order in which Luis told it; +that would be impossible. For right in the middle of a sentence, +perhaps, he would turn to Anita and say something in their own +tongue, and she, seeing Dolly's and Ned's curiosity, would ask him to +repeat to them what he had told her. So, as you see, my telling of it +must necessarily be mixed. What he said to her was concerning some +incidents of their childhood, in this way wisely and gently trying to +strengthen her returning memory. And as she listened to these, the +light of happiness deepened in her eyes, and so lovely a color stole +into her cheeks that Cousin Kitty could not refrain from whispering to +Aunt Anna, "Our pale lily is fast turning into a blush rose." Most of +his talk was addressed to Mrs. Park.) + +Their fathers' estates joined, and were in the suburbs of a populous +little city, the estates themselves running far back into the hills, +with sugar plantations and coffee plantations. Luis and Anita used to +wander up among those hills into the tangle of woods where lived the +Imperial parrot, with its plumage of royal purple and green. "And do +you remember, my Anita, the day we found the humming-bird on her nest, +and sat down to watch her, and her little mate flew at my eyes, and we +could not drive him quite away even with a stick, but he would perch +on a twig near by, and every time we stirred so much as a finger he +flew at us--the furious atom! and how his mate came down from her +nest and soothed his ruffled temper with her coaxings. + +"And there was the time we went with Henrique to get the wild bees' +honey, and Henrique climbed up the tree--two hundred feet high it +was, dear madam; you have none such in New England. He walked up +on the strong vines of the parasites that covered its trunk, and +he smoked out the bees, and sent us down great flakes of honey in +his pannier, and the amber sirup he poured into the spathes of the +mountain-palm--like your pea-pods, madam, only bigger, five feet +long--and one of the spathes upset, my Anita, do you remember? and +spilt the honey all over your head and your pretty dress, and how +Dolores--" + +"Ah, Dolores, my poor Dolores!" interrupted Anita, with a cry of pain. +"She is no more alive--the dreadful earthquake!" and a shudder passed +over her. + +"No, no, my Anita, Dolores lives. She lives to welcome Anita. _She_ is +not dead." + +Dolores was Anita's old black nurse, he explained. + +The houses of these two families, it seems, were close by the sea, the +lovely tropical sea--the treacherous sea, which woos with its beauty +and then destroys. But this they--the two children--did not know. They +only knew that it was beautiful with its varying tints of amethyst and +pearl and heavenly sapphire, and they played and swam in its waters. + +So these two grew up together till they were seventeen, when Luis was +sent to Cuba on business for his father--something about the coffee +plantations and sugar plantations. And while he was away an earthquake +visited this lovely and tranquil island, a fearful earthquake, and in +an instant a part of the populous city, with the homes wherein dwelt +the families of Luis and Anita, sunk without warning, and the sea, the +lovely, treacherous, tropical sea, rolled over them. + +That was what Luis found when he returned. Not a trace of those two +happy homes, only the dimpling, sparkling, babbling sea. He inquired +among the survivors from the earthquake if none of those whom he loved +had escaped. "Not one," was the answer. And so he came away, for he +could not stay on that now desolate island--came to New York, where +his father had had business relations with a certain house, and there +he had remained, working diligently, and accumulating much money +for--nobody, he had thought, but now--and he looked at Anita. + +And how did he chance to arrive here, at Park's Tavern, on this stormy +night? He was on his way to visit a friend of the business house +living in New Bedford--on the way from Boston, by way of Bridgewater, +through which town he had gone to take a friend. And somehow in the +blinding storm he had missed his way, and chance had brought him here +to find his Anita, as one risen from the dead. Chance?--he corrected +himself reverently. Evidently he thought, with the old dramatist, + + "_Eternal God that chance did guide._" + +Much to Ned's and Dolly's disappointment, he paused here. He had not +yet explained the, to them, vital point. How came the Little Madam to +be floating in mid-ocean when Skipper Joe picked her up? That was what +they wanted to know. And Anita, with her keen perceptions, divined +their wish. _That_ she only could explain; Luis knew nothing of that. + +She remembered, she said, one morning after Luis had gone, taking +out their little boat for a row around the island to a favorite +flower-lined cove. Terrified by the sudden earthquake, she tried to +return, and must have rowed near the spot where their old homes had +sunk. The unfamiliar shore must have bewildered her. She remembered +rowing hither and thither, seeking in vain for her lost home. And then +her senses must have fled, and the winds and waves carried her where +they pleased. + +It was late when Luis finished his narrative, and Aunt Anna at once +ordered Ned and Dolly off to bed, though Dolly never looked wider +awake, and Ned protested he wasn't one bit sleepy, and didn't feel as +if he ever should be again. + +Cousin Kitty, the last to leave the room, re-opened the door after +saying "Good-night," and put back her head. + +"So Ulysses has found his Penelope, after all, Auntie," she said. + +"As we hoped," was the smiling reply. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + + THE WEDDING. + + +It was on a Monday afternoon in early March. The stage that day had +left at the tavern three big trunks, around which were grouped in +Anita's room the whole feminine portion of the household. These trunks +had been opened, and part of the contents lay upon the floor, looking +as though, having been relieved from the pressure of the covers, they +had boiled over. Above these shining masses of color Anita hovered +like a humming-bird over a bed of honey-laden flowers. This was her +_trousseau_, forwarded by Luis from New York. She made a rapid little +plunge on this side, a deft little plunge on that, bringing up each +time a drop of sweets in the shape of a silk of pale blue, a ribbon of +pale pink, or a velvet of lavender--those delicate old-fashioned tints +of which we seem to have lost sight in our present carnival of color. + +"What lovely, lovely lace!" exclaimed Cousin Kitty, lifting from its +box the wedding-veil itself. "It's worth its weight in--diamond-dust! +I don't believe the Empress of all the Russias has finer. The Señor +Gonsalva must have a mint of money." + +Just then Anita came up from one of her dives with a jewel-casket, +which, on being opened, displayed such an array of brilliant gems +lying in their velvet beds as almost struck the beholders dumb. Not +quite, however. + +"Oh, what are those?" asked Dolly, hanging over a set of opals, in the +hearts of which, a spark of emerald and ruby flamed like imprisoned +fire. "And oh what splendid, _splendid_ rubies!" Speech could go no +farther, and she contemplated in rapt silence a diamond cross that +sparkled and flashed like distant suns. Of a truth, as Cousin Kitty +said, the Señor Gonsalva must have a mint of money. + +"P'r'aps he's got a diamond mine," Ned contrived to whisper in her ear. + +From another of her sudden plunges Anita emerged with a package +neatly folded and directed to "Miss Makepeace," the contents of which +took that imperturbable lady quite by surprise. On being opened, +there slipped from it a black satin dress pattern of wonderful +texture--"thick as a board," was Thankful's own descriptive term for +it whenever in after-years she talked of it, which was pretty often, +as you may suppose. + +Other surprises followed quickly on the discovery of the black satin, +viz., an India shawl for Mrs. Park, which could _almost_ be drawn +through Anita's ruby bracelet, a pearl necklace, and a locket with +her monogram in seed-pearls on the back, for Cousin Kitty, a similar +one for Dolly, together with a dress pattern of creamy white satin +embroidered with rose-buds for the latter, and one of pale pink satin +for the former. These were presented to the two in their character +as bridesmaids, in which capacity they had consented to serve at the +coming wedding, which was to take place about the middle of April. + +Having found and presented these packages, Anita stood with clasped +hands, wrinkling up her forehead, and apparently much puzzled and +perplexed. + +"Ah, my good Ned--" she began, when her countenance suddenly cleared. +She made a plunge into what might be called the north-east corner of +the biggest trunk--it was certainly as big as a moderate state-room +on a Sound steamer, and could consistently claim an interest in the +points of compass--and brought up therefrom a box, which she presented +to Ned with an expression of happy triumph. It contained that one +treasure so unspeakably dear to every boyish heart, viz., a watch--a +gold watch, at that--a watch that would "go," which cannot be said +with truth of every boy's watch--a watch, too, with his monogram in +tiny diamonds on the back--and furthermore, a watch with a gold chain +attached. + +Ned, who had not been able to resist the temptation of being present +at the opening of these trunks, which had excited much neighborly +curiosity when lifted off the stage that day, but who up to that +time had kept somewhat in the background, feeling that it wasn't +quite consistent with manly dignity to exhibit too much interest in +"clothes," now came forward, blushing with delight, and thanked Anita. + +"It's--it's bu--," he stammered, coming, in his confusion, within a +hair's-breadth of the contraband word, and then stopping himself and +beginning anew. "He's a trump, an' it's no end kind of him; but I +guess you told him to, Anita;" and Anita dimpled and laughed, and did +not deny it. And with her own brown little hand she took the old watch +from his pocket--a watch which he had to wind up four times a day to +keep it going, setting it ahead one hour every time it was wound--and +replaced it with the gold one, hooking the chain into his button-hole. + +"Luis is royal in his gifts," said Cousin Kitty afterwards in a +private interview with Aunt Anna. "But ought we to accept them?" + +"Ordinarily I should say not," replied Aunt Anna, who was admiring the +beauties of her India shawl. And then she laughed, adding, "But in the +ordinary course of things such a question isn't often likely to arise. +We may accept these, I think, in the spirit in which they are offered. +It's a sort of song of praise on Luis's part, you see, the giving of +these. It's his way of celebrating the finding of Anita--a pæan of +thanksgiving." + +"A kind of recitative, you might say," added Cousin Kitty, "with my +pearl necklace for high G, and your India shawl for low A. Well, I +must say I'm not sorry that such is your decision, Auntie. For though +I could have parted with these, if necessary"--looking from the pale +pink satin in one hand to the pearl necklace in the other--"I'm very +willing to keep them. But what a wedding it's going to be for the old +tavern! and in what gorgeous raiment shall the bridesmaids shine, eh, +Dotty?" and Dolly, who had been standing by, awaiting with no little +anxiety Aunt Anna's decision, gave the creamy satin and the pearl +necklace which she held in her arms a little hug of congratulation and +possession. _Jubilate!_ they were hers! and she for one was glad that +the Señor Gonsalva's pæan of thanksgiving had taken the form it had. + +But the opening of the trunks was only the beginning of the end. A +busy six weeks ensued. The old tavern was turned topsy-turvy. "It beat +the c'nventions," said 'Zekle. + +In the kitchen the wedding-cake was made in relays, seven loaves at +a time--twenty-eight great fruity loaves in all, with frosting, over +which Thankful exhausted her utmost skill in decoration. + +In Anita's sunny room, amid the fragrance of her mignonette and +the continuous chattering of the white Australian cockatoo, the +wedding-clothes were "created," to use Cousin Kitty's own word for it. +At first there had been talk of summoning a distinguished dress-maker +from Quincy to preside over this department. She had made the gowns +of the daughter of the Senator from that district for her _début_ at +Washington. But Cousin Kitty vetoed this proposition. + +"Let Pella cut them," she said. "Her fits are perfect, and I can tell +her all the rest. I've the greatest knack at those things, Auntie, and +I should so like to create Penelope's wardrobe." + +So Pella, the Byfield dress-maker, whose baptismal name was +Experience, came, and Anita was turned into a dummy, and tried +on gowns from morning till night, while the two cut and fitted, +and pinched in here and let out there, and as each fresh gown was +finished, it was hung in the bedroom opening off the dancing-hall, +which had been devoted to this purpose, and thither the myriad of +callers at the tavern--for news of all these wonderful happenings +there had run like wildfire through the town--were taken to view them. + +With only one exception they pronounced them the most wonderful +array of gowns they had ever set eyes on. Mrs. Davis was that one +exception. She had a fictitious friend somewhere--like Sairey Gamp's +Mrs. Harris--named Matilda Price. This Matilda Price, according to +Mrs. Davis, once had a gown that united in itself all the glories of +Anita's whole wardrobe, hearing of which assertion unbelieving Byfield +cried out with Betsy Prigg, "I don't believe there's no sich a person." + +The bridesmaids' gowns being a sort of side issue only, were to be +made some time, and some time proving to be no time, it is a matter +of no surprise that Pella sat up till three o'clock on the night +preceding the wedding to finish them. + +As to the wedding itself, a strictly private ceremony was talked +of at first; but this intention becoming known, there arose such a +howl of dissent and remonstrance through the length and breadth of +Byfield that it was reconsidered. Anita said she would like to have +all these people who had been so kind to her at her wedding, so three +hundred invitations were issued, which comprised a large part of the +inhabitants of the town, which numbered, all told, only about five +hundred. + +The ceremony was to take place in the dancing-hall, that being the +biggest room in the house--the only one, in fact, into which three +hundred guests could be comfortably put at one time. Indeed, if it had +not been for this big hall, it is more than probable that these three +hundred guests would not have been invited. + +"And I wish we might have a wedding-bell," Cousin Kitty had remarked +when they talked over the arrangements; "but that's past hoping for, +I suppose." But on her explaining what she meant by a wedding-bell--a +bell made of flowers, to ring down upon the bride after the +ceremony--Ned said of course they could have one. "May-flowers enough +in the woods t' make a dozen bells, Cousin Kitty." + +The May-flower comes early in the land of the Pilgrims, coming often, +as did the Pilgrim _Mayflower_ itself, "amidst the storms" and the +frosts of a lingering winter. But this year spring came early. The +heavy snow which had made the Señor Luis Gonsalva a willing prisoner +for a week at the tavern, waiting for the roads to be broken out and +made passable, had fled almost as quickly as it had come, before the +melting power of the spring sun. Everywhere the grass was springing +green in the last of March; the buds on the lilac-bushes at the +south door of the tavern were swelling; and the tiger-lilies and +none-so-pretties were showing above the brown soil. Bluebirds and +robins had made their appearance, and Dolly and Ned were of the +opinion that Nature herself was hastening to get on her bridal robes +to do honor to the coming wedding. The old people said they "shouldn't +wonder" if the grain were waving in the fields, and the apple-trees +were pink with bloom, by the nineteenth of April, as they were on that +famous day in 1775. + +In this general and rapid advance of spring the May-flower was not +a whit behind. The week before the wedding it was in its glory, and +a score or two of boys and girls, enlisted by Ned, were rifling the +woods and fields of this darling of bleak New England. + +This was Dolly's first experience in May-flower gathering, but she +soon learned where to seek for the shy beauties--under the moist +pine-needles and in the shadiest nooks for the pink ones, and in the +open fields and wood borders for the white. With only a slight brush +of the fingers over the loosely-lying, dry, brown oak-leaves what a +wealth of beauty was laid bare! + +They brought these by the armful to Cousin Kitty, who carefully placed +them in shallow troughs of water in one of those grewsome bins in the +cool, dark cellar, to keep until the morning of the wedding, when +they should be woven by myriads of helping fingers into the bell of +wire which 'Zekle himself had fashioned in the wood-room chamber. +These were, indeed, new times for 'Zekle. He never expected to have +been called upon "t' build a weddin'-bell," and after he had finished +it, its use was a mystery to him. Betty's mother, who, as usual, had +been called in with Betty to assist in this avalanche of work so +suddenly precipitated into the old tavern, waggled her head over it +as something foreign if not heathenish, and Mrs. Davis could find no +parallel for it in the experience of Matilda Price; but Thankful was +sure that anything originating with Cousin Kitty and approved by Mrs. +Park for the pleasure of the Little Madam _must_ be all right, to +which irresistible logic Betty's mother at last gave up her doubts. + +Luis arrived on the day but one preceding the wedding, and on the +evening of the day before the wedding there arrived from Boston a +renowned caterer, accompanied by six colored subordinates, and any +number of mysterious packages and baskets. The boys who were now +hanging continuously about the tavern, envying Ned his superior +opportunities, and most of whom were among the invited guests, managed +to get a peep into the dining-room where these mysterious baskets were +being unladened, and carried home wonderful accounts of what they had +seen. + +At last the day and the hour arrived, and the guests were assembled +early in the hall, awaiting the entrance of the bridal party. At the +upper end hung the wedding-bell, filling the room with its fragrance. +Near by stood the minister, a grave and courtly gentleman of the old +school, whose very presence was a benediction. + +The names of the three hundred guests are among the annals of the +past. It will be enough to say that almost every one whom you have met +in the course of this story was there--all but bedridden Matty and +poor palsy-stricken Patty. And yet, strange as it may seem to you, it +is a question if among those three hundred there were any who rejoiced +more heartily over the Little Madam's restoration to happiness than +did these two helpless, hapless creatures, to whom so much of what is +supposed to constitute happiness was denied. + +In the corner farthest away from the place where the bridal party was +to stand, the boys congregated in that gregarious way common to boys. +They occasionally exchanged a remark in a hoarse whisper, and now and +then one would pinch his neighbor or tread on his toes, feeling safe +from the danger of a retaliating blow. + +The girls, on the contrary, had placed themselves as near the spot +where the party was to stand as etiquette allowed, where they smiled +and sparkled, and exchanged whispers, too; and Aunt Debby, looking up +into that corner as she came in at the door near the lower end of the +hall, said, "Bless 'em!" involuntarily and quite loud. She couldn't +help it, they looked as though they were having a so thoroughly good +time. + +Nannie, who came in with Debby, wore her Marie Stuart lace cap--which +Mrs. Park had given her for this very occasion--hind side before, and +even Aunt Debby had failed to get on her somewhat dry and ancient +"front" exactly straight; but her face beamed with good-will, and +she shook all over in that jelly-like way fat people are apt to, as +she exchanged smiles and greetings with each of the three hundred +individually. + +Mr. Emerson was there with his mother, who looked more bizarre in +dress than usual, in a white satin, which she had disinterred from +some one of those chests where she kept her relics of the past. It was +extremely short, displaying a pair of thick blue woollen stockings and +low shoes. Over her shoulders she wore a mantle of pea-green gauze, +which was crossed in front and fastened behind in a sash-like drapery. +As usual, she carried a bag, this time of crimson beads with a purple +fringe; and to her cap she had added a bunch of artificial flowers +so preposterous in size and color that the merry girls in the corner +came near going off into explosions of laughter at the sight of it, +and were only restrained by their respect for her really admirable +qualities. + +But "what a pity," as Cousin Kitty said, "that so excellent a woman +should make such a guy of herself!" Well, to be sure, we must not +expect to find all the virtues and graces in one bundle. + +There chanced to be two guests at this wedding whose presence would +have graced any assembly in the land. The mother of the beautiful +Emily Marshall had come down for a brief rest, after a brilliant +social winter, to drink fresh milk and to recruit on plain country +fare, and she had been bidden to the wedding. She was not "the rose," +but she was the mother of the rose, and her elegant manners and fine +personal presence added not a little to its _éclat_. The other guest +was Daniel Webster. He was here only for a brief hour _en route_, +but it was an assembly after his own heart, of kindly, plain, but +intelligent country-folk, and he enjoyed it accordingly. + +"Here they come!" whispered Johnny Tuttle, catching a glimpse of Ned +through the open door, and thinking that even for that wonderful gold +watch he wouldn't have been in his shoes just then. + +For Dolly and Ned were the first to enter, Ned looking very fine in +his black velvet suit and scarlet necktie; and as to Dolly--well, the +girls fairly devoured her with their eyes, and would have declared her +"just too sweet for anything," if they had had the advantages of our +modern manner of expressing ourselves. Both looked slightly conscious +of the three hundred pairs of eyes, more or less, which were fastened +upon them. It _was_ something of an ordeal, it is true, but they +acquitted themselves very well. + +Cousin Kitty and the brown-eyed doctor followed directly, and then +came--ah, everybody held their breath as the tall, dark, handsome man +entered, leading his _petite_ bride in bridal white, the filmy lace of +her veil enveloping her like a silvery mist. + +If the girls in the corner had dared, they would have given vent to +their feelings in one prolonged, sighing "O--h!" As it was, they +only breathed a little more deeply. And the boys ceased from their +pinchings and punchings as the two stopped under the wedding-bell, and +the minister came forward to his place in front of them. + +The marriage-service is always brief--to the lookers-on--and it was +soon over. One incident must not be forgotten. As Anita in her low, +sweet voice began the formula, "I, Anita, take thee, Luis," a sob was +heard--a queer sob, strangled in its birth apparently. It came from +Thankful, who, feeling rather "shook," as she explained afterwards, +with the events of the preceding weeks, had taken the precaution to +shelter herself behind Mr. Webster's ample proportions; but when, just +at that point in the service, she saw Skipper Joe draw the back of his +hand across his eyes, it entirely "upsot" her. She escaped from the +hall at once, but recovered her equanimity in time to preside over the +wedding-cake, arrayed in the glories of her new satin. + +The congratulations followed the service--very informal +congratulations, but very genuine. Out from their corner fluttered +the girls like a covey of gay-plumaged birds, and kissed the bride, +and hovered and cooed around her. And up from their corner came the +boys in somewhat more awkward fashion, and shook hands shamefacedly +with the Little Madam--for to them she would always be that. Then +followed the never-to-be-forgotten banquet, with its pyramids of +ice-cream--ice-cream was not the every-day thing it is now--its +translucent jellies, and luscious fruits from those islands lying +midway between North and South America; and last, but not least, its +thick slices of wedding-cake, of which each boy ate his to the last +crumb, while the girls just tasted theirs, and took the remnant home +to dream over. + +And so went the Little Madam forth from the shelter of the old tavern. + + + THE END. + + [Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76562 *** diff --git a/76562-h/76562-h.htm b/76562-h/76562-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a23988c --- /dev/null +++ b/76562-h/76562-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7504 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Children of Old Park's Tavern | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph3 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent14 {text-indent: 4em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} +.poetry .indent24 {text-indent: 9em;} +.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: -1.5em;} +.poetry .indent5 {text-indent: -0.5em;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76562 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<h1>THE CHILDREN OF OLD PARK'S TAVERN</h1> + +<p>A Story of the South Shore</p> + +<p class="ph1">By FRANCES A. HUMPHREY</p> + +<p>AUTHOR OF "DEAN STANLEY WITH THE CHILDREN"</p> + +<p>NEW YORK<br> +HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE<br> +1886</p> + +<p>Copyright, 1886, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> + +<p><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">HOW DOLLY ATTENDED THE CONVENTION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">ON THE MARSHES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">THE HOME OF WEBSTER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE LITTLE MADAM</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">SKATTA</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">THE TOURNAMENT IN THE OLD MUSTER-FIELD</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">DEATH OF GASTON</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">THE SECRET CHAMBER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">THE SCHOOL AND ITS MASTER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">THEIR FIRST QUARREL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF SKATTA</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">NED TO THE RESCUE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">THANKSGIVING DAYS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">THE YELLOW SATIN GOWN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">THE MILITARY BALL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">THE PUBLISHMENT IN THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">YARROW</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">HOW ULYSSES LOST AND FOUND HIS PENELOPE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">THE WEDDING</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap"> + + +<h2>THE CHILDREN OF OLD PARK'S TAVERN.</h2> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>HOW DOLLY ATTENDED THE CONVENTION.</h3> + + +<p>"C'nvention? What's a c'nvention?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a lot o' men, 'n they meet and chew tobacco and scatter the +votes all over the floor, till it looks <i>worse</i> than a pigsty, Thankful +says, 'n then they come over here 'n eat 'n eat till they're fit to +burst. But it's fun! I shall be glad when I'm old enough to go to +c'nvention."</p> + +<p>"Do women go?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! 'tisn't fit for women and girls," replied Ned, +emphatically.</p> + +<p>The two speakers were sitting in the veranda of the old tavern at +Byfield. One would have known at once that the long, rambling, +veranda-shaded house was a tavern because of the tall sign-post +standing at its north-west corner. The sign was a huge gilt ball +attached to an arrow-shaped scroll of iron, and had it been an English +inn it would doubtless have been called "The Orange and Arrow," and +have had a story about it like the story of William Tell. As it was, +there was no story at all, and it was known through the county simply +as "Park's Tavern."</p> + +<p>The stage-coach which ran between Boston and Plymouth stopped there +daily, and it came dashing up to the door now, bringing the first +comers to the "c'nvention." These came from Hingham, the remotest town +in the county, and they would spend the night preceding and the night +following the convention at the tavern. Railroads were unknown as yet, +and almost everybody came to the convention, as they went everywhere +else, in their own carriages. The coach was crowded inside and out. +This was a Whig convention, and the stage-driver, who was a Whig, had +tied red, white, and blue ribbons on the harnesses of his six horses, +which gave to the turnout a gay and festive air.</p> + +<p>"A fine day, an' a fine drive, gen'lemen," he said, as he tossed the +reins to the hostler and clambered heavily down the steps of the +stage-coach, for he was immensely fat.</p> + +<p>Dolly had arrived by that same coach eight days before. It was her +first visit to Cousin Ned at Byfield, and as her home was in Boston, +and she had rarely been into the country except for short drives to +Quincy and Cambridge, everything was new, and every experience fresh +and delightful.</p> + +<p>Well, the morning of the "c'nvention" came, and the household at Park's +Tavern were astir early. Dolly heard the first twitter of the robins in +the cherry-tree by her window and was wide awake in an instant, with +her mind full of the "c'nvention." By the time she was dressed Ned had +despatched the chores, which he did with such marvellous promptness +that Thankful remarked, grimly, "'Twas a pity there wasn't a c'nvention +every day in the year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Thankful, you'll like it yourself next week—see 'f you +don't! 'n won't you be spry!" replied Ned.</p> + +<p>Thereat Thankful said she "hoped she knowed her duty," which meant that +she should do her best, if <i>'twas</i> a Whig convention. For Thankful was +a Democrat, and the next week the Democrats would hold their convention +in the meeting-house at Byfield, and would dine at the tavern. As to +the Whig coachman, she was barely civil when he came into the kitchen +to bring a hamper of turkeys he had fetched from Boston, and she +sniffed scornfully when Ned called her attention to the beribboned +horses.</p> + +<p>The breakfast was quickly eaten, and then the business of the day +began. The cook-stove was taken out by four men from the inner kitchen +and set up in the outer kitchen. A fire was made in the brick ovens +in both kitchens, and when they were hot the coals were raked out +with a long pole with a crook at one end, the whole something like a +shepherd's crook, and the ovens were filled, one with huge sirloins of +beef and spare-ribs of pork, the other with loaves of rye and wheat +bread and plummy pudding. The pies had been made previously—one +hundred mince, apple, pumpkin, and cranberry pies—and were spread +out on tables in the L chamber, imparting to the atmosphere thereof +a deliciously spicy fragrance perfectly intoxicating to any properly +constructed boy.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you wonder why the cook-stove should have been taken out of the +inner kitchen. So did Dolly.</p> + +<p>"You wait and see," said Ned. "That's part of the fun."</p> + +<p>There was a big fireplace in this kitchen, such as you sometimes see +in pictures or in very old houses, big enough to roast an ox whole +in. 'Zekle, assisted by Ned, who liked to have a finger in every pie, +made a fire in this fireplace of hickory and oak, which roared up the +chimney hilariously as if understanding that it, too, was a part of the +fun. Then 'Zekle, still assisted by Ned and followed by Dolly, brought +down from the attic six tin "kitchens," as they were called, which +looked very much like tin caves, Dolly thought. These were arranged in +a semicircle before the fireplace, with the mouth of the cave turned +towards the fire. Within each cave, or tin kitchen, two fat turkeys, +after being carefully stuffed and trussed, were spitted, <i>i.e.</i>, the +long iron spit which went through the tin kitchen from end to end was +thrust through the turkeys, and on this rod they revolved and slowly +roasted. Under instructions from Thankful, Dolly was permitted as a +great privilege to assist in basting these turkeys. She was supplied +with one of Thankful's blue-and-white check aprons, which enveloped +her little figure from top to toe, and a long-handled iron spoon was +put in her hand. Every few minutes she turned the spit of one of the +tin kitchens, and dipping up the gravy from the bottom, allowed it +to dribble slowly from the spoon over the crisp browning turkey. As +there were six of the tin kitchens, this kept her busy, and her cheeks +grew rosy, but oh it was delicious fun! and, "I say, Dolly," said Ned, +"don't they smell prime! I do hope those greedy Whigs won't eat every +bit, as they did last year. Such pigs! Nothing left but bones to suck. +Going to c'nvention is awful hungry work, I guess."</p> + +<p>From the six pots and kettles on the stove in the outer kitchen came a +bubbling sound, a knocking as the onions and turnips bounced against +the lids, and a fire was made under the huge iron wash-boiler in which +the potatoes were to be cooked.</p> + +<p>"I say, Dolly," put in Ned, tired at last of doing nothing but watch +her at her basting, "let's go out and see 'em come; and bime-by, when +the pudding-sauce is done, we'll have the kettle to scrape, you know."</p> + +<p>But before going out they went up-stairs to view the tables which +Thankful, assisted by a bouncing girl, the daughter of one of the +neighbors, had already set. The dining-hall, for that day, was the +dancing-hall proper. This was a long room running from side to side +of the house, with many windows. It had a smooth, shiny floor of hard +pine, like a skating-rink floor, though of course roller-skating had +not then even been thought of. But Ned would have told you that it was +"prime" for sliding, for he had tried it.</p> + +<p>Two tables were set lengthwise of this room, tables made of boards +upheld by cross-sticks and covered with snow-white cotton cloth. The +dishes were of that deep, beautiful blue so rare to find nowadays, +and which brings such a price when a bit is found; plates, tureens, +platters, cups, all of the same color.</p> + +<p>The pewter casters had been conscientiously polished by Thankful to the +last degree of brilliancy, and were only rivalled by the glitter of the +groups of glass tumblers. Down the centre of each table was a row of +decanters filled with hard cider of a delicate amber color. The forks +were two-pronged and of steel, and napkins seemed to have been looked +upon as superfluous, for there were none on the table.</p> + +<p>Before Ned and Dolly were fairly seated in their place of observation +in the shade of the big cherry-tree, one or two carriages had arrived +and the hostlers were taking out the horses. The vehicles were of all +sizes and shapes. A pretty sulky drawn by a white-eyed racker came +swiftly and silently into the yard, and from it stepped a slight, +brown-eyed man, to whom Ned shouted, "Halloo, Doctor!" Then came the +delegation from the north part of the county, in a hay-cart furnished +with seats, shaded by branches of oak and pine fastened to the stakes. +This was followed by a half-dozen dilapidated carry-alls with flapping +curtains, drawn by horses in every stage of meagreness.</p> + +<p>A light barouche, drawn by a pair of beautiful black horses, now came +into the yard. The driver was a negro, and as he alighted and opened +the carriage door a tall man stepped out. He was <i>very</i> tall, his +shoulders were very broad, and he was very dark. As he lifted his hat +to Mrs. Park, who stood in the east door, he showed a head that looked +like the State-house dome, so Dolly whispered to Ned. His eyes were +black, deep set, and glowed like a smouldering fire, but a fire which +may blaze out at any unexpected moment. He wore black trousers, a blue +coat with brass buttons, and a buff waist-coat. He was a remarkable +looking man, and it is not to be wondered at that Dolly and Ned viewed +him with much curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Who is he, anyway?" whispered Dolly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Ned. "I never saw him before."</p> + +<p>Faster and faster came the carriages, and the crowd grew, and by +little groups, and singly, they made their way over the Green to the +meeting-house where the business of the convention was to be transacted.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if the pudding-sauce was done," remarked Ned. +"S'pose we go and see."</p> + +<p>"I'll get it," said Dolly; "you wait here;" and she flew to the +kitchen, where she found Thankful just in the act of pouring the +sirupy, nutmeggy sauce into the sauce-bowls. Now, Thankful, with all +her grimness, and she could be very grim, had a soft spot in her +heart for children, and for these two especially; and so, though she +conscientiously held the brass kettle inverted till all had run out +that could easily, she did not scrape it, as Dolly observed, but +handed it to her, with the remark, "There, don't go 'n make yourselves +sick now. There's enough to do, in all conscience, 'thout havin' sick +child'en to take care of."</p> + +<p>Dolly started down the flight of five stone steps leading from the +kitchen to the well-yard, caught her foot, and fell headlong, with a +dreadful ringing of the brass kettle as it bounded down in advance, and +there stood two of the "c'nventioners" not three yards off! Dolly's +face was crimson as she got up none the worse for her fall, though the +brass kettle, as she picked it up, showed a bad dent in the side. She +glanced furtively at the "c'nventioners" to see if they were smiling +over her mishap. Bless 'em! they had neither seen nor heard her, so +deep were they in their political schemes. Dolly's respect for the +"c'nventioners" increased.</p> + +<p>"Politics must be very interesting," she said to Ned, as they scraped +the kettle sociably together. "I wish women and girls went. Say, +couldn't we just go over and peep and see what they are doing?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, not you!" replied Ned, with his mouth full of sauce, +greatly scandalized at the suggestion. "I might, 'cause I'm a boy, but +'twould never do for a girl, you know."</p> + +<p>But Dolly did <i>not</i> know any such thing; and then and there an idea +popped into her head which she did not share with Ned as usual.</p> + +<p>The meeting-house clock struck twelve, which was the dinner-hour. The +doors of the meeting-house opened, and the convention moved out in long +procession over the Green to the tavern, but Dolly and Ned, being well +screened by the lilacs, did not move, but sat and watched them as they +passed in.</p> + +<p>"There he is again," whispered Dolly, "the big man with the head like +the State-house dome. Who can he be?"</p> + +<p>"I'll ask Doctor Stone, he'll know; he knows everybody," said Ned. And +he accosted the brown-eyed doctor as he passed by,</p> + +<p>"Say, doctor, who's that big fellow with the blue coat and brass +buttons?"</p> + +<p>"That," replied the doctor, smiling down on the two eager faces, "that +is Daniel Webster. And look at him well, my boy, for some time you may +be glad and proud to be able to say that you have even <i>seen</i> Daniel +Webster."</p> + +<p>The convention passed into the dining-hall and a rattling of dishes +ensued. "Oh dear!" said Ned, with a deep sigh from the region of his +empty stomach, "I s'pose they'll be at it two hours."</p> + +<p>But just at that moment an unexpected call came from Thankful, who was +standing in the kitchen door. "Come, child'en, an' git some dinner," +she said.</p> + +<p>And there, as they went in, on a corner of the kitchen-table which she +had cleared, they espied as delicious a little dinner of turkey as two +starving human creatures could ask for. The drumstick and neck and +plenty of crisp skin for Ned, and two wings and a generous supply of +"breast" for Dolly, with unlimited cranberry sauce and onions, together +with the privilege of calling for as much pudding and pie as they liked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody, what a spread!" cried Ned. "You're a dear old Thankful, +that's what you are, Thankful!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it did seem too bad for you child'en to wait till all them grown +folks had got through. I never could see no sense in alwa's makin' +child'en wait," rejoined Thankful, with a wisdom that young folks at +least appreciate.</p> + +<p>While they were eating their dinner Ned's father came in. "Ned," said +he, "as soon 's you've done dinner just take Bill and ride over to +Torrey's Mills, and tell 'em to send me a couple o' bags of meal."</p> + +<p>"And," added his mother, "you might as well take the gizzards along to +Aunt Debby. It's on your way, and they'll like them for a stew."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't that queer!" said Dolly, "stewed gizzards!"</p> + +<p>"Horrid, ain't it?" rejoined Ned. "But they like 'em. Mother always +sends 'em the gizzards when she has turkeys, and they always ask me to +stay to dinner. But I don't accept, you bet! Say," he continued, "don't +you want to ride over there with me?—it's only a mile, and old Bill +can carry us both, and you can see the three old aunties. It's no end +o' fun. They're awful jolly 'f they do eat gizzards. Aunt Patty's head +goes so," shaking his curly pate in vain imitation of poor aunt Patty's +palsy-stricken head.</p> + +<p>But Dolly declined the tempting proposal, for, as elsewhere hinted, she +was nursing a brilliant idea which Ned's absence would allow her to put +into action.</p> + +<p>So she bade him a cheerful "good-by," and after watching him well out +of sight, with one sweeping glance to assure herself that no one was +at door or window, she ran across the Green to the meeting-house door, +and pausing just an instant to make sure again that no one saw her, +she sprang through the open door, and, speeding like a frightened +fawn up the central aisle, she never stopped to take breath till she +was safely inside the pulpit. This was not a modern pulpit, but an +old-fashioned, roomy one, which could hold comfortably a party of a +dozen people. The sides were high, so high that Dolly could just peep +over. The over-hanging sounding-board lent a cosey, shut-in feeling to +the place which seemed pleasant to Dolly—wilful, inquisitive Dolly, +who wanted to know what a "c'nvention" was like, and had taken this way +to find out. She soon saw, however, that a more secure hiding-place +was necessary, for any one chancing to go into the gallery could look +directly down upon her.</p> + +<p>Across the back of the pulpit was a broad, cushioned seat, down to and +back of which fell the heavy damask window draperies. Here was the very +place! and Dolly lay down upon the shabby velvet cushions and drew the +heavy draperies about her.</p> + +<p>By-and-by, after what seemed to her an interminable time, the +convention began to straggle in. The president called the meeting to +order and business was resumed. Dolly pulled aside the curtains a bit +and looked out. She was relieved to find that the convention confined +itself to the floor of the house and did not invade the galleries. +She listened. Confused murmurs arose of which she could hear only an +occasional word. Somebody made a long speech about free-trade and the +tariff, and the listeners cried "Hear! hear!" and stamped.</p> + +<p>"It's stupid!" thought Dolly. "I thought c'nventions would be more +interesting." And she had a rather mournful dissolving view of Ned +riding on old Bill and carrying the basket of gizzards, and almost +wished she had gone. Almost, not quite; for it was something to be at +a "c'nvention," even if one had to hide behind a curtain, and it <i>was</i> +stupid.</p> + +<p>Soon a great clamor arose. Somebody had said something he oughtn't +to, and somebody else shouted, "Mr. President, I rise to a point of +order," and the clamor increased, and there was stamping and hissing, +and the president brought down his gavel with a prodigious rap-rap, and +then the clamor subsided and became a murmur again, which grew fainter +and fainter till it ceased altogether; for, snug in her nest on the +comfortable cushions, overcome with the fatigues of the long, exciting +day, and heavy, too, with the amount of turkey and pudding she had +eaten, Dolly fell fast asleep, and the convention had lost the ear of +its hidden listener.</p> + +<p>The convention finished its business and adjourned <i>sine die</i>. Those +members who lived in the nearer towns ordered out their vehicles and +drove rapidly off. Those from the more remote towns stayed to take +supper, or "a bite," as Thankful phrased it, before starting. At last +all who were going had gone. The sexton, looking in and seeing the +meeting-house apparently empty, locked the doors and went home. The +sun set and the twilight faded. Ned coming home, and not seeing Dolly +about, said to his mother, "Dolly's gone to bed, and I'm going too, +for I'm awful tired." All the inmates of the tavern, among whom were +the delegates from Hingham and Rochester, weary with the fatigues of +the day, went off to bed at an unusually early hour, and the lights +were put out. And still Dolly slept on heavily and peacefully upon the +cushions of the old pulpit, shrouded in the damask draperies.</p> + +<p>About midnight she awoke; she awoke suddenly. As she drew aside the +curtain and saw the great space about her, the blindless windows of +the old meeting-house staring at her like so many wide-open eyes, she +thought at first it was a part of her dreams. Then it all came to +her—how she must have fallen asleep—the people had all gone—it was +night, and she was alone in the building!</p> + +<p>Her first impulse was to cry out. But Dolly was a brave girl. She +suppressed the cry before it had passed her lips. She thought, "I know +it's awful to be alone here, but then I <i>am</i> alone. There's nobody to +harm me. I must stay here till morning. I'll try to go to sleep if I +can, again, and then I sha'n't know anything about it. It's really snug +up here. But, oh, why didn't they miss me and find me?" Here she came +very near crying, as she thought of them all asleep in their beds over +there, only the one little white bed in her own room empty. But she +choked down the cry as she had done the scream, lay down again and drew +the curtains more closely about her, and was just beginning to say over +softly her evening prayer, when she heard a movement and a suppressed +voice:</p> + +<p>"D'ye hear that, Ben?"</p> + +<p>"What?" said another voice.</p> + +<p>"That noise."</p> + +<p>"Rats!" rejoined the other. "These old barracks are always full of 'em."</p> + +<p>I cannot repeat all the conversation to which Dolly listened from +behind the curtains, trembling very much at first, but getting back her +courage as she began to comprehend what they were talking about.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a pile," one of them said. "Fifty cents a head for the dinner, +and two hundred he got from the bank t'other day to pay Wright—it'll +be the biggest haul we've made for many a day."</p> + +<p>"Where's he keep it?"</p> + +<p>"In his chist, clost by his bed."</p> + +<p>"Spos'en he sh'd wake up?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tend t' that," replied the other, significantly.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was her dear, good uncle of whom they were talking, and this +was a plot to rob him of his money, and worse, perhaps, should he wake.</p> + +<p>"It's time, come along," said the voice which belonged to Ben, and they +made their way from the pews where they two had been sleeping to an +open window in the rear of the meeting-house.</p> + +<p>Dolly stood up carefully on the cushions, and, peeping out between the +curtains, saw in the dim starlight, for the night was moonless, two +burly men who climbed heavily out. She waited till their steps died +away, then she ran noiselessly down the pulpit stairs, and cautiously +through the aisles, lest she might hit an open pew-door and so shut it +with a bang that would warn the thieves that they had left something +besides rats behind them. She leaped lightly through the window and, +going in an opposite direction from that taken by the men, crossed +the road through a slight hollow north of the tavern, and so stole up +to its rear through the garden, whose thick-growing quince-bushes and +dwarf trees screened her from observation. She had made no plan of +action—there had not been time to think much; it seemed to come to +her, as she said afterwards, just what to do, and she only felt that it +must be done quickly.</p> + +<p>And now one of her accomplishments, of which she had sometimes felt +a little ashamed, because it had won her the name of "tomboy"—the +ability to climb lightly and swiftly—came into play. Thankful's +wash-bench stood under the edge of the veranda, and springing upon +this, with the help of the grape-vine she gained the veranda roof, +ran lightly around the west and north sides of the house to the great +cherry-tree that stood not far from her uncle's bedroom window. Up, +up its branches she flew like a squirrel, even to the very top, and +she had barely reached it when the feet of the thieves were heard +upon the gravelly way which led into the yard. They crept cautiously +up to the window, their hands were upon it, when suddenly out from +the cherry-tree, almost directly above their heads, there burst +such a volume of happy, rollicking song, such trills and warblings +as of a multitude of song-birds, accompanied with a soft swaying +of the branches, that, terrified beyond measure, they stood for a +moment motionless and then turned and fled. Dolly listened to their +fast-fleeing steps till they died in the distance, and with them died +her song.</p> + +<p>At that instant Thankful's window went up, and Thankful's nightcapped +head was thrust out. "Bless us and save us!" she ejaculated. "What <i>is</i> +a-goin' on!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Thankful," cried a cheery voice out of the cherry-tree, and a +white figure dropped upon the veranda roof. "I'm so glad it's you! Come +and let me in."</p> + +<p>"The little creetur is a-walkin' in her sleep," muttered Thankful as +she pulled in her head. "She'll break her blessed neck!—unless it's +a spook!" she added, under her breath; and to make sure it wasn't she +looked into Dolly's room on her way down to the door. Sure enough, +there was the little empty bed. No bonny bright head on its pillow! No +sweet confusion of dainty clothes scattered about the room!</p> + +<p>She unfastened the front door, and meanwhile the other inmates of +the tavern, including the delegates, having been awakened, they now +presented themselves in every stage of undress. They all crowded around +Dolly, offering explanations. "She's walking in her sleep," they +reiterated, one after the other. "And it's a marcy she didn't break her +neck a-singin' up in that cherry-tree," added Thankful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Thankful, I'm not asleep. Please don't say so," entreated Dolly.</p> + +<p>Aunt Anna, who by this time had come out of her bedroom, put her arm +about Dolly and drew her to her side. She was shivering from head to +foot, and her eyes shone as the star we call Venus shines in the April +twilight. Aunt Anna touched her cheek with hers. It was aflame with +fever. "The child is sick," she said. "She's out of her head."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk so, please don't talk so!" said Dolly, bursting into +a passion of tears and sobs, which, happily, came as a relief to the +severe nervous tension which might really have ended in delirium.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, tell us what it does mean, if you wish," said Aunt Anna, +gently, when Dolly's sobs had ceased.</p> + +<p>And Dolly told her story. It was heard in silence, only Thankful +ejaculating, when Dolly reached the point when she first knew the +thieves were in the meeting-house, "Dear little lamb! it's a marcy the +wolves didn't get her!"</p> + +<p>"And now come out, please," she added, "and you'll know it's all true, +for they tramped right over auntie's 'none-so-pretties.'"</p> + +<p>They went out, 'Zekle having fetched a lantern, and there in truth +were the bright-faced flowers crushed and bruised under the footsteps +of the thieves, and the pet of the flower-garden, a gorgeous root of +tiger-lilies, was broken entirely off.</p> + +<p>"And here's sunthin' else," said 'Zekle, picking up a huge pistol from +out the "none-so-pretties." He pointed it upward and fired. "There! +that'll let 'em know we're awake," he said.</p> + +<p>Aunt Anna, who greatly feared the harmful effect of this adventure upon +Dolly, undressed her herself, and after bathing her in the warm bath +which Thankful had promptly prepared, sat by her till she fell asleep. +She slept far into the morning, and Ned, who was the only one who had +not wakened the night before, heard the whole story before she was out +of her bedroom, and profound was his admiration for Dolly's "pluck."</p> + +<p>"'Twas just like a girl to do that! You never know what a girl will do. +Now I should 'a' just yelled."</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you go straight to some door or window, and pound, +instead of climbing into a tree?" said he to Dolly herself.</p> + +<p>"I think I thought of it," said Dolly, "but I couldn't be sure but +the thieves had got there, and I wanted to get right round to uncle's +window as still as I could, and, too, I knew I couldn't knock loud +enough to wake anybody sound asleep, and besides—well, I don't know +just how it was."</p> + +<p>"But what made you think about the singing, Dolly? that was the very +queerest of all," he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Dolly, "unless 'twas the wolf story. You know, +Ned, when the man was followed by wolves he climbed up on a roof, and +because the roof was low, and he was afraid they might climb up too, +if they were very hungry, he played to them on his violin to entertain +them, and they sat round and listened till somebody came and scared +them off. They were just charmed, you see, and p'raps I thought I could +charm the thieves. At any rate I didn't think much about it—I just did +it."</p> + +<p>"What did you sing, anyway?" asked Ned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was the queerest!" replied Dolly. "I couldn't think of +anything but just this fairy song. Nurse Lely taught it to me," and she +sprang up and went dancing up and down the hall (for they were in the +dancing-hall, the tables having been removed) singing:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"<i>Oh, dance, dance as the fairies dance,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The fairies dance, the fairies dance;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Oh, dance, dance as the fairies dance,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Trip-trip in the magic ring.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"<i>Oh, sleep, sleep as the fairies sleep,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The fairies sleep, the fairies sleep;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Oh, sleep, sleep and the fairies sleep—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>In the cowslip's bell they swing.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"<i>Oh, fly, fly as the fairies fly,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>The fairies fly, the fairies fly;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Oh, fly, fly as the fairies fly</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>On the black bat's dusky wing.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And as she danced to and fro, keeping time to the rhythm, and gently +swaying like the cowslips' bells, and then flew up and down the hall +with her arms beating the air like wings, Ned found it difficult to +give full expression to his delight.</p> + +<p>"Did you really do all that—the dancing and flying, I mean—up in the +tree?"</p> + +<p>"What I could; but I had to hold on with one hand, you know."</p> + +<p>"Say, let me see you do it up there some time, will you?" Ned asked.</p> + +<p>"P'raps so," Dolly replied.</p> + +<p>"But I say," continued Ned, after a moment's reflection, "what cowards +those fellows were, to be scared by a girl singing a fairy song in a +tree!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Ned," said his mother, who was sorting pies in the L chamber +which opened out of the hall, "sin is always cowardly. It is only +righteousness that is brave."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>ON THE MARSHES.</h3> + + +<p>About ten days after the convention the following letter tumbled out +of the mail-bag as it was shaken over the table within the tavern +bar which served as the Byfield post-office, the letters and papers +occupying the shelves whereon formerly wines and liquors had been kept. +The letter was postmarked Boston, and directed to Mrs. Park. It was as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sister Anna</span>,—When we sent our Dolly to you for a +brief visit, we little thought it might lengthen into months if not +a year. We are going to Southern France, and I take it for granted, +even before asking, that you will take care of her during our absence. +As you know, my health has not been good for a long time, and Dr. +Bowditch insists upon a year in that climate, and so strenuously that +Malcolm has taken fright and has already engaged our passage in the +packet sailing on Saturday next. So there is not time even for the +briefest visit to Dolly; and perhaps it is for the best, after all. +Comfort her, my dear sister, with motherly comfort, as you know so +well how to do. Expect a passionate outbreak at first. Poor child! it +will be hard for her, as it is for us. In a couple of days you may +expect her trunks.</p> + +<p>"I need not assure you again how great a comfort it will be for us, +when the wide Atlantic is between, that she is with you and Harry. +Love to him and to your manly little Ned. Excuse the brevity of this, +for time presses.</p> + +<p>"I enclose a letter for Dolly.</p> + +<p class="ph3">"Your affectionate sister,</p> + +<p class="ph3">"<span class="smcap">Helen Winslow</span>.</p> + +<p>"P. S.—I forgot to say that if we remain over the summer we shall +most probably send for Dolly to come over with the Grays, who sail the +last of May."</p> +</div> + +<p>Having read her letter, Mrs. Park went in search of Dolly, whom she +found with Ned in the kitchen, superintending the preparations for the +annual salt-haying. Countless loaves of bread, bushels of dough-nuts, a +boiled ham, and chunks of pink saltpetred beef, were being packed into +boxes and baskets.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ned, I wish we could go!" Dolly was saying, just as Mrs. Park +entered. Catching sight of the letter, she came eagerly forward. "Is it +from papa?" she asked, "and is he coming?"</p> + +<p>"It is a letter for you, my dear," was the reply. Dolly tore it open +impetuously and devoured the contents with a glance. Then, with a +passionate cry, she threw it upon the floor and ran out of the room.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, mother?" asked Uncle Harry, who was in the kitchen, +fitting a scythe to its snath.</p> + +<p>"Malcolm and Helen sail on Saturday for Europe," was the reply. "It's +a sudden plan, and there's no time to see Dolly. Helen hinted at +an outburst. Poor child! it's hard for her, and I wish we could do +something to divert her mind for a time."</p> + +<p>"Take her salt-hayin'," suggested Thankful, who was trying to coax a +big cheese into a bag much too small for it. "She was jest a-wishin' +she c'd go. That would divart her if anything can."</p> + +<p>"So it would! I wish we might manage it," said Mrs. Park, looking +doubtfully at her husband.</p> + +<p>"Nothing easier," replied Mr. Park, after a pause, during which he had +been critically surveying his snath with one eye, while he considered +the question of salt-haying as a diversion for Dolly. "I guess we can +manage it. A change 'll do you good; an' there's the old Marchant House +close to the marsh" (he pronounced it "ma'sh"), "and if we take a few +fixings it'll be tolerably comfortable. Thankful will send things +cooked, as she always does, and we can depend on Skipper Joe for +extras."</p> + +<p>So it was arranged, and then Mrs. Park said, "Now I'll go and +find Dolly, or perhaps, Ned, you had better go. Tell her about the +salt-haying, and comfort her as well as you can."</p> + +<p>Ned, nothing loath, and feeling great confidence in his powers as +comforter, especially when backed by anything so alluring as a stay +by the salt marsh, after some search found her on the shady side of +the great hay-rick. She had cried out her grief and was lying on the +ground, with eyes shut, so at first he thought she was asleep. But as +he drew near she opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dolly, I'm no end sorry!" Ned hastened to say. "But father says we +can go salt-haying, and mother's going, an' it'll be bully! There!" he +added, penitently, "I promised mother I'd never say that word again. A +feller must say something or burst. But I've promised, you know. Just +stop me, will you, Dolly, when you see it coming? And I say, wouldn't +it be first-rate 'f we could ride down in the hay-cart? But I s'pose we +shall have to go in the carry-all. But I'll drive, anyhow; father 'll +let me; an' you shall sit on the front seat, Dolly." And Ned paused, +feeling that he had presented a succession of joys enough to brighten +the most hopeless grief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall like that!" said Dolly. "And now," looking a little +ashamed, "I'll go and get my letter. I wonder what Aunt Anna 'll think +of me, throwing it down in that fashion! Mamma is used to my rages."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she won't mind," said Ned. "She's used t' me. Mothers don't mind, +you know. I guess they're all a good deal alike, anyway. And I think +you're first-rate, Dolly. I always hated t' have girls 'round before; +but I like you. You ain't afraid of anything—don't squeal when you see +a snake or a spider; and I don't b'lieve you'd mind being tipped over +in a boat an' getting all mud."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Dolly, brightening more and more under these healing +ministrations, "I should like that—I <i>know</i> I should like that! Papa +says I'm just like him when he was a boy. I just revel in dirt."</p> + +<p>They went back to the house, and Dolly picked up her letter, while +Thankful drew a flaky apple turnover from the oven.</p> + +<p>"Here's somethin' you'll like, I know," she said, offering it to Dolly +on the wooden shovel with which she had taken it from the hot brick +floor of the oven. Thankful had great faith in the efficacy of "good +victuals" for the healing of ordinary wounds of the spirit.</p> + +<p>Then Dolly found Aunt Anna, and apologized for her rage; and Aunt Anna +took her into her motherly arms, and they had a comfortable talk.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little girl, Aunt Anna," said Dolly, "I used to fly into +such rages! When I was a baby, mamma says, just a two-year-old baby, I +used to throw myself down straight and stiff, and knock my curly head +hard on the floor, when I was mad. Wasn't it funny? I don't do that +now, of course, and I thought I was getting the better of it;" and she +looked somewhat doubtfully at Aunt Anna.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure you have every reason to be encouraged," said Aunt +Anna, cheerfully. "Throwing down your letter was a decided advance +upon throwing yourself down and knocking your head against the floor;" +and she laughed, and Dolly with her. "Well, well, Dolly, we all have +our battles to fight, and here's one motto I have found of great +use—'There's no lock but Patience has the key.'"</p> + +<p>The old Marchant House stood close by the marshes, not another house +within a mile in any direction, although by climbing up to the top +of a range of grass-grown hills hard by you might see the spires of +Dukesborough far away to the south-east. The house was a weather-beaten +structure of one story, spreading itself generously over the ground, +and in it lived, the year round, an old sailor known as Skipper Joe.</p> + +<p>Skipper Joe was his own house-keeper and cook. In this latter capacity +he had served on board ship at different times, and could make capital +slapjacks and duff, with other delicacies known to sailors. Every year +his house was opened to the hands who came salt-haying, and he fried +their fish, compounded relishing chowders, and made their coffee, for +which he had a delicious and secret recipe learned from a French cook.</p> + +<p>He had once been to the Banks of Newfoundland in command of a fishing +schooner, and had thus won his title of skipper. Like all old sailors, +he had a fund of stories literally true, although to landsmen they +sounded like romances, which he, sailor-like, was fond of telling to +any chance listener. After his long and lonely winter, varied only by +an occasional trip to Dukesborough, the coming of summer, which brought +not only the salt-haymakers but, later on, the sportsmen for game and +fish, was thrice welcome. To all these his old time-gray house opened +wide its doors, and not infrequently every cranny was filled.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the day upon which the salt-haying party from Park's +tavern arrived, he might have been seen sitting in one corner of the +ample fireplace, in which a wood fire, rendered desirable by the chilly +neighborhood of the sea, burned cheerfully, lighting up the dingy +wainscoted old kitchen till it glowed like the heart of a damask rose.</p> + +<p>In the opposite corner, in an old arm-chair that comfortably held the +two, sat Dolly and Ned, listening in open-eyed wonder as Skipper Joe +poured out a ceaseless tide of story a deal more fascinating than the +"Arabian Nights," and only to be equalled by the thrilling narrative of +"Robinson Crusoe," to which it bore a certain resemblance.</p> + +<p>"It was in th' autumn of 18—," he was saying, "'n I'd jest shipped on +th' <i>Chandler Price</i>, Cap'n John R. Pease, bound on a whalin' v'y'ge. +We sailed out o' Edgartown harbor with a fair wind, that kept astern +of us till we run slap inter th' Doldrums, where th' <i>Chandler Price</i> +wallered for ten days, more or less, pitch a-stewin' out o' her at +ev'ry seam, sea like blue ile, an' th' whole air as thick an' steamy as +Nancy Blake's kitchen on a washin'-day.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, tiresome 'nough 'twas haulin' 'n bracin', 'n tryin' t' ketch +ev'ry little han'ful o' wind, th' sun a-blazin' down 'n makin' th' men +sweat like porpuses, 'n th' rails 'n yards squirmin', as 'twere, in th' +heat. As I said, this kep' up for ten days, more or less, 'n we lay t' +th' nor'ards o' th' Line, waitin' 'n waitin', 'n one day pooty much +like another, 'n th' Southern Cross a-hangin' jest above th' h'rizon at +night. Ah!"—and Skipper Joe took his pipe out of his mouth, with a nod +to Dolly, whose hazel eyes had darkened and brightened as she listened +to his sailor-talk—"them stars beat your eyes, my little lass. It +makes a man feel kind o' queer, a sailor-lad who b'lieves 'n them +things, t' see that cross a-hangin' ther' night a'ter night.</p> + +<p>"'N the sharks kep' round, jest as the pesky critters will, hopin', +I reckon, that we'd rot a hole 'n th' bottom o' th' <i>Chandler +Price</i> 'n drop through inter their jaws. But they were destined +t' disapp'intment, for all 't once come a bust o' wind from the +nor'-east that sent us spinnin', all sails set, with a screechin' wind +astern, straight f' th' whalin'-grounds. Wa'al, we were destined t' +disapp'intment tew, 'n 'twas many a long day before we set eyes on +them whalin'-grounds, an' this was how 'twas."</p> + +<p>Here Skipper Joe paused to empty the ashes from his pipe and to refill +it, settling back at last into his roundabout chair with the air of a +man who has a congenial piece of work to do and means to do it.</p> + +<p>He was a short, fat man, with a face round and jolly as the full moon, +which was completely encircled with a growth of gray, stubbly beard +and hair like a halo. He looked around upon his audience beamingly. +Several of the men, to whom his stories were as familiar as their A +B C's, and to one or two of them perhaps more so, were nodding and +snoring outright. The remainder, to whom, as to Dolly and Ned, they +had the charm of freshness, were waiting patiently for him to take up +the thread of his narrative, having meanwhile made use of the break to +refill their pipes also.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, as I was a-sayin', we were destined t' disapp'intment," he +resumed, repeating the sonorous phrase with evident relish. "For one +mornin', what did th' man at th' lookout spy but a piece o' spar +driftin', 'n another 'n another, an' planks 'n ropes 'n casks, 'n +then we knew ther' must 'a be'n a wreck, tho' ther' wa'n't nothin' +put down nowheres on the chart round about there f'r anybody t' get +wrecked on. An' so we began cruisin' f'r land, f'r Cap'n Pease wa'n't +th' man t' leave a perishin' feller-critter, t' say nothin' 'bout a +feller-seaman, 'n we cruised 'n cruised f'r six day 'thout seein' signs +o' land, only this drift which stuck close t' th' <i>Chandler Price</i> with +a kind o' feller-feelin' as 'twere.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, by that time the crew nat'rally began t' get uneasy thinkin' +o' th' time lost an' their wage, an' so th' cap'n finally said, +C'lumbus-like, 'f land wa'n't sighted <i>that</i> day he'd give it up 'n +steer f'r th' whalin'-ground. Wa'al, 'twa'n't sighted, 'n that night +th' <i>Chandler Price</i> was headed ag'in for th' whalin'-ground, 'n th' +cap'n he went off t' his bunk ruther down 'n th' mouth; an' now, +mates," and here Skipper Joe took his pipe from his mouth, and, laying +it on the jamb of the fireplace, looked solemnly from one to another, +"comes th' queerest part o' my yarn. Cap'n Pease was a prayin' man—he +<i>b'lieved</i> in prayer; an' long a'ter this he told a friend o' hisn +that a'ter he'd turned in he couldn't sleep f'r thinkin' o' them poor +shipwrecked critters, an' so he jest prayed t' th' Lord that 'f they +were alive he'd jest d'rect him which way t' steer, 'n he did; f'r +somewhere out o' th' night 'n th' dark there come a voice sayin', +'Steer sou'-by-west,' 'n the cap'n, 'bedient like Paul t' th' heavenly +vision, jumped out o' his bunk 'n rushed on deck, 'thout stoppin' t' +put on his clothes, 'n shouted t' th' man at th' wheel, 'Head her +sou'-by-west!' 'n th' steersman he said nothin', but jest kind o' +stared 't th' old man, thinkin' he was crazy-like, 'n walkin' 'n his +sleep; 'n then th' cap'n he jest shouts ag'in, 'Head her sou'-by-west,' +'n then he down with th' helm 'n steered sou'-by-west, 'n next mornin' +at break o' day I'm jiggered 'f ther' wa'n't land a-lyin' sou'-by-west, +as pooty a little coral island 's y' ever see, covered with cocoa-nut +trees, 'n a white shirt a-flyin' from th' tallest one—leastways we +l'arned 'twas a white shirt a'terwards, tho' 't looked 's much like a +white swab 's anything then.</p> + +<p>"The cap'n, a-smilin' kind o' ser'ous, thinkin' 'bout the voice I +reckon, looked thro' his glass 'n see a boy runnin' 'long th' beach t' +th' other side o' th' island, 'n pooty soon he come ag'in with a dozen +'n more white men, all a-shoutin' 'n wavin' their hands, 'n d'rectin' +us 'round th' other side o' th' island, where ther' was an openin' 'n +th' reef. 'N, mates, I've seen men 'n all succumstances o' grief 'n +joy, but I never see men so crazy with joy 's them men. They laughed 'n +they hugged us when we come ashore, 'n they cried like babies. 'N no +wonder, when y' come t' think on't, f'r th' island was swarmin' with +savages, 'n they'd divided th' men round, each fam'ly takin' care o' +so many, 'n fed 'em on raw fish 'n cocoa-nuts. But th' cocoa-nuts was +givin' out 'n pervisions gittin' scurse, 'n so th' savage critters had +drawn lots 'mong 'em two 'r three times t' see which they'd kill. But +ev'ry time the women—'n women, mates, 're jest alike th' world over, +alw'ys pitiful—th' women had throwed themselves between th' savages 'n +th' men, 'n begged f'r their lives, 'n so they'd spared 'em. But the +very next day a part o' 'em <i>were</i> t' be killed anyhow, f'r the savages +said they couldn't stand it any longer; so we was jest 'n th' nick o' +time, 's 'twere.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, th' savage critters took advantage o' our necess'ties, 's +civ'lized men will sometimes, 'n made the cap'n pay a good round sum +f'r th' poor fellers. It took all the cap'n's tradin' stuff, tobacker +'n sech, 'n a good part o' the ship stores, t' ransom 'em, 'n then we +steered straight f'r th' S'ciety Islands, f'r th' cap'n thought he'd +find vessels there short o' hands, 'n then he could divide th' poor +fellers among 'em, 'n so give us more sea-room aboard the <i>Chandler +Price</i>; but 'twa'n't t' be, 'n we kep' most o' them t' th' end o' th' +v'y'ge. That resc'e cost Cap'n Pease two thousand dollars out o' his +own pocket, 'n he never got a red cent of it back. But I reckon, mates, +that when a man sets sail f'r his final port, the most val'able cargo +he c'n carry 's a good deed like that."</p> + +<p>Here Skipper Joe's narrative ended. He dropped his head upon his breast +and fell into a brown study. The fire burned low. It was late, and Ned +went off to his bed, which consisted of a ship's hammock hung in the +garret, and Dolly to hers, which was a sack of clean straw spread upon +a cot in a closet-like room opening off Mrs. Park's bedroom; and they +were both shortly asleep, lulled by the booming of the surf on the +beach not far away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE HOME OF WEBSTER.</h3> + + +<p>The days that followed were halcyon days to Ned and Dolly. Skipper Joe +supplied them with an old punt to paddle about in; and as Mrs. Park +insisted upon Dolly's learning to swim, if she and Ned were going about +in a boat by themselves, Skipper Joe volunteered to teach her with +Ned's help; for Ned was a perfect duck in the water, and could not have +been a better swimmer even if he had had a Polynesian mother who had +tossed him into the water when a baby, and so taught him to swim once +for all by making him swim for his life.</p> + +<p>Ned was slightly offended because his mother thought it best for +Skipper Joe to superintend Dolly's swimming lessons.</p> + +<p>"Just as if I couldn't teach Dolly to swim, mother! Just look here!" +and he turned a somersault into the water and swam off, floating, +plashing, leaping, and making as much commotion as a school of +gambolling blue-fish.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are a fine swimmer, Ned," said his mother, consolingly; +"but I shall feel safer about Dolly to have two with her when she is +learning."</p> + +<p>Dolly proved to be an apt pupil, and a very few lessons gave her +confidence in her own powers; and when Mrs. Park saw her going +through the water, looking in her flannel bathing-dress like a blue, +brown-haired mermaid fresh from the "caverns of the deep," and as much +at home, apparently, as the most accomplished mermaid could possibly +be, she bade good-by to all anxiety, and saw with perfect equanimity +the two paddle away day after day in the old punt, to which they had +given the somewhat incongruous name of the <i>Daisy</i>.</p> + +<p>The <i>Daisy</i> was a shallow, flat-bottomed boat, looking like nothing +so much as a dripping-pan with one end pointed. But these two could +not have got more fun out of her if she had been a thorough-rigged, +well-victualled steam-yacht; not so much, in fact, for a steam-yacht +could never have penetrated the narrow inlets and tiny streams that +threaded these marshes like net-work.</p> + +<p>So Dolly and Ned paddled about in great content, spearing crabs, +catching cunners, dredging for shell-fish and sea-weed; sometimes +sitting upon the edge of the <i>Daisy</i>, with their feet in the water, and +disembarking now and then, when driven by hunger, to get up a private +clam-bake. This was before the epoch of the Rhode Island clam-bake +with which so many of us are familiar. But Dolly and Ned had read +that delightful old book, "Robin's Journal among the Arabs," and knew +the value of hot stones; so, with drift-wood they made a fire in a +hole in the sand and heated their stones therein; then packed their +clams and covered them with sea-weed, if not scientifically, yet with +satisfactory results. And years after, when the grown-up Ned and Dolly +did eat for the first time a real Rhode Island clam-bake, Ned paused +as he was conveying his first clam to his mouth, and smiling roguishly +said, "D' you remember, Dolly, our clam-bakes on the Marshfield +'ma'shes?'"</p> + +<p>One day a couple of men came down from inland with a cart for menhaden. +These are small fish that are often driven up into shallow water by +sharks. Dolly watched the men as they hauled them in by the hundreds.</p> + +<p>"Are they to eat?" she ventured to ask.</p> + +<p>"Bless y'r soul, no," was the grinning reply. "We use 'em f'r manure. +They're chock-full o' ile—tew greasy t' eat."</p> + +<p>"The squire told 'em 'bout 'em. <i>They'd</i> never 'a found out," said +Skipper Joe, contemptuously. (Dolly had learned by this time that the +"squire" was Daniel Webster, whose farm lay near the marshes.) "They're +fust-rate t' enrich the sile," he continued; "but the wust o' 'em is, +they breed a swarm o' pesky green flies, 'n the folks call 'em 'Webster +flies.' He [meaning Webster] is a master-hand f'r knowin' everything. +Knows 'bout everything that's wuth knowin', I reckon."</p> + +<p>It was one of these men who told Dolly the name of a queer-looking +fish she saw one day prowling about in the shallow water, stirring up +other tiny fish and swallowing them. It had a pair of wing-like fins +attached just below its big head, and it ran about, apparently, on +something that looked like orange-colored claws.</p> + +<p>"Them?" said the man; "them's grunters; 'n some folks calls 'em +sea-robins, 'n some Cape Cod ministers."</p> + +<p>Dolly thought he was poking fun at her, though he spoke with the utmost +gravity, but Skipper Joe assured her he was not.</p> + +<p>"When you catch 'em they grunt," explained Skipper Joe, "'n that's why +they call 'em grunters; 'n it's easy 'nough t' see why some folks call +'em sea-robins; but <i>why</i> they're called Cape Cod ministers 's more 'n +I know. Some folks eat 'em, but some folks c'n eat anything," he added.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the haymakers cut the salt grass and carried it in gundalows +to the high lands to be cured. These gundalows were clumsy boats or +barges, as unlike the graceful gondola in appearance as in name. Dolly +and Ned occasionally took a sail in one of these gundalows on top of +the salt grass, from which expedition they always went back with fresh +pleasure to their beloved dripping-pan of a <i>Daisy</i>.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Park improved this bit of leisure out of her busy life with +reading and sketching, and so the still sunny, early September days +drifted by all too swiftly; and just two days before the end of the +haying season an adventure which seemed a fitting close to this golden +period, this cluster of red-letter days, befell our hero and heroine.</p> + +<p>These marshes consisted in part of vast level plains, over which the +damp sea-breezes swept and the shrieking sea-gulls flew to and fro. +These salt plains were inhabited by the kingfisher, the quawk, and the +heron. The quawk, a bird with slender yellow legs and a long beak, +fished at low tide for minnows and tiny crabs. He scarcely moved as the +<i>Daisy</i> paddled noisily by, only looking up with reproach in his fishy +eyes as the waves made by the passing boat swept out of his reach some +dainty bit of garbage.</p> + +<p>These plains were varied with mounds, the work of the ocean in past +ages, when these marshes were sandy beaches and fierce winds piled the +sand in heaps. These heaps gradually hardened, and were held together +by the roots of marine plants, and so in time became round, grassy +hills. And while it might seem almost impossible for any one to be lost +in the intricacies of the small streams which threaded these marshes, +it was, after all, the easiest thing in the world, for they really +formed a labyrinth as bewildering as the famous one of Crete. The tide +ebbed and flowed in these narrow streams, and not a few times the +<i>Daisy</i> was stranded on a muddy bottom and had to wait for the incoming +tide. At such times, however, Mrs. Park felt no anxiety at their +prolonged absence, for, as 'Zekle sensibly remarked, "Nobody c'd git +drownded where there wa'n't no water."</p> + +<p>Well, as I was saying, two days before the time fixed for their return +to Byfield, Dolly and Ned went off after an early dinner for a row—a +long afternoon row. "We must make the most of the time now, Dolly," +said Ned, as they moved slowly along, Ned sculling, "for we shall have +to go away day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"How I wish we could take the <i>Daisy</i> with us!" said Dolly, patting the +dingy old punt affectionately.</p> + +<p>"'Twould be no good if we did," replied Ned. "Mother wouldn't let us +go on the pond, an' she's too big for the brook. I say, Dolly, I'll +make a raft when we get back. A raft 'll sail in the brook first-rate, +for I've tried it. I sailed down once 'most to the saw-mill, an' came +mighty near going over the dam. 'Most wish I had."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's an eel!" shrieked Dolly, and seizing the spear which they +always carried in the boat, she made a lunge, lost her balance, and +went over into the tide mud, much to the discomfiture of the eel, which +squirmed off in company with a dozen spider-crabs, that, like itself, +were feeding on a dead quawk. It was not an unusual thing to happen +to Dolly, and Ned promptly helped her back into the boat, wiped off +the mud with his pocket-handkerchief, and then, in an absent-minded +fit, wiped his perspiring face on the same. Dolly's hat had tumbled +off, and a fresh layer of mud was added to the accumulations of the +previous ten days. The hat was originally white straw, trimmed with a +pink ribbon, but the combined influences of sea-air and water, sun and +mud, had sadly marred its pristine splendor. Dolly herself was as brown +as a Marshpee Indian, and the clothes of the two were interesting as +geological specimens with their daily deposits of varied dirt. Truly, +an exceedingly grimy but very happy pair they looked.</p> + +<p>As they sculled they came within view of the sea. It was of a pale +blue, a tint so exquisite that Ned dropped his oar and let the <i>Daisy</i> +drift while they looked. The blue water seemed a long way off, and just +above the water-line, silhouetted against the silvery horizon, a ship +sailed slowly along with every sail set, even to the graceful sky-sails.</p> + +<p>"Look, look, Ned!" exclaimed Dolly. "It sails in the air! What is it? +Is it the <i>Flying Dutchman</i>? Is it a ghost of a ship?"</p> + +<p>"I think," replied Ned, slowly, "it must be a mirage. I've heard +Skipper Joe talk about 'em, and don't you remember Robins saw 'em in +the desert?—not ships, but palms and springs, where there weren't no +palms or springs. It's only a reflection, that's what it is. The real +ship!—look quick, Dolly!" and Dolly, following the direction of Ned's +finger, saw suspended high up in the air a big square-rigged vessel, +and just above it another exactly like it, only inverted, the top-masts +of the one touching the top-masts of the other.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's like the enchanted horse in the 'Arabian Nights!' only it +would be ever so much nicer to sail than to ride," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"I think I'd rather sail in the <i>Daisy</i>," said Ned, picking up his oar; +and then they waited till the mirage had faded, and nothing was to be +seen but the pale-blue sea and the silvery horizon.</p> + +<p>Fleetest-footed of all those perfect days seemed this one, and before +they were aware the sun was low in the west and it was time to go +home. But when they began to take their bearings, and tried to decide +in which direction the old Marchant House lay, they were completely +puzzled. Ned went up on a mound to look, but he could see nothing save +what appeared to be an endless reach of similar mounds. They hallooed, +but nothing replied. Only the screams of the sea-gulls could be heard, +and even these grew faint as the sun sank and they flew swiftly past to +their nesting-place on some distant island. The two looked blankly at +each other.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is a jolly go!" was Ned's remark.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we shall have to stay all night on the marsh?" asked +Dolly, trying to look anxious, but really thinking it would not be such +a bad thing, after all.</p> + +<p>"It looks like it," replied Ned, "unless Skipper Joe finds us: an' I +don't see how he can find us any better than we can find him."</p> + +<p>"The sand is nice and soft, and it won't hurt our clothes to sleep on +it," said Dolly, looking herself over critically.</p> + +<p>"And I say, Dolly," put in Ned, "I can turn the <i>Daisy</i> over you bottom +side up, to keep you warm, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wouldn't that be fun!" exclaimed Dolly, clapping her hands, brown +with tan and grimy with the experiences of the day.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't her destiny to spend the night on the "ma'sh," with +the <i>Daisy</i> for a blanket. Even while they were talking they heard +footsteps. A hat was seen rising over a sand-hill near by—a big +slouched hat—and this was followed by a tall man bearing a gun on his +shoulder, and carrying a pouch of game at his side, while an English +pointer followed close by his heels.</p> + +<p>At the same instant Dolly whispered, "It's the man with the head like +the State-house dome;" and Ned, in a still more subdued tone with a +shade of awe in it, "Halloo, Dolly, it's Daniel Webster!" Webster +stopped as he caught sight of the pair. It was a queer group to +come upon at dusk in these lonely marshes—the old punt, the tall, +frank-faced, blue-eyed boy, the slender, girlish figure, with the +clustering brown hair, nut-brown cheeks, and hazel eyes—queer but +picturesque, flushed with the rosy hues of the after-glow.</p> + +<p>Webster looked an instant and then spoke. "Good-evening," he said. "May +I ask who you are, and can I do anything for you? Have you lost your +way?"</p> + +<p>"I am Edward Park, sir," replied Ned, manfully, "and this is my cousin, +Dorothea Winslow."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"—and a sunny smile beamed forth from the cavernous black +eyes—"then you are the son of my friend Park, of Byfield, and +this"—turning to Dolly, and raising his old slouched hat with the +same graceful deference he might have shown to a Russian princess or +an English court lady—"and this is the little lady who attended our +convention, and who so bravely frightened off the thieves. But may I +ask how you chance to be here?"</p> + +<p>"We've got lost," replied Ned. "We're at the old Marchant House with my +father and mother and the haymakers. Dolly and I are out with the boat. +We've been out every day, but we never got lost before. Can you tell us +which way to go and how far it is?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's a long way to the old Marchant House, too far for you +to go at this late hour, and I doubt, with the evening coming on, if +you could find it. The best thing for you to do will be to leave your +boat here and go home with me. My house is not far, and I will send a +man to Mrs. Park to let her know you are safe. Then you shall spend +the night with me, and I count myself happy to have the opportunity of +entertaining the son and niece of my old friend," he added, with that +cordial hospitality which always put every one, old and young, at their +ease.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied Ned, with a shade of hesitation in his voice. He +was not quite sure it was the thing to do, but what else could he do? +And as to Dolly, she glanced distressfully at her soiled frock, and was +painfully conscious of her battered hat. But Webster did not wait.</p> + +<p>"This is the way," he said, walking on, "and, as I said, it is only a +short distance."</p> + +<p>As they walked away, Dolly turned to look at the <i>Daisy</i>, where she lay +high and dry, as the tide had left her while they were trying to find +the direction of the Marchant House. It was like saying "farewell" to +an old friend, for Dolly had a presentiment that she would never see +the <i>Daisy</i> again.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, dear old <i>Daisy</i>," she whispered to herself, as she hurried +on after the two, who had got in advance of her while she lingered.</p> + +<p>They entered the house by a side door, and Dolly was at once consigned +to a maid, who took her to a bedroom and assisted her in her toilet. +She bathed her face and hands, brushed out her tangled curls into a +fluffy mass of ringlets, and after having her shoes brushed and her +dusty frock well shaken, she contemplated with much satisfaction her +renovated figure in the tall pier-glass which enabled her to see +herself from top to toe. The fresh lace in her frock, which Mrs. Park +always insisted should go in every morning, whether Dolly was to pass +the day in the parlor or in the woods, gave a lady-like finish to her +dress.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I'll do, after all," she said to herself, with a sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>Ned had passed through very much the same experience in the hands of +the personal attendant of his host, and the two, as they met in the +parlor, exchanged smiles of congratulation.</p> + +<p>"You look first-rate," whispered Ned to Dolly, as they bent their heads +together above a group of Japanese figures in ivory. "How did you +manage it? girls have such a knack!"</p> + +<p>"I don't look a bit nicer than you," replied Dolly. "It must be the +brushing."</p> + +<p>"And the soap and water," added Ned, and then they followed their host +out to dinner.</p> + +<p>The dining-room was long and low-ceiled, with a circular sideboard of +mahogany inlaid with holly. There were a few guests besides the family. +Webster was very merry all through dinner. He had had a good day's +shooting, and gave the history of his shots in detail, and told how +he had met with two salt-haymakers with whom he had conversed a short +time, and after he had turned away he heard one of them say, "Quite a +sensible old fellow, ain't he?" The speaker had evidently not known +him, and was struck by so much intelligence combined with such shabby +clothes. Ned tried to imagine what his surprise might be should he +ever learn that the "sensible old fellow" was the "great Webster."</p> + +<p>Just before helping to the joint of mutton which he had himself carved, +Webster looked inquiringly at Ned's right-hand neighbor, a young man +addressed as "Port."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>my</i> name is Leathers," said Port, promptly sending up his plate.</p> + +<p>"And so is mine," said his opposite neighbor, Jackson.</p> + +<p>Webster, catching Ned's look of surprise, laughed as heartily as a boy, +and then told the story which has since grown so familiar through his +biographies: how a family named Leathers, living in New Hampshire, for +some good office rendered to the town, were each to have a pound of +tobacco and a pint of rum by calling for them. The family was a very +large one, but at last, so great was the number of applicants for the +tobacco and rum, it was thought best to put the question, "Is your name +Leathers?" to each fresh applicant. The phrase had been adopted as a +favorite byword with the Webster family and their familiar guests.</p> + +<p>After dinner Ned and Dolly, with the younger guests, went through the +numerous rooms, looking at the choice bits of bric-à-brac and the +pictures on the walls. The Webster mansion was—we speak of it in the +past tense, as unhappily it was burned a few years ago—a rambling +house, put together piecemeal, the fine library having been built by +Webster and planned with the help of his daughter Julia. On the crowded +walls Dolly espied a silhouette portrait in a small plain frame. This +kind of portrait was made by cutting the outlines of the head and face +from paper, and framing the paper so cut over a bit of black silk. +These portraits were of an era preceding that of daguerreotypes and +photographs. Under this silhouette was written, "My dear Mother. D. W." +Dolly wondered a little that so plain and simple a portrait should have +a place among such fine paintings, not having yet learned that our most +valued possessions are often the portraits, however simple, of those +who have loved us.</p> + +<p>In the library a wood-fire burned in the open fireplace, and +through the window over the mantle Webster pointed out the ancient +burial-ground, or "God's acre," where, as he told them, Peregrine +White is buried—Peregrine White, the baby born on the <i>Mayflower</i>, +whose shivering little figure you may see to-day in the painting of +the Landing of the Pilgrims, in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth. There, too, +lies Edward Winslow, one of the early governors of Plymouth, "who is my +ancestor," said Dolly, with pardonable pride. Webster smiled upon her +as she said it, and said himself that "a noble ancestry was a better +inheritance than priceless gems." He told her that he had caused the +trees to be cut and trimmed so as to give him this view of the distant +burial-ground, which Dolly thought a queer thing to do, though of +course she did not say so.</p> + +<p>On either side the chimney hung life-size, full-length portraits of +Webster and Lord Ashburton. Lord Ashburton, one of the guests told +Dolly as he saw her looking at him attentively, was associated with +Webster in the defining of boundaries between Canada and the United +States, and Dolly "made a note of it," like Captain Cuttle, and +secretly resolved to read more history.</p> + +<p>That was a marvellous evening, one never to be forgotten by our Dolly +and Ned. The firelight played over the walls of the spacious library, +making fantastic shadows, while the guests listened to the voice which +had held spellbound so many thousands. Webster talked a good deal about +the older English writers with one of his guests, a distinguished +literary gentleman, and recited in his wonderful voice almost the whole +of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village;" and Dolly dates from that evening +a love for those older writers which has proved a solace under many +adverse circumstances.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Webster, the next morning after they had breakfasted, +"we'll go out to the barn and look at the cattle."</p> + +<p>The night before, what with the dusk and the embarrassment of their +arrival, Dolly and Ned had scarcely noticed the outside of the house. +As they stepped out into the gravelled walk, and looked about them, +it seemed very pleasant and home-like in the morning sunlight, with +its many gables and cosey verandas. At one corner of the house stood a +magnificent elm of great girth and height, whose pendent branches swept +the green turf. In its shade was a rustic chair, a favorite seat of +Webster's.</p> + +<p>Dolly uttered a cry of delight as they entered the breezy, hay-scented +barn, and Webster turned with a smile of pleasure as he heard her.</p> + +<p>"So you like barns and cattle as well as I do," he said, and Dolly +blushed and dimpled to be placed in the same category with so +distinguished a man, if it were only as a lover of cattle.</p> + +<p>The beautiful cattle, with their soft, beseeching eyes and sleek +coats, were standing patiently in their stalls. (The Greeks knew what +beautiful eyes were, and they called their great goddess the ox-eyed +Juno.) As Webster pulled down from the mows handfuls of succulent +corn-fodder and fed them, calling attention to their fine points, he +said to Ned, humorously, "As I tell Fletcher, they are the best of +company, a good deal better than any I find in the Senate Chamber." And +any one could see that he had a genuine love for the fine creatures.</p> + +<p>They lingered long in the barn, for the master seemed loath to go, +although the young Jackson and Port waxed impatient to be gone on their +fishing trip to Cut River, for which the boat on the pond in the rear +of the house was being got ready. But Webster had to take a look at +his hens, and count the eggs laid during the morning. At last they went +out again into the sunshine, and Webster pointed out to Dolly the hill +where his favorite horses were buried—"with all the honors of war," +he said, "standing upright, with halters and shoes on." One of these +horses was named "Wilmot Proviso."</p> + +<p>When word had been sent to Mrs. Park of the whereabouts of Dolly and +Ned, a message had also been added that they would be returned the next +morning. So in due time the barouche, with its span of black horses, +was brought to the door, and the last glimpse of Webster, as they went +down the drive, showed him in the act of taking a flying leap over the +fence in competition with the young Port.</p> + +<p>To this charming adventure there was just one drawback. As she had +feared, Dolly never saw the <i>Daisy</i> again; but a water-color of it, +executed at a later day from memory, now hangs in her cosey of coseys.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE LITTLE MADAM.</h3> + + +<p>"How is the Little Madam?" Dolly had heard Skipper Joe ask of Mrs. Park +one day when they were at the Marchant House.</p> + +<p>"She's as well and happy as usual," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Jest the same here, I s'pose," he continued, touching his forehead +significantly.</p> + +<p>"Just the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's queer—queer," said Skipper Joe, meditatively. "Don't never +sense nothin' o' what's happened. It's queer—dum queer."</p> + +<p>So when Dolly heard one morning a buzzing as though a swarm of +honey-bees had taken possession of the dancing-hall, and opening the +door and peeping in saw a little woman spinning off in the south-east +corner who looked exactly like a picture, just as though she might have +stepped that moment out of Grimm's fairy tales, she knew at once, by a +sort of intuition, that this was the Little Madam.</p> + +<p>This small woman was exceedingly small, short as well as slight; her +skin was dark, a clear, soft dark, and she had black, velvety eyes, +with long eyelashes, and small hands and feet, smaller than Dolly's. +She wore over her black hair a kind of mantle of white muslin, which +framed her face like a nun's coif, and was crossed upon her bosom. Her +scanty gown was white, too, a peculiarity which specially struck Dolly +in a latitude where white was reserved for church-going and other state +occasions.</p> + +<p>She was stepping briskly back and forth by the side of her +spinning-wheel, drawing out the long thread, and then with the reverse +motion of her wheel winding it upon the spindle back and forth, like +a true fairy godmother. The sunbeams fell athwart the wheel and the +reel and the tiny tripping figure, and it all did really look so much +like a picture that might dissolve any moment, like the mirage of the +Marshfield marshes, that Dolly did not venture to speak lest it might +vanish. The little woman seemed busy with happy thoughts, for she +smiled to herself as she crooned a song, the air of which was sweet, +but the words were foreign.</p> + +<p>Altogether, Dolly's curiosity was deeply excited; and as she softly +closed the door and ran down-stairs to find Ned, the first words she +said to him were,</p> + +<p>"Who is that little woman in the hall?"</p> + +<p>"The Little Madam," replied Ned, just as Dolly expected, and pegging +away on the kite he was making.</p> + +<p>"And who is the Little Madam?" queried Dolly; "and how did she +come—on a broom, or in a pumpkin-shell coach with mice for horses?"</p> + +<p>"Halloo! what's up?" exclaimed Ned, looking up.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd tell <i>who</i> the Little Madam is, and <i>where</i> she came +from, and all about her. I never knew a thing about her till this +minute, and where have you kept her hid?"</p> + +<p>"Hid!" ejaculated Ned, bewildered. "Why, she lives on Hemlock Island."</p> + +<p>"And <i>where</i>, for pity's sake, is Hemlock Island? Oh, Ned, Ned! I'm +dying with curiosity to know all about her, and do put up that old kite +and tell me—a good long yarn, like one of Skipper Joe's."</p> + +<p>Ned laughed good-naturedly. "I can spin my yarn and work on my kite +too, Dolly; and I do suppose she looks queer to you. But I'm used to +her, you know. I've known her almost ever since I've known anybody. +But there isn't much of a story. Only Skipper Joe picked her up at sea +somewhere, drifting round in an old boat or something, an' brought her +to mother; an' she's sort o' crazy—don't know who she is herself, nor +where she lived, nor what happened to her, nor anything. She likes to +be by herself, so father lets her live in his old house on Hemlock +Island; and she's learned to spin, and spins for folks, an' knits, an' +winters she lives here."</p> + +<p>"Not much of a story, Ned! I should think so, indeed! Why, she might be +a princess, a real princess. Picked up drifting in a boat—oh, it's +splendid! Say, Ned," said Dolly, coaxingly, "take me down to Hemlock +Island, will you?"</p> + +<p>"All right," replied Ned.</p> + +<p>The Little Madam did not dine with the family that day. Her dinner, +such as she liked—a potato salad, a glass of milk, and a custard—was +taken up to her by Thankful herself, who remarked as she walked off +with the tray, "She's a poor loony cretur', one o' them folks mentioned +in Scriptur', I reckon—them that's hungry, 'n sick, 'n in prison." +Thankful never waited upon people whom she considered able to wait upon +themselves, and seemed to consider an apology necessary for so doing.</p> + +<p>The early morning of the next day saw Dolly and Ned on their way +to Hemlock Island. There was a third person with them—I think we +may call him a person. The stage which brought Dolly's trunks from +Boston brought him also. He was walking along by Dolly's side, with +Dolly's hand upon his tawny head and a look of supreme content in his +intelligent eyes. This third person was a magnificent St. Bernard, +Dolly's playmate in her cradle and her faithful friend and servitor +ever since. He had fished her out of the frog-pond on the Common in her +later babyhood, into which she had fallen while Nora her nurse was just +a-speakin' with her friend, a neighboring coachman, and he had badly +bitten an old woman who attempted to kidnap her once upon a time when +she had wandered off down Joy Street.</p> + +<p>The road to Hemlock Island was a true by-way, a serpentine lane which +ran part of the way between high grassy banks overrun with wild vines +and flowering herbs like an English lane, and part of the way was +shaded by trees of hickory and pine. Why called Hemlock Island is a +mystery, unless it was because no hemlocks grew there; neither was it +an island: it was a promontory making out into Wintuxet Lake, and it +had a fine growth of wood, with extensive pasturage, where large herds +of cattle and flocks of sheep grazed through the summer.</p> + +<p>Around the enclosure wherein stood the Little Madam's dwelling a +hundred cattle were placidly feeding that day. The lane came to an end +in the Little Madam's front yard. The house was small, consisting of +one room, besides a bedroom and lean-to, and it was a perfect bower +of a nest, being entirely overgrown with woodbine, with the exception +of the windows and door, even to the chimney-top, from which a long +streamer waved like a ship's pennant. Morning-glories blossomed out +from the woodbine, and the Little Madam's love of flowers betrayed +itself in a perfect burst of bloom on either side of the path leading +from the gate to the door.</p> + +<p>The Little Madam was not the first exile, if exile she may be called, +who had found shelter in this quiet spot. To the west of her dwelling, +in the pasture, was an old well, around which the "Bouncing Bets," or +more politely speaking, the "French Pinks," ran riot, and hard by a +slight depression in the turf indicated the spot where once stood the +dwelling of an exiled family from Acadie. The family had planted a +garden there, and the place was and is known to this day as "the French +Garden." Perhaps Longfellow's Evangeline found a brief resting-place +here—who knows?</p> + +<p>As Dolly and Ned entered the wide-open door, a voice, a soft muffled +voice, said, "How do! how do! Shake hands!" and immediately the owner +of the voice, an imperial white Australian cockatoo, erected his +canary-colored crest, opened wide his wings, and uttered a loud, hoarse +cry.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't like Gaston—he's afraid of him, Dolly," said Ned.</p> + +<p>"Gaston, go out and lie down," said Dolly; and with an indignant look +at the cockatoo as the cause of his expulsion, Gaston walked out with +true canine dignity, and lay down on the door-step in the sun.</p> + +<p>"What a lovely, queer-looking place!" said Dolly, looking around. +The cockatoo had subsided, and from his perch was bowing graciously, +holding out his claw and saying, "Shake hands, shake hands."</p> + +<p>Ned took his claw, when again he shrieked, elevating his crest and +opening wide his wings. "He's showing off, now; he wants you to admire +him," said Ned.</p> + +<p>"Pretty cockatoo! pretty cockatoo!" laughed Dolly, and thereat he +sprang upon her wrist and bestowed a kiss, a true sibilant kiss, upon +her pouting lips, and before she could remonstrate he was back upon +his perch, chuckling audibly, and saying, "Pretty cockatoo! pretty +cockatoo! Kiss me, kiss me!"</p> + +<p>His second scream had brought in the Little Madam, somewhat flushed and +breathless, from her beehives.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is you, my good Ned, is it?" she said. "I feared the bad boy. +Bad boy tease my pretty cockatoo." She held out her hand and the bird +sprang upon it, making soft, cooing sounds the while, and caressing her +with his beak and wings.</p> + +<p>"Skipper Joe brought it to her, Dolly," said Ned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Skipper Joe; he my good friend," said the Little Madam. She did +not talk much, but looked smilingly from Ned to Dolly, and brought out +a plate of pink-cheeked peaches and purple grapes for them. She had a +bewildered, seeking look in her beautiful eyes, as though she might +be seeking for that lost life of hers, and Dolly became so absorbed +watching her as she sat with crossed hands, now smiling, now falling +into a reverie, that she quite forgot the peach she was eating. But +Ned, to whom the Little Madam was a more familiar object, ate the +fruit with boyish appetite, and emptied the plate.</p> + +<p>The room, which was an unusually large room,—as well it might be, +being the only one—had the same dainty characteristics as its +mistress. The Little Madam herself and the cockatoo gave to it a +foreign air. Boxes of sweet-scented flowers bloomed in the windows, +which drew the bees that buzzed in and out, and about the Little Madam +familiarly, lighting on her nun's coif. An immense gray, basket-like +fungus, which the Little Madam must have found in some of her wood +rambles, was nailed against the wall and filled with wild vines, which +grew thriftily in this apparently congenial atmosphere.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a secret understanding between this little lady +and what we human beings are pleased to call the dumb creation—the +birds, the insects, the beasts. But are they really <i>dumb</i>? Does not +each kind have a language which we in our ignorance cannot understand? +Did not Gaston speak when he roused from his sleep, walked up to the +Little Madam, and put his big tawny head under her little brown hand? +This was as plain as human speech. It said, "I trust you," and so Dolly +interpreted it.</p> + +<p>"See Ned!" she exclaimed, "Gaston never takes to strangers—he hates +to have them touch him; and there he is asking the Little Madam to pat +him."</p> + +<p>For days Dolly could not get the thought of her out of her mind.</p> + +<p>"She isn't really crazy, is she, Auntie?" she asked one day, returning +again to the exhaustless topic.</p> + +<p>"No," was Mrs. Park's reply. "She has simply forgotten everything up to +a certain time."</p> + +<p>"And what do you suppose made her, Auntie? Ned says Skipper Joe found +her drifting in a boat."</p> + +<p>"Yes; a ship on which Skipper Joe was first mate picked her up +somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Of course they could find out nothing +by her, because she remembers nothing. That was ten years ago. She has +learned to speak English tolerably well, and she never speaks anything +else, though she sings foreign songs which Skipper Joe says are +Portuguese. Skipper Joe brought her here to me. She is fond of being +out-of-doors, and used to wander off in summer-time, till your Uncle +Harry fitted up the old house for her. She seems very happy there."</p> + +<p>"But, Auntie, it must be very lonely down there," continued Dolly. +"Isn't she ever afraid?"</p> + +<p>"She is not like others, you must remember, Dolly; she does not know +what fear is. Though lately I have seen some signs of it, and I am a +little troubled about some things of which, if I tell you, Dolly, you +must not speak."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, indeed!" said Dolly, rapturously, charmed, as most of us are, +at the prospect of a secret being imparted to our keeping.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," continued Mrs. Park, "she is, or rather was, a Catholic, +and some ignorant people here have found it out and profess to look +upon her with horror. And some troublesome boys, who only want an +excuse for doing so, have been teasing her lately. That was what she +meant by 'bad boy.' We could stop the boys teasing her if it were not +for some older people who ought to know better."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed Dolly, indignantly. "What a mean, mean +thing to tease such a helpless little woman!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Dolly," replied Mrs. Park, with that wisdom we gain by +experience, "that is the very reason they tease her, because she is +helpless. Cowards do not dare to touch those who are able to defend +themselves," and Dolly was silent for some moments.</p> + +<p>"Well, she has some good friends any way," she said at last—"you and +Uncle and Skipper Joe and Thankful."</p> + +<p>"And Thankful is a host in herself," replied Mrs. Park, smiling; "and +you must watch over her too, Dolly. Go and see her often; she seems to +have taken a great liking to you and Gaston."</p> + +<p>And Dolly was proud of the trust reposed in her.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>SKATTA.</h3> + + +<p>Among the contents of the trunks sent down to Dolly from Boston was a +copy of "Ivanhoe," bound in drab boards. Now "Robin's Journal among +the Arabs" was bound in dingy leather. So Ned knew from experience +that very good things may have a homely or even rough exterior, like a +watermelon or a chestnut. He opened the book and began to read aloud.</p> + +<p>"'In that pleasant district of Merry England which is watered by the +river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the +greater part of the hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and +the pleasant town of Doncaster.'"</p> + +<p>And Dolly sank down among the litter of things which she had tumbled +out of her two trunks to listen, and there Aunt Anna found them at the +end of three hours, in animated talk, having just finished the tenth +chapter, which closes with Gurth's meeting with Rebecca in the house of +Isaac of York.</p> + +<p>"Rebecca is a trump," remarked Ned, summing up in that expressive word +the universal feeling in regard to the beautiful Jewess.</p> + +<p>"And isn't the Disinherited Knight splendid? I wonder how he came out +the next day. I should so like to see a tournament, Ned. Oh, do read +on!" said Dolly, her cheeks aglow with excitement.</p> + +<p>"After dinner," said Aunt Anna—"dinner is ready now." And after dinner +it was, for they went up into the hay-mow and read till it was time +to fetch the cows home; and if they did not, like Thackeray when he +was a school-boy, sit up far into the night to follow the fortunes of +Rebecca, it was only because they were not allowed to do so. Mr. and +Mrs. Park had gone to Plymouth for the night, and Thankful found the +two after ten o'clock still reading, and swooped them off to bed, right +in one of the most thrilling parts of the story, where Rebecca throws +down her embroidered glove, exclaiming,</p> + +<p>"God will raise me up a champion. It cannot be that in Merry England, +the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are ready to +peril their lives for honor, there will not be found one to fight for +justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by combat—there +lies my gage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Thankful, it's too bad to make us go to bed now. Do let us just +find out how Rebecca came out. Just read ahead a little bit and see, +Ned. Only ten minutes, Thankful, please," pleaded Dolly, as eager for +the fray as the most accomplished knight could possibly have been.</p> + +<p>But Thankful was inexorable, and Ned, running his eye over a page or +two, and announcing that it looked as though it would take a hundred +pages "to get Rebecca out of the scrape," Dolly went off reluctantly +to bed, and dreamed that <i>she</i> was the Disinherited Knight, and had a +joust with Thankful, wearing a brass kettle for a helmet and carrying a +mince-pie for a shield, and Thankful, having received her death-blow, +was suddenly transformed into the lovely Rowena, and crowned the +Disinherited Knight with a wreath of cabbages.</p> + +<p>As to Ned, he awoke 'Zekle, who slept in an adjoining room, in the +dead of the night, by shouting, "Saint George for Merry England! To +the rescue! to the rescue!" and pommelling the head-board violently. +And it was "a marcy," as Thankful remarked the next morning, "that he +didn't get his death a-readin' novils," for 'Zekle, only half awake, +and possessed with the idea that burglars were entering the house in +the absence of its master, got out his gun, heavily loaded with small +shot for crows, and was just upon the point of firing it off in the +direction of the pommelling when his brain cleared and he became aware +that the voice was Ned's.</p> + +<p>Thankful indulged in many more disrespectful remarks concerning +"novils" the next morning while frying their favorite pancakes for +breakfast, but Ned audaciously brought out "Ivanhoe" into the very +kitchen itself, and he and Dolly finished it comfortably on the +settle, and were pleased to remark that Thankful did not close the door +between the kitchen and the buttery, where she was mixing a batch of +dough-nuts. Indeed, her ordinarily heavy step seemed to grow lighter as +she stepped from the buttery to the frying-kettle, back and forth, and +she held her skimmer suspended a moment in mid-air at that consummate +moment where, his helmet being removed, Brian de Bois Gilbert is found +to be dead, and the Grand Master exclaims,</p> + +<p>"This is indeed the judgment of God. <i>Fiat voluntas tua.</i>"</p> + +<p>"That's so!" said Thankful, lowering her skimmer and scooping the +dough-nuts from the kettle <i>en masse</i>.</p> + +<p>Thankful did not understand Latin, so her fervent response must have +been to the sentiment expressed in English; and Thankful was apt to +look upon the misfortunes of mankind in general as judgments.</p> + +<p>Ned read the closing chapter and kept his voice bravely firm, while +Dolly wept openly and copiously, and Thankful dropped a furtive tear +into the frying-kettle. At least Ned said so, and the fat spluttered +and sizzled suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Rebecca's wuth a dozen o' that set-up Rowena," remarked Thankful, as +Ned closed the book, and Dolly drew a long sigh. "An' I reckon Ivaner +thought so, only he couldn't help himself. Things is unaccountably +mixed 'n this world. I reckon she hen-pecked him well. She's jest the +kind t' dew it." With which sentiments we most of us, including the +immortal Thackeray, doubtless agree.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be fun to have a tournament, Ned?" Dolly said more than +once during the days that followed the reading of "Ivanhoe." For +nothing in that entertaining book seemed to have taken such hold upon +her imagination as the famous tournament at Ashby-de-la-Zouche. "And if +we only had another horse we'd have one, wouldn't we, Ned?" she said, +confidentially, as the two were riding old Bill down to water one day.</p> + +<p>"Gaston wouldn't make a bad horse," she continued, looking down at the +noble fellow, who, as usual, was following closely in the wake of his +beloved mistress; "but he isn't half big enough. Oh dear! can't you +think of some way, Ned?"</p> + +<p>"We might take the saw-horse or clothes-horse, Dolly. I'm sure I can't +think of anything else," replied Ned, in despair. "I'm afraid Dapple or +Sukey wouldn't do. There's too much go to 'em, an' we should catch it +if anything happened to 'em."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, of course not," replied Dolly, virtuously, but secretly +wondering whether one of them could not be made to "do," after all.</p> + +<p>But Dolly was saved from the probable consequences of riding Sukey in a +tournament by a most happy happening. For things do sometimes happen +just right in real life, as well as in story-books.</p> + +<p>Her birthday was approaching—her thirteenth birthday. In fact, it was +near at hand, and at last it dawned; and the sun, as he thrust his red +face through a cloud of golden mist, sent a quivering dart betwixt +the curtain and the window-frame of Dolly's bedroom, and touched her +eyelids with a "Good-morning, my dear; it's your birthday, and it's +time to get up."</p> + +<p><i>Was</i> it the sun, or Aunt Anna, or only a dream? As Dolly, not yet +quite out of dream-land, was trying to solve this question, she was +thoroughly aroused by Ned, who knocked at her door and called out, in +a voice of suppressed excitement, "Hurry-up, Dolly! oh, hurry up, do! +If you only kn—" Here a hand was evidently clapped over his mouth—the +hand of his mother, in fact—who laughingly said,</p> + +<p>"Now, Ned, I told you so! It'll pop out before you know it. Come with +me; it's the only safe thing to do;" and she dragged him off protesting.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, you know I can keep a secret a thousand times better than +you or any other woman," he said, saucily. "I only wanted to sharpen +Dolly's curiosity. But I say, isn't it—" Here his mother's hand went +over his mouth again.</p> + +<p>"There! you see, Ned, it's no use. Dolly will hear you, and the +cat'll be out of the bag unless you're gagged;" and she slipped half a +melocotoon peach into his mouth, which effectually stopped the tide of +speech.</p> + +<p>Dolly had heard, and her curiosity was sharpened to a degree that would +have sufficiently gratified Ned could he have witnessed it. She hurried +with her dressing; but everything was perverse. Her hair twisted into +knots; she pulled on a stocking wrong side out, and an impatient jerk +broke the lacing of her shoe; then an important button flew off. She +stopped to sew it on, and, as a fitting <i>finale</i> to this chapter of +accidents, ran the needle deep into her finger.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! oh dear!" she exclaimed, sucking the wounded member. "'Haste +makes waste,' Thankful says, and I should think so. It's just like a +dream; the more I hurry the less I get on."</p> + +<p>But at last she was in order, from the snood of blue ribbon in her hair +to the carefully tied lacing of each slender shoe; and as she walked +into the breakfast-room with a sunny "Good-morning!" Uncle Harry was +sure no bonnier lassie could have been found that day throughout the +length and breadth of New England, and indeed, for that matter, he +might have safely challenged the whole United States.</p> + +<p>"Many happy returns of the day, my dear!" he said, as she took her +seat at the table, while Ned remained suspiciously intent upon the +buckwheats he was devouring at a rate that ordinarily would have +called out a remonstrance from his mother.</p> + +<p>The breakfast-room that morning seemed charged with an atmosphere at +once delightful and provoking. Conversation flagged. Nobody seemed +possessed of ideas on any subject except some forbidden one. Aunt Anna +cast looks of warning at Ned and interchanged meaning glances with +Uncle Harry; and the latter, in a fit of extreme absent-mindedness, +poured the sirup over his bacon, and said, "No, my love," when 'Zekle +came in to ask if he should take the oxen to Plympton to be shod after +breakfast.</p> + +<p>The breakfast-table stood in what was called the inner kitchen, +and Thankful, as she put on fresh cakes and dispensed cream and +maple-sirup, wore the inscrutable air of a Yankee Sphinx. Absorbed in +her riddle, she even neglected to snub 'Zekle, as he came in bringing +a pound of dirt on each foot, which he distributed liberally about +the kitchen. He, too, was evidently laboring under the weight of some +mighty secret, or he never would have so forgotten the habits of +neatness into which Thankful, after many years of persistent effort, +had trained him. Indeed, Dolly shrewdly suspected that, after all, the +oxen didn't need shoeing, and his inquiry was only a pretext to come in.</p> + +<p>At last Ned finished his tenth buckwheat, and pushed back his chair, +just as Dolly was thinking that she could not stand it another minute.</p> + +<p>"May I be excused, mother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied his mother, significantly, and he was out of the +kitchen in a twinkling, while Gaston, upon whose tail he had trodden in +his haste, set up a howl of remonstrance.</p> + +<p>A profound, expectant silence, broken only by Gaston's plaintive moans, +succeeded. For a brief moment you might have almost heard a fly wink. +Then the door of the outer kitchen opened, a curious clatter as of +brisk feet was heard, the door of the inner kitchen swung back, and +Ned entered, leading a black Shetland pony, "all saddled and bridled," +who, as she stepped daintily over the braided rugs which strewed the +floor, looked as much at home as though she had had a house of her own, +and a breakfast-table to sit down to regularly every day of her life. +From the pony's bridle hung a card, which Ned, leading her up to Dolly, +detached and presented with a low bow.</p> + +<p>"Feed me, curry me, ride me, and love me. My name is Skatta," was on +one side, and on the other was written, "A birthday gift for our dear +daughter Dorothea, from papa and mamma."</p> + +<p>"Old Bill won't have to carry two any more," said Ned, not waiting for +Dolly to speak, who at first struggled between a desire to cry and to +laugh at the same time—between pleasure over her birthday gift and +regret for the absent father and mother. But Skatta made a diversion, +and saved Dolly from the hysterical combination by thrusting her nose +into the wide-mouthed sugar-bowl and taking out a lump.</p> + +<p>"Jump on, Dolly, do, right here," said Ned. "Mayn't she, mother?" and +Dolly with one spring was on Skatta's back and the reins in her hands. +"Look out for your head!" said Ned, as they went out, Thankful and +'Zekle ranging themselves on either side of the kitchen-door like a +guard of honor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>isn't</i> she lovely, Ned?" said Dolly, getting her voice at last. +"And wasn't it good of papa and mamma?"</p> + +<p>"I always knew Uncle Malcolm was a brick!" was Ned's emphatic reply.</p> + +<p>Skatta was next put through her paces and pronounced "perfect."</p> + +<p>"And now, Ned," said Dolly, as she reined her up by the horse-block, +"we can have our tournament," and Ned, nothing loath, assented.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE TOURNAMENT IN THE OLD MUSTER-FIELD.</h3> + + +<p>The spot selected for the tournament was the old muster-field in the +rear of the meeting-house. This field was completely shut in on the +west by a thick woods; the meeting-house and parochial horse-sheds +screened it from observation on the highway side; the winding lane +leading to the Little Madam's lay along its eastern border, and its +southern extremity was lost in Hemlock Island. Altogether it was a +secluded spot, exactly fitted for a nineteenth-century tournament.</p> + +<p>Considerable time was necessarily spent in preparation. The important +question of armor had first to be settled, and it proved to be a +somewhat difficult as well as important question. In the little +vignette on the title-page of the drab "Ivanhoe" was a mounted knight, +knight and horse being both in complete armor. Skatta promptly settled +the question of armor so far as she was concerned, when Dolly attempted +to strap a tin pot-cover on her breast, by standing on her hind feet +and snorting a vigorous protest. "Well, never mind," said Dolly; +"'Ivanhoe' doesn't say anything about horse's armor, and we won't have +any."</p> + +<p>Great difficulty attended the finding of proper helmets. Ned suggested +tin pails, brass kettles, and even the culinary iron pots, much to +Dolly's disgust, for Ned did not take the tournament so seriously +as she did. He saw the absurdity of it, and was disposed to view it +in a comic light, although he pronounced it "jolly fun." At last a +compromise was made with pasteboard. Dolly, who had a knack at cutting +out things, fashioned two very tolerable helmets of pasteboard, covered +with black cambric, which certainly looked like the genuine thing, +although they would not stand hard thrusts.</p> + +<p>As to breastplates, the covers surreptitiously unhinged from a couple +of brass warming-pans which hung in the garret made capital ones, +really quite pretty in effect. Ned manufactured two slender lances +out of birch, and a pair of tin pot-covers served as shields. These +pot-covers, be it said, were taken from the kitchen during Thankful's +absence, as both Dolly and Ned had an unspoken feeling that this matter +of the tournament had better be kept from the knowledge of the elders.</p> + +<p>The armor of the two knights, at last complete, was taken over one +night at dusk and hidden under a low clump of birches in Bailey's Bowl. +Then the two, starting out the next morning, ostensibly for a ride to +the Little Madam's and thence to the Ridge pasture for hickory-nuts, +made a detour and arrived at Bailey's Bowl by way of Hemlock Island.</p> + +<p>This Bowl was a deep, round depression in the western part of the +muster-field, not deep enough to be called a valley. It seems that +in early colonial times the people used to walk from Bridgewater to +Plymouth to attend church, or, rather, "meeting," an almost incredible +fact, when we remember that the distance by the Indian trail—much of +the highway to-day is that same old trail—was eighteen miles.</p> + +<p>They started on Saturday, and encamped Saturday and Sunday nights on +this muster-field, which is therefore historic ground. And once upon +a time one of their number, named Bailey, hungry from the long march, +said, as he looked into the depths of the Bowl, "I wish it was full of +bean-porridge." Hence the name of Bailey's Bowl.</p> + +<p>Our two nineteenth-century knights, having no esquires to equip them, +as did the knights of old, were obliged to put on their own armor, +mutually helping. The handles of the pot-covers were a tight fit, and +Dolly's plump arm was squeezed more than was agreeable, but she bore +the discomfort manfully, as became a brave knight about to do battle +for his "faire ladye." Skatta shied at the unwonted appearance of her +young mistress, but old Bill, more experienced, looked placidly on, +not surprised at any freak of these two, and utterly regardless of the +clashing tin and brass as Ned mounted his back.</p> + +<p>"I do hope he won't balk," said Dolly, anxiously. Old Bill had a +trick of balking at the critical moment of starting, and nothing would +make him go but a handful of ashes crowded into his mouth. Whether he +thought by going on he should leave the bad taste behind, or whether in +thinking about the ashes he forgot to stand still, it is impossible to +say. As 'Zekle replied, when asked if he knew the philosophy of it,</p> + +<p>"D' know nothin' 'bout y'r pilosophy; it'll make him go, 'n that's +'nough f'r me."</p> + +<p>So Ned had stuffed one of his trousers-pockets with ashes, to use +in case old Bill should prove obstinate. But old Bill behaved as a +well-intentioned horse should at a tournament, and trotted obediently +to his place by a small pine in the eastern part of the muster-field, +while Dolly guided Skatta near a ground savin to the west. These +were the starting-places—the lists. Upon a small birch-tree hung a +somewhat cumbrous laurel wreath, with which to crown the victor. The +meeting-house clock was near the stroke of ten, and it was decided that +its first note should be the signal for the onset.</p> + +<p>The name "Old Bill" may give a wrong impression of that famous and +tractable steed. He was not so very old, but he was lazy and safe, and +so Ned was allowed to use him all he liked. He looked like a Dutch +horse, low, round, and stout. Ned had tied blue ribbons to his bridle, +and wore the same colors on his helmet and lance, while Dolly and +Skatta were decked with scarlet, for which embellishments Dolly's +ribbon-box had been rifled.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two they awaited the signal in silence, motionless, +with uplifted lances, and they really did look extremely pretty and +mediævalish—which means like the knights of those mystical Middle +Ages. It seemed a pity there were no spectators, none but a flock of +crows in the top of some tall pines in the western woods, that cried +"Caw! caw!" as though they scented the battle.</p> + +<p>The clock struck.</p> + +<p>"Deschidado! deschidado!" shouted Dolly, who was the Disinherited +Knight; while Ned, who was supposed to be Brian de Bois Gilbert, +replied with "Beau-seant! Beau-seant!" the war-cry of the Templars.</p> + +<p>I wish I could say that the horses "rushed" to the fray as did those in +"Ivanhoe." But truth compels me to state that Skatta only got beyond a +moderate trot. Neither did they meet with "a crash that might have been +heard at a mile's distance." It having been necessary for the riders +to make their preparations for the tournament secretly, they had not +been able to practise sufficiently, and so found it difficult to manage +their horses and long lances at the same time.</p> + +<p>Ned got his bridle-reins twisted, and old Bill, instead of meeting +Skatta half-way, as he should, ambled off in a north-westerly +direction; while Skatta, urged on by the lance which Dolly helplessly +poked into her ear, galloped away to the south-east, and owing to their +blinding helmets—for they rode, of course, with visors down—it was +some time before the riders could find each other.</p> + +<p>But a second time they were at their starting-places, waiting with +uplifted lances.</p> + +<p>"Now," spoke Dolly, "we must have a signal. We can't wait an hour for +the clock to strike. What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"Count," said Ned. "We'll count three together and then start"—which +was a sensible if not a knightly arrangement.</p> + +<p>"One, two, three!" counted the combatants in chorus, and this time +they met to some purpose, for Skatta and old Bill barely missed of a +collision, and Dolly's lance proving, as before, unmanageable, struck +Ned's pasteboard helmet with great force, and Brian de Bois-Gilbert +rolled ignominiously in the dust, as he did in the "Gentle and Joyous +Passage of Arms at Ashby."</p> + +<p>Skatta's impetus carried her with her rider well across the field, and +it was some moments before Dolly drew rein at the spot where Ned lay on +the ground, with old Bill standing over him touching him inquiringly +with his nose.</p> + +<p>Dolly sprang quickly from her saddle. At first she thought Ned was +"playing 'possum," as the humming-bird does when caught, making believe +dead. But when she spoke to him and he did not answer, and then lifting +the pasteboard helmet saw how white he looked as he lay with closed +eyes; and then when she tried to lift him, and his head fell heavily +and helplessly back upon her arm, her heart misgave her, terror seized +upon her, and she ran swiftly across the field and the highway and +the Green, never heeding a carriageful of travellers, who looked +inquisitively at the flying maiden—<i>was</i> it a maiden with the black +helmet, the brass breastplate, and the shining shield?—and burst in +upon the astonished Thankful, who had just drawn a pound-cake to the +mouth of the brick oven in order to test it with a broom straw, to see +if it was "done."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Thankful! Thankful!" cried the strange apparition, in a sepulchral +voice, for the pasteboard helmet was thick, "come quick, do! for he's +dead and I've killed him!"—for poor Dolly remembered remorsefully that +it was she who had proposed the tournament.</p> + +<p>"Who's dead? an' who 'r' you, I sh'd like t' know?" said Thankful, +completely bewildered, and not even recognizing the familiar shield and +breastplate.</p> + +<p>"Why it's I—Dolly! Don't you know me?" and she tore off her helmet and +threw it on the floor. "Hateful old thing! I hit him with my lance and +knocked him off. We're playing tournament. Oh, hurry, Thankful, do!"</p> + +<p>"Turnipment!" ejaculated Thankful, seeing a glimmer of light—for very +little escaped Thankful's shrewd observation, and she had "mistrusted," +as she told Mrs. Park afterwards, that "they were up to somethin'," +and had missed the warming-pan covers when she went up into the garret +"a Thursday" to hang up the penny-royal and thorough-wort to dry.</p> + +<p>"Lor', child, he ain't dead, only stunted, I guess. We'll bring him +tew—don't y' worry;" and Thankful caught up the "camphire" bottle and +the opodeldoc, and ran across the road, comforting Dolly by the way, to +find Ned sitting up trying to collect his scattered senses, in which +operation he was greatly assisted by Dolly throwing her arms—to one +of which the tin pot-cover still clung closely—around his neck and +kissing him violently.</p> + +<p>"Halloo!" he exclaimed, surprised at this demonstration—for Dolly, +although warm-hearted and impetuous, as we have seen, was not given to +much kissing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought you were killed, Ned," she said, looking at him with +shining eyes.</p> + +<p>"Not by a long chalk, you bet!" was the reassuring reply, all the more +reassuring from its slanginess. "And I say, Dolly, you beat, an' you'll +have to be crowned."</p> + +<p>"It's crown enough for me to see you alive; an' I'm sick o' the old +tournament," she replied, as she put off her shield and breastplate.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing," said Ned. "I've been knocked over a dozen times +playing ball. Knocking down don't hurt a fellow."</p> + +<p>Thankful had at once proceeded to bathe his head with the camphor, to +which treatment Ned submitted with a good grace, although it got into +his eyes and made them smart. But when she proposed a rubbing with the +opodeldoc, he rebelled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pshaw, Thankful! I ain't a molly-coddle. What d'y think a fellow's +made of? I can't be rubbed with opodeldoc every time I tumble down."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the ungrateful Bill and Skatta had betaken themselves to +the juicy grasses of Bailey's Bowl, and were found feeding peacefully +in its depths, caring naught apparently for the weal of their riders. +But there was one who cared, and that was Gaston. He had watched the +tournament with deep interest; he had stayed by the fallen Ned while +Dolly had gone for help, and he now came up to her and, putting a paw +on either shoulder, looked into hers with his speaking, sympathetic +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Dear old Gaston!" said Dolly, giving him a hug; "we're glad, aren't +we!"</p> + +<p>Having gathered up their armor and taken possession of their recreant +steeds, they returned to the house, and who shall paint Thankful's +dismay when she found the oven-door wide open, as she had left it +in her haste, the pound-cake fallen flat, the loaves of raised cake +ditto, the mince-pies cooled, and their delicate flakiness utterly +spoiled—and the Honorable Mr. Quincy going to stop there that very +night to take supper, on his way to an anti-slavery meeting.</p> + +<p>"I might 'a' known no good 'd come o' that novil," said Thankful, in +her wrath, slamming the oven door. "They're a <i>de</i>vice o' the Evil One, +my old mother used t' say, an' that's true 's preachin'."</p> + +<p>But Thankful, even in her wrath, could not help smiling when she +recalled those two in their armor. The pot-cover which served for +Ned's shield had got a fearful dent in the fall, and it kept alive in +Thankful's memory for many a day the lovely Rebecca and her ill-starred +fortunes.</p> + +<p>As to the laurel-wreath which had been woven for the victor, it was +forgotten. It hung on the birch-tree all winter, beaten by storms of +wind and rain, but being securely fastened did not fall, and in the +early spring a pair of robins built their nest among its rusty leaves. +Dolly and Ned saw it there one day when they were out May-flowering.</p> + +<p>That evening, like Topsy, they "'fessed" their shortcomings to Mrs. +Park. Ned, somewhat paler than usual from the effects of his fall, was +cosily settled in his own special corner of the sofa.</p> + +<p>"I thought a tournament must be so lovely," said Dolly, with a sigh, +"and now I think they're just horrid."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't feel that way about it," said Mrs. Park, smiling. She had +smiled a good deal during the narrative, for they had told her "all +about it" literally, the difficulty in regard to armor and everything, +and it certainly was a very funny experience to which to listen. "After +all, I expect a tournament is a much more charming thing to read about +in books than it ever was in reality. We should not like the dust and +the heat and the wounds."</p> + +<p>"But," Mrs. Park went on, a little more seriously, "the <i>spirit</i> of +knight-errantry is the same in all ages."</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought tournaments were just play, like—like—"</p> + +<p>"Puss-puss-in-the-corner," put in Ned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, only men and women played," added Dolly.</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Park told them how a young man had to keep a solemn vigil +through all the hours of the night preceding the day on which he took +his vows of knighthood; and about Bayard, who kept his vows so well +that, though he died four hundred years ago, he is still known as the +chevalier "<i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>;" and about King Arthur and his +Knights of the Round Table, and the search for the Holy Grail, and what +it meant; and how all these beautiful stories, mythical though many of +them are, teach one principle—love to God and man—which is just as +binding now as when those knights took their solemn vows. And Dolly and +Ned both felt, for a while at least, that though the age of prancing +steeds and shining armor, of jousts, and queens of love and beauty, had +gone by, the <i>soul</i> of it remained.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>DEATH OF GASTON.</h3> + + +<p>"Feed me, curry me, ride me, and love me," ran the legend on the card +that hung from Skatta's bridle, and Dolly fulfilled it to the letter. +A special stall was given to Skatta—not in the stable where Suke and +Dapple and Bill, and the horses of the guests of the tavern, were kept, +but in a corner of the clean, well-kept cow-barn, where was also a +closet in which to lock up her saddle and bridle, of which closet Dolly +had the key.</p> + +<p>Every morning Dolly put on her "groom's dress"—an old <i>delaine</i> set +aside for that purpose—gave Skatta her hay and oats, led her to water, +and then curried and brushed her till every hair was straight and +shiny, and her mane as wavy and glossy as Dolly's own.</p> + +<p>Every day, too, except when it stormed, she obeyed the third injunction +and rode her. The pretty Shetland, with Dolly on her back and the +faithful Gaston by her side, became a familiar object to all that +country-side, and rare were the occasions when Ned and old Bill did +not form a part of the cavalcade. As they dashed by, Ned raising his +cap gallantly and Dolly waving a kiss from her finger-tips, the old +aunties breathed a simultaneous "Bless the children!" Not infrequently +they reined up their horses by the broad, flat door-stone which lay +at the entrance of "The Hut"—for that was the name of the somewhat +primitive building wherein the aunties dwelt. The latch-string was +always out, literally, for these two, for The Hut, built of plank and +unshingled, looked like a log-cabin, and had a primitive latch-string, +as it should.</p> + +<p>Dolly found these old aunties delightfully "jolly," as, you remember, +Ned said she would, though the adjective "jolly" could be consistently +applied to only one, and that one Aunt Debby. Aunt Debby was a +plump, cushiony, dumpling of a woman, all the way of a bigness, with +sparkling black eyes and a broad, ever-smiling mouth. She was the one +who took the "heft" of the scrubbing and cooking, while Nanny did the +"puttering." Poor Aunt Patty, palsy-stricken for many years, could only +do a little knitting, and even this became sadly tangled in her shaking +hands, and it was a part of Nanny's puttering to disentangle her yarn +and pick up the numberless dropped stitches. So Aunt Patty, under +Nanny's supervision, was able to knit a couple of pair of stockings a +year, the doing of which was a great comfort to her.</p> + +<p>Nanny was a singularly appropriate name for the simple-hearted, +childlike woman who bore it. With her gentle absent-mindedness, she was +a never-failing source of amusement to Debby. She was always putting +on her things upside down and wrong side out, and going off to meeting +without any bonnet. Once she started without bonnet or "front"—the +front being the indispensable old lady's "bang" of those days—and Aunt +Debby, following her, laughed so at Nanny's absurd appearance in her +best black-silk gown, with muslin kerchief crossed placidly over her +bosom, and her short white hair her only head-covering, that she came +near not catching her at all, and Nanny was barely saved the scandal of +entering the meeting-house with uncovered head.</p> + +<p>Aunt Debby herself, on ordinary occasions, wore a green calash—a +queer head-gear, which looked like a chaise-top and shut up like an +accordeon. This calash could be pulled over the face at will by means +of a ribbon fastened to the front.</p> + +<p>"You favor y'r gre't-gran'ma, my dear," said Aunt Debby to Dolly one +morning, as they drew rein at her door—"now don't she, Nanny?—y'r +gre't-gran'ma Marchant. She's light-c'mplected like Dorothea Williams +was, an' she's got the same high way o' carryin' her head—uppish, +some folks said, but I never did. 'F there ever <i>was</i> a good, kind +woman 'twas Dorothea Williams, 'n she never set up t' be better 'n her +neighbors, t' my way o' thinkin'. I remember, 's if 'twas yisterday, +seein' her come out bride. She 'n Cyrus Marchant were a proper han'som' +couple;" and Aunt Debby's twinkling black eyes took on a retrospective +look.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you remember my great-grandma Marchant?" exclaimed Dolly, to +whom a great-grandmamma seemed very far away indeed.</p> + +<p>"Ay, lassie, an' she waur a braw leddy an' a bonnie. Her een were like +the stars o' a simmer's night, soft and bright," said Debby, who often +betrayed her Scotch descent by her speech, especially when going back +into the past; but she always shook herself after it with a laugh, as +now.</p> + +<p>"Eh, my dear old mither! her Scotch tongue cleaves to me yet," she +said. "Yes, dearie, I remember her well, and she was a brave leddy as +well as a bonnie. D' y' mind, Nanny, the time she brought home the +robber's ho's'?—leastways we thought 'twas a robber's ho's', for he +never come for it, as an honest man would."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it was a fearfu' happenin' for so young a lassie, but the Lord +takes care o' his own," was Nanny's reply.</p> + +<p>Dolly's eyes opened wide in expectant wonder. "Oh, tell me all about +it, Aunt Debby. I never even heard of it before;" and she dropped the +reins on Skatta's neck and leaned eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"'Twas the year afore she was merried to y'r gre't-gran'ther, Cyrus +Marchant," said Aunt Debby, bringing her little flax-wheel out on +the broad, flat door-stone, and seating herself beside it, so that +not a moment should be lost. "She'd gone over t' Triphammer f'r a +matter o' ten pounds or so th't Squire Elderkin was owin' t' y'r +gre't-gre't-gran'ther Williams. 'Twas a part o' Dorothea's dowry, an' +was goin' t' buy her weddin'-gown, which Cap'en Nehemiah Higgins had +jest brought home from Chainy—a white satin covered with lilies o' th' +valley in shinin' siller. I saw her merried 'n that same gown, an' she +looked like a lily o' th' valley hersel'; an' when she died, a matter +o' three years a'ter, Cyrus Marchant said she sh'd be buried 'n that +weddin'-gown, an' go down t' th' grave as a bride; an' buried in it +she waur, an' she looked like a pure lily o' th' valley as she lay in +her coffin, wi' her babby on her breast. An' y'r gre't-gran'ther went +a-moanin' all his days, an' never merried ag'in.</p> + +<p>"But this ain't tellin' you about the robber's ho's'," said Aunt Debby, +briskly, giving a vigorous twirl to the wheel with her foot. "I'm +a chatterin' old woman, that's what I am. Well, as I was a-sayin', +she'd gone down t' Triphammer f' the siller, an' was a-comin' home, +an' in th' woods betwixt here 'n there—or that <i>was</i> 'twixt here 'n +there, f'r it's a' gone lang syne—a horseman came canterin' up, an' +stopped an' spoke t' Dorothea, tryin' t' be p'lite; but Dorothea said +she mistrusted him th' minute she set eyes on him. Seems sometimes +'s though the Lord's angels did watch over his'n to warn 'em. An' he +talked about the exc'llent good crops, an' had she heard how Silas +Sweet's ship was lost last year 'n th' Chainy seas an' him just got +home, an' how Colonel Sturtevant's best cow 'd died, an' other things, +t' make Dorothea think he wa'n't no stranger 'n them parts, 'n she +needn't be afeard o' him. But th' more th' crittur talked, th' more +Dorothea mistrusted him; tho' she wa'n't afeard, not she, f'r she had +a high sperit, an' was only a-castin' about 'n her mind how she c'd +git rid o' him; an' then he said 'twas a lonesome bit o' woods f'r a +young leddy t' ride through alone in, 'n 'twas well f'r her t' have his +comp'ny; 'n jest then his saddle-girt' loosed 'n slipped, 'n he jumped +off t' fix it, callin' t' Dorothea t' wait a minute. An' while he was +a-stoopin' t' tighten th' girt', Dorothea see a big pistol stickin' +out o' the bosom o' his ruffled shirt, an' quick as a flash she struck +his ho's' with her ridin'-whip, an' giv' the word t' Sunset, her own +ho's', an' off they both went, knockin' over th' villain in th' dirt, +though he scrambled up 'n fired off his pistol at 'em jest as they were +goin' out o' sight 'n a turn o' the road, an' Dorothea heard th' bullet +whiz close by, an' it clipped off a bit o' Sunset's ear. But that only +made 'em go faster; an' when Dorothea got home, her father said if +nobody didn't come f'r th' ho's' it sh'd be hers, an' what was in th' +saddle-bags sh'd be hers. An' nobody never did come f'r th' ho's', +an' in the saddle-bags was two hundred pounds in gowd an' siller, and +Dorothea had th' biggest dowry 'f any girl in Byfield."</p> + +<p>"Ned!" spoke Dolly.</p> + +<p>They had been riding for some time in a silence rather unusual for +these two. They had left Aunt Debby's, and were on their way to Hemlock +Island to see the coal-pits.</p> + +<p>"Well?" answered Ned. "I've been wondering what you were thinking +about, Dolly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ever so many things," said Dolly, rousing herself and starting up +Skatta, who had been ambling slowly along, into a brisk trot—"ever +so many things—Skipper Joe's stories, and the Little Madam, and what +Aunt Debby just told us about Great-grandma Marchant; and I've been +wondering why books about people can't be just as interesting. Now, +you know, Ned, 'Robinson Crusoe' is, and so's 'Robin's Journal,' but +history's just stupid."</p> + +<p>"Well, I s'pose <i>that's</i> history," replied Ned. "I heard Dr. Stone say, +the other day, we were making history all the time, we Americans; an' +that's the way we make it, I s'pose."</p> + +<p>"The interesting parts never get into the history-books, then," said +Dolly.</p> + +<p>"That's so," replied Ned, emphatically, who had just begun Greek +history, and hated it, though he liked Homer. He had found a copy of +Chapman's Homer in an old chest in the secret chamber of the tavern, +and had read it with great relish. He had never told Dolly about the +book, nor about the secret chamber: he was keeping them for her.</p> + +<p>As I said, they were on their way to Hemlock Island—to that part of +it where the coal-pits were. It was a mid-October day. A blue mist +lay along the horizon. The golden-rod had faded, but the purple asters +still bloomed by the way-side, and the oak and hickory were rich in +crimson and gold. Great heaps of apples lay in the orchards, and the +yellow pumpkins were piled in the corners of the cornfields. Their way +lay through the fields—a well-defined roadway, but with numberless +bars to let down.</p> + +<p>"Say, Dolly," exclaimed Ned at last, impatient at having to dismount +every other thing to let down bars, "let's leap 'em. Old Bill can do +it, and I'll teach Skatta. Just look!" and giving old Bill a touch with +the whip, he cleared the four-railed fence, and came down on the other +side as lightly as a bird.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Dolly, admiringly. "Do you think Skatta could do that?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Malcolm wrote she was trained, and a saddle-horse isn't well +trained if he can't leap a fence," replied Ned, as if he knew. "But +you'd better try one rail first. You ar'n't afraid?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Afraid? not I!" answered Dolly, with a gay laugh. "Didn't Aunt Debby +say I carried my head high like Great-grandma Marchant? and she wasn't +afraid;" and she brought Skatta in front of the one rail, Ned having +carefully removed the others.</p> + +<p>With a slight leap Skatta went over, and as she came down on the other +side she tossed her head, as who should say, "What a <i>bagatelle</i> is +that for a horse!"</p> + +<p>"She's used to it," pronounced Ned; "and you did first-rate, too, +Dolly; you didn't bounce a mite. Now we'll try two rails."</p> + +<p>Skatta went over two rails, and Dolly pronounced it "as good as flying; +and I sha'n't envy the birds any more after this, Ned." Then the three +rails were tried, then the four, and Skatta proved the quality of her +training by going over without a balk, and after that there was no more +dismounting to let down bars.</p> + +<p>As they rode in among the coal-pits, Skatta gave a terrified snort +and began to back. She did not like the smoke, and the fire that was +belching out from a hole in one of the pits frightened her.</p> + +<p>"So, so, Skatta," said Dolly, patting her soothingly; "don't be a +goose! it's only a coal-pit." And using a little judicious coaxing, she +got her past the flaming pit to the farther side, where the smoke was +less dense. As she passed the man who was tending the blazing pit, he +looked up. It was an evil glance that he cast upon the two from under +his ragged, dirty cap.</p> + +<p>"What a dreadful man! Who is he, Ned?" asked Dolly, in a whisper, +bringing Skatta up close to old Bill.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know. A man always looks horrid, anyway, when he's +coaling. 'Zekle can tell you, I guess, if you want to know. Why, +Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Seems as if I'd seen him before, Ned;" and Dolly shivered slightly.</p> + +<p>This was not Dolly's first visit to the coal-pits. She had watched with +great interest the whole process, from the building to the firing of +the pits. Some of them were now almost ready to be coaled.</p> + +<p>"They're dewin' fust-rate, mostly," said 'Zekle; "but that feller's +makin' a mess o' his'n," indicating with a nod the man with the evil +eye.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"I d'no who he <i>is</i>, but I know he don't know nothin' 'bout tendin' a +pit," replied 'Zekle. "He come here 'n wanted work, 'n said he knowed +all 'bout coalin'. But he might 's well quit. Here, you!" he called +out to the man, who turned surlily. "We don't care to keep <i>you</i> any +longer. Y're jest sp'ilin' that pit. Burnt up more coal now 'n y're +wuth."</p> + +<p>The man threw down his hoe, turned upon his heel, and, before 'Zekle +had time to speak again, disappeared into the thick woods that closely +encircled the clearing where the pits were.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said 'Zekle, "'f he hadn't b'en 'n sech a 'tarnal hurry I'd +a-gi'n him a quarter, tho' he ain't 'arned a red cent." (Cents were +cents in those days, not nickels, and <i>were</i> red.)</p> + +<p>Dolly and Ned took dinner in one of the cabins. This had been +understood at the tavern when they left that morning. 'Zekle made +coffee, and broiled pickerel fresh from Wintuxet Lake. This gypsy-like +lunch was highly relished by Dolly. The potatoes were roasted in the +ashes; and though much of the smoke which was expected to pass out +through a hole in the roof lingered in the cabin, by keeping in a +strong draught near the door it was endurable.</p> + +<p>How cosey those cabins did look, to be sure, with their bunks filled +with straw and their very primitive stone fireplaces!</p> + +<p>"Coaling must be great fun," remarked Dolly, as she devoured a section +of one of Thankful's plummy mince-pies.</p> + +<p>"I guess you'd think so 'f you 's here once in a storm," said Ned, +who in the past had entertained similar views of the delights of +charcoal-making, and had been permitted by his mother to test them. +"Door shut tight t' keep out wind and rain, cabin chock-full o' smoke, +water pouring in through the cracks, straw sopping wet, an' old shanty +shaking 's if 't might blow away any minute. Oh yes, it's great fun!" +he concluded, ironically.</p> + +<p>They lingered for some time about the pits, and then went down to the +lake. Here they found the remains of a raft, built by Ned the preceding +summer, in conjunction with several other boys. This they launched, and +paddled about, barely escaping a ducking, and so it was well into the +afternoon before they started for home.</p> + +<p>Dolly had well fulfilled the injunction laid upon her by Aunt Anna to +watch over the Little Madam. Rarely a day had passed since that time +that she had not gone once at least to the vine-covered cottage. Ned +often went with her, but not always; and Dolly, leaving Skatta to +nibble the grass by the gate, would go in to nod and smile and talk as +well as she could with the Little Madam over her boxes of mignonette, +her bees, and her quaint embroidery; to cultivate a still more intimate +acquaintance with the cockatoo, who now knew her well, and who no +longer shrieked at the sight of Gaston; and to pet the white, blue-eyed +Persian cat, while Gaston slept peacefully on the sunny door-stone.</p> + +<p>The daily offering of the Little Madam in her office as hostess was +usually a tiny square of honeycomb, dripping with amber honey made by +her own bees, sometimes varied with a pink peach or a russet pear. +Whatever it might be, it was daintily served on some delicate bit of +India ware—another of Skipper Joe's gifts, who seemed to consider +nothing too good or too fine for this little lady.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Aunt Anna's solicitude in regard to the Little Madam's +comfort and safety had not lessened. The rumors concerning her had +gained ground. She was not only a Roman Catholic, who kept a cross with +the crucified Christ upon it in her room, and worshipped this graven +image contrary to the commandment, but her forgetfulness was all a +pretence. She knew what she was about well enough. "She was a spy," +said some; spying for what purpose, however, they could not definitely +say. "A Jesuit, without doubt," one woman more learned than the others +declared. "If she were not got rid of in some way she would ruin the +morals and destroy the faith of the young, especially," said others. +"And <i>what</i> was Mis' Park a-thinkin' of, t' let that child (Dolly) +keep a-runnin' down there every day o' her life! Mark my words, Miss +Periwinkle, she'll rue it—she'll rue it yit!" And Aunt Debby, to whom +these words were addressed, "guessed Mis' Park c'd take care o' her own +business, an' didn't want none o' her help."</p> + +<p>But all this unfriendly gossip bore its legitimate fruit. Many who +heretofore had been kind to the Little Madam, and had given expression +to that kindness in words and in gifts, now stood aloof, and, like the +Priest and the Levite, passed by on the other side. The more ignorant +gave active expression to their dislike and distrust, and annoyed her +in many ways. Especially did the children do this. Her grapes were +stolen and the vine pulled up—the vine she herself had transplanted +from its native woods. Her beehive was upset; and it is pleasant to +chronicle that the boy who did it was badly stung; and the brown-eyed +doctor, having to be called in, while he mitigated the sufferings of +his patient, improved the opportunity of administering both to the boy +and his mother a homily on the duty of loving one's neighbor as one's +self.</p> + +<p>Once Dolly, arriving opportunely, found one of these boys fastening a +cord around the neck of the blue-eyed Persian cat, with the intent to +hang her. He was crouching behind the barn, where he thought himself +completely hidden from observation, and was taken by surprise when +Dolly fell upon him "tooth and nail," released the cat, and gave the +young ruffian a sound cuffing. He did not forget the feel of her soft +palm nor the look in her blazing eyes for many a day; and when Dolly, +half ashamed, confessed her passionate outbreak to Aunt Anna, the +latter said she had done just right, and needn't feel called upon to +apologize.</p> + +<p>So, as they came that day to the lane leading down to the Little +Madam's, Dolly said, "It's late, Ned; but I must go down and see the +Little Madam. I haven't seen her to-day."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go to-night, Dolly, 'f I were you; no matter 'f you do miss +a day," said Ned.</p> + +<p>Dolly hesitated a moment. Then she turned Skatta's head decidedly. "Oh +yes, I must, Ned," she said. "There's no knowing what those dreadful +boys have done to her to-day. I sha'n't feel a bit easy if I don't see +her. But you needn't come, Ned."</p> + +<p>Dolly trotted off, and Ned rode slowly on towards the tavern; but just +before he reached it he turned his horse and galloped after Dolly, who +was already out of sight.</p> + +<p>As Dolly drew near the cottage she became at once aware that something +unusual was taking place. On the low roof of the barn crouched the +Persian cat, with every hair erect, and her tail bristling like a +lamp-chimney cleaner, while the cockatoo was shrieking loudly within +the house, "Go 'way! go 'way! Bad boy! bad boy!"</p> + +<p>Dolly leaped from her horse and ran in, to find the Little Madam +struggling in the grasp of a man, whom she instantly recognized as the +one she had seen that day at the coal-pits—the man with the evil eye.</p> + +<p>With a savage roar Gaston ran past Dolly, sprang upon the man, and +seized him by the throat. There was a momentary struggle, a flash, a +crack of a pistol, then the man leaped through the open window just as +Ned rode up, and Gaston lay stretched upon the floor, with the blood +pouring out from a wound in his breast.</p> + +<p>Dolly stood for a moment as if dazed, then she threw herself down by +his side, with a piercing cry of "Gaston! Gaston!" The brave fellow +made one last effort to rise and to lap the hand of his beloved +mistress, looked once at her with his human eyes, and then the +faithful, loving heart was stilled forever.</p> + +<p>After that first cry Dolly lay motionless, with her hands clasped +around the dead dog's neck, and her face buried in his shaggy hair, +making half-inarticulate moans, pitiful to hear, Ned felt, as he came +in and spoke to her and she did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Oh don't, Dolly! don't!" he entreated. "Come home to mother." And he +bent down and tried to loosen the tightly clasped hands. But Dolly made +no reply, only lying quite still, with the low heart-breaking moans +coming from her lips at intervals.</p> + +<p>"Take care of her," he said at last to the Little Madam, "and I'll go +for mother."</p> + +<p>When Aunt Anna came she found her still lying there, with the Little +Madam by her side tenderly caressing her, and the Australian cockatoo +talking from his perch in the corner—"Poor Dolly! poor Polly! kiss +Dolly! Gaston! Gaston! dead!" and then he gave a chuckle that sounded +curiously like a sob.</p> + +<p>"Dolly," said Mrs. Park, lifting her gently but firmly, "come with me, +my dear; come home, and we will take Gaston too." At the sound of his +name the flood-gates of her grief were opened and the tears came fast, +with sobs that shook her whole frame. She yielded at once, however, +to the loving command, and Uncle Harry carried her in his arms to the +carriage and they drove home, with Ned following sorrowfully on old +Bill, and leading Skatta.</p> + +<p>'Zekle got out the express wagon to go for Gaston.</p> + +<p>"Seems if 't 'd ought t' be the hearse," he said to Thankful, as he +put some clean straw in the bottom and laid a white sheet over it, +which Thankful had brought for that purpose. "He's a sight humaner th'n +some human critters I know."</p> + +<p>"That's so, 'nough sight," replied Thankful, in her grimmest tone, and +she looked black as a thunder-cloud in a sultry summer's sky.</p> + +<p>Grief always had a singular effect on Thankful, and she forgot how +often she had scolded Gaston for bringing in dirt on his big feet; but +he had also had many a toothsome morsel from her hand, and they had +been on the whole excellent friends. It was Thankful's way to give her +friends an admonitory rap with one hand, while she held out some valued +gift with the other.</p> + +<p>"Now, Ned," she said, "'f you want t' do somethin' for Gaston, you c'n +go 'n git some pine boughs 'nstead o' snivellin' there;" for poor Ned, +utterly broken down with grief for Gaston and the distress of seeing +Dolly's tears, was himself sobbing in the deep window-seat in the +sitting-room, where he had hoped nobody would see him.</p> + +<p>"Mis' Park wants him put 'n the parlor; an' we'll have things done +decent 'f he <i>is</i> nothin' but a dog." And Thankful, slamming the door +behind her, retreated to the parlor to make the necessary arrangements; +and when 'Zekle and the other men arrived, bringing Gaston, he was laid +tenderly on the fragrant pine boughs.</p> + +<p>The next day he was buried in the little grass-plot in Aunt Anna's +flower-garden, and was missed and mourned by the whole household, +but by none so deeply as by his beloved mistress, who refused to be +comforted.</p> + +<p>The spot where Gaston lay was shut in from observation by a trellis +overgrown with the ever-green myrtle, and there Aunt Anna often +found her, lying upon his grave and crying softly. She was becoming +acquainted with Death, for we never really become acquainted with Death +until he takes some one we dearly love.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is right for you to mourn so for Gaston?" asked Aunt +Anna, one day, finding her there as usual. "Gaston was getting old, and +some day he would have died."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! that don't make it a bit easier," moaned Dolly, as Aunt Anna +knew very well. "I wanted him to live as long as I did, and now I shall +never see him again—<i>never!</i>" and a fresh burst of tears followed.</p> + +<p>Aunt Anna hesitated a moment before she spoke again. "Do you remember, +Dolly, how our Lord said that a sparrow does not fall unnoticed by our +Father? And it is not for us to say whether Gaston shall live again. +Many wise and good men and women believe that life once given is never +taken back. There is nothing in the Bible that forbids our believing +that our beloved companions among what we call the brute creation +shall live again. We have a loving Father, Dolly, and we must trust +ourselves and all we have to His keeping. He will never fail us." And +Dolly, listening, was comforted, and from that hour could think and +speak of Gaston with cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>That night—the night after Gaston was killed—'Zekle passed at the +vine-covered cottage so that no farther harm came to the Little Madam, +and the next day she was transferred, with the blue-eyed cat and +the white cockatoo, her boxes of mignonette and her old India ware, +to a sunny corner of the tavern. Her bees were carefully removed to +winter-quarters, and the dismantled cottage locked until spring, or +until less troublous times should permit her return.</p> + +<p>Dolly, meanwhile, was haunted by a feeling that, after some hesitation, +she imparted to Aunt Anna.</p> + +<p>"I think, Aunt Anna," she said, "that the dreadful man who killed +Gaston was one of the thieves that tried to rob Uncle Harry."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Because when he jumped through the window he looked just as one of +them did that night when they jumped through the meeting-house window. +And his voice, too, Auntie—he was swearing dreadfully at the Little +Madam, and it makes me think of that night every time I think of him."</p> + +<p>When Aunt Anna told her husband what Dolly had said, his reply was, +"Very likely. But I don't see what he was after at the Little Madam's. +She hasn't any money or anything of value except her cat and her +cockatoo, and a thief wouldn't be likely to want those."</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Park told him the latest gossip about the Little Madam; +how it was rumored that she had a large sum of money concealed on her +premises.</p> + +<p>"Where do they think she got it, and what do they think she is going to +do with it?" asked Uncle Harry.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Mrs. Park. "There's no reason in such +a supposition, of course. But who ever heard of a reasonable gossip!"</p> + +<p>Who, indeed!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE SECRET CHAMBER.</h3> + + +<p>As has been elsewhere intimated, Ned held a surprise in store for Dolly +which he had been keeping for the right time; and now when he saw her +dull, and moping for Gaston, he felt that time had arrived.</p> + +<p>"Dolly," he said, one morning—there was a pouring rain and no going +abroad on Skatta—"Dolly, come up-stairs, will you? I've got something +to show you."</p> + +<p>Dolly was standing by the window, watching the rain-drops chase each +other down the outside of the panes, and pitying a robin who, having +evidently made up his mind not to go South for the winter, was getting +well drenched on his perch among the almost leafless branches of a +cherry-tree.</p> + +<p>She turned quickly at Ned's call.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, more hist'ry," replied Ned, enigmatically. "Come on." And Dolly +"came on" gladly, following him up the staircase in the rear of the +big dining-room to the broad landing. This was the oldest part of +the tavern, and was very old indeed—for America—having been built +about the year 1680. The other parts of the rambling old structure had +been added at intervals, the last addition dating somewhere near the +beginning of the present century. These oldest rooms had cedar walls +and ceilings, and were panelled, with rudely carved flowers in the +centre of the panels.</p> + +<p>Ned stopped upon the landing and pressed his finger on what looked like +a large clover-leaf, when the panel slid noiselessly back, revealing a +closet-like room, into which he stepped, followed by Dolly, and closed +the panel. This room was lighted by a narrow opening, screened from +outside observation by the projecting eaves. It was empty, save for a +small oaken chest, the brass lock and hinges of which were green with +damp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ned!" exclaimed Dolly, rapturously, taking in the whole delightful +secret at a glance. "I never <i>really</i> believed in the secret doors and +things in the 'Mysteries of Udolpho' before. They're splendid to read +about and think true; but they must <i>be</i> true, for those old castles +are ever 'n ever so much bigger than this house, and there's plenty of +room in them for lots of secret places—O-o-oh!" and Dolly's evident +delight was good to see.</p> + +<p>"Mother says a good many old houses in New England have just such +places. She's seen that one in Hadley where the regicides hid, you +know."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know a thing about 'em. Who were they?" said Dolly, +impressed with such a remarkable display of erudition.</p> + +<p>"The people who killed Charles I., of course," replied Ned, loftily. +"They ran away to this country, 'n hid in a secret room in Hadley, an' +nobody but the folks in the house knew they were there. An' one Sunday +the Indians made an attack, an' the men rushed out of the meeting-house +with their guns—they carried guns to meeting then—an' the Indians +were getting the best of 'em, when out came one of those regicides and +shouted to the white men to come on, an' encouraged 'em so they drove +off the Indians. Then the regicide went straight back to his secret +room. He had on a dressing-gown an' slippers, an' the people didn't +know who he was, an' so they said 'twas an angel come down from heaven +to help 'em—queer angel, in dressing-gown an' slippers, I sh'd think!"</p> + +<p>"But I say, Dolly," he continued, lowering his voice mysteriously, +"there's a story about this room too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ned, you don't say so!" said Dolly, grasping his arm. "A real, +dreadful, <i>true</i> story?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, true 's I live and breathe. Didn't I say so—more hist'ry," he +replied, much pleased with his success in diverting her mind from her +grief. "An' there's another way to get into this room—look!" and he +touched another clover-leaf, and another panel slipped, showing an +entrance from the Little Madam's sunny room. They looked in. The +Little Madam was not there, but the cockatoo greeted them with a +shout—"Halloo, my beauties!"</p> + +<p>"The story's about Grandfather Heath, when he was a boy, you know, +in Revolutionary times," said Ned, closing the panel into the Little +Madam's room. "His father was in the Continental army, an' there was a +wounded spy hid in this room—an American spy, you know. He'd got away, +an' the British were after him. An' they caught gran'pa one day when he +was berrying with his sister, an' asked him questions till they found +out he knew something, an' then they tried to make him tell—coaxed +him, you know, an' offered him money; but he was true blue, an' +wouldn't tell, an' then they tried to scare him. But they couldn't +scare him either, an' then they just carried him off, an' his mother 'n +sister didn't know where."</p> + +<p>"Poor things!" said Dolly, with beaming eyes, divided between her +sympathy for the sorrowing mother and sister, and her admiration for +the pluck shown by her youthful grandfather.</p> + +<p>"Well, they took him to headquarters, where the biggest officer was, +an' he tried to scare him too, an' he couldn't. He <i>would not tell</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wasn't he splendid!" broke in Dolly again.</p> + +<p>"An' then they put him down cellar, an' in the night the loveliest lady +came down an' wrapped him in her shawl—for he was a little fellow, +you know, only ten—an' took him on her own white horse an' brought +him home, ever 'n ever so many miles, an' his mother was mighty glad +when he burst into the kitchen, you bet! an' the lady gave him a ring +to remember her by—a beauty, too, f' I've seen it, 'n mother'll show +it to you some time, Dolly."</p> + +<p>"And the spy was hid in this very room!" said Dolly, thoughtfully. "But +what's in that chest?" she asked, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing but books," answered Ned. "There's where I found 'Robin's +Journal,' an' another book I'll show you some time. It's poetry, but +it's prime, if 'tis poetry."</p> + +<p>After that day Dolly used frequently to press the big clover-leaf and +enter that secret room. Sometimes she went to the Little Madam's room +that way. The Little Madam, too, seemed singularly interested in this +little room. Dolly "wondered" if she had not seen one before. The +Little Madam was her ideal of a princess of Udolpho. Perhaps she had +lived in one of those mysterious and delightful castles—who knew? who +would <i>ever</i> know? Oh, if the Little Madam could only remember, could +only tell, who and what she was! Well, well, Dolly! have patience, and +you will know before long.</p> + +<p>That night they talked it all over with Aunt Anna, as usual. As +usual, I say, for the twilight talk was a fixed fact with which Mrs. +Park rarely allowed anything to interfere. That was the hour for +confession, for sympathy, for loving confidence. Ned had his own +special corner of the sofa in mother's room—the corner where headaches +and heartaches, and all sorts of wounds of body and of spirit, had +been treated by the same gentle yet firm hand ever since he could +remember. And Dolly was given the other corner, with Aunt Anna in her +low rocking-chair in front.</p> + +<p>Dolly propounded what may be called "her theory of history," and Aunt +Anna said it was a sensible one.</p> + +<p>"I think," said that wise woman, "that the true way to study history +is to begin with your own town, and then go on to your county, your +state, etc., etc., till you have taken in the whole world. If <i>I</i> were +going to teach children the theory of our government, I should begin +with the town-meeting, and not, as many do, begin at the wrong end with +Congress." But then, as Uncle Harry said, that was one of "mother's +hobbies."</p> + +<p>"I think that's a beautiful story about Grandfather Heath when he +was a boy. I think it's beautiful to have <i>such</i> grandfathers and +grandmothers as ours," remarked Dolly, with true ancestral pride.</p> + +<p>"There is a pretty French motto, '<i>Noblesse oblige</i>,' and it means that +those who are born noble must do nobly," said Mrs. Park.</p> + +<p>"It was the motto of the old French nobility, and very nobly did +they live it, many of those who fled from France during the terrible +Revolution. They left all their possessions behind them, and were very +poor. But they would neither beg nor go in debt for food and shelter +and clothes. 'No,' they said, 'we are French nobles, and we can do none +of these things, but we can work and take care of ourselves.' And so +they taught French and music and dancing and sewing. They did any kind +of work they could get to do, and those delicately bred ladies did all +sorts of household drudgery. They did not care what the work was if +it was honest work. They wore old clothes because they had not money +to buy new ones. But the old clothes were always neat. They patched +and they darned, for though a French nobleman or noblewoman might wear +old clothes without shame, they must not be slovenly. And they did all +this with a brave cheerfulness, a self-respecting pride, truly noble. +They were the <i>true</i> noblesse, you see. And that is what you must be, +my Ned, and you, my Dolly. Take the motto of the old French nobility +for yours. Feel that because noble-hearted men and women are your +ancestors, you, too, must be noble in heart and in life.</p> + +<p>"Scorn to do a mean thing. Be brave like Dorothea Williams. Have +the courage of your grandfather Heath—moral courage. Dare to be +truthful—dare to be honest—dare to be poor, if need be—dare always +to do right."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Park had half risen from her chair in her eagerness, and she +now sank back and there was a moment's silence. Then she went to her +dressing-table, and taking out a box, said, "Here is the ring the +lovely lady gave my father." It was a somewhat heavy gold ring, in +which was set a blood-red ruby. "And this," she continued, holding up +a long string of gold beads, "this is Dorothea Williams's necklace." A +small miniature in colors hung from the necklace, Dorothea's portrait. +It was set in a locket of old red gold.</p> + +<p>"This necklace and locket shall be yours, Dolly," said Mrs. Park; "and +you certainly do look like her, as Aunt Debby said. Ned shall have the +ring. You two are their only descendants, and whenever you look at +these heirlooms remember the old French motto, '<i>Noblesse oblige</i>.'"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE SCHOOL AND ITS MASTER.</h3> + + +<p>A few days after the twilight talk mentioned in the last chapter, the +school opened for the winter. It had not been Mrs. Park's intention to +send Dolly, but rather to give her lessons at home, yet the two seemed +so unhappy at the prospect of a daily separation—for Ned of course +must go—that she consented for Dolly to try it at least for a while.</p> + +<p>It was a rather cold morning, the morning of Dolly's introduction +to the school-house of the middle district, and the box-stove which +stood in the centre of the school-room was red-hot, and as she went +in, the teacher, Mr. Emerson, was just in the act of smothering Betty +Potter's flaming gown, which, being of cotton, had caught fire as it +touched the stove in passing. This stove stood in a box of sand, and +the ceiling above it was spangled with innumerable stars—black on +a white firmament—which stars Dolly thought at first were intended +to be decorative. But she afterwards learned that they were purely +accidental—that the scholars were in the habit of thawing out their +frozen ink on top of the stove, and not infrequently a bottle burst, +hence the stars.</p> + +<p>The school-room had been planned like most of the early New England +school-rooms, in loving memory of the English schools of Eton and +Westminster, where many of the immigrants from the mother-country had +studied and played as boys. The desks and benches on either side sloped +down to an open space in the centre, where stood the teacher's desk, +and where recitations were heard. It was on a somewhat smaller scale +than those famous English school-rooms, but after all was quite as +comfortable. It was formerly heated by an open fire, but a few years +preceding the time of which I write, that modern invention the stove +aforesaid had been introduced. Since then the huge fireplace had served +as a wood receptacle, wherein the pine and oak cord-wood sticks were +piled far up the gaping chimney.</p> + +<p>The school-house had never been painted inside or out; and while it +was what an artist or a color-loving person would have called a lovely +gray outside, inside the wood-work had mellowed into an equally lovely +yellowish-brown.</p> + +<p>Both desks and benches had been cut and carved by the innumerable +jack-knives of generations of children, till you could not put your +finger on a perfectly smooth spot. There were many initials, every +boy especially having felt called upon to carve his on the desk he +occupied, and it was not unusual to find on the same desk a boy's +initials with those of his father and grandfather, and in rare cases of +his great-grandfather. The deep cuttings and carvings interfered with a +boy's writing somewhat, if he chanced to be writing with only a single +sheet of his copy-book before him; for when he came to "bear down," as +Ned said, on the down stroke of a <i>y</i> or a <i>p</i>, "if he didn't look out +his pen would jab right through the paper into a hole."</p> + +<p>One feature of the school-room attracted Dolly's attention at once. +Above the desks where the boys sat, pulleys were fixed to the ceiling +by which the slates were drawn up at night and lowered in the morning, +and after the introductory exercises down they came with a crash truly +appalling to unaccustomed ears.</p> + +<p>Dolly looked at Mr. Emerson wonderingly. Here was a new state of +things. In the girls' school where she went in Boston the utmost +quiet was enforced. Would Mr. Emerson permit such a racket? would he +not speak? But Mr. Emerson was placidly turning over his text-books, +apparently deaf to the noise of the falling slates.</p> + +<p>In truth, the only one thing Mr. Emerson did insist upon was perfect +lessons. He would shut his eyes and ears to any amount of roguery and +mischief if only the lessons were thoroughly prepared. But woe to the +unlucky idler or the stupid boy or girl! For such he had no mercy; +"idiot" was the mildest term applied to the latter. And after all, the +results of this system were not bad, for a boy or girl cannot indulge +in much roguery and have perfect lessons at the same time.</p> + +<p>Mr. Emerson himself was a fine scholar who, as everybody knew, could +command a better place and salary than that of master of the middle +district school in Byfield. But he chose to remain for certain reasons, +and the parents were only too glad to have him; and though the boys had +bestowed upon him the pet name of "piggy," on account of his shrill, +almost squealing voice, yet they had at heart the utmost respect for +him.</p> + +<p>A few days only after school began, Dolly had a chance to see how +severe he could be with a stupid scholar. A great lout of a boy was +up reciting in English grammar. He stammered along in his recitation, +making blunder after blunder, while Mr. Emerson frowned and pshawed +and hitched his chair restlessly about over the small platform, in +momentary danger of going over its edge; and when, in answer to +a question, the boy replied, "Grunters and liables," instead of +"Gutturals and labials," Mr. Emerson's patience gave way, and with one +prolonged hitch over he went upon the floor. But he was on his feet in +an instant, and shrieking at the top of his voice, "There, I'm not dead +yet, thank the Lord—but I shall be if that recitation goes on. Go to +your seat, sir!"—he sent his text-book flying after the retreating +boy.</p> + +<p>So school was to Dolly neither stale nor unprofitable. Mr. Emerson's +eccentricities amused her, and being a good scholar she did not fall +under his displeasure. His sarcasm was at times truly terrible. How +Dolly did pity big, awkward Betty Potter, when one day she came +tumbling into the school-room after a romp at snowballing, loudly +exclaiming, "Oh, how hot I am! how I do sweat!" and Mr. Emerson, +turning upon her those awful spectacles of his, said in his most +cutting tones, "Horses <i>sweat</i>, Miss Potter, and men perspire, but +young ladies glow." Dolly's pity, however, might as well have been +reserved, for Betty, not being a sensitive lass, only giggled at the +rebuke given to her uncouthness.</p> + +<p>In due time came the first night of spelling-school. Dolly had asked +Ned if spelling-school was "nice," and he had replied with his usual +formula, "Yes, jolly fun!"</p> + +<p>The school-room was lighted on spelling-school night by home-made +tallow-candles, dipped or moulded, as the case might be. As each boy +and girl brought one, the illumination was decidedly brilliant. You who +despise this method, and may question the truthfulness of my statement, +must remember, however, that even in these days of gas and the electric +light the winter palace of the Tzar of all the Russias is lighted with +candles—of wax, to be sure; for as Theophile Gautier says, "Nowhere, +save in Russia, does the bee still contribute the illumination;" and +light is the same, whether shed by a candle of wax or of tallow.</p> + +<p>But in the matter of candlesticks there was great diversity. In this +respect the middle district school-room failed when compared with the +palace of the Tzar. He has gorgeous chandeliers and candelabra, while +each boy and girl, with rare exceptions, was left to exercise his or +her own ingenuity in providing candlesticks, or, to speak more exactly, +candle-holders for spelling-school night. Many of these holders were +made out of flat turnips and beets, and when cut in the likeness of +roses or dahlias were really triumphs of art and quite pretty.</p> + +<p>These vegetable holders were preferred by the girls generally, because +they were easily cut, but as they had to be renewed each night, the +greater part of the boys whittled out their candelabra once for all +from blocks of wood. A very few, not disposed to do any work they could +avoid, dropped a little melted tallow on the desk, stuck their candle +into it, and the tallow, quickly hardening, held it upright. This last +method, however, was frowned down upon by the authorities, as the +candle, burning down, was apt to set the desk on fire.</p> + +<p>None but members of the day-school were permitted to take part in the +spelling-school, although any who chose could come as lookers-on, and +many did so choose, both old and young.</p> + +<p>Ned and Betty Potter were the leaders for that evening, and they drew +lots for first choice; and the choice falling to Ned, he named Dolly, +not only because he liked to have her next him, but, above all, because +she was a first-rate speller. For, with all his pleasure in Dolly's +comradeship, it is probable she would not have been chosen first had +she not possessed the last-named qualification; for these spelling +contests were hot and fierce, and the first consideration with each +leader was to secure all the best spellers he could on his side.</p> + +<p>The two lines of battle were soon formed, the poorest spellers being +left to the last. These the first fire, as usual, brought down, and the +floor was quickly cleared of all but the few good ones, who obstinately +stood their ground. The championship was contested long and stoutly, +till at last Ned was "floored," and only one was left on either +side—Dolly and Betty Potter.</p> + +<p>"Receive" was the word Mr. Emerson gave out next.</p> + +<p>It was Dolly's turn, and she knew how to spell "receive"—of course she +did—but was it <i>ei</i> or <i>ie</i>?</p> + +<p>It is said, "He who hesitates is lost;" and whether true or not in +morals, it is unquestionably true in spelling, as we all know.</p> + +<p><i>Ei</i> or <i>ie</i>—that was the question; and Dolly, whose decision must be +made promptly, as it was one of the rules of the contest that there +should be "no waiting," was just on the point of spelling, having made +up her mind to the <i>ie</i>, when Ned whispered softly but incisively, +"r-e-c-e-i-v-e," and Dolly repeated it after him—not with any +triumphal feeling, it must be confessed, for she knew at once she had +no right to do so.</p> + +<p>The next word brought down Betty, and Dolly was declared victor, and +decorated with the pretty silver badge, which she was to wear till the +championship should pass on to some better speller.</p> + +<p>Both Dolly and Ned went home that night feeling extremely +uncomfortable, although Ned tried to think that Dolly would have +spelled "receive" all right, even if he had not whispered. But both +avoided the subject with suspicious persistency, and talked about +anything and everything but the spelling. They drank the hot ginger-tea +which Thankful had in readiness for them, to keep them from taking +cold, for it was her maxim that "a pint of hot ginger-tea before the +cold is taken is better than a quart of salts and senna after." And +then they briefly bade Mrs. Park "good-night," declaring there was +"nothing to tell," and they were "dreadfully tired."</p> + +<p>Nothing to tell! Dolly heartily wished there wasn't, as she tossed +restlessly in bed, until she finally made up her mind to such a course +of conduct as brought peace, and then she fell sound asleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning Ned had a raging toothache, and his face was so +swollen that he could not see out of one eye, and his mother said he +could not go to school, though he begged hard to be allowed to do so. +He had reasons.</p> + +<p>"Dolly, what are you going to do?" he suddenly asked, after studying +her face attentively.</p> + +<p>"Do? why, go to school, to be sure," she said, evasively, tying her +hood, and pulling on a pair of sable-backed mittens that were the envy +of all the school-girls.</p> + +<p>"You know that isn't what I mean," remonstrated Ned, as well as he +could, with one cheek feeling as though there were a cannon-ball in it. +"Where's your badge?"</p> + +<p>"In my pocket. And how should I know what you mean, Ned, if you don't +say it?" And Dolly threw back a laughing, defiant glance as she ran out +and closed the door behind her.</p> + +<p>Ned groaned. "Oh dear! I s'pose I know what she's going to do, and I +wish I was going to be there;" and he proved so "fractious" all the +morning, that Thankful, as she assisted his mother in poulticing his +swollen face, lost all patience, and said she "b'lieved 't do him good +to go away 'n let him ache a spell." But Mrs. Park, with true motherly +instinct, had divined that the toothache and swollen face, bad as they +were, were not the sole cause of the fractiousness, and waited upon him +and coddled him with infinite patience.</p> + +<p>When Dolly came home to dinner she was as inscrutable as the Egyptian +sphinx, and refused to open her lips about anything but the ordinary +school routine. But she looked very happy, and when Ned asked her if +she still had the badge in her pocket, said, "No."</p> + +<p>The next morning, the swelling having subsided, Ned went to school and +heard the whole story.</p> + +<p>Dolly had made up her mind, before falling asleep that night, that +she would give the badge to its rightful winner and confess her +wrong-doing. But the next morning she found it required quite as much +resolution to stick to her decision as it did to make it. So all the +morning, while at breakfast and on the way to school, she kept bracing +herself up with those words of Aunt Anna's, "<i>Dare always to do +right—dare always to do right.</i>" Over and over and over she said them. +"It isn't so easy a thing to do, after all," she thought. "It's easy +enough talking about it."</p> + +<p>She waited until the close of the introductory exercises, and then +raised her hand.</p> + +<p>Now, Mr. Emerson was in one of his very worst moods that morning, and +that is saying a good deal. He was a dyspeptic at all times, and he +had taken for breakfast both sausages and coffee, either of which was +enough to completely upset his nervous poise, and the two together had +brought on a condition of things truly frightful.</p> + +<p>As Dolly raised her hand he nodded fiercely. She went forward to his +desk and laid the badge upon it, saying, timidly, "I want to return +this, please."</p> + +<p>"What for?" he demanded, and the words came out like an explosive, and +the glance he fixed upon her was hard and piercing as a steel blade. It +was not encouraging.</p> + +<p>"Because—because it doesn't belong to me," stammered Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he asked, waxing more irate with each question.</p> + +<p>"Because I did not know how to spell 'receive,'" replied Dolly, in a +barely audible voice.</p> + +<p>"But you did spell it!" Oh, how the angry eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"But," said Dolly, hesitating now more and more between each +word—"somebody told me."</p> + +<p>"Who?" shrieked Mr. Emerson in most piercing tones, and laying his hand +on the ferule beside him.</p> + +<p>He was evidently "spoiling for a fight," as Cy Pratt told Ned +afterwards.</p> + +<p>Here was a dilemma that Dolly had not anticipated. She had not dreamed, +when resolving to confess her own fault, that she would be bringing +some one else into trouble, and that one to be Ned, of all others!</p> + +<p>A moment she stood silent while she weighed the question—Ought I to +tell? No, was the decision. I may and must confess my own wrong-doing, +but I am not obliged to confess the wrong-doing of others.</p> + +<p>"Who?" demanded Mr. Emerson again, bringing his ferule down upon his +desk with a whack that made everybody in the room jump.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," replied Dolly, firmly, but respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Which means that you will not," he said, in a measured tone, more +terrible even than his former shriek. He compressed his lips. "Do you +mean to say that you will not tell?" he again asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," said Dolly, lifting up to his face a pair of pleading +eyes that would have melted the soul of any mortal not in the grasp of +a black dyspepsia.</p> + +<p>"Hold out your hand," he said, taking up his ferule; and Dolly, without +an instant's hesitation, held out her plump little hand, with its pink +finger-tips, while she summoned all her firmness to meet the coming +blow. She had never been struck in her life. "But somehow, Ned," she +said, when she told him all about it, "I didn't care one mite about the +blow. I knew it was a disgrace, but it wasn't a disgrace like acting +that lie when I took the badge. I think, Ned, when that big ferule came +down on my hand, I saw just how mean that lie looked."</p> + +<p>But if Dolly did not mind the blow, its effect on Mr. Emerson was +prompt and decisive. He raised the ferule for a second blow, then +dropped it suddenly upon the desk.</p> + +<p>"Take your seat," he said, sternly; "and you," turning to his gaping +pupils, "take your books," and an unusual silence reigned in that +school-room for the remainder of the morning session.</p> + +<p>At noon he stopped Dolly as she was leaving the room.</p> + +<p>"I wish to speak with you," he said; and when they were alone he +continued: "I desire to ask your pardon for that blow, Miss Dorothea. +I had no right to punish you for such a cause. I will not commend you +for confessing your fault, your deception, for that was only doing +right—doing what you ought to do; but the other involved no question +of right—it was more a matter of honor—and no sense of right required +you to betray the person who told you how to spell the word, and I +sincerely ask your pardon."</p> + +<p>Dolly was so utterly taken by surprise at this speech that she could +only gasp, "Oh, please don't, Mr. Emerson, 'twas only just what I +deserved."</p> + +<p>As to Ned, great was his wrath when he heard Cy Pratt's version of +the affair, but after hearing Dolly's he remarked, in a subdued tone, +"Well, Piggy's a prime old brick, after all;" and feeling that he must +have some vent for his emotions or burst, he went out and sawed and +split wood till Thankful said "the m'lennium must be comin'."</p> + +<p>The next day he made a manly confession of his own share in the affair +to Mr. Emerson.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THEIR FIRST QUARREL.</h3> + + +<p>Yes, Cousin Kitty has arrived. She has been looked for at any time from +the first chapter of this narrative, and here she is at last, arrived +in its tenth. "Better late than never," however, at least so far as +Cousin Kitty's arrival is concerned, as Dolly herself would have told +you, who fell in love at first sight with this new and foreign cousin.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty has come from a region far away, if distance is to be +measured by the time required to make it—and that would seem to be the +fair way to measure space. She has come from England in a packet-ship, +and has had a tempestuous passage, a seven-weeks' tossing on the +boisterous Atlantic.</p> + +<p>She is Uncle Harry's niece and Ned's cousin. She is not a cousin of +Dolly's, but being Ned's cousin, Dolly claims a relationship, and +Cousin Kitty gladly and graciously admits the claim.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty is a young woman of twenty or thereabouts, and she went to +live in England when she was six, and has, therefore, very vague ideas +concerning her native land. Her father is a well-known London banker. +She will stay in America two years, and expects to learn a great deal +about it and its people during that time. She stopped in Boston five +days before taking the stage for Byfield.</p> + +<p>"When I was in Boston I saw Scollay Square, and Bunker Hill, and the +Common, and Daniel Webster," she was saying one day at dinner, soon +after her arrival. "But I did not see the famous beauty, Emily Otis. I +don't know but I wanted to see her more than the other things, but she +was out of town."</p> + +<p>"You'll have a chance to see her before you go back, without doubt, and +she's probably as well worth seeing as anything you name, unless its +Webster," replied Mrs. Park.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, we've heard about her in London. N. P. Willis went into +raptures over her, and couldn't say enough about her beauty, and her +graciousness, and her endless charms of mind and person," laughed +Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>"And for once, certainly, he could not have gone far beyond the truth," +was Mrs. Park's reply.</p> + +<p>"And is she so <i>very</i> beautiful?" asked Cousin Kitty. "Have you ever +seen her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have!" put in Dolly, eagerly, "ever and ever so many times; and +oh, Cousin Kitty, she <i>is</i> so beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"Where have you seen her, Dot?" asked Cousin Kitty, who had bestowed a +new pet name on Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Why, at her own home, don't you know? I and her sister Marianne are +very, <i>very</i> intimate friends."</p> + +<p>"Then you are the very one to tell me about her," said Cousin Kitty, +turning with great animation to Dolly. "You can't be envious of her +because she is so much older than you, and you can tell me the exact +truth. What is the color of her eyes?"</p> + +<p>"A lovely dark, almost black."</p> + +<p>"And is she tall?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, tall like mamma."</p> + +<p>"And her hair?"</p> + +<p>"That is dark, too; a dark brown, and it gleams in the light like—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" interrupted Cousin Kitty, "<i>did</i> you ever see her dressed—really +dressed—for a party, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, many, many times; that is one of our treats, Marianne's and +mine."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it; tell me how she was dressed."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Dolly, thinking a moment, "I remember one time +especially, because Marianne and I were so impatient to see her, and +kept running to her room—her maid was dressing her, you know—but she +wouldn't let us in. She was going that night to a reception at Gardiner +Greene's, on Pemberton Square—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw that place. There's a lovely green lawn in front of it," +interrupted Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>"And we kept teasing, an' by-an'-by she said, 'Now, girls, if you will +only stay in the nursery till quarter before nine you shall come then +and look at me to your heart's content.' And we did look at her just as +long as we liked, and she was like a picture, only lovelier than any +picture could possibly be, I think."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dotty, you might be her lover," laughed Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>"And I do love her dearly," was the earnest reply.</p> + +<p>"Tell me how her hair was dressed that night."</p> + +<p>"It was dressed high up on her head, and she wore a big shell comb like +one mamma has, and her front hair in little puffs, with curls behind +her ears, fastened with side combs. But I don't think it was her hair, +nor her shining eyes, nor her smiling mouth that made her look so +beautiful, but something shining through."</p> + +<p>"Dolly speaks better than she knows," said Mrs. Park. "Emily's lovely +character gives the finishing grace to her marvellous personal beauty."</p> + +<p>"Ah! how you excite my desire to see her, you and Dolly," said Cousin +Kitty. "But you haven't told me how she was dressed. What jewels did +she wear—pearls or diamonds?"</p> + +<p>"She wore a white lawn gown with low neck and short sleeves," said +Dolly.</p> + +<p>"No jewels! Not a bracelet nor a necklace! Are you sure, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Very</i> sure."</p> + +<p>"You must know, Kitty, that we in Byfield feel a special pride in her +beauty; we claim a sort of ownership in her, in fact, as her mother is +a native of this town."</p> + +<p>"No, I did not know that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she lived in that old Revolutionary house I showed you yesterday. +She was married young, and I remember her coming from Boston soon +after, and how lovely she looked to my young eyes in a riding-habit of +deep blue. She was an exceedingly handsome and graceful woman, but not +so beautiful as her daughter Emily."</p> + +<p>"I think nobody could be so beautiful as she," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Percival has written a poem about her, beginning,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"'<i>Maid of the laughing lip and frolic eye!</i>'"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>said Aunt Anna; "and when she was married, N. P. Willis wrote an absurd +thing. It was a rainy day, and he said Nature was in tears because +Emily Marshall had ceased to be a society woman and become a wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, when she was married—" began Dolly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Did</i> you see her married?" eagerly interrupted Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Dolly, "but I marked a pocket-handkerchief for her, and +it was a part of her wedding-dress. She asked me to, but I couldn't +find any black silk fine enough, so I begged some of mamma's hair, +which is black, you know, and I marked it with that, and she liked it. +And then next day I helped cut the wedding-cake, and we children had +great fun eating goodies and laughing; and in the midst of it she came +in, and oh, Cousin Kitty, wasn't she lovely!" and Dolly drew a long +sigh, as a lassie might after looking long at one of Fra Angelico's +angels.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you lucky child, you!" said Cousin Kitty. "I believe I should be +almost willing to take to the nursery again to see her as you have."</p> + +<p>"I know a woman in London," she continued, "who saw the beautiful +Recamier in her prime, and she talks about her just as you talk of +Emily Marshall."</p> + +<p>"They were alike in one respect," said Mrs. Park. "They fascinated +everybody, young and old, men and women, alike."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I am told the little ragamuffins of Boston followed Emily +Marshall about and admired her, just as the little Savoyards of Paris +did Madame Recamier," said Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do hope you will see her, Cousin Kitty," said Dolly, fervently, +taking up her spoon and returning to the business of the hour—the +eating of custard pudding; for time had flown while they had been +talking, and it was already school-time.</p> + +<p>And now let me tell you, just here, lest you may think Dolly's +admiration of her lovely friend exaggerated, what Josiah Quincy, who +was himself a young man when Emily Marshall was in the pride of her +beauty, says of her in his recent book, "Figures of the Past:"</p> + +<p>"Centuries are likely to come and go before society will again gaze +spellbound upon a woman so richly endowed with beauty as was Miss Emily +Marshall.... She was simply perfect in face and figure, and perfectly +charming in manners."</p> + +<p>And I must also tell you what Dolly did not tell Cousin Kitty, that +the handkerchief she marked was of a fabric so fine that it took a +long time to do it; and said handkerchief was three-quarters of a yard +square, and carried in the bride's hand, as was the fashion of the day.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Ned, not as yet especially interested in feminine +beauty, had betaken himself to the kitchen, and Dolly not forthcoming +at the proper time, he had gone off to school.</p> + +<p>Dolly finished her pudding, spent some time looking for Ned, and when +Thankful answered the look of inquiry she sent through the half-open +kitchen door by saying, "He's be'n gone t' school this half-hour," it +was then a good half-hour after school-time.</p> + +<p>So she hurried into her "things," spending another five minutes +searching for her mislaid scarf, and as she hurried she grew +unreasonable.</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't Ned have told me when he was going?" she said, +impatiently, forgetting that it was as much her business as his to +look after the time. And as she trudged along alone over the half mile +between the tavern and the school-house, she waxed crosser and more +unreasonable, and when, as she opened the school-room door, she heard +the last line of "John Gilpin," her vexation was complete.</p> + +<p>Twice every week some member of the first class in reading was +permitted to make a selection for the reading-lesson of the day, and +almost invariably the choice fell on "The Diverting History of John +Gilpin," by William Cowper. There were two good reasons for this. In +the first place, "John Gilpin" was considered exquisitely funny; and, +secondly, somebody had discovered that it could be sung to the tune +of "Auld Lang Syne;" and Mr. Emerson, indulgent, as we have seen, in +certain directions, permitted them so to sing the last verse. So, after +the preceding sixty-two verses had been read "in turn," the whole +school broke simultaneously into—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"<i>Now let us sing, Long live the king,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>And Gilpin, long live he;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And when he next doth ride abroad,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>May I be there to see,</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>singing with great vim and utter recklessness as to time and tune, +but with the utmost enjoyment. It was always a "jolly lark," and to +have missed it added the final straw to Dolly's displeasure and to her +estimate of Ned's shortcomings. She took her seat without once looking +at him, as she would ordinarily have done; and Ned, waiting to give her +a friendly nod, wondered, but concluded that she was in such a hurry, +her geography lesson coming next, that she didn't think of him. But as +the afternoon passed, and Dolly persisted in looking everywhere but +in his direction, and, when school closed, hurried off with Priscilla +Martin without stopping to speak to him, he began to wonder what was +the matter.</p> + +<p>He shouted after her, "Ho, Dolly! wait for me!" but she neither turned +nor spoke. And he had such a jolly story to tell her, too, about +'Liphalet Taft! 'Liphalet was always furnishing jolly stories for their +amusement; his blunders were so irresistibly funny! He lived in Turkey +Swamp, with two old aunts, far from any other habitation. He first came +out into the world when he was eight years old, and was stricken with +terror at the sight of the town pump. A spring supplied the old aunts +with water, and he had never imagined anything so dreadful as this +creature, with its long arm and gaping spout. Would it eat him? and he +utterly refused to go by it.</p> + +<p>He was now twelve, and could barely read. Mr. Emerson had called him +up, directly after the opening of the afternoon session, for a five +minutes' lesson in geography. He had been trying for several days to +infuse into his dull brain some idea of the tropics.</p> + +<p>"Name <i>one</i> tropical fruit," he said at last, in despair.</p> + +<p>"<i>Flapjacks!</i>" promptly answered 'Liphalet; which answer brought +down the school in a burst of laughter, in which Mr. Emerson joined. +'Liphalet evidently had caught the idea that tropical fruits were the +product of a warm place, and so said "flapjacks" at a venture. And Ned +did so want to tell Dolly this story.</p> + +<p>But Dolly did not make her appearance at the tavern till supper-time, +when she greeted Cousin Kitty with effusion, and then fell to eating +her bread-and-milk without looking at Ned. Mrs. Park saw that something +was wrong, but, with a wisdom that it is a pity could not be more +generally practised, said nothing. She shook her head slightly at +Cousin Kitty, who seemed about to speak, and then they two went on +talking about mutual acquaintances in Boston and elsewhere, and no +notice was taken of the silent pair.</p> + +<p>There was no twilight conference in mother's room that night. Ned +went off to the barn, where 'Zekle was husking, and looked in only to +say "Good-night" when it was time to go to bed. Dolly read "Robin's +Journal," or pretended to, but Aunt Anna's observant eyes noted that +the pages were very slowly turned, and the narrative did not seem to +possess its usual absorbing interest. She went off to bed earlier than +usual, and cried herself to sleep.</p> + +<p>Foolish Dolly! <i>why</i> didn't she make up? Why, indeed. Why don't we +always make up at once when we quarrel with those we love? Why do we +keep on making their hearts ache and our own too? Why do we ever begin +a quarrel, for that matter? It was a little thing that began this +quarrel, but then, as a general thing, quarrels always do begin in +little things. Give up? No, <i>never</i>! Let us stick it out, though it +half kills us and the one we love too!</p> + +<p>So Dolly, despite the tears and heartache, came down to breakfast the +next morning resolved to keep up her cool behavior till Ned should +do—what? Well, I don't think Dolly could have told exactly what she +did expect Ned to do; but of one thing she was sure—she was going to +make him feel as badly as she could.</p> + +<p>And Ned, now thoroughly exasperated by Dolly's behavior, had resolved, +on his part, to make no more advances. (He had passed the bread to her +at supper the night before, meaning the act as a friendly overture, +and she had taken a piece without looking at him or thanking him.) He +guessed he could stand it as long as Dolly could.</p> + +<p>So the two met in the breakfast-room with a cold "good-morning," for +neither liked, in the presence of the family, to be guilty of the +discourtesy of not speaking at all at this first meeting of the day. +The breakfast went off very like the supper of the night before, the +rest keeping up an animated conversation, while Dolly and Ned ate in +absolute silence.</p> + +<p>Ned went off to school alone, and Dolly called for Priscilla Martin, +and she and Priscilla got up the most surprising intimacy, promenading +to and from school with their arms about each other's waists, and +whispering together apart in the most confidential manner at recess. +Now, Dolly had never liked Priscilla; and as to Ned, he "couldn't bear +her," and never called her anything but "Pris;" and I am afraid that +was one reason why Dolly made such a parade of their sudden intimacy.</p> + +<p>At night the twilight talk was once more omitted, and Aunt Anna's heart +ached for the two wayward creatures, who were evidently as unhappy as +they could be; but she still kept her neutral position, and cautioned +Cousin Kitty, who was inclined to try to persuade them to make up.</p> + +<p>"No," said Aunt Anna, "it is better they should find their way out of +this alone. They are both thoroughly miserable, and I want it to be a +lesson they will not soon forget. I have questioned Thankful, and I do +not think there is any really serious grievance at the bottom."</p> + +<p>The next morning Dolly's resolution was somewhat shaken. She had passed +a miserable night. She had been restless and wakeful, and when she +had slept had dreamed of Ned. In one dream he was far up some steep +height where she could not reach him. In another he was sailing away +in a boat, leaving her on the shore. In still another she was seeking +him through a wild, tangled wood. She looked rather piteously at him +when he came in to breakfast, and if he had shown the least sign of +relenting, the quarrel would have probably ended then and there, for +they were alone. But Ned only said "Good-morning," just as he might +have said it to "Pris" Martin or anybody else that he hated, and walked +up and began drumming on the window-pane, and Aunt Anna and Cousin +Kitty coming in directly, the opportunity for making up at that time +was lost.</p> + +<p>Neither had much appetite for breakfast, and Dolly looked so pale and +unhappy, Aunt Anna began to think she might be obliged, after all, to +abandon her neutrality. Ned stopped at his third buckwheat, and asking +to be excused, left the room, remarking casually, just as he closed the +door, that he was going to look after his traps.</p> + +<p><i>His traps!</i> This was the way, then, he was going to pay her off! Dolly +fairly choked as she tried to drink her mug of milk, but she made a +brave and successful effort not to give way to tears. But wasn't it +<i>cruel</i> in Ned to say that, when he knew how much she wanted to go! He +was a cruel, cruel boy, and she hated him! And for a brief interval the +spirit of evil took possession of Dolly.</p> + +<p>Those traps he had set were not steel-traps, that might catch some +little creature by the leg and tear it frightfully; they were big +box-traps, that would hold their prisoners firmly but tenderly, and Ned +was hoping to catch a white rabbit for Dolly's own. Dolly knew just +where that rabbit-trap was set, under a laurel-bush by the side of the +brook.</p> + +<p>It was only Thursday morning, and this was Saturday, that she went with +Ned to set those very traps. How far away it seemed, and how happy they +were that morning! How sweet the breath of the pine woods! how merry +the flocks of chickadees in the oaks! What a pretty woodland carpet the +trailing partridge-vine, with its scarlet berries, made in the sunny +openings! And the feathery princess-pine and the trailing ground-pine, +what loads of them they brought home! and together they hung them about +the Little Madam's room. How good Ned was that day! (At this thought +the spirit of evil spread its wings and made ready for flight.) How +he helped her to climb up to the crow's nest in the tall pine! How +good he was, anyway! Ah! Ned's goodness was a dangerous subject to +contemplate in Dolly's then state of mind, and she quickly turned her +attention to the apple-fritters which Thankful was heaping on her plate +sympathizingly.</p> + +<p>Dear, grim, crusty, tender-hearted Thankful! She couldn't bear, as she +said afterwards, to see "them child'en makin' themselves miser'ble +f'r nothin'. 'F they only waited a spell they'd have plenty o' misery +'thout makin' it."</p> + +<p>Ned got back from his traps a little before noon. He came back much +subdued. He had not had a happy time. He had found nothing in his +traps, and every step of the way he had seen something that made him +think of Dolly. Here was where he fixed the stones for her to cross +the brook. There were the white birches from the tops of which they +had swung, climbing up to the very tip-top of the tree, then clutching +it with both hands and swinging clear, while the supple tree bent till +their feet almost touched the ground. How fearlessly Dolly had swung +off!—she wasn't one bit afraid.</p> + +<p>There, too, was the big pine they had climbed together, while he told +her how once he went up that same tree for crows' eggs, and came down +bringing one in his mouth because he had to use both hands in climbing, +and when he jumped from the last branch the jar broke it, and it was +addled—faugh! and how merrily Dolly laughed! She was a jolly girl, +anyhow, and he liked her better than any girl he knew; and he wished +she hadn't gone round with that hateful "Pris" Martin, and—"I'll go +home an' ask her what's the matter, anyway, an' we'll make up, I guess."</p> + +<p>And now I must tell you how they did make up their quarrel, and how +droll it was that Skatta should have been the one, after all, to help +make it up.</p> + +<p>They were standing each by a window of the sitting-room. Aunt Anna, +wise Aunt Anna, had gone out and left them together. Each was wanting +to speak, and each was hoping the other would say something to break +the ice.</p> + +<p>Skatta was in the side-yard, where 'Zekle had turned her for exercise. +She was prancing up and down, tossing her head, kicking up her heels, +and investigating everything within reach of her nose. At last she +espied the clothes-pin basket hanging high, with the Little Madam's +blue-eyed cat curled comfortably therein, on top of the clothes-pins. +That clothes-pin basket was a favorite resort of the blue-eyed cat. +Skatta trotted up to it and put up her nose in a friendly way, but +kitty resented the familiarity and returned Skatta's gentle touch with +a vicious scratch. Skatta turned instantly, and lifting her heels, +sent kitty and basket and clothes-pins spinning high into the air, and +then trotted off with a satisfied whinny, while kitty landed upon the +wood-shed roof, spitting furiously.</p> + +<p>Then Ned and Dolly laughed outright, the ice was broken, and Ned, +crossing over to Dolly's window, put his hand on her shoulder and said, +"I say, Dolly, let's go this afternoon and look at those traps again." +And Dolly replied, with somewhat "tearfu' een," "How good you are, Ned!"</p> + +<p>And so ended their first and last real quarrel; and on the way to the +traps Ned told her the "flapjack" story.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF SKATTA.</h3> + + +<p>Old Bill had been transferred (at Ned's special desire) from the stable +to the stall beside Skatta, and one morning while they (Ned and Dolly) +were taking care of their respective horses, Ned suddenly stopped his +currying of old Bill, struck an attitude, and recited the following:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent24">"<i>And from their traces loosed</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Their sweating horse, which sev'rally with headstalls they repos'd,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And fasten'd by their chariots; when others brought from town</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Fat sheep and oxen, instantly, bread, wine, and hewèd down</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Huge store of wood. The winds transferr'd into the friendly sky</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Their supper's savor; to the which they sat delightfully,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And spent all night in open field; fires round about them shin'd,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>As when about the silver moon, when air is free from wind,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And stars shine clear, to whose sweet beams high prospects and the brows</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Of all steep hills and pinnacles thrust up themselves for shows,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And ev'n the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>When unmeasured firmament bursts to disclose her light,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And all the signs in heav'n are seen that glad the shepherd's heart;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>So many fires disclos'd their beams, made by the Trojan part</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Before the face of Ilion and her bright turrets show'd.</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>A thousand courts of guard kept fires, and ev'ry guard allow'd</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Fifty stout men, by whom their horse ate oats and hard white corn,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>And all did wishfully expect the silver-thronèd morn.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Ned recited these lines from Chapman's translation of Homer as though +he liked them and had read them a good many times, while Dolly stayed +her brushing of Skatta's mane and listened with all her might.</p> + +<p>"What is that? What a swing there is to it," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there? That's what I like—the swing. It's the other book I told +you I found in the chest in the secret chamber. I'll show it to you +to-night." And so in the evening Ned brought out the big old folio, +and spent an hour or so reading out to Dolly the parts he liked. It +was during that evening that Dolly added another bit to her store of +historical lore. Cousin Kitty had been peeping over her shoulder and +reading scraps from Homer too when she said, suddenly turning to Aunt +Anna,</p> + +<p>"What a charming Penelope the Little Madam makes, with her eternal +spinning, Aunt Anna! But where is her Ulysses? Is he never coming?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," replied Aunt Anna.</p> + +<p>"Ulysses!" and Dolly looked up. "What do you mean, Cousin Kitty?" for +Dolly was always very much awake to anything that concerned the Little +Madam.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's here!" was Cousin Kitty's reply, giving the huge folio a +lift. "It's in the Odyssey—how Penelope spins and spins and waits for +Ulysses, who has gone to the wars, and by-and-by he comes back and they +live happy ever after."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dolly," she exclaimed again, suddenly—such a quick, bright, +charming, birdlike way Cousin Kitty had—"I saw that beautiful picture +of the spinning on Boston Common."</p> + +<p>Spinning on Boston Common! Dolly looked puzzled. Surely she never heard +of such a thing! When! how! What could Cousin Kitty mean?</p> + +<p>"What! Did you never hear of that, Dolly?" asked Cousin Kitty, rightly +interpreting her look. "Well, I didn't till I saw the picture, and then +I hunted it up, of course. The Little Madam and her wheel made me think +of it.</p> + +<p>"It seems that, once upon a time, when our great-grandmammas were +young, cloth was scarce in Massachusetts; so it was decreed by the +powers that <i>were</i> that spinning should be done in every family. About +that time, too, the Scotch-Irish came over from Londonderry, Ireland, +bringing their pretty wheels for spinning linen, and a spinning craze +set in; and they had a spinning-school in Scollay Square, or where +Scollay Square is now, and everybody, old and young, rich and poor, +fell to spinning; and they even took their wheels on to the Common, +and a charming sight it must have been, and a humming like a myriad +of bees; and every woman and girl who could wore a gown of her own +spinning and weaving; and some young girls had a spinning-match at +the minister's house one day, and when they got through they had two +hundred and thirty skeins of yarn, which they bestowed on the minister, +lucky man!"</p> + +<p>One morning as Dolly opened the door of the cow-barn, old Bill looked +around and whinnied; but there was no greeting from Skatta's stall—it +was empty!</p> + +<p>It was early, and twilight still lingered in the recesses of the barn. +Dolly drew nearer for a second look; it was possible the first look had +deceived her. But no, the stall was certainly empty. She gazed about +her helplessly. Old Bill whinnied again and reached out his nose, and +the cows chewed their cud leisurely while waiting for the cow-boy to +turn them out into the sunny yard. They could tell her nothing.</p> + +<p>She flew out of the barn, and meeting Ned, exclaimed, "Oh, Ned, +Skatta's gone!"</p> + +<p>"Gone where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," was the distressed reply.</p> + +<p>"She's somewhere about, I guess; we'll look her up," was Ned's +consoling reply.</p> + +<p>Ah yes—perhaps she had only strayed a short distance, loosed her +halter herself—the little mischief!—and gone in quest of the green +pastures of last summer. The cow-boy, when he came to milk, doubtless +left the door ajar. A little prancing, a brief tossing of the heels, +and she would come to her mistress's call. So they went out and looked +over the meadows that lay far and wide to the south and west, but no +Skatta was to be seen.</p> + +<p>Then they searched the barn anew. Perhaps she had strayed into an +empty manger, and was hiding—the rogue!—as she sometimes hid behind +a bush in the pasture when Dolly was looking for her. Or she may have +leaped the bay for a taste of the sweet rowan. These possibilities Ned +suggested by way of comfort, but in neither of these places was she to +be found.</p> + +<p>They looked under the barn where the sheep were kept; they even +instituted inquiries in the hen-house and the piggery, but without +avail.</p> + +<p>In despair they went back to the empty stall, and there an ominous +sight presented itself. The door of the harness-closet was open—the +lock had been forced—the saddle and bridle were gone! There was but +one conclusion to be reached.</p> + +<p>"Somebody has stolen her," said Dolly, and Ned was silent.</p> + +<p>"It's that dreadful man again, Aunt Anna," said Dolly, as she told her +the heavy news—"the man that killed Gaston."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't look reasonable, Dolly," replied Aunt Anna.</p> + +<p>But when Aunt Anna came to talk with Uncle Harry about it, he said +'twas the only reasonable solution.</p> + +<p>"If they'd really wanted to have stolen a horse, they'd have taken +Suke or Dapple instead. Besides, there isn't another Shetland within +fifty miles, and it's risky taking her—everybody knows her. Dolly's +right; it's that fellow, and I'll do my best to get him, for there's no +knowing what he'll be at next."</p> + +<p>"But why should he have stolen Skatta if he doesn't want her, as you +say," persisted Mrs. Park.</p> + +<p>"For revenge," was Uncle Harry's reply. "The child has thwarted him +twice, and such fellows are revengeful."</p> + +<p>And Uncle Harry did do his best. Notices of Skatta's disappearance and +descriptions of her were sent as fast and as far as was possible before +the era of railroads and telegraph wires. Uncle Harry scoured the +country far and near searching for traces of her; word was forwarded by +stage to the police of Boston to be on the watch for a Shetland pony +answering the description sent. A description of the supposed thief was +also sent.</p> + +<p>Every day the stage-driver was questioned for news of her, and all +along his route people hailed him to ask if she had been found, and +Dolly and her Shetland Skatta shortly became famous, if fame consists +in having one's name in everybody's mouth.</p> + +<p>Everybody, too, learned of Gaston's death, and the attempt to rob the +Little Madam, and of Dolly's escapade at the time of the convention. +One maiden of thirteen, living in Quincy, even sent Dolly a letter—a +delightful letter, too—which ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dearest Dolly</span>,—I think your life is just like a story. +Now nothing ever happens to me. My dog Gypsy is well and fat. Nobody +tries to rob us. We haven't any queer Little Madam—oh, how I should +like to see yours! I do quite envy you, having such romantic things +happening all the time. My little brother got lost the other day, but +we found him right away, and he was only asleep on one of the pigs. +Nothing happens to us. I have longed, ever since I read the 'Mysteries +of Udolpho,' that something would happen, or I could see something +horrid—like a skeleton or something, you know. But our house is +spandy new, and there isn't even a dark closet in it. And somebody +told me there's a secret room in your tavern. Oh, how lovely! Do you +suppose anybody was ever boarded up in it, and died in it, as they did +in 'Marmion?' Oh, it must be so interesting to live in a house with a +secret chamber! It would make me crawl all over, nights, to think of +it. Do you ever go into it alone? and wasn't it splendid to get shut +up in the meeting house? I should have <i>shrieked</i> if it had been me, I +know I should. But papa says you are a heroine. I think it's lovely to +be a heroine. But my brother Jack—he's an awful tease, and sometimes +I get awful mad with him—says he never heard of a goose being a +heroine. I wouldn't have Jack know I wrote this letter for anything. +He would laugh at me so. But I felt I <i>must</i> write to you. It's almost +as good as writing to Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams in 'The Children +of the Abbey.' Did you ever read that? It's sweet, but I like 'The +Mysteries of Udolpho' better—it's more dreadful. I wish you would +write me a letter. I should like to be your friend. I should like to +send you my Gypsy. I love him, but I should like to give him to you to +comfort you, because your Gaston was killed.</p> + +<p class="ph3">"Your very true and loving friend,</p> + +<p class="ph3">"<span class="smcap">Pamela S. Drake</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Dolly had never heard of this little lady before, but she answered the +letter. The offer of Gypsy quite touched her, but she declined the +gift; and although Pamela S. Drake has nothing further to do with this +story, the fact may as well be mentioned here that the friendship thus +begun has proved a life-long one.</p> + +<p>This was the only letter Dolly received on the subject, though +doubtless, had postage been as cheap then as now, she would have had +a peck. But letter-writing in those days was a serious business, and +postage ran all the way from five cents to twenty-five for even short +distances.</p> + +<p>While Uncle Harry was scouring the country for traces of the thieves, +'Zekle and Thankful constituted themselves a home-guard. 'Zekle +furbished up the big pistol dropped by the thieves on the night of the +Whig convention, and cleaned and loaded his gun anew, while Thankful +went to bed every night with the biggest carving-knife handy on the +light-stand by her bed, after having searched more vigorously than +usual under the bed and behind her gowns in the closet for the possible +man. Everybody in and about the tavern, if questioned, would have +confessed to being a trifle "nervous," but all, with one exception, +kept a brave front. That exception was Betty, the farmer's bouncing +daughter, who helped at the tavern on extra occasions, and who had been +summoned to assist in the preparations for Thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>Betty's apple-round cheeks and plump waist were no proof of courage, +and she was quite as much of a coward as though she had been slim and +pale. She saw a robber behind every door, and as to looking under +her bed o' nights!—she dared not do it; but having undressed, with +one wild leap she plunged into the depths of the feather-bed, and +covering her head with the bedclothes, did not emerge therefrom till +peremptorily routed by Thankful at five o'clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>Thankful delighted in sending her on various errands in the evening to +remote parts of the tavern, and Betty would scurry timorously along +with half-shrieks and little jumps, coming back all out of breath, sure +she had seen a face peering in at a certain window, or heard a hand +fumbling at a certain door-latch.</p> + +<p>One evening Thankful sent her down cellar for apples.</p> + +<p>"Harrington 'll be 'long 'n a couple o' days, an' I might 's well make +a beginnin' on the mince-pies," said Thankful, by way of explanation.</p> + +<p>(Harrington was the famous wizard who entertained so many generations +of children, and who made a yearly visit to Park's Tavern, and +exhibited in the dancing-hall.)</p> + +<p>Betty did not dare to decline going down cellar, though her heart sank +within her as she took a candle and she looked imploringly towards +Thankful, who was cheerfully kneading dough.</p> + +<p>'Zekle was busy examining his gun, which had kicked that day when he +had fired at a flock of migrating geese; and had he not been so intent +upon learning the cause of such behavior, he would have seen Betty's +evident reluctance and gone down cellar with her; for 'Zekle did not +approve of the tests to which Thankful was continually putting Betty's +courage.</p> + +<p>But he did not look up, and Thankful went on cheerfully kneading, and +there was nothing for Betty to do but to obey the order and go down +cellar for the apples.</p> + +<p>The tavern cellar was as rambling in its way as the tavern itself. +Underneath the principal stairway—there were three—was a dark cave, +which terminated in an equally dark extension under the older part of +the tavern. Betty never went down these stairs, even in the daytime, +without feeling as though a hundred invisible hands were ready to catch +at her ankles. This cellar was divided into rooms, and had arches for +ashes, and arches for apples, and arches for potatoes, and for every +other kind of a vegetable, each one apparently blacker and gloomier +than the others. The arch which held the particular apple—the Holmes +apple—which Thankful wanted was at the end of the cellar farthest from +the main staircase, and the brick walk leading thither lay along a +succession of these grewsome arches.</p> + +<p>Thankful was still cheerfully kneading, and 'Zekle still intent upon +his gun, when a piercing shriek arose from the cellar directly from +under their feet; and in an incredibly short space of time—before +they could reach the cellar-door, in fact—Betty burst into the room, +shrieking, "I've seen him! I've seen him!" and sank into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Seen him! seen <i>who</i>?" demanded Thankful, shaking her vigorously, for +she showed symptoms of hysterics.</p> + +<p>"The thief! And oh, he grinned, and opened his horrid mouth, and +gnashed his teeth at me—and—and—I think he had a tail!" she +concluded, in a whisper, looking fearfully around.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool!" said Thankful, contemptuously. "'Fraid o' y'r own +shadder—a thief with a tail! Well, you <i>are</i> a gump!" and, disgusted +beyond measure, Thankful went back to her kneading.</p> + +<p>But 'Zekle questioned Betty: "Where d' y' see him, Betty?"</p> + +<p>"In the flat-turnip bin 'n the shadder, an' I couldn't make him out +first. I saw his eyes, an' I says to myself, says I, now, Betty, don't +be scared 't nothin', an' then he give a kind o' a fling, an' I see +his tail!"—lowering her voice and looking furtively at Thankful. "Oh, +'Zekle, he was horrid—<i>wus</i> than horrid!"</p> + +<p>"Diabolical" was probably the word Betty was groping after, only she +didn't know it.</p> + +<p>Then 'Zekle said he "guessed he'd jest go down an' see f'r himself;" +and taking his lantern and gun, he preceded Betty down the +cellar-stairs; for Betty had no thought of remaining behind to be +scoffed at, and—in modern phrase—to be set down upon by Thankful.</p> + +<p>They went slowly and cautiously down the stairs and along the brick +walk till they came to the flat-turnip bin, when 'Zekle suddenly +stopped. Yes, there were the eyes, sure enough!—sly, mischievous, with +a spice of malice in them—peering through the darkness, and presently +the grinning mouth opened, displaying a double row of sharp, white +teeth. 'Zekle opened the door of the lantern and threw the full light +of the candle into the bin.</p> + +<p>"A monkey, by gosh!" he exclaimed, dropping his gun in his +astonishment. Now, 'Zekle rarely used that expletive—hardly twice a +year, in fact—and his doing so was expressive of extreme surprise.</p> + +<p>The monkey, for it was a monkey, had on a scarlet coat and a +scarlet-and-gilt cocked hat. He raised the latter politely, and, coming +forward, held out his paw to 'Zekle graciously.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I vum 'f th' critter don't want t' shake hands!" said 'Zekle, +taking the monkey's paw. "He's 'scaped from th' menadgeri at Braintree. +I heered 'bout it yest'day. Si Prince was down t' Braintree—saw th' +richenceros, but th' monkey 's gone—couldn't git no track o' him +nowheres; an' I'll be hanged 'f this ain't him, clothes an' all!</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, Betty, no wonder you's scared. We'll jest take him up an' +interduce him t' Thankful;" and 'Zekle chuckled as he anticipated +Thankful's amazement.</p> + +<p>They returned, Betty leading the way, carefully keeping 'Zekle between +herself and the monkey; for, never having seen one before, she did not +place implicit confidence in 'Zekle's assurance that he "wouldn't hurt +nobody."</p> + +<p>"Thankful," said 'Zekle, as he opened the kitchen door, "let me +interduce the thief; an' he has got a tail, sure."</p> + +<p>The monkey, whisking by 'Zekle and Betty, doffed his hat with a low +bow to the astonished Thankful, and then, his natural love of mischief +getting the better of his artificial politeness, he leaped upon the +table, snatched from the kneading-bowl the elastic ball of dough, and +began tossing it to the ceiling and catching it.</p> + +<p>It was impossible not to laugh at the creature's pranks. Even Thankful +gave way, and the noise brought Ned and Dolly, together with Cousin +Kitty, from the sitting-room, where they were having a romping game of +blind-man's-buff; for Cousin Kitty was trying every method to cheer +Dolly during the uncertainty concerning Skatta.</p> + +<p>After some consultation, it was decided to chain their unexpected +though not wholly unwelcome guest near the fireplace, to give him a mat +upon which to lie, and an old shawl wherewith to wrap himself up.</p> + +<p>"F'r they're cold critters, monkeys are," said 'Zekle, "an' sly, +too—'tarnal sly." "Sly as J. B.," 'Zekle would probably have said, had +he been acquainted with Dickens; but this was before the creation of +the delightful "Dombey and Son."</p> + +<p>Thankful herself went down cellar this time for fresh "emptins" for a +new batch of dough, while Betty went off to bed, with the comfortable +assurance that for once, at least, she hadn't been "scared at nothin'." +Absorbed in this pleasant reflection, she forgot to make her usual leap +and plunge, and so got into bed in a civilized manner.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>NED TO THE RESCUE.</h3> + + +<p>A week had elapsed from the date of Skatta's disappearance, and every +effort to find some trace of her had failed. Dolly was in despair, and +both Uncle Harry and Aunt Anna had given up all hope of ever seeing her +again, although keeping up a show of hopefulness for Dolly's sake.</p> + +<p>It was on the afternoon of the seventh day, and Ned was sitting in the +barn door, thoughtfully whittling.</p> + +<p>"I don't see," Uncle Harry had remarked that day at the +dinner-table—"I don't see how the fellow ever got off with her without +anybody seeing him."</p> + +<p><i>Had</i> he got away with her? was the question Ned was now asking +himself. Was it not possible that both he and Skatta were hidden +somewhere not far away? Certainly it would not be a difficult thing to +do, to keep himself and Skatta in hiding till such time as the search +for her should be over. So Ned whittled and revolved these questions in +his mind.</p> + +<p>"That's it, I'll bet!" he shouted out at last, bringing his hand down +upon his knee with a resounding slap that made old Bill jump. The +next minute he was on his feet, and thrusting his jack-knife into his +trousers-pocket, he struck a bee-line across the old muster-field for +the Little Madam's cottage. He came out into the winding lane just +before reaching it.</p> + +<p>What an atmosphere of peace seemed to brood over the little domain, +lying so securely within its encircling pastures! The sun lay warm +within the narrow yard. Close by the door-stone blossomed a pale-yellow +chrysanthemum; but the crimson leaves of the woodbine had fallen, save +one at the summit of the chimney, that fluttered in the warm south wind +like the "one red leaf" in "Christabel"—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent14">"<i>The last of its clan,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>That dances as often as dance it can,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Hanging so light and hanging so high</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Ned peeped in at a window. Some one had evidently been there since the +room had been put in order under Thankful's careful supervision. A fire +had been kindled on the hearth, and the ashes and brands had encroached +upon the white scoured floor. A litter of straw in one corner showed +where some one had slept. Ned tried the door: it was unfastened and he +went in. Some of the boards of the floor had been lifted, and one was +still out of place. Ned recalled the gossip about the Little Madam's +hidden treasure. But there was no sign of fire among the ashes on the +hearth, and the bricks were cold. Evidently no one was making use of +the cottage then.</p> + +<p>He went out and stood a few moments on the door-stone. He took out his +knife and stooped to cut off the yellow chrysanthemum blossoms.</p> + +<p>"She will like them," he was thinking, remembering the Little Madam's +love of flowers. But he drew back his knife. "No, I'll look for them," +was his determination. "I'll wait till I come back." And then, with a +deliberation and slowness that contrasted oddly with the headlong haste +of his passage from the tavern to the cottage, he climbed over the +fence into the pasture and made for the woods.</p> + +<p>Following him, you would have noticed how he avoided every bit of open +ground and kept close to the woods, choosing those of pine and hemlock +rather than of the deciduous trees that, now the leaves had fallen, +afforded less shelter from observation. He chose, too, the woods where +the underbrush was thick; and as he went on, he examined cautiously and +carefully every thicket, explored every hollow, stopping frequently to +listen.</p> + +<p>With these woods on Hemlock Island he was familiar. He had tracked +them through and through many times when in pursuit of stray cattle or +sheep. He had set traps in them, too. But that day he barely noticed +the scolding squirrels that leaped from branch to branch over his head, +nor the rabbits that scurried across his path. Even the flight of a +bevy of partridges failed to stir the hunter's heart in his bosom. He +was in quest of quite another sort of game.</p> + +<p>After about an hour of this cautious progress he came to the opening +where the coal-pits were. He recalled the day Dolly rode down there so +gayly on Skatta, with Gaston by her side. He paused and reconnoitred +before venturing out into the open space. The cabins were still there, +but the pits had been coaled long since and the coal carted off. +Nothing remained to tell of that busy scene but the big black circles +in the turf, which was still green as in spring with the late mild +rains and the wash from the coal-pit bottoms.</p> + +<p>The grass showed no sign of recent foot-falls, so Ned ventured forth +and peeped into each solitary, empty cabin. There was the straw and the +old quilts, the pieces of battered tin-ware and stumps of pipes, just +as they had been left when the last load of coal was carted off. How +still it was! Not a leaf stirred, not a solitary bird rustled among the +branches. The utter silence of the place was oppressive; earth and sky +seemed to listen.</p> + +<p>Presently the cry of a flock of geese was heard. They were flying low, +and wearily seeking a place to rest. As they neared Wintuxet Lake, a +shot cut clear and sharp through the air and two fell swiftly, while +the V-shaped line broke in disorder.</p> + +<p>"Sportsmen," thought Ned. "<i>He</i> wouldn't dare to be firing guns."</p> + +<p>As he turned away with a feeling of keen disappointment from the empty +cabins, he thought of another place, still more secluded, where it +was possible that Skatta and the thief might be hidden. This possible +hiding-place was a good mile farther on, and away from home. The sun +had already sunk low in the west, for these were the year's shortest +days.</p> + +<p>But Ned pushed resolutely on, for somehow, with every fresh +disappointment he felt more and more certain that he was on the right +track. He made his way through the thick underbrush and over the swampy +tracts cautiously, as before. He crossed a tremulous piece of turf, +about half an acre in extent, known as "the tilting ground." It bent +under even his light weight at every step, and tradition said that +under that springing turf was a bottomless pit of liquid mud, and that +any one by chance breaking through would go on sinking till he came +out, say, at Hong-Kong, China, or some other place at the antipodes.</p> + +<p>But Ned did not mind the springing turf; he had never really believed +the fabulous story, though he had told it to Dolly, and they had +speculated together over the probable fate of any human being who might +happen to break through. He had promised to show it to her some day.</p> + +<p>Just as the sun had dropped below the horizon, sending up a flight of +golden arrows to the zenith by way of a farewell to the eastern world, +Ned reached his destination. This was also an old coaling ground, +though it had been years since any pits had been coaled there. The only +time Ned remembered ever being at this exact place was about a year +previous, when he went through this tract of woods with his father, in +search of a pine fit for a ship's mast. At that time the coal-cabins +were in a ruinous state; but on this day, as Ned parted the branches of +a young pine and peeped out into the open space, his eye fell upon two +comfortable cabins. The fallen slabs had been picked up and carefully +nailed in place—there were the brown stripes in the turf where they +had lain—and each cabin was thatched with branches of hemlock and +white pine.</p> + +<p>"Treed at last!" ejaculated Ned, under his breath, and this was all +the outward expression of joy he allowed himself, though he could have +danced a jig in sheer delight. He drew quietly back into the depths of +the young pine, and reflected.</p> + +<p>The situation was indeed a serious one. It was already sunset, as I +have said, and were he to go home at once and carry the news of his +discovery, the probability was that his father would think it unwise to +attempt Skatta's rescue and the arrest of the thief before morning—and +what might not happen between that time and morning? Before sunrise +they might both be far away. No! such risk as that was not to be +thought of for a moment. He, acting alone, could not secure both, of +course; but if he could only get Skatta, take her that night to her +young mistress safe and sound—ah! he could see Dolly's shining eyes +even through the gathering mists of the twilight as he thought of it. +<i>That</i> was worth running a little risk for.</p> + +<p>But how was he to do it? How was he, a mere boy, to carry her off with +safety both to her and himself, from this daring, reckless man? He +must plan with wisdom, and act with discretion and promptness. There +must be the least possible risk of detection in the act. For Ned felt, +and rightly too, that the fellow would not hesitate to fire at him, +to kill him even, as he had done Gaston, if he thought the so doing +were necessary to his own safety. Ned had accepted, as we see, without +any reservation, Dolly's theory as to <i>who</i> the thief was—viz., the +murderer of Gaston.</p> + +<p>While he was casting about in his mind for a plan of rescue, a man +stepped out into the opening from the woods on the opposite side. Ned +recognized him at once. It was the man with the evil eye, whom they saw +that day by the blazing pit, the man whom Dolly said had killed Gaston, +one of the meeting-house thieves. He held a gun in one hand, and from +the other hung a couple of dead geese. His was the shot, after all, +that Ned had heard. He entered one of the cabins, and presently smoke +was seen coming out of the hole in the top.</p> + +<p>"He's getting supper," reflected Ned. "Wish I had some! Going to roast +one of those geese, I'll bet!" and Ned's mouth fairly watered at the +thought. "Oh, dear! how hungry I am! Wish I'd thought to take a couple +o' dough-nuts."</p> + +<p>Ned's conjecture was right. The man <i>was</i> going to have goose for +supper; for, leaving his fire to get well under way, he came out and +proceeded to pick and clean one of the geese. A cloud of downy feathers +hid him from view as he worked.</p> + +<p>"What'd Thankful say to such a waste o' feathers," commented Ned, as he +watched the man with an interest that made him almost forget his own +perilous situation. "Oh, what a fool! He don't know anything! he's no +sportsman!" as he saw the way in which he mangled the plump, fat bird.</p> + +<p>The process of dressing, or <i>undressing</i>—for why should we call the +pulling off of all a bird's feathers "dressing it?"—was soon ended, +and the man again vanished into the cabin. As he disappeared, Ned felt +as though he would risk almost anything just for one peep, in order to +see how he would cook the goose. "I should hang it before the fire with +a string fastened to the top of the cabin," he decided in his own mind; +for Ned was a born sportsman, and fertile in invention, as indeed most +bright boys are, for that matter.</p> + +<p>Presently the man, having arranged his goose to his satisfaction, came +out and crossed over to the other cabin. A moment or two passed, and he +reappeared, leading Skatta—for it <i>was</i> Skatta, though so covered with +dust, so frowzy, with wisps of dry grass clinging to coat and mane and +tail, as to look little like the sleek, glossy creature her mistress +was wont to groom daily with such loving care.</p> + +<p>She had apparently been well fed, however, for she pranced about gayly +and seemed in the best of spirits, though she shied suggestively when +the man raised his hand or came very near her.</p> + +<p>"The brute's been abusing her," thought Ned, and his blood boiled at +the thought.</p> + +<p>The man led her to a spring at the edge of the woods, not far from the +spot where Ned lay in a tangle of ferns, laurel, and white pine. At +first she refused to drink, and held her head high, seemingly searching +the woods with her soft, spirited eyes. The man swore at her and kicked +her, and then she began to plunge and rear, but she subdued herself +quickly, as though knowing it was of no use to rebel. Then she bowed +her head and drank long and deeply, and as they were returning from the +spring, again her soft, spirited eyes seemed to question the shadowy +woods. Was she conscious that a friend was hidden there? Possibly.</p> + +<p>She was led back to the cabin, and then Ned waited and waited while +the man ate his dinner and smoked his pipe. He could catch glimpses of +him through the chinks in the cabin as he moved about in the firelight, +and a delicious and tantalizing odor of broiling goose was wafted upon +the night air to the nostrils of the hungry boy.</p> + +<p>Ned had drawn up his plan; it was a simple one, viz., to wait till the +man was sound asleep, and then make off with Skatta. It was tedious +waiting, and he sometimes felt cramped, but he dared not move lest a +rustle among the bushes—for the night was breathlessly still—might +betray him. Once or twice he came near falling asleep, but he pinched +himself awake.</p> + +<p>The man occasionally came to the door and looked out, leaning up +against the side of the cabin, and smoking in a contemplative manner. +At such times Ned hoped he wasn't thinking about leaving that night; if +he did, what was he (Ned) to do? To see Skatta carried off from right +under his nose, as it were, he felt would be more than he could endure.</p> + +<p>At last, however, after what seemed an interminable time, the fire in +the cabin died down and all was still. Ned waited a good while even +after that, curbing his impatience with the thought that if he should +make a movement one moment too soon all would be lost. The time seemed +to lengthen into a week, as he said afterwards, and how he did wish he +knew exactly what time it was! And what were they thinking at home +when he failed to appear at supper-time? Well, he guessed he should +surprise 'em when he did come.</p> + +<p>At length he ventured out from his covert into the opening. It was a +clear, starlight night; the moon had not yet risen. Ned looked up. +How thoroughly comfortable and comforting was the sight of those +familiar constellations, the "Little Dipper," the "Big Dipper," and +Orion's dazzling belt! He had to pass close by the cabin wherein the +man lay asleep. He stopped an instant and listened. He heard his heavy +breathing, but even while he listened he turned restlessly in his sleep +and groaned.</p> + +<p>Ned slipped, silently and swiftly as a ghost glides, over the space +which separated the two cabins and entered Skatta's.</p> + +<p>"Skatta!" he whispered, warningly. He was in mortal terror lest she +should whinny when she recognized him. Not she! She had not yet lain +down, and she turned her head as he came up to her, and rubbed her nose +over his head, his shoulders, anywhere where she could reach him.</p> + +<p>He groped for her saddle and bridle. He could ride Skatta bare-back, +with only her halter to guide her, if necessary, but he had no mind to +do that. He would take her back to Dolly "all saddled and bridled" as +she first came, if he took her at all.</p> + +<p>Skatta stepped carefully to his leading, slipped her head promptly into +the bridle, and would doubtless have assisted with right good-will in +buckling the saddle-girths if she could, for well she knew that the +hour of her deliverance had come.</p> + +<p>He then led her out, and mounted at once, to be ready for any +emergency. He walked her slowly over the open space towards a wood's +road which led into the country road, slowly and silently as possible, +and it was only just as they reached that road that the thief, awaking, +saw his prey escaping. He sent a pistol-shot after them, but it was too +late.</p> + +<p>"Now, Skatta," said Ned, "as fast as you please!" and the little +creature, fresh from her week's rest, and turned towards home, +literally flew over the ground. Part of the way, the last part, they +took to the fields, the tireless Skatta leaping fences and ditches at +full speed, doing herself, in her small way, as much credit as did +Browning's famous Roland himself when he brought the good news from +Ghent to Aix.</p> + +<p>The moon was rising over the eastern pines as they passed the +Little Madam's cottage, and as they dashed by, Ned gave a sort of +a view-halloo as a vent to his so long pent-up feelings, and the +man-in-the-moon seemed to beam upon him with more than his usual +benignity. He did not stop for the yellow chrysanthemum blossoms. Oh +no! <i>they</i> could wait. Seen in the white moonlight, they clustered like +stars around the big flat door-stone.</p> + +<p>A brief time and they had crossed the old muster-field, leaped the +meeting-house fence, and were in the tavern door-yard, Skatta panting +and with reeking sides, but whinnying most joyously as she caught sight +of the waiting group there. For the whole family force was out—Aunt +Anna and Uncle Harry, Cousin Kitty and the Little Madam, together with +Thankful and Betty and 'Zekle and Skipper Joe, who had arrived that +day—all shouting out a welcome and filled with wonder.</p> + +<p>And there, too, was Dolly, flying up from her station by the +guide-post, where she had been listening to the sound of the coming +hoofs, which she had at once recognized as Skatta's, and upon whose +neck she instantly fell in a mingled transport of tears and laughter. +And just then the meeting-house clock struck nine.</p> + +<p>There had been much anxiety at the tavern when supper-time failed to +bring Ned. He had done such a thing once or twice in his life as to go +off in company with other boys, fishing or trapping, without saying +anything about it. And this time, perhaps, he had gone down to the lake +for a shot at the geese and ducks, which were now on their passage +south. So said Uncle Harry, and so they all tried to think; and they +engaged in their usual evening occupations, or pretended to do so.</p> + +<p>But Dolly had not been content to sit down and wait. Every few minutes +she made a raid out into the road, and looked up and down for the +missing Ned; and at last she was rewarded by the sound of Skatta's +swift-coming hoofs, and her joyous shout had brought out the whole +family, as we have seen.</p> + +<p>Skatta, after being duly patted and petted, was led off by 'Zekle, +accompanied by Dolly—not to her old stall in the cow-barn, but to a +more secure place in the stable; and Ned was taken in to supper, which +Thankful, always practical, had kept hot and comfortable for him on the +kitchen hearth.</p> + +<p>He refused to open his mouth, however, about the rescue of Skatta, +until Dolly, having seen her rubbed down, fed, and bedded, came in, and +then he told them all about it.</p> + +<p>And the next morning he and Dolly, once more in happy companionship +on old Bill and Skatta, rode down and gathered the pale yellow +chrysanthemums for the Little Madam.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THANKSGIVING DAYS.</h3> + + +<p>"It's just like another c'nvention," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"'Tis," was Ned's reply. "It's mother's c'nvention; the +tag-rag-'n-bobtail c'nvention."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a shame to call it that!" remonstrated Dolly.</p> + +<p>"'Tis," persisted Ned. "You just wait an' see! There'll be an awful +spread, an' everybody that hasn't got anywhere else t' go will be +invited to come here to dinner. An' 'f that isn't a tag-rag-'n-bobtail +thing, I'd like to know what is!" and he conveyed a plump raisin to +his mouth, into which receptacle had disappeared so many during the +operation of stoning that Thankful felt called upon to remonstrate.</p> + +<p>"'F y' eat many more o' them plums, th' puddin's 'll fall short."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll risk that!" said Ned, and well he might; for Thankful, never +submitting at any time to be "skinched," demanded such a supply of +raisins for her Thanksgiving puddings and pies that it was difficult to +crowd them all in; and looking at his operations from that stand-point, +Ned might have been considered as a happy provision whereby to make +way with the surplus.</p> + +<p>He and Dolly were stoning the raisins, of which the monkey—still +unclaimed by the menadgeri—had managed to grab a handful by swinging +dexterously down from his perch on top of the eight-day clock in the +corner.</p> + +<p>What a cosey, spice-laden, cheery interior was that kitchen on this +evening of which I am writing! With the advent of cold weather the +cook-stove had been removed permanently to the outer kitchen, while a +roaring wood-fire burned nineteen hours out of the twenty-four in the +huge fireplace in the inner kitchen. The remaining six hours the fire +was raked up, dispensing a luxurious warmth even in its ashes.</p> + +<p>On this evening 'Zekle, with Skipper Joe to "spell" him, was chopping +raw beef and pork for sausages, which beef and pork required great +strength of muscle to reduce to the fineness required by Thankful, who +was as intolerant of a "chunk" of beef in her sausages as she was of a +raisin-stone in her puddings.</p> + +<p>The Little Madam was busy pounding and sifting spices, sticks of +cinnamon, beads of allspice, and whole cloves; no adulteration in those +spices! It was dainty, fragrant work, just suited to her, and done +so neatly that not a trace of it powdered the white of her homespun +woollen gown.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty, leaving Aunt Anna to read her favorite "Goldsmith," had +deserted the sitting-room for the kitchen, and insisted upon having a +share in the preparations for Thanksgiving. To her Thankful consigned +the bunches of summer savory, sage, and thyme, to be carefully dried by +the fire, and then powdered into shallow pans.</p> + +<p>Betty, having reduced to a fine dust the meat for the one hundred +mince-pies, was now engaged in chopping the apples, while Thankful went +from one to another inspecting, suggesting, scolding, flying every +now and then into the outer kitchen to stir vigorously two huge pots +of pumpkin stewing over a moderate fire, stirring up at the same time +the cow-boy, who had been stationed there to watch the fire, lest, +burning too freely, the pumpkin should scorch, and who, between this +responsibility and an overpowering inclination to fall asleep, was +well-nigh distracted.</p> + +<p>Upon this cheerful scene a traveller entered. The main entrance to the +tavern was not through the kitchen, but two classes of travellers often +came in that way—its old frequenters and strangers. The former knew +well its comforts, and the latter were drawn thither by the light which +streamed out so hospitably from above the short curtains which covered +the lower half of the windows only.</p> + +<p>But this traveller was no stranger. To all but Cousin Kitty his face +was familiar. It was Harrington, the famous wizard. A pleasant stir +greeted his entrance. The monkey, after a careful survey of the +new-comer, came down from his perch and cordially offered his paw.</p> + +<p>"Ah, who have we here?" said the wizard. And then a strange wild cry +was heard, which seemed to come from some mysterious and far-away +region, and the monkey slunk back, trembling with fright. It was the +savage cry of a bird of prey, a cry which the monkey had often heard in +South American forests.</p> + +<p>The wizard laughed, "It's too bad to frighten the creature," he said, +offering him a bit of barley candy by way of a peace-offering.</p> + +<p>Having laid aside his riding-coat, he took his stand on the hearth with +his back to the fire and looked smilingly around.</p> + +<p>"Going t' have snow?" he asked, looking at 'Zekle.</p> + +<p>"Guess so," was the reply. "Geese 'r goin' over putty thick."</p> + +<p>Presently, with the air of one quite at home, he moved across the +kitchen, and stooping over Betty, who was chopping somewhat at random +with her wide-open eyes fixed upon the wizard, he took an egg from out +the apple in her tray.</p> + +<p>"Well, Betty," he said, laughing, "is this where your hens lay?" And +Betty stared in open-mouthed wonder.</p> + +<p>"How'd that come there an' I a-choppin', I sh'd like to know!"</p> + +<p>Pretty soon a queer state of things prevailed in the kitchen. 'Zekle's +chopping-knife disappeared while in the act of chopping, and after an +ineffectual search, it was found in the tray under his very nose.</p> + +<p>Dolly, dipping her hand into the deep stone jar for the last handful +of raisins, withdrew it with a shriek, and out popped a tiny squirrel, +which scampered up one of the wizard's coat-sleeves.</p> + +<p>"Up t' y'r old tricks ag'in, Mister Harrington," said Skipper Joe, +pulling his red silk pocket-handkerchief out of the pocket of his +sailor jacket. A score of silver dollars followed the handkerchief and +rolled over the floor.</p> + +<p>"Had a successful summer, eh, skipper?" asked the wizard. "It isn't +everybody that's got the dollars to carry about in that way."</p> + +<p>"None o' mine," growled Skipper Joe, picking up one. "Lead, by thunder! +Now just turn them into silver, Mr. Harrington, an' your tricks 'd be +worth somethin'."</p> + +<p>"Lead!" retorted Harrington, taking the dollar from Skipper Joe's hand, +and ringing it upon the table. The clear, silvery sound proved the +purity of the metal. "D'y' call that lead?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, wa'al, reelly, now, 't's no use t' try tricks with you, Mr. +Harrington," said Skipper Joe, resignedly. "Y' c'n make lead silver, +an' silver lead."</p> + +<p>The wizard looked smilingly at Dolly, who had been following his tricks +with the deepest interest. Just beside the cushioned settle where she +and Ned were seated stood a light-stand, with a candle and snuffer-tray +upon it. The candle had burned down, leaving a long wick, and Dolly +took up the snuffers to snuff it. As she opened them, out dropped a +fragrant red rose of the kind known as the monthly rose. She picked it +up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Harrington, how lovely! I wish I could turn candle snuff into +red roses! Is it mine?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," replied the wizard. "The rose-queen must have sent +it to match your cheeks."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she has some more for you," he added, mysteriously.</p> + +<p>Dolly again tried to snuff the candle, and this time out flew from the +open snuffers a canary, which, alighting on her hand, burst into song.</p> + +<p>"Well, who ever see the beat o' that!" ejaculated Thankful. "How d'y' +c'ntrive t' carry all them live creeturs about y' t' onct, Mister +Harrington?"</p> + +<p>"Easy enough if you only know how," was the reply; and Thankful was +that instant confronted by a snow-white rabbit, which raised itself on +its haunches upon the table and piped out, "Easy enough if you only +know how."</p> + +<p>"Massy sakes alive!" said Thankful, looking aghast at the uncanny +creature as it sat motionless, with the exception of its long white +ears, which moved slowly back and forth. "Dew stop, Mister Harrington. +'Taint right—no, 'taint right—t' make dumb creeturs speak."</p> + +<p>The rabbit chuckled, "Dumb critters can't speak. If they speak they +aint dumb critters, and if they're dumb critters they can't speak." +And having delivered himself of this bit of wisdom he disappeared as +mysteriously as he had come.</p> + +<p>Harrington laughed. "And now," he said, "I think I'll go and pay my +respects to Mrs. Park." And he went out with the canary circling about +his head, the monkey calling out just as the door closed, "Good-by! +good riddance!" At least it seemed to be the monkey, although he looked +as surprised as the rest at hearing a voice apparently issuing from his +stomach.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, he's a master feller f'r a joke," said 'Zekle, as the door +closed upon him, "an' it's dum queer how he does them things!"</p> + +<p>"I' my way o' thinkin' them things 'd better be let alone," remarked +Thankful, who had not quite recovered from her rabbit scare.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pshaw! don't dew any harm, them things don't," said Skipper Joe, +good-naturedly. "'F he rode on a broomstick now like a witch! They dew +say old Granny Cary us't t' go t' Bermuda an' back 'n a night after +rosemary to cure folks o' rheumatiz. Benev'lent old crittur, 'f she +was a witch. But Harrington, now—Lor, Thankful, it's only jes' fun." +But Thankful continued to shake her head; she could not quite forgive +Harrington for giving her such a start.</p> + +<p>The day before Thanksgiving was a busy one for Ned and Dolly. Chickens, +turkeys, puddings, pies, spare-ribs, sirloins, and assorted vegetables +were to be delivered to Aunt Anna's numerous protégés: to the three old +aunties, to bedridden Matty, to the McLouds, to the tailoress Phœbe, to +crippled Susy Stone and her mother, and to Lute Atkins, a friendless +drunkard, who lived alone in a half or wholly savage way.</p> + +<p>It is always pleasant to be the bearer of gifts—doubly so, perhaps, +when the gifts supply some real want—and Ned and Dolly had a happy +time. The three old aunties were grateful, though not effusively so, +for the thoughtful kindness that for so many years had helped them to +make both ends meet out of a scanty income.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. McLoud, with six hungry mouths to fill and only one small +chicken for her Thanksgiving dinner, came very near crying for joy when +Ned laid a plump, fat turkey on her kitchen table, with his mother's +"compliments and kind wishes;" and as to the six children, they joined +hands and circled around it in a sort of sacrificial dance, which +Dolly, catching glimpses of through the window, thought very charming +indeed.</p> + +<p>Dolly did not go in at the several houses; she felt a little delicacy +about witnessing the bestowal of these gifts. As they drew up by +the gate of Phœbe, the tailoress, she herself came to the door. +Phœbe lived in a corner of Deacon Hart's house, in a state of happy +independence, having "bought into" said house with her savings. "She +wa'n't beholden t' nobody f'r a livin'," and no one except Mrs. Park +ever ventured to offer her a gift. She prided herself on payin' her +own way; and at the very moment that old Bill stopped at her gate she +was busy in stuffing a five-pound turkey, which she had bought from +the butcher's cart for her Thanksgiving dinner. But she had once been +heard to say that Thankful was a "beater" for plum-puddings, and <i>she</i> +couldn't come "nigh her." So for several years Mrs. Park had ventured +to send her at Thanksgiving a small, round, crumbly, rich plum-pudding. +Phœbe always graciously accepted it, and was "obleeged to Mis' Park," +but some gift in return invariably found its way to the tavern, to take +off the edge of the obligation as it were. Sometimes it was a basket +of apples from her famous golden-sweet; sometimes it was a pound of +equally golden butter from Whitefoot's cream. On that day it was a loaf +of "riz" cake, made from the famous Waterman recipe, that had been in +the family two hundred years—ever since the emigration of the family +from England, in fact. It had been handed down from mother to daughter, +and had been considered a strictly family inheritance, not to be +imparted to any outsider. She handed the loaf up to Dolly, wrapped in +a snow-white napkin of home-made linen, with P. W. in cross-stitch in +one corner.</p> + +<p>"I think, Dolly, you had better go in and see Matty; she used to know +your mother." This was what Aunt Anna had said as they drove away from +the tavern that morning. So Dolly went in to see Matty, rather sorry on +the whole that she must, for, she reflected, an old woman, bedridden +for so many years, could not be a very nice person to visit.</p> + +<p>They knocked at the door, and a cheerful voice saying "Come in," they +entered.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear me! is <i>that</i> Matty?" thought Dolly, coming very near, in +her surprise saying it out loud.</p> + +<p>A woman was lying on the bed in a corner of the room, propped up by +pillows. A small face was on the pillow, pallid, it is true, and +encircled with snow-white hair, but luminous with a pair of laughing +eyes that made Dolly's face fairly dimple as her own glance met them.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my dear," she said, cordially, holding out a thin, white +hand. "I know you; you are Helen Heath's daughter; I should know you +anywhere. And I know what has brought you, Master Ned. And how you +grow! Come and stand up here, and let me see how much you have grown +since last year. Just look here!" and she pointed out to Dolly a row of +pencil marks on the door-casing beside her bed. "I always make Mahala +scour round those when she cleans. That," pointing to the lowest one, +"was his height when he brought me his first Thanksgiving turkey. He +came tugging it in, in his short arms, with his mother behind, and +how we laughed to see him!" and she laughed a low, happy laugh at the +remembrance. "And he's brought me one every Thanksgiving since."</p> + +<p>"Here's something else I thought you'd like, Matty," said Ned, bringing +out, rather shamefacedly, a plump partridge, which he had trapped and +dressed the day before, though, boy-like, he had kept his gift out of +sight, and this was the first glimpse Dolly had had of it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! and you left the pretty tail-feathers on for me to see, +didn't you? And how do the woods look now? Are the box-berries thick? +and is Wild-cat Brook as full as common? I used to love that brook when +I was a girl; and sometimes in the night I think I hear it dashing over +its stones. And does the little gray owl still keep house in the old +apple-tree by the lane? I like to think of him there cold nights, warm +and cosey, only I wish he wouldn't eat orioles and bluebirds. I don't +begrudge him his mice. But just hear me! he's as much right to his +oriole as I have to my partridge," and she laughed a laugh so heartily +happy, so in contrast with her pale face and apparent helplessness, +that Dolly, forgetting her good manners, stared in bewildered +astonishment.</p> + +<p>But such good spirits are infectious, and both Dolly and Ned were soon +laughing heartily over her account of Mahala's mishap of that morning, +whose pet lamb had butted her over as she was bringing in Matty's +breakfast. Matty lost her breakfast, of course, or as good as lost it, +for there wasn't another egg in the house, but she said the fun made +up for that. And if she hadn't lost her breakfast, most likely she +would have had no appetite for dinner, and now she could have broiled +partridge, and that would be "nice."</p> + +<p>And then they said "good-by" and hurried off to deliver the rest of +their gifts.</p> + +<p>"Is she really so sick?" asked Dolly, as they drove along. "And how can +she be so merry?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Ned. "She's always just so when I see +her. But mother says she has awful pain."</p> + +<p>Ah, if they could only have looked in upon her at that very moment. +For the sound of their departing wheels had hardly died away when a +spasm of fierce pain contracted the delicate features, and a look of +anguish came into the laughing eyes. None but the faithful Mahala ever +quite knew how much Matty suffered. For, years before, when her happy +girlhood went out in life-long anguish, she had resolved that "whatever +I may have to endure, my sufferings shall never darken the lives of +others."</p> + +<p>What a dismal place was that where Lute Atkins lived! All the +traditional shabbiness and decay of the drunkard's home were there—if +"home" it could be called—broken windows, hingeless doors, and falling +fences. Ned knocked, but no cheerful voice said "come in." He opened +the door, pushed in the basket, and shut the door quickly.</p> + +<p>"He's there," he said to Dolly as he jumped into the buggy and caught +up the reins. He shuddered with disgust. "It's dreadful to think that +a boy can ever turn into a man like that!" he said. "An' mother says +she remembers him when he was a nice, jolly boy. Well, I've signed the +pledge, Dolly, an' I'm glad I have, an' I mean to keep it too. I b'long +to a teetotal society. Oh, did I ever tell you about Johnny Tuttle when +he was sick? He's a teetotaler too."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, he was awful sick, an' he was going to die; that's what Dr. +Stone said, an' that's what everybody thought. An' Dr. Stone said they +must give him brandy every fifteen minutes, p'r'aps that would save +him, an' p'r'aps 't wouldn't, anyway they must try it, an' Johnny said +he couldn't take it nohow, for he'd signed the pledge, an' he was going +t' keep it anyway. An' his mother cried an' begged him to, and his +father begged, and doctor said he must, an' he said he wouldn't an' he +didn't."</p> + +<p>"And did he die?" asked Dolly, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, you bet he didn't! Such a boy 's that don't die easy! Why he goes +t' school now, don't y' know? an' he's coming t' the menagerie—going +t' be the elephant. Deacon Hart said 'f he'd been <i>his</i> boy he'd +a-turned the brandy down him; an' he said 'twas tempting Providence, +but father said 'twas true grit."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE YELLOW SATIN GOWN.</h3> + + +<p>A good Thanksgiving dinner being assured to everybody within the limits +of Byfield, the household at Park's tavern slept the sleep of the just +on the night preceding that time-honored festival, and assembled in +excellent spirits around the breakfast-table on Thanksgiving morning. +The party was strictly a family party, and the principal dish was +chicken pie, or pies rather, as there were two of them, and one was +sweetened. Thanksgiving would not have been Thanksgiving at the old +tavern without chicken pie for breakfast. Uncle Harry's father had +always had chicken pie for Thanksgiving breakfast, and his father +before him, and I was about to say that <i>his</i> father before <i>him</i> had +eaten it, too, in Yorkshire, England. Doubtless the latter did eat +chicken pie, for the English have always been famous for their rich +pasties, but it could not have been <i>Thanksgiving</i> chicken pie, as +Thanksgiving, we all know, is a Puritan festival, and had its origin in +New England.</p> + +<p>The two pies which graced Uncle Harry's breakfast-table that morning +were baked in deep, wide pans, and were so stuffed with chicken that +the top crusts had taken on a pyramidal form. They were brought in +steaming hot, with the gravy bubbling out of a hole in the apex of each +pyramid, and bearing no slight resemblance to a couple of small but +spunky volcanoes.</p> + +<p>Uncle Harry had just inserted the point of the carving-knife into the +sweetened pie, and was opening his mouth to inquire where Ned was—that +young gentleman's place at the table being empty—when the door flew +open and he appeared quite out of breath and bursting with news.</p> + +<p>"The McLouds were all burned out last night!" he said.</p> + +<p>There was a second's silence, such as usually follows the announcement +of an unexpected and surprising bit of news, and then a volley of +exclamations and interrogations was discharged at him.</p> + +<p>"When? how? at what time? save anything? all safe?"</p> + +<p>"About two o'clock. Mr. Emerson saw it first all of a blaze, an' rushed +over an' got' em out in their night-clothes, all sound asleep."</p> + +<p>"Children all safe, I hope," said Aunt Anna.</p> + +<p>"Yes, though they like to have forgot the baby. Mr. Emerson pulled him +out after the bed was afire."</p> + +<p>An exclamation of horror burst from Aunt Anna and Cousin Kitty at this +announcement.</p> + +<p>"Didn't they save <i>anything</i>?—no clothes? nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Not a rag," was the decisive answer.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, that is hard indeed!"</p> + +<p>Only six weeks before the father of this family had died, and his +kind-hearted townsmen had been much exercised as to how, even with the +house and bit of land which she owned, Mrs. McLoud was going to feed +and clothe her young brood of ravens, the oldest of which was only ten, +and here was an added complication.</p> + +<p>"Where are they now?" asked Mrs. Park.</p> + +<p>"At Aunt Debby's," replied Ned, chuckling. "I just saw 'em sitting +'round the breakfast-table, an' Aunt Debby an' Aunt Nanny fussing and +clucking about like a couple of old hens with a new lot of chickens."</p> + +<p>"Ned!" remonstrated his mother, but his father only laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked the latter, "I don't see how they ever squeezed them +all into that coop of a place."</p> + +<p>"If Aunt Debby's house were as elastic as her heart, there would be no +limits to her benevolence," said Mrs. Park. "But we mustn't let them +eat her out of house and home. Thankful!" she called through the open +door, and Thankful appeared, grim and expectant. "Just fill a couple of +baskets, will you, and let 'Zekle take them over to Aunt Debby's. The +McLouds are all there. Put in another turkey, and anything else you +think best. And oh, tell him to tell Aunt Debby I'll drive over after +dinner and see about them. Perhaps we'd better let them go into the +Little Madam's cottage for the present," she said, looking inquiringly +at Uncle Harry, who was carefully dissecting the sweetened chicken pie. +"There's plenty of old furniture in the garret we can take down."</p> + +<p>"Just as you say," answered Uncle Harry, heartily. He never blocked the +course of his wife's benevolence. He trusted her excellent judgment. +Once, hearing somebody say that "Mis' Park's warm heart would run away +with her yet," he had made answer, "My wife has a cool head as well as +a warm heart, and I'll risk her."</p> + +<p>Dolly had said "when" and "how" with the rest, and then suddenly lapsed +into silence, and, with her eyes fastened upon the chicken's breast +with its wish-bone, to which she had been helped, ate rapidly. But +somehow the chicken had lost its flavor.</p> + +<p>"We had just got them comfortably clothed for the winter," Aunt Anna +was saying to Cousin Kitty, "and now it is all to do over again. Well, +we must look over our belongings and see, not what we can spare, but +how little we can get on with ourselves, and give them the rest. A +woman and six children to clothe is no small matter."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" thought Dolly, "I wish they would talk about something +else. They can have that old blue merino—I'd just as lief they would +as not." But she did not say so aloud. She kept thinking of "something +else." When Ned said, "Not a rag!" she instantly thought of that +"something else."</p> + +<p>That "something else" was a pile of five-dollar gold-pieces in a +corner of the small drawer in her dressing-table. She rarely went +into her room without opening that drawer and taking a peep at those +gold-pieces. They were hidden under a pile of handkerchiefs. There were +five of them.</p> + +<p>Mamma had sent her that twenty-five dollars to do what she pleased +with. That was what the note that came with the money said—"Do just +what you like with it, darling. Buy what you please."</p> + +<p>Dolly had been for some time making up her mind as to what she <i>did</i> +want. She wanted a harp—Cousin Kitty could play the harp; but +twenty-five dollars would not buy a harp. She had thought of a pair of +pink coral bracelets. Dolly liked pretty jewellery, but she knew mamma +did not approve of girls wearing it. But at last she had come to a +decision.</p> + +<p>There was to be a ball at the old tavern on the 22d of December, a +military ball, and Aunt Anna had said that Dolly and Ned might sit up +until twelve, at which time the turkey supper was to be served. Now, +Dolly had known how to dance almost ever since she could remember. +She had been to the afternoon dancing-school, and once to an evening +dancing-party that lasted till nine o'clock.</p> + +<p>But a <i>ball</i>! The instant she heard about that ball she knew what she +wanted to do with the five five-dollar gold-pieces. She would buy a new +gown with it—a gown of that lustrous yellow satin that looked so much +like sunlight. She at once took Cousin Kitty into her confidence, and +Cousin Kitty said she had shown good taste in the choice of color.</p> + +<p>"It will just suit your dark hair and eyes," said Cousin Kitty. "And +I tell you what I'll do, Dolly. I'll write to Cousin Maud, and she'll +get it for you. And those lovely yellow chrysanthemums of the Little +Madam's will be just the thing to wear with it. She'll let us have +them, I know. And you shall wear the biggest ones on your hair and +skirt, and at the girdle, and I'll make a necklace out of the tiny +ones—there'll be lots of blooms by that time, for they are all over +buds—and you shall go to the ball as 'The Chrysanthemum!'" and as she +concluded she had seized hold of Dolly, and they had <i>chasséed</i> up and +down the long hall where they had chanced to be, in sheer delight over +the idea.</p> + +<p>And such a lovely idea! Dolly thought; every girl will understand how +often she thought it all over, and how she imagined over and over again +how she was going to look as "The Chrysanthemum," arrayed in the gown +of lustrous satin. It is the most natural thing in the world for a girl +to wish to look pretty—why shouldn't she? So we can well imagine what +a pang wrung Dolly's heart as something seemed to whisper to her, when +Ned was telling about the burning out of the McLouds, "There's that +twenty-five dollars! Give them that."</p> + +<p>"It is altogether too ridiculous," thought Dolly. "There's that old +blue merino, they can have that and one of my bonnets, and I can spare +two pairs of stockings."</p> + +<p>"But those are not yours to give," whispered the something again. +"Those belong to your father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't wonder if Cousin Kitty had written to Maud to buy +the satin, and so it's too late, anyhow," replied Dolly, defiantly. And +the something ceased whispering, and Dolly finished her breakfast quite +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Shortly after breakfast, however, to make everything sure, she asked +Cousin Kitty if she had sent for the satin.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't," said Cousin Kitty. "I meant to have sent yesterday, +but I certainly will to-morrow. There's plenty of time," she added, +observing Dolly's fallen countenance.</p> + +<p>Then the something began its work again, and managed to make Dolly so +unhappy with its hints and suggestions, that, to strengthen herself in +her resolution <i>not</i> to listen, she went up and took a look at the +gold-pieces, and then spent half an hour in the Little Madam's room, +playing with the cockatoo and admiring the opening blossoms of the +yellow chrysanthemums. The Little Madam was already pulling over her +scanty wardrobe to see what could be spared for the destitute McLouds, +and showed Dolly the beginning of a pair of white woollen socks for +the baby. This wasn't, after all, an encouraging atmosphere, and she +soon betook herself to the carriage-house, where Ned was setting up his +menagerie.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what 'tis, Dolly," said Ned, confidentially, "we'll ask +five cents admission instead of one cent. And see what I've got on my +sign;" and he took down a board whereon he had painted, in very black +ink,</p> + +<p class="ph2">MENAGERIE OF WILD BEASTS.<br> +FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE McLOUDS.<br> +<i>Admission, Five Cents.</i></p> + +<p>"That'll fetch 'em, I guess," he said, complacently. "The fellows +are going t' have a game of ball on the Green this afternoon, an' I +shouldn't wonder if we took five dollars," hammering away at a hen-coop +which he was converting into a wild-beast cage.</p> + +<p>"'Menagerie' means a lot of wild beasts, anyway," said Dolly, +petulantly, and beginning to hate the very name of McLoud.</p> + +<p>"So 't does," responded Ned, good-naturedly. "But I can't help it +now—can't print it over again. Took all my ink t' do that."</p> + +<p>"It's only a good specimen of tautology," said Cousin Kitty, putting in +her head to see what they were about.</p> + +<p>"Of <i>what</i>?" asked Ned, with hammer arrested in mid-air.</p> + +<p>"Of tautology, Ned. It isn't a wild beast—it's rhetoric. Did you ever +read the 'Diversions of Purley?'"</p> + +<p>"No, but it sounds good," said Ned.</p> + +<p>"It's grammar," said Cousin Kitty, mischievously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thunder!" exclaimed Ned, bringing down his hammer. He wasn't fond +of grammar.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty caught sight of the sign.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a good idea, Ned," she said. "The poor things will need +every cent they can get. And, Ned, I'll do something. Isn't there a +place? Oh yes, there's the harness room; that's nice and clean, and +has a window just right. I'll have something in there. Five cents +admission, too. It'll be great fun!"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Ned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's my secret—mine and Dotty's," laughed Cousin Kitty. "She'll +help me, and you'll have to pay to come in and find out, Master Ned."</p> + +<p>"All right!" answered Ned, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"And you must print me a sign to put over the harness-room door."</p> + +<p>"Can't," was the laconic reply—"used up all my ink."</p> + +<p>"Take a piece of coal," said Cousin Kitty, "and print in large letters,</p> + +<p class="ph2">"ART GALLERY.<br> +"ADMISSION,<br> +"<i>Five Cents, and a Promise not to Tell what you See</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oho! that's your game, is it?" said Ned.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. If those who went in first told, the rest wouldn't +want to go in. And I shouldn't wonder if, between us, Ned, we got +enough to clothe the baby, and the fun thrown in."</p> + +<p>Then Cousin Kitty carried off Dolly to the Little Madam's room, where, +with much frolic and laughter, Cousin Kitty explained her plan, and +together they made out the programme, and got together their specimens +of the fine arts.</p> + +<p>The dinner-bell rang just as they had completed their preparations. So +busy had Dolly been all the morning, that the troublesome something had +not had a chance to get in even one whisper. But beginning to plume +herself a little upon her fore-noon's work for the benefit of the +McLouds, it immediately whispered, "Well, what of that? What sacrifice +have you made? you've had a good time." And Dolly, out of sorts again, +passed into the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Here were assembled what Ned had saucily called the "tag-rag-'n-bobtail +c'nvention," and a very respectable convention it was as to size and +quality. One of its members was Mr. Emerson, who was accompanied by his +mother. Dolly had never before seen the latter, an eccentric little +woman, who never went away from home except to the annual Thanksgiving +dinner at the tavern. She wore a canary-colored silk petticoat, with a +kind of blue short gown of the fashion of her girlhood, a blue shawl +of another shade over her shoulders, and a pink necktie. She carried a +large yellow bag, embroidered with purple flowers, and her Marie Stuart +cap of white lace was surmounted by a huge red bow. The dear old lady +looked so deliciously absurd that Dolly, meeting Ned's laughing eyes, +could hardly keep from laughing outright.</p> + +<p>"She's wore that same rig every year since I can remember," whispered +Ned. "Isn't she a guy? and arn't she and Piggy a funny pair?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Emerson was a devoted son to his queer little mother, who was "no +fool," the Byfieldites said, but a remarkably shrewd, observant woman.</p> + +<p>After the preliminaries—the carving, and helping each one of the +numerous guests—the talk naturally clustered about the McLouds and +their misfortune, and Dolly again suffered tortures as that impertinent +and persistent something began its suggestive whispers. It was decided +that the Little Madam's cottage should be at once put in order for the +homeless family. The furniture would be forthcoming from the tavern +attic.</p> + +<p>"But there's bedding—beds and sheets and pillow-cases and blankets and +quilts," said Mrs. Park. "A body does not realize how much it takes +to keep a family like that going till you come to fit it out with +everything."</p> + +<p>"I can spare a few sheets and pillow-beers, I think," said Mrs. +Emerson, "although 'tisn't a question so much of what we can spare, I +think, as 'tis of what we can get along without ourselves. I never did +believe in giving away only what you don't want yourself—getting rid +of things and pretending it's charity."</p> + +<p>"I don't, nuther," put in Thankful, who was changing plates and looking +after the wants of the Tuttle children, who, their mother being down +with a fever, had been invited to eat their Thanksgiving dinner at the +tavern. "My old mother used t' say, 'Give till y' <i>feel</i> it, then what +y' give 's <i>wuth</i> somethin'.'"</p> + +<p>The red bow on the top of the Marie Stuart cap nodded approvingly, +and Dolly began to admit that it was within the bounds of possibility +that she might give that twenty-five dollars, and give up the lustrous +yellow satin. She sighed so deeply over her turkey at the thought, that +Cousin Kitty, hearing her, whispered, "What's the matter, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing!" replied Dolly, trying to smile, and succeeding only in +producing a very watery smile, which Cousin Kitty attributed to the +abundance of pepper on the turnip.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" thought poor Dolly, "this is a dreadful funny world to live +in, where, if you want to be good and happy, you've got to give up the +very things you want."</p> + +<p>"And there's shoes and such things," Mrs. Emerson was saying. "You've +got to have money to get those things, and money's <i>skerce</i> with us."</p> + +<p>"That is true," replied Mrs. Park. "When it comes to provisions, +vegetables, and meat, we can most of us give something; and Mr. Trask +(the keeper of the Byfield "store") no doubt will do his share. But, as +you say, we've got to have money for many things."</p> + +<p>"And just think," suggested that meddlesome something, "how much +twenty-five dollars would buy. Wouldn't it be such a nice thing to +do—to fit out that chubby little Archie McLoud with everything he +needs?"</p> + +<p>"He <i>is</i> a cunning little fellow," acknowledged Dolly; "but how <i>can</i> +I give up being 'The Chrysanthemum?'"</p> + +<p>And so the war waged in Dolly's soul between her good and bad +angel—between selfishness and the love which never faileth. And +when, the puddings and pies having been brought in, Ned called her +attention to his plate, on which were six sections of pie, viz., +custard, mince, pumpkin, cranberry, apple, and dried huckleberry, +forming a complete variegated circle, she could not even smile; and as +to appetite, she could not have eaten a morsel of even the plummiest +piece.</p> + +<p>After dinner she went to her room, half resolved to take the five +gold-pieces out of her drawer and give them to Aunt Anna for Archie +McLoud. She lifted the handkerchief and looked at them. How suggestive +was their golden glitter of the sunlit satin! Just then Cousin Kitty +called, "Dolly, Dolly, come!—it's time we opened our art gallery. The +people are beginning to come." And Dolly, covering the gold-pieces +with the handkerchiefs, shut the drawer and ran down to join Cousin +Kitty, saying to herself all the way, "Oh, I can't! I can't!"</p> + +<p>The art gallery was a success. Everybody who visited the menagerie +paid another five cents and went into the harness room. Almost +everybody, too, gave ten or twenty cents admission, and would take no +change.</p> + +<p>"No, keep it; it's for the McLouds," they said.</p> + +<p>The game of ball on the Green was a semi-annual affair, played on +Thanksgiving-day and the day of the April fast; and if the weather was +fine a large part of the town, that is, of the masculine portion, were +present, either as players or as lookers-on, and hardly any of the +crowd failed to visit the menagerie.</p> + +<p>They were admitted to the art gallery four at a time, after promising +not to tell what they saw. Bursts of laughter issuing from behind +the closed door, whetted the curiosity of those who had not been +in, while those who had, laughed again. A few, it is true, came out +looking bewildered. They belonged to those hapless folk who cannot see +a joke. Here is the catalogue written out by Cousin Kitty to assist +the visitors to the art gallery. If you are one of those hapless +individuals who cannot see a joke, you will find little of interest +or of wit in this catalogue. But if you have, as I trust, a sense of +humor, you will appreciate Cousin Kitty's efforts, as most of her +visitors did.</p> + +<p class="ph2">ART GALLERY.</p> + +<p class="ph2">EXHIBITION OF PAINTINGS AND STATUARY</p> + +<p class="ph2">IN THE HARNESS ROOM</p> + +<p class="ph2">OF</p> + +<p class="ph2">PARK'S TAVERN.</p> + +<p class="ph2">NO EXPENSE HAS BEEN SPARED TO MAKE THIS COLLECTION +ONE OF THE BEST IN THE COUNTRY.</p> + +<p class="ph2"><i>Connoisseurs declare that nothing like these artistic gems can be +found, even in the finest European galleries.</i></p> + +<table> + +<tr><td class="tdl">1. View of Boston (<i>wood-cut</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>A. Wheelwright.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">2. A Marble Group </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>M. Clay.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">3. Mustered In and Mustered Out (<i>companion pieces</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>G. Ullem.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">4. View of the Red Sea and Plains Beyond </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Unknown.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">5. Old English Lyre </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Lon. D. Ontimes.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">6. Lay of the Last Minstrel </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Hennessey.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">7. A Bridal Scene </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>S. T. Able.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">8. Bonaparte Crossing the Rhine </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Sol. D. A. Gain.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">9. A Commentator on the Acts </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>D. Seave.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">10. Cain and Abel </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Unknown.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">11. Things to Adore </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>H. Ware.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">12. View of Cologne </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>N. Farina.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">13. The Seasons </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>C. Ondiment.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">14. The Drill </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Steele.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">15. Flower of the Family (<i>very fine</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Wheatleigh.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">16. One of the Constellations </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>T. Inman.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">17. Alpine Scenery (<i>after Bierstadt</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>A. Carpenter.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">18. Last Hop of the Season </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Beers.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">19. Sweet Memories of Childhood </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>B. Stick.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">20. The Skipper's Home (<i>a spirited scene</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Cheeseborough.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">21. Ho, for the Diggings! </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Farmer.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">22. The Last Shot </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Schumaker.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">23. Hart and Doe </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Baker.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">24. Wayworn Travellers </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Crispin.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">25. Handel's Bust </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>B. Room.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">26. Little Indian </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>C. Cobb.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">27. All Afloat (<i>a marine view</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Waterman.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">28. The Lost Heir (<i>a subject from Hood's poems</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>H. Dresser.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">29. Village on the Rhine </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Cheeseborough.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">30. The Last of the Crispins (<i>wood-cut</i>) </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>Schumacher.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">31. The Light of Other Days </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>T. Chandlers.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">32. The Old Mill </td> <td class="tdc"> <i>C. Grinder.</i></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The menagerie, too, was a success. The monkey outdid himself, and +went through all the performances to which he had been trained in his +original menagerie. He posed as a dandy with a lighted cigar, and rode +Skatta in a ring, leaping through a hoop which Ned had hung from the +ceiling. It was with sorrow that his audience learned that he was to +be returned to his rightful owners by stage the next day.</p> + +<p>Johnny Tuttle made an admirable half of an elephant, of which Jimmy +Trask was the other half, and the combined two moved about as clumsily +and disjointedly as the real beast could have done. It was pronounced +to be an admirable and accurate representation, in color and texture +of skin, in trunk, tusks, tail, and feet.</p> + +<p>There was a white rabbit in a cage, a weasel, a rat painted red, some +blue-and-pink mice, and Johnny Tuttle's crow, who could talk like Mr. +Emerson and cough like Phœbe, the tailoress, who was afflicted with a +chronic cough. There was, at first, talk of adding the Little Madam's +Australian cockatoo to the collection, but Skipper Joe said monkeys +and parrots were natural enemies, and it would never do to have them +together in the same room "loose;" they'd be sure to fight, and one of +the two, if not both, would be killed. But the blue-eyed Persian cat +was there, and conducted herself with perfect propriety, and was much +admired.</p> + +<p>Summing up the proceeds from the menagerie and art gallery, Cousin +Kitty and Ned found they had nineteen dollars and seventy-three cents, +"which will clothe the baby handsomely," said Cousin Kitty; "and I +shall hereafter consider myself as a foster-mother to the little +witch."</p> + +<p>Through all the stir and interest and merriment of the afternoon, the +meddlesome something had kept silence, but now it began to bestir +itself, and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Dear little Archie! What a pity somebody couldn't clothe him."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's Aunt Anna and lots of folks. I don't see why I should +give up something I've planned and want so much."</p> + +<p>"But don't you <i>want</i> to do it? I don't believe you'd be half as happy +going to the ball as 'The Chrysanthemum' as you would to see him in a +cunning little suit you had bought for him."</p> + +<p>And then Dolly began to think about Archie, remembering how one day +she had found him far from home, picking buttercups by the roadside, +and had taken him home on Skatta, and how cunning the little +bareheaded fellow was, with his rings of curly black hair like a baby +Bacchus.</p> + +<p>And then she made a sudden resolution, and ran quickly up to her room, +saying all the way, "I will; yes, I will! I will! I will!" snatched +the pile of gold coins from the corner of the drawer, and running down +again, thrust them into Aunt Anna's hand, saying, "I'll give those to +buy clothes for Archie."</p> + +<p>Aunt Anna, who had known all about the gold-pieces and the plan about +the yellow satin, looked astonished, and said, "Do you know what you +are doing, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, don't say a word, Auntie! just take them," entreated +Dolly, distressfully. And so Aunt Anna, understanding by intuition +the situation, forebore to say anything more, having had herself, in +former years, many a fierce battle with selfishness, and knowing how +spent and sore such a battle often leaves the victor.</p> + +<p>After Dolly got to bed that night she had a good cry, in which all +regrets for the vanished chrysanthemum dream were washed away. She +did not tell anybody about that battle, not even mamma. But years +after, when she was obliged to choose a fancy dress for a brilliant +party in London, she remembered that old dream, and went to the party +as "The Chrysanthemum," in a gown of lustrous yellow satin, bordered +with exquisite chrysanthemums and with ornaments of yellow amber. +And then, for the first time, she told some one who had become even +dearer than mamma, the story of Archie McLoud and the five five-dollar +gold-pieces.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE MILITARY BALL.</h3> + + +<p>On the night of the ball Dolly early betook herself to the "ladies' +drawing-room," so called. This was simply the big spare room, or +bedchamber. A fire had been burning since dusk in the fireplace, but +a chilliness, mingled with a faint odor of smoke, still lingered in +the atmosphere of the room. In one corner stood a huge tent-bedstead, +draped with Indian chintz, upon which strange birds of brilliant +plumage perched among still stranger and more brilliant flowers. The +window and dressing-table draperies were of the same pattern, so was +the covering of the great arm-chair in the chimney-corner.</p> + +<p>I hesitate in telling you that this chair came over in the +<i>Mayflower</i>. There is enough so-called <i>Mayflower</i> furniture in +existence in this <span class="allsmcap">A. D.</span> 1885 to have filled twice over a +bigger vessel than that historic bark, whose tonnage, if I remember +aright, fell considerably below two hundred.</p> + +<p>But this chair did <i>really</i> come over in the <i>Mayflower</i>, and landed +at Plymouth December 21, 1620, with the rest of the Pilgrims. It +certainly looked ancient enough and battered enough to have been in +the Ark at the time of the Deluge, when Aunt Anna hid its age and +shabbiness under the aforesaid Indian chintz, and stuffed it with the +softest of live-geese feathers. It was a true Sleepy Hollow, and Dolly +sank into it with a keen sense of luxurious comfort.</p> + +<p>The interval of waiting was not long. She had snuffed the candles +in the candelabra on either side of the mirror but once, when a +jingling of sleigh-bells was heard, and directly after the door of +the bedchamber opened, and a bundle of wraps, from out which a pair +of china-blue eyes peeped, came in. The bundle rolled up to the fire, +holding out a pair of mittened hands, and exclaiming, "Oh, it's +dreadful cold, but the sleighing's gorgeous!"</p> + +<p>Pretty soon the hands, getting warm, began to peel off sections of +wrapper, as one gets at the heart of an onion—or, to use a prettier +and more appropriate simile, the wraps began to unfold like the calyx +of a flower, blossoming at last into a pretty little lady with light +hair, pink cheeks, and china-blue eyes, and clad in gossamery white +tarlatan, with low neck and short sleeves.</p> + +<p>"Oh," exclaimed Dolly, with a sympathizing shiver, "weren't you cold +riding in that gown?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit!" laughed Blue-eyes. "I was wrapped up so, you know, an' +then we had lots o' buffaloes." (She meant carriage-robes.) "An' ma +heat two bricks for my feet an' one for my hands. Silas says he'll +have 'em heat again when we go home. Oh no—I wa'n't cold a mite!"</p> + +<p>She then pulled off two long blue-yarn stockings, displaying a pair of +pink silk slippers.</p> + +<p>"Ain't they pretty?" she asked, putting them out for Dolly to admire. +"Oh, I do hope nobody else won't have pink silk slippers! Silas got +'em for me in Boston. Silas goes to Boston real often."</p> + +<p>Having carefully rolled up her wraps, she put them in a corner of +the tent-bedstead, where she could get them in the general scrimmage +for wraps that would ensue at the close of the ball, and then opened +a round purple bandbox which "Silas" had brought to the door. It +contained an assortment of artificial roses, mostly pink, which were +to be disposed about her small person.</p> + +<p>"Ma said I must have a bunch on my skirt where it is caught up, an' +another right here"—indicating the edge of her low corsage—"an' +some in my hair. I wonder if you could fix me?" she added, looking +doubtfully at Dolly. "I expect Daisy ev'ry minute. I call her 'Daisy,' +though her real name's Phœbe Ann, you know. She always fixes me, an' I +fix her. But p'r'aps you'll do."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Dolly, cordially, "I'll like to do it. I sometimes help +dress mamma. She says I'm almost as good as Norah—that's her maid, +you know," and she took the roses and began draping the somewhat stiff +tarlatan.</p> + +<p>"Who is your ma?" asked Blue-eyes, "and don't you live here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I live in Boston," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Do tell!" exclaimed Blue-eyes. "Why, I guess you're the little girl +we heard about who is visiting here an' lost her pony, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dolly, beginning to feel the inconvenience of being +famous. "But don't you think this wreath is too heavy for your hair? +Let me put just one or two roses in your braids. There! now look."</p> + +<p>Blue-eyes tipped her head first on one side and then on the other, +and smiled at herself in the mirror, not a little vain of her rustic +prettiness.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I like that real well; they kind o' bring out the plaits, +don't you think so? It took ma four hours to do those plaits, an' I +thought I <i>should</i> die—I <i>was</i> so tired! But it pays," she added, +smiling again at herself in the mirror.</p> + +<p>Before Dolly had altogether finished Blue-eyes there was another +entrance—a rush, an embrace, a sound of broken kisses, and then +Daisy, <i>alias</i> Phœbe Ann, blossomed out from her calyx, a brown little +lady, with brown hair and brown eyes, clothed in pink tarlatan, with +low neck and short sleeves. She had a green bandbox containing white +roses.</p> + +<p>"Why, where's your wreath, Pansy?" she asked, in a disappointed tone. +"We were goin' to fix our hair just alike, I thought."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this little girl fixed my hair. She thought it looked nicer so, +an' so do I. She'll fix yours just like it, I guess."</p> + +<p>Blue-eyes, or Pansy, as we may call her now, was just sixteen, and to +her, thirteen-year-old Dolly was still a "little girl." There's a vast +distance between thirteen and sixteen—a good deal more than there is +between twenty-five and twenty-eight.</p> + +<p>So Dolly, ready to oblige and always liking to do that sort of thing, +proceeded to "fix" Phœbe Ann's plaited brown locks, and before that +was done there were more arrivals.</p> + +<p>The jingling of sleigh-bells became almost incessant, and the door of +the "drawing-room" only closed to open upon a new arrival. The room +grew crowded, the bundles of wraps on the tent-bedstead multiplied, +and there was a continuous chattering and fluttering, and mingling of +rainbow tints, and a sweet odor of musk and rose as in a garden of +blossoming plants. Half a dozen faces at a time were mirrored in the +looking-glass, one above another, and the owners nodded and smiled at +each other, and displayed their white teeth in joyous anticipation of +the near pleasures of the ball.</p> + +<p>Pansy and Daisy, having got "fixed" to their satisfaction, came and +sat down on low stools upon the hearth-rug by the fire, and chattered +like a couple of English sparrows.</p> + +<p>"Silence Rose 'll be the belle o' the ball, I s'pose," twittered +Pansy. "Nobody else has a chance when she's 'round."</p> + +<p>"An' she's twenty-five, 'f she's a day. An' it's time she gave way +to us young ones, ma says," returned Daisy, who had also reached the +mature age of sixteen.</p> + +<p>"Well, she <i>is</i> handsome," sighed Pansy. "Oh, there she comes now!"</p> + +<p>Dolly looked with some curiosity to see this Silence emerge from <i>her</i> +calyx. Her head was swathed in a cloud-like wrap of soft white wool, +and from head to foot she was clothed in a garment of white fur. She +was tall, and looked like a lily in her white wraps.</p> + +<p>The calyx unfolded and displayed a slender young woman with jet-black +hair, a complexion of cream-and-roses, and a pair of eyes of the soft +brilliancy of stars.</p> + +<p>A cry of admiring surprise, followed by a murmur of unqualified +delight, accompanied the falling of the wrap of white fur on the floor.</p> + +<p>"It's a military ball, you know," said Silence, with a comprehensive +smile around the room, "and so I thought I'd come as the Daughter of +the Regiment."</p> + +<p>She had chosen the colors of our national flag for her dress. The +skirt was of alternate stripes of red and white, the waist of blue, +trimmed with scarlet bands and gilt buttons, while a cunning little +epaulet adorned either shoulder. On her head she wore the jaunty cap +our Goddess of Liberty usually wears. A strap went over her right +shoulder and under her left arm. There were thirteen gilt stars on +this strap, and to it was attached a canteen, around the edge of which +was printed in gold letters, "<span class="smcap">Thomas Rose</span>, 1775."</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the multitude. "Where <i>did</i> you get that, Silence? +Isn't it cute?"</p> + +<p>"My grandfather carried it in the revolutionary war," she replied, +somewhat proudly, turning her head and stretching her neck to get a +glimpse of it where it rested on the full skirt.</p> + +<p>She then went up to the looking-glass and surveyed herself hastily, in +an indifferent sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the envious Daisy, "<i>she</i> can afford not to look at +herself."</p> + +<p>Just then the squeak of violins was heard from the dancing-hall, from +which a single partition only separated the ladies' drawing-room. At +the sound Pansy and Daisy hastily arose and began to settle their +skirts; Dolly, too, sprang from the depths of the Sleepy Hollow, and +there was a simultaneous preening of fine feathers.</p> + +<p>"When you hear the fiddles begin to tune up, Dolly, you must start," +Ned had said. "Just come up to the back door of the hall, an' I'll be +there, an' we'll get in time enough to see 'em come in."</p> + +<p>So Dolly slipped out from the room, and ran down-stairs through the +long entrance-hall and the dining-room, to the flight of stairs +that led up into the L, in the rear of the dancing-hall. Ned was in +waiting as he had promised, and there was just time to seat themselves +comfortably on one of the benches that stood against the wall, and +look about a bit, before the entrance of the dancers.</p> + +<p>The walls of the hall were dazzlingly white, having been recently +whitewashed, and were draped with flags and trimmed with evergreens, +with which were mingled the plumes of the Byfield Light Infantry. +These were tall, stiff made feathers of white, tipped with scarlet. +Custom, of course, would not permit the wearing of these plumes at the +ball with the accompanying box-like hat of shiny leather, decorated +with a gilt eagle and scarlet tassels, so they had been put to this +decorative purpose. The hall was lighted with the best of sperm-oil, +in small globe lamps with tin reflectors. In these days of the +brilliant and odorous kerosene, not to mention gas, the hall would +doubtless seem dim, but it certainly did not seem so to Dolly and Ned.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Dolly, with a deep sigh of content, "it's perfectly lovely!"</p> + +<p>The musicians sat on a platform built into a recess on one side of the +fireplace at the upper end of the hall. There were three violins, a +'cello, a harp, cymbals, and a bugle.</p> + +<p>"D'ye see that man with the bugle? That's Kendall," said Ned. "He's +tip-top."</p> + +<p>The players having at last brought their various instruments into +harmony, struck into the first chords of the "Wood-up Quickstep;" +and presently in swept the Daughter of the Regiment, led by a tall, +handsome man whom Ned said was her brother, the captain of the light +infantry. They were followed by the whole company in pairs, who +moved up the hall, then across, and down past where Dolly and Ned +were sitting, and so round and round many times, moving gracefully +and slowly, with soft rustle of tarlatan and silk and muslin, and +manly tread of soldierly feet, and bewildering color of scarlet and +white and blue. The uniform of the light infantry consisted of white +trousers with a scarlet stripe down the outside, and coats of blue, +decorated with scarlet and gilt, a very effective costume for a +ballroom.</p> + +<p>At the very last came Cousin Kitty.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty had brought with her to Byfield no ball-dress proper, and +at first said she would wear a pale blue cashmere. But Aunt Anna had +remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "it will be a great pleasure for our young +people to see you in full dress. We don't often get a glimpse of such +elegancies here; not once in a lifetime, indeed. Besides, I'm afraid +if you wear an ordinary dress they may take offence, and feel that you +didn't think it worth while to 'dress up' for country-folk."</p> + +<p>So Cousin Kitty had one of her party dresses sent down from +Boston—the very gown, in fact, in which she had been presented at the +court of the good Queen Adelaide, which fact being whispered about the +ballroom, caused her at first to be regarded with considerable awe, +until it was ascertained that she was much like other mortals.</p> + +<p>Her gown was of white silk with a long, undulating train, but with no +garniture except the Little Madam's chrysanthemums, which, you may +remember, Dolly had fondly hoped to have worn on this occasion, as an +accompaniment to the yellow satin. She did wear chrysanthemums, as it +was. She and Cousin Kitty had divided them, and very pretty they were, +with her blue velvet frock for background.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty's partner was not in military dress, but wore the usual +full dress of a gentleman, and Dolly did not at first recognize in +him the brown-eyed doctor whom she was most used to see driving at +headlong speed behind his white-eyed racker, with a small trunk of +medicines at his feet.</p> + +<p>"How pretty Pansy looks!" said Dolly, as Blue-eyes went dimpling by +with Silas, a diminutive, fair-haired young soldier.</p> + +<p>"Pansy!" repeated Ned, scornfully. "Her name's Betsey Jane Bump. What +geese girls are!—some girls, I mean," bethinking himself that he was +talking to one of the "geese." "I'd knock a boy into the middle o' +next week that called <i>me</i> 'Pansy.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, that's different," said Dolly. "Of course a boy wouldn't +want to be called Pansy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't think a girl would, either, 'f she had any sense."</p> + +<p>A cotillion followed the polonaise, and this was succeeded by +money-musk, which in turn was followed by another cotillion, and +Dolly found herself taken out by a tall, military gentleman, who was +presented to her by her friend the brown-eyed doctor, and she danced +her very best, while Ned looked on admiringly.</p> + +<p>The Little Madam came in and formed a part of the group of lookers-on +at the lower end of the hall, of whom Thankful was one and Betty's +mother, who had come in to help about the supper, another. They had +left the turkeys comfortably browning in the brick ovens while they +took this outing.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," sighed Betty's mother, a stout, middle-aged woman weighing +about two hundred and fifty pounds, "my dancin' days 're over. But I +did use t' like it when I's a gal. An' I like t' look on now 's well +'s I ever did."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, for my part, I never had no dancin' days," rejoined Thankful. +"Never had no time f' caperin'."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean t' say, now, Miss Makepeace, that y' don't a'prove o' +dancin'?" asked Betty's mother, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I a'prove on't if anybody c'n do it," said Thankful. "Look at Miss +Kitty there! I a'prove o' <i>her</i> dancin'."</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty was dancing the Spanish Dance, in which she managed her +long train so admirably as to call forth the unqualified commendation +of her admirers at the foot of the hall.</p> + +<p>"Dew see now!" exclaimed Betty's mother. "She jest giv' a kind o' a +fling an' scooped it round quicker'n a wink! Anybody else 'd 'a' sot +down on it."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, a young woman that's be'n t' a real court an' shook han's 'ith +th' queen, an' jest as like's not danced 'ith th' king, 'd ough' t' +know how t' manage the tail o' her gown!" said Thankful, with some +asperity.</p> + +<p>"Dew tell, now! Y' don't say so, reelly, Miss Makepeace! Be'n t' +court! Wa'al, wa'al, this is new times f' Byfield!"</p> + +<p>And so the winged moments flew by all too swiftly, and twelve o'clock, +the hour for serving the supper, drew nigh.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose we'll have to go to bed as soon as we've seen the tables," +said Dolly, as she seated herself by Ned, flushed and sparkling from a +"grand right and left" all around the hall.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I s'pose so," replied Ned, discontentedly. "I wish we could have +some turkey, but mother said only bread and butter. I say, Dolly, when +I'm a man I don't believe I'll touch bread and butter. I'm just sick +of it!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care much about the turkey, but I do love the dancing," was +Dolly's reply.</p> + +<p>"Dotty," said Cousin Kitty, coming up just then, "will you run down +and ask Auntie exactly the hour that supper is to be served? Doctor +Stone would like to know. He is to visit a patient at one o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Stay just there, Ned, and I'll be back in a minute," said Dolly; and +she ran quickly down the long passage and the stairway leading to the +outer kitchen, opened the kitchen door, and stepped into a pan of +gravy which Betty, not expecting arrivals from that quarter, had left +upon the floor. She had come down with such vehemence that she sent a +shower of greasy drops over the floor, and, what was still worse, over +her pretty frock of blue velvet.</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh!" she cried out in dismay, withdrawing her foot well covered +with "thickening." "I didn't mean to! I didn't know 'twas there!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't," was Aunt Anna's reply, who always took the +sunny view of things. "I'm glad it wasn't hot, that's all. Just run +to your room now, my dear, and change your dress. Lay it carefully by +itself—we can take it all out, I think."</p> + +<p>Dolly paused for only just one look around the kitchen, which was just +then so full of steam from the boiling vegetables as to obscure the +light of the many candles, each of which seemed isolated in a little +island of mist. Then she turned, by force of habit, to take what Ned +would have called the "short cut" to her room—viz., that leading +through the main entrance hall. As she opened the door of the great +dining-room which led into this hall, however, she caught a glimpse of +a group of gentlemen in military dress standing at the farther end.</p> + +<p>No; that would never do! she could not go that way; she could +not expose to the eye of any one she might chance to meet her +gravy-bedaubed velvet. She paused, with her hand resting on the latch, +to consider.</p> + +<p>There was one other way—a way, too, where there would not be the +remotest possibility of meeting anybody. That way led from the +dining-room up the old flight of stairs to the secret chamber, thence +through the Little Madam's room to the passage which passed by her own +door. The Little Madam she had just left busy at mashing turnips in +the kitchen, and the coast was clear in that direction.</p> + +<p>So, leaving the dining-room, she groped along with outstretched arms +through the narrow entry and up the dark stairs, making a slight +noise as she stumbled once or twice over the unfamiliar steps; for +though she had often gone over them in the daytime, when the light, +though dim, was sufficient, she had never attempted to do so in the +night. Having arrived, as she judged, at the panel, she put out her +hand in search of the magic clover-leaf—the "open sesame" to what +she sometimes called her Ali Baba's cave—when she felt it seized by +another hand, and she was drawn firmly but gently within the secret +chamber, while a familiar voice hoarsely whispered, "'Sh! 'sh! don't +y' make no noise! It's me, Dolly! y' needn't b' scared. I'm mighty +glad y're come!"</p> + +<p>"Why, 'Zekle, what's the matter, and what are you doing here?" asked +the startled Dolly, suppressing by a hair's-breadth the scream that +had rushed to her lips when 'Zekle touched her hand.</p> + +<p>"'Sh! 'sh! don't make no noise! the critter 'll hear. He's right +here, a-gittin' in t' the Little Madam's winder. I see him a-skulkin' +'roun', an' jes' kep' watch o' the pesky critter; an' he's a-walkin' +inter th' trap 's innercent 's a weasel." And 'Zekle chuckled a very +subdued chuckle, as befitted the situation.</p> + +<p>"But who is it? Who's a-getting into the window?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Why, the identikle vill'in that stole Skatta, an' killed Gaston, an' +tried t' rob the squire; an' <i>this</i> time he's a goner."</p> + +<p>"But where is he?" persisted Dolly, still slightly bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Why, a-gittin' inter th' Little Madam's winder, didn't I tell y'?" +replied 'Zekle, impatiently. "Jest look 'n here!" and he slipped the +noiseless panel into the Little Madam's room, and Dolly saw the thief +by the window quite plainly, for the night was clear though moonless. +While they were looking, he slipped out the pane of glass upon the +setting of which he had been at work.</p> + +<p>"There!" said 'Zekle, closing the panel. "Now you jest run an' git +the squire here quicker 'n scat. He'll find that spring in a minute, +an' I might manage him alone, an' then ag'in I mightn't." And while +he was yet speaking, Dolly was off, flying with winged feet, utterly +unmindful of the gravy-bedaubed velvet, in search of Uncle Harry, whom +she found at last talking politics in the bar-room with some of the +neighbors, who had sauntered in, as usual, to look at the dancing and +partake of the good cheer.</p> + +<p>She whispered just a word or two in his ear, and he immediately +followed her out of the room. She had only said, "Oh, Uncle Harry, +he's come again, and 'Zekle's got him."</p> + +<p>But as they hurried along she told him who had come, and explained the +situation, and he took down his musket in passing.</p> + +<p>"Don't come any farther, Dolly," he said, peremptorily, as they +reached the stairs leading to the secret chamber, and she was forced +to obey, though fired with a sudden courage, and an intense desire to +be in at the capture of her old enemy. She listened, however—she was +not forbidden to do that. A few whispered words passed between Uncle +Harry and 'Zekle; then there was the sound of a window cautiously +lifted, a muffled footstep upon the floor of the Little Madam's room; +these were succeeded by a brief struggle, and then there was silence.</p> + +<p>Presently Uncle Harry came to the door of the secret chamber, from +which a light was now streaming, and peered into the dark depths below.</p> + +<p>"Are you there, Dolly?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Just go and get Doctor Stone, will you? And don't tell anybody else."</p> + +<p>Doctor Stone! Where was Doctor Stone? In the ballroom, of course. And +how am I to get to him without everybody seeing me? And if everybody +sees me, how can I keep them from finding out that something has +happened, anyhow?</p> + +<p>These were some of the perplexing questions that slipped through +Dolly's mind as she half-mechanically made her way to the rear +entrance of the hall, where she had left Ned, and where she hoped +still to find him. There he was, with his eyes fixed on the door, +momentarily expecting her to come in to report the exact hour for +supper, and wondering what was keeping her so long.</p> + +<p>She beckoned to him. "Ned," she said, holding the door open a couple +of inches, "just tell Doctor Stone to come down into the little entry +off the dining-room. Don't let anybody hear you tell him, and he +mustn't tell and you mustn't." And having so spoken, she attempted to +close the door, but Ned was too quick for her: he grasped her sleeve, +exclaiming,</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Dolly? How your eyes shine! 'Tisn't mother?" he +added, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Nothing's the matter to trouble about; but oh, let me go! And do +hurry, Ned! You'll know by-and-by." And shutting the door, she hurried +to the entry, where it seemed ages before Doctor Stone appeared, +although it was really only about two minutes. She explained at once: +"'Zekle and Uncle Harry have got the thief that killed Gaston. He was +getting in at a window, and they caught him, and Uncle Harry wants +you."</p> + +<p>Doctors are never taken by surprise, whether it's an earthquake or a +fit, a revolution or a gunshot wound. But they always feel safest when +they have their remedies at hand; so the doctor said, "Oughtn't I to +go out and get my medicine-chest?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I don't believe it's that," said Dolly. "I didn't hear +anything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but—halloo!" said the doctor, incoherently, "how did you happen +to be there?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't there—only part way there," said Dolly; "and I mustn't go +any farther," she added, as they reached the staircase.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is interesting!" said the doctor. "Seems like the first +chapter in a first-rate novel. I never saw this secret chamber before; +heard of it, though."</p> + +<p>Uncle Harry only wanted to consult with the doctor, as the most +judicious person at hand, as to what disposal to make of the thief +until morning, when of course he could be taken to the county jail at +Plymouth. They had already tied his hands with a rope which 'Zekle had +taken the precaution to have at hand.</p> + +<p>"It's just as well to get the fellow off quietly," Mr. Park said. "I +suppose nobody knows anything about it but you," turning to 'Zekle.</p> + +<p>"I said nothin' t' nobody," replied 'Zekle. "Tho' 'f I'd had time when +I see him a-makin' f' th' winder, I might 'a' got some help."</p> + +<p>"Everything's so full here to-night, outbuildings and all, there don't +seem to be any place to put him," continued Mr. Park.</p> + +<p>"Put him in my office," rejoined the doctor. "'Zekle can keep watch +over him, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I reckon he won't be likely to get away," was 'Zekle's grim response. +"Here's his own wep'n," displaying the huge pistol.</p> + +<p>So between them Mr. Park and 'Zekle led the thief out by a side door +opening into the garden, and over to Doctor Stone's office, and +neither the dancers in the ballroom, nor the busy caterers in the +kitchen, nor the gossiping neighbors in the bar-room, got a hint of +this comedy which had come nigh to being a tragedy, and the knowledge +of which the next day stirred Byfield to its very depths.</p> + +<p>The doctor stayed to replace the pane the thief had taken from the +window, and then going home he laid aside his dress suit for his +ordinary suit of tweed, and went off for a five-mile ride, to visit a +patient dangerously ill with lung fever.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Dolly soothed the perturbed cockatoo, whose midnight +slumbers had been abruptly broken by the sharp though brief struggle +made to secure the thief.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! oh dear! Where is she? Where's my love? Kiss poor +Polly—poor Polly—poor—poor—Pol—ol—ol—" and he was again asleep.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to bed. It'll never do for me to see Ned. He'll get it out of +me," Dolly was saying to herself, as she stepped out into the passage, +and almost ran plumply into that young gentleman himself, who had been +seeking her vainly everywhere.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" she cried out, hastily retreating towards her own room.</p> + +<p>Ned made a plunge at her, attempting to seize her arm again, and only +missing it by half an inch, and the next instant she was inside her +room with the door shut.</p> + +<p>He retreated from the field beaten and not a little sore. What <i>was</i> +this wonderful secret, and he went off in search of the doctor. He +was not to be found, neither was his father, and even 'Zekle had +mysteriously disappeared.</p> + +<p>He went to the dining-room, where his mother was superintending the +taking in of the supper.</p> + +<p>"Mother, what's the matter with Dolly?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She stepped into a pan of gravy," was the unsatisfactory reply.</p> + +<p>"But she's gone to bed," persisted Ned.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dare say she felt too tired to change her clothes," said Mrs. +Park, absently, as she indicated to Betty where to place the last of a +long line of vegetable dishes.</p> + +<p>"Too tired!" reflected Ned, in disgust. "Why, not half an hour ago she +was for setting up all night." And utterly baffled, he, too, went off +to bed.</p> + +<p>Here the slayer of Gaston, the thief, drops out of our story. He was +tried and condemned to fifteen years' imprisonment on two indictments, +viz., "assault and battery" and "breaking and entering." His doings +were more than a nine-days' wonder in Byfield. He made no confession, +but it was supposed he had been hanging about ever since the return of +Skatta, waiting for a chance to get possession of the Little Madam's +reported "treasure," in the existence of which everybody but himself +had ceased to believe. He had fixed upon the night of the ball as a +favorable time in which to make the attempt, with what success we have +seen.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE PUBLISHMENT IN THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE.</h3> + + +<p>How Ned came to do such a thing will always remain something of +a mystery. Mr. Emerson laid it to the account of the "general +cussedness" of boys. But Mr. Emerson was fearfully out of sorts at +that time. Whether it was the succession of Thanksgiving-dinners to +which he had been invited, and of which he had recklessly partaken, or +whether it was only a perennial visitation of his arch-enemy, the fact +remains, that with the drawing near of the new year his dyspepsia had +increased in violence, and his temper worsened in proportion.</p> + +<p>Ned had got into scrapes before; he would not have been a genuine boy +if he had not. But he had usually had "some regard for the decencies +of life," as his father remarked in his wrath.</p> + +<p>When he, with three other boys, dragged the Perkins's family carriage +to the top of Crow Hill, and then coasted over the turf into the +mill-pond, barely escaping with their lives, and leaving the ancient +chariot soaking in its waters, people were scandalized. But Mr. +Perkins having good-naturedly remarked that he was "glad the old +thing was at last disposed of satisfactorily," and at once entered +into negotiations for a new carriage, they said, "Well, boys will be +boys," and then forgot all about it.</p> + +<p>Then, too, when he with the same boys made that memorable raid on +Deacon Hart's watermelon patch, in which they were caught, and Ned was +forced to expend all his allowance of pocket-money for three months to +pay his share of the damage, the people in general sympathized with +the boys. "Nobody ever expects to eat their own watermelons," they +said. "Watermelons always get stole."</p> + +<p>It was the same with that Fourth-of-July episode, over which the +Byfield folks laughed so at Phœbe's expense. Phœbe, the tailoress, was +a courageous woman, who liked to boast of her courage. Like another +woman known in literature, she had been heard to say that she did not +fear the face of "mortial man."</p> + +<p>On this Fourth-of-July night—it was a dark, thundery night, following +a thundery day—her boasted courage was put to a severe test. At +twelve o'clock she was aroused by a knock at her door. The neighbors +were in the habit of calling upon her in emergencies. She was a +capable woman, knew just what to do for a baby with croup, or for a +boy in convulsions from over-eating. It was no unusual thing for her +to be called up in the night in this way.</p> + +<p>She partially dressed and went to the door. She had spoken from the +window at first, demanding "Who's there?" But at the instant she put +her head out there had come a blinding flash of lightning, followed by +a deafening peal, and she had drawn in her head without waiting for a +reply; for, though not afraid of "mortial man," she had a slight dread +of a thunder-storm.</p> + +<p>So she hastened to the door, and, throwing it open, her light revealed +a man standing a little one side—a man of remarkable height and +breadth, wearing his hat well over his face, and carrying a small +carpet-bag, a genuine <i>carpet</i>-bag of tapestry carpeting. He was +standing at the foot of the three stone steps leading up to the door.</p> + +<p>Phœbe said "Good-evening," and waited for him to speak, but he neither +spoke nor moved.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said, at last, impatiently. But still no answer.</p> + +<p>"Can't y' speak? what d' y' want? I can't stand here all night," said +Phœbe, when, with a tremendous explosion, his head flew in pieces, his +carpet-bag burst, and Phœbe, "scared t' death," as she confessed the +next day, banged the door, bolted it, and waited till the first pale +rays of daylight revealed the remains of the fearful apparition lying +at the foot of the steps. These remains consisted of a suit of clothes +of ancient make, which Phœbe recognized as the work of her predecessor +in the tailoring business, fragments of a hat, and bits of tapestry +carpeting scattered over a large area. The clothes had been propped on +rails, which accounted for the prodigious height of the scarecrow.</p> + +<p>Bits of red paper betrayed the cause of the explosion, and Phœbe +comprehended at once the joke that had been played upon her.</p> + +<p>"It's some o' that Ned Park's work," she had said, smiling in spite of +the chagrin she felt at being so frightened. For Ned, notwithstanding +his pranks, was a prime favorite with her, indeed, if the truth be +told, she liked him all the better for them. The hat as well as the +carpet-bag had been filled with fire-crackers, and a fuse arranged to +explode them at the right moment.</p> + +<p>"An' I s'pose th' young rascals were hid out there somewhere laughin' +at me," thought Phœbe, and her supposition was correct. They were +hidden about six feet from the door, behind the rain-water hogshead, +where they enjoyed to the utmost the success of their original +firework piece.</p> + +<p>But this last prank of Ned's which I am about to relate indicated a +much greater depth of depravity, so some people thought—his father +among the number. He was not alone in this nefarious transaction. +He had an accomplice, none other than Johnny Tuttle, the hero of +the temperance tale, who, my boy readers will like to know, was +not altogether good—not too good to live, by any means—and who, +although a hero, was a fair specimen of uproarious boyhood.</p> + +<p>At that time it was the law in Massachusetts that people intending +marriage must have the banns read or posted in some public place. +In Byfield they were usually posted, though occasionally read or +"cried," as it was called. As, for instance, on one Sunday while +Dolly was there, after the benediction, as the people were going out, +the town-clerk arose from his seat in the gallery and announced the +"intention of marriage" of Samuel Latham and Priscilla Weston.</p> + +<p>The banns were always posted in the meeting-house. This old +meeting-house, built in 1732, with square pews and diamond-paned, +leaded windows, had been remodelled a hundred years later, and a spire +and vestibule and porches added, the latter admirably arranged for +nest-building on the part of mud-swallows, and as a lounging-place +for the church-goers before and after service. In one corner of the +vestibule, where you turned to go up the stairs to the galleries, the +"publishments," as they were called, were posted, written on a slip of +paper and fastened up with four tacks. The pair thus posted were said +to be "published."</p> + +<p>On Sunday mornings almost everybody, the young people of the +congregation especially, cast a glance of inquiry into that corner +as they entered, to see if there were any fresh publishments. There +were often surprises, for engagements of marriage were not announced +then as now. People liked a little air of mystery to hang about these +matters; they fancied too great publicity lessened their charm, as +contact with rough winds spoils the tender grace of the rose.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the last Sunday of the year 18—, a surprise awaited +the church-goers in Byfield. The morning was clear and frosty, the +sleighing good, and a more than usual number betook themselves to this +last service of the year. At this service the pastor usually gave a +sort of resumé of local events of the year, with the lessons to be +drawn therefrom, and few cared to miss his pithy and apt teachings.</p> + +<p>The first arrivals immediately espied a fresh bit of paper in the +publishing corner. The sight was unexpected, for Thanksgiving-day, +the day of family reunions, was also the popular day for weddings, +and there had been no less than four on the Thanksgiving just past. +People were not looking for another so soon. But the surprise of these +first-comers deepened into the profoundest astonishment as they read +of the intention of marriage between Hiram Emerson and Amanda Matilda +Mortimer.</p> + +<p>Who <i>was</i> Amanda Matilda Mortimer?</p> + +<p>"Never heard her name before," remarked one. "Sly, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Where upon earth did he find her? He never goes anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Lovely times she'll have with him and his queer old mother!" remarked +one spiteful soul.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!"—running up to a fresh arrival—"who <i>do</i> you think's +published?—Mr. <span class="smcap">Emerson</span>!" pausing to see the effect of her +words. The effect was satisfactory.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mr. Emerson!</i>" incredulously. "You don't mean it! I don't believe +it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, just go up there and see for yourself!" triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The unbeliever went up and read the notice carefully, not then fully +crediting even the evidence of sight. "Well, I <i>am</i> beat!" was her +sole comment.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the crowd in the vestibule grew dense, for no one dreamed +of going inside and seating herself while under the stress of this +astounding bit of news. The report of it at last crept out into the +open porches, where the men were discussing "swamping" and "milling" +and the probabilities of a cold winter.</p> + +<p>"Goin' t' git merried, eh?—Mr. Emerson? Wa'al, I'm glad on't. 'Tain't +good f' man t' be alone," quoted Deacon Hart, who had been married +four times. "Who's 't tew?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I d'n' know," was the reply of his neighbor. "D' you?" he asked +of the man next in line, who had told him the news.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. Who's he published to, Sam?" passing the question +on; and Sam learns from a roguish-looking girl at the door of the +vestibule that the lady's name is Amanda Matilda Mortimer.</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a hoax," said Sam to his right-hand neighbor. Sam +had read "The Children of the Abbey" in his young and innocent days, +and thought the name sounded familiar. "But don't say anything. The +joke's too good to spoil. The boy that did it—it's a boy, I'll bet a +dollar!—ought to have a leather medal."</p> + +<p>"Mortimer!" echoed Deacon Hart, the name at last reaching his ears. +"Never <i>heer'd</i> o' no Mortimers 'n these parts. Must 'a' come from +York State, where his mother's folks be."</p> + +<p>And so query and speculation, astonishment and laughter alternated, +and two boys leaning over the railing of the stairs midway of the +vestibule looked down upon the excited multitude, shaking at one +moment with laughter over the success of their prank, and at another +shivering with fear of its possible consequences, but it must be +acknowledged that the laughter outweighed the fear.</p> + +<p>The pastor, a grave and courtly gentleman, arriving, made his way +in surprise through this chattering, giggling crowd, who, suddenly +brought to the remembrance of the fact that the day was Sunday, and +the service about to begin, hastily followed him in.</p> + +<p>The two boys fled before the crowd of singers and others that came +surging up the stairway, and betook themselves to the "niggers' +seats," as they were called, though at that time not one of the +despised race for whose use they had been set apart lived within the +limits of Byfield.</p> + +<p>These "nigger seats" were in either corner of the gallery, square pews +raised above the level of the gallery floor, and infested the greater +part of the year with wasps.</p> + +<p>From time immemorial the understanding had been that boys were not +to occupy these seats during service. They might eat their pies and +dough-nuts there at noon if they liked, but they were altogether too +far away from the sober portion of the congregation to be a fit and +safe place for them during service. These seats were entirely hidden +by the galleries from the people in the pews below—the fathers and +mothers—and as to the singers and players on violins, and the young +men who habitually sat in the galleries—well, <i>their</i> conduct was +not always above reproach, and they would be likely to view with a +lenient eye any shortcomings on the part of the boys. Furthermore, +by closing the doors of these "nigger seats," and dropping upon the +floor, the occupants could be entirely hidden from everybody in the +meeting-house, galleries included.</p> + +<p>Yes, it certainly was a wise decision that had closed those seats +to occupancy during service. And had not our two boys been utterly +reckless under a sense of deserved and impending punishment, they +would never have thought of breaking this unwritten law. But +remarking that "they might as well be killed for an old sheep as a +lamb," they buttoned the door of the "niggers' seat" and abandoned +themselves to the consequences.</p> + +<p>The congregation having at last all gone in, there arrived in the +vestibule, almost simultaneously, two men who belonged to that class +of humanity that are always just a minute late—Mr. Emerson and the +town-clerk. Mr. Emerson adjusted his spectacles at the right angle and +walked up to read the publishment. So taken by surprise was he that +he did not at first reading comprehend that he was the Hiram Emerson +announced therein as intending marriage. He was reading it a second +time when the town-clerk came up.</p> + +<p>"Halloo! what's that?" he said. He was equally surprised to find a +notice of which he knew nothing posted in his special corner.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know, if anybody," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'tain't signed," said the town-clerk, who at once noticed a +defect that had apparently escaped the observation of those who had +read it.</p> + +<p>"Who's Amanda Matilda Mortimer, anyhow?" he asked, looking +suspiciously at Mr. Emerson.</p> + +<p>"Hanged 'f I know!" was the reply, and Mr. Emerson's eyes twinkled. +"I'm thankful the young scamps had the grace to use a fictitious +name." It was apparent that he, too, had read "The Children of the +Abbey."</p> + +<p>"I think I know who did it," he resumed. "It's a piece of revenge, and +I don't much blame them."</p> + +<p>The town-clerk took down the notice and made a move to tear it up.</p> + +<p>"Let me have it," said Mr. Emerson, and he stowed it carefully away in +his breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>At noon the congregation learned that they had been hoaxed—that the +publishment was spurious—that Amanda Matilda Mortimer was a myth, and +great was their rage.</p> + +<p>The boys stood ready, caps in hand, and as the final "amen" dropped +from the pastor's lips, they slipped from the "nigger pew," and were +out of the meeting-house and away before any other of the congregation +had fairly reached the vestibule. And it was well understood who were +the rogues; their final act had betrayed them; it was not that of +innocents.</p> + +<p>"Ain't published, eh?" asked Deacon Hart, striving in vain to +comprehend; and when the iniquitous joke did dawn upon him, adding, +"Well, well! them boys ought'er be dealt pooty severely with." With +which opinion a majority of the congregation agreed.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Park reached home he looked up Ned. He found him leaning idly +against the barn door, thoughtfully kicking the snow with his foot. He +was wondering how his father and mother would view the joke, and was +not at all startled when he heard his father's voice say, "Ned, come +to my room; I wish to speak with you."</p> + +<p>He obeyed, not with any great alacrity, and on arriving found his +father already seated at the table where he transacted business as +justice of the peace. Ned did not feel at liberty to sit down, as he +would ordinarily have done, and so stood as a culprit might who was +awaiting his sentence.</p> + +<p>"Is this true that I hear, Ned?" his father began—"that you could so +far forget all decency as to stick up a publishment of Mr. Emerson +to—to—" hesitating at the lady's name.</p> + +<p>"Amanda Matilda Mortimer," suggested Ned, a gleam of fun stealing out +of the corner of either eye, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>But his father was not to be softened by a comic view of the affair. +His face grew stern as he noticed that gleam of fun.</p> + +<p>(Mr. Park had left the meeting-house so promptly that he had only +learned that the publishment was a hoax. He had not learned that +Amanda Matilda Mortimer was a myth.)</p> + +<p>"It may seem fun to you, sir," he said; "but it seems to me you are +getting too old for such tricks, and ought to have manliness enough to +be done with them." This last thrust hurt Ned.</p> + +<p>"It's no worse than Mr. Emerson does himself!" he burst out. "'Tain't +so bad. The other day I spelt <i>isosceles</i> with two o's, an' he said +there <i>was</i> a word spelt with two o's that just described me, an' +nobody's going t' call me a fool 'f I can help it—not even Piggy."</p> + +<p>"Ned, how often have I told you that whatever nickname you boys may +choose to give Mr. Emerson, it's not to be repeated in my presence. In +my day, a boy who did such a thing would have got a sound flogging, +and served him right."</p> + +<p>Ned muttered something in reply.</p> + +<p>"What's that you say?" asked his father.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I didn't live in those days, then."</p> + +<p>"And how do you think your mother feels about it?" his father resumed. +"I should think you might have a little regard for her feelings, if +your own sense of what is right and decent is no restraint."</p> + +<p>This was a still harder thrust, for Ned had a boy's chivalrous feeling +for his mother. She was the true Madonna of his youthful worship; and +although he might try her sorely at times, none knew better than he +how the thought of her—of what she might think and feel—had kept him +back from many a scrape. He felt that the scrapes he hadn't got into +just on account of his consideration for his mother far outnumbered +those he had. He did not say anything for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I hadn't done it, for mother's sake," he said at last, +"but I don't care a darn for Mr. Emerson. I tell you, father, you +don't know anything about it—the way he's knocked us boys round +lately. He's as savage as a bear. An' I wish he was one, an' could be +caged." This last sentence <i>sotto voce</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ned," replied his father, soothingly, "you know Mr. Emerson +is a great sufferer, and allowances must be made. At the same time, +he's a first-class teacher. He'll put you through and fit you well for +Harvard, and few country school-teachers can do that. And you've got +to learn to put up with things. A little knocking round won't hurt +you: it'll do you good.</p> + +<p>"But that isn't the question. I must say I am truly grieved that a son +of mine could do what you have done to-day. Had it been on a week-day, +or in any other place, it would not seem so bad. But to forget all the +proprieties of time and place—As to Mr. Emerson and Miss—Miss—"</p> + +<p>"Amanda Matilda Mortimer," put in Ned again, and he smiled. He could +not help it, as he recalled the combination over which he and Johnny +had labored so successfully.</p> + +<p>"As to Mr. Emerson and this Miss Mortimer, how do you think they must +feel?"</p> + +<p>"Why, father," exclaimed Ned, "there's no such person as Amanda +Matilda Mortimer!"</p> + +<p>"No such person!—no such person!" repeated the bewildered Mr. Park.</p> + +<p>"Why no! she's only a name—Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams, don't y' +know? an' Lord Mortimer, in 'Th' Children of the Abbey.'"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know," replied Mr. Park, somewhat ruffled at his blunder, +but at the same time greatly relieved. "I never read that delightful +romance. <i>My</i> father didn't allow me to read novels." Which statement +was strictly true, though Uncle Harry had long since got bravely over +the interdiction, as Ned knew. He was a great lover of the Waverley +Novels—as great a lover of "Ivanhoe" as Ned himself—and had sat up +till three o'clock one night to finish it, after his return from that +trip to Plymouth alluded to in an earlier chapter of this story, about +the time of the tournament. But Ned discreetly kept silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, that doesn't make it so bad—not quite. I'm glad you had the +decency to use a fictitious name. Mr. Emerson can settle with you as +he likes; I sha'n't interfere," he concluded. "Now I think you had +better go to your room until dinner-time."</p> + +<p>Dinner was served at the tavern at four o'clock on Sundays, and Ned +had a long interval for reflection. About an hour before dinner there +was a gentle knock at his door and his mother entered. The interview +may be safely left to your imagination.</p> + +<p>If our two boys expected a burst of wrath on the part of Mr. Emerson +they were disappointed. Mr. Emerson was a man of surprises. He never +did exactly what you expected he was going to do. After a season of +irritability and petulance, just when appearances indicated nothing +less than a perfect cyclone of angry passion, a gleam of humor like a +ray of sunlight would pierce the clouds, the clouds would scatter and +disappear, and a calm ensue as serene as the blue depths of a June sky.</p> + +<p>So it was in this instance. The boys had had a hard time with Mr. +Emerson, and he knew it. As was stated in the beginning of this +chapter, the demon of dyspepsia had held full possession of him, and +he had been merciless. And although, as he said to Mr. Park, when they +talked the matter over a few days later, the outrageous hoax might be +laid at the door of the "general cussedness of boys," in his heart +he did not blame these two. He really had a profound sympathy for +boyhood; he could easily put himself in a boy's place.</p> + +<p>So as he went home on that Sunday, with the spurious publishment +stowed away in his breast-pocket, he was in a more amiable frame of +mind than he had been for weeks. As he sat in his comfortable library, +he pulled out the bit of paper, smoothed it, and read it anew. He +smiled a little, and then fell into a reverie. How many years ago was +it that Amanda Malvina Fitzwilliams was his boyish ideal of a lovely +woman? Twenty years?—thirty years? He was a yellow-haired laddie +then, studying Greek and Latin, and consoling himself for the hours +spent over those tough mental gymnastics with "The Children of the +Abbey," "The Mysteries of Udolpho," and "Evelina." This last, he +remembered, he did not like so well as the other two. It was vastly +entertaining, but it was not so full of delightful mystery, not so +poetic, perhaps.</p> + +<p>How that dreamy, poetry-loving little laddie had changed with the +years! But had he changed so much, after all? He had crusted over, so +to speak. Contact with the world, the tussle which comes sooner or +later with principalities and powers, had hardened him outwardly. But, +as he mused, the man of forty felt that there was a good deal of the +yellow-haired laddie left in him yet. Why couldn't he bring it out +more? Why couldn't he let his boys see—he called them <i>his</i> boys, +this childless man!—why could he not let them see that his youth was +as truly a part of himself as his graver middle life? that, in fact, +of every true life childhood and youth are as much a part as middle +life and old age. It is youth that is immortal, perennial—constantly +renewing itself as one grows in years, taking deeper root, bearing +richer fruit, but still immortal <i>youth</i>.</p> + +<p>Wasn't this a blessed truth to teach his boys? Should he not let them +know it was a truth by showing them that he could sympathize with them +on all sides—could see their possibilities as well as their faults?</p> + +<p>He went to the book-shelves and took down from an obscure corner the +three dingy leather-bound volumes of "The Children of the Abbey." It +was years since he had looked into them. He dusted them tenderly +with his pocket-handkerchief, and began to turn over the yellow +leaves. He fell into another reverie, which lasted till twilight stole +in, filling the room with its soft memory-haunted shadows. Then he +aroused himself briskly, replaced the books, and betook himself to his +mother's sitting-room.</p> + +<p>Well, after all, Ned and Johnny had done no great harm; they had only +given him a few hours of pleasant retrospection; and he went to school +the next morning in the most amiable of tempers, and it remained with +him through the day. Ned's manly apology was graciously received, +and a few kind, sympathetic words in reply did more to secure Ned's +loyalty than years of the smoothest intercourse could have done.</p> + +<p>At the close of the afternoon session he invited the whole school +to a candy-pull that evening in his big kitchen, where they were +received and delightfully entertained by the quaint little old lady +in her bizarre dress, whose acquaintance we have already made at the +Thanksgiving dinner at the tavern.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I'm sorry or not I stuck up that publishment," +said Ned to Dolly, as they were returning home from the candy-pull, +blissful and sticky. "If 't hadn't been f' that we shouldn't have had +this candy-pull to-night, I'll bet. Queer, ain't it? Everybody said +Mr. Emerson 'd be as mad 's fire. But I b'lieve I never liked him +half as well 's I do this minute. Anyway, I don't b'lieve I'll ever +try to plague him again."</p> + +<p>As to whether he ever did or did not, let each boy judge for himself. +Human nature is weak, and, to quote from Thankful, "dretful human."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>YARROW.</h3> + + +<p>The days lengthened, the cold strengthened, in accordance with the +proverb, and one late February day Dolly was standing at dusk by the +sitting-room window, looking out upon what was visible of the wintry +landscape through the snow that was falling silently and in great +flakes. She was looking out upon the spot where Gaston lay, thinking +about him, as she often did. One hand held back the window drapery, +while the other hung listlessly by her side.</p> + +<p>Presently, into the hand hanging by her side, a cold, dewy nose was +thrust. She turned quickly, and there in the uncertain firelight +stood a dog with head uplifted, his wistful eyes seeking hers, and +his magnificent tail waving slowly to and fro. A very ghost of a dog +he seemed to Dolly's first, startled glance, but a second thrust of +the cool, dewy nose proved him to be, without question, a substantial +creature.</p> + +<p>He was a stranger. Dolly had never before seen him, or any dog like +him. He was entirely unlike the huge, broad-muzzled, tawny Gaston. +This dog had thin flanks and a sharp muzzle, with a tan spot under +either eye.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, and where did you come from?" she asked, as she might +of a human being; and the dog answered with a whine, still moving his +tail to and fro friendlily.</p> + +<p>Dolly dropped the curtain and walked forward to the fire, the dog +following. She lay down upon the hearth-rug, a favorite place and +position with her, and he lay down, too, beside her, giving a sigh of +content as he did so, and with his paws and head resting on the edge +of her gown. Tucked under his collar she espied a note tied with a +blue ribbon, and directed to "Mistress Dorothea."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, untying the blue ribbon, "do you come from the +same place as Skatta."</p> + +<p>As she opened the note a sprig of something dropped, which a label +attached to it said was white heather, and brought good-luck. There +were also some verses purporting to be</p> + + +<p class="ph2">"<i>AN ADDRESS TO MISTRESS DOLLY, FROM HER FAITHFUL COLLIE.</i></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>I've crossed the blue Atlantic wave,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>I've come from distant Yarrow,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>Where poets sing of birken shades</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>And tell a tale of sorrow.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>From where the blissful skylark sings,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Upspringing from the heather,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>While the proud eagle, soaring high,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Sees Yarrow flow beneath her.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>There blooms the yellow gowan still,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>And there the rabbits burrow:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>Green are the holms as when was sung</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>The bonny Braes of Yarrow.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>The swan on fair St. Mary's lake</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Still floats—as sweet and rare, O,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>The apple frae the rock hangs low</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Above the flowing Yarrow.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>Sad, sad the day they led me frae</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Those bonny Braes of Yarrow!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>But if you'll love me, sweet, ah soon</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Will flee all dule and sorrow!</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>Fair art thou as the 'bonnie bride,'</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>The poet's 'winsome marrow!'</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>And I? A faithful collie I!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>My name? My name is—Yarrow!</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The door opened, a curly head was thrust in, and "Do you like him, +Dolly?" asked Ned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ned, is that you? Come in and tell me all about him!" and Ned +entered, followed by Cousin Kitty. "Where did he come from? and who +sent him? Ah, Cousin Kitty, it was you!" catching sight of Cousin +Kitty's smiling, conscious face. "I couldn't bear to have had him if +he had looked one bit like Gaston, but he doesn't. Nobody can take +Gaston's place," said the loyal Dolly, speaking of Gaston in the way +she always thought of him, as a real person.</p> + +<p>"I meant to have got him along for New-year's, but I couldn't," said +Cousin Kitty. "He had a sorry time getting across. The vessel was +almost three months."</p> + +<p>"And did he really come across the—the"—consulting the slip of paper +in her hand—"'the blue Atlantic wave?'"</p> + +<p>"Really and truly," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"And where is Yarrow?" continued Dolly.</p> + +<p>"If I'm to be catechised I may as well sit down, too," said Cousin +Kitty, taking possession of a section of the rug, while Ned leaned +against the mantle-piece, and looked down upon them in true masculine +fashion.</p> + +<p>"Yarrow is a small river in the south of Scotland, not much in itself, +but made famous by the poets."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I see!" and Dolly consulted her slip of paper again.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>Where poets sing of birken shades,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>And tell a tale of sorrow.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Now, what are 'birken shades?' and what 'tale of sorrow' did the +poets tell?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, 'birken shades,' turned into Yankee prose, are +birch-trees; and as to the 'tale of sorrow,' there are some lovely old +ballads that will make your hair stand on end to read, written in the +fifteenth century, called 'Rare Willie drowned in Yarrow,' and 'The +Dowie Dens of Yarrow,' and two in the eighteenth, and one is called 'A +Song,' and a grewsome song it is, too."</p> + +<p>"Well," rejoined Dolly, running her eye down the verses, "I think I +know how the English skylark sings, and what heather is. Oh, thank you +for this, Cousin Kitty!" and she held up the sprig of white heather. +"And does it really mean 'good-luck?'"</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you should ever visit the Scottish Highlands as a guest, your +host will probably present you with a sprig of white heather the first +thing."</p> + +<p>"And I know that the gowan is a daisy," Dolly went on, "but I don't +think I know what holms are."</p> + +<p>"Something like green meadows," replied Cousin Kitty; "and there's +always a 'brae' in a Scotch song."</p> + +<p>"Same's there is in a donkey," put in Ned, who began to feel that he +was not getting his due share of this conversation.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"'<i>The swan on fair St. Mary's lake</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Still floats</i>,'"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>read Dolly, ignoring Ned's vile pun. "Whose swan was it? and why is he +always floating?"</p> + +<p>"It's Wordsworth's swan, and he's likely to go floating down the river +of time forever and a day," laughed Cousin Kitty. "And as for the +'apple sweet and rare, O'—I had a fearful time making that rhyme, +Dotty—one of those deliciously dismal old ballads has a good deal to +say about the apple that 'hangs frae the rock.'"</p> + +<p>"And what's a 'marrow?' I don't know as I like to be called a +'marrow.'" This was said doubtfully, Dolly's chief association with +that word being a marrow squash.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dotty, Dotty, just listen to this!" and Cousin Kitty sang,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"'<i>Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent5"><i>And think nae mair of the Braes of Yarrow.</i>'</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"'Marrow' means (in Scotch, mind you, my dear) one of a pair; it means +somebody very dear and sweet, and that's what you are, Dotty." And +seizing her in her arms, Cousin Kitty lost her balance, and together +they rolled over Yarrow, who jumped up, looking his surprise at this +specimen of American manners.</p> + +<p>"There! and now that you've had the verses annotated by the author, +just put 'em away and look at doggie himself. Isn't he a beauty? And +to name him 'Yarrow' was <i>such</i> a happy thought!" And Cousin Kitty sat +up on the rug, and gathered up her hair from which her comb had fallen.</p> + +<p>"These verses I shall always keep," remarked Dolly, folding them up +carefully. "I wish I could write verses."</p> + +<p>"P'r'aps you will some time. P'r'aps you'll be the great American +poetess Mr. Emerson says is coming," said Ned, consolingly.</p> + +<p>So Dolly put the verses away, and neither she nor Cousin Kitty nor +Ned ever dreamed that some day they would be printed as part of their +veracious history.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>HOW ULYSSES LOST AND FOUND HIS PENELOPE.</h3> + + +<p>"And now I think I'll go and show him to Thankful," said Dolly, after +they had talked a little more, and Ned had learned that "Busk ye" +means "prepare," "get ready;" and as she got up from the hearth-rug +Yarrow executed his first circling dance around his new mistress.</p> + +<p>There was not a guest in the house, and the rising wind which began to +moan and shriek around the north-east gables, and the thickening snow, +were prophecies of a quiet evening within. For any chance wayfarer +would be likely to put up for the night at some hospitable farm-house, +rather than to push on to the tavern through the storm and darkness.</p> + +<p>Dolly and Ned, followed by Yarrow, ran into the kitchen, while Cousin +Kitty, who had an eye for the picturesque, stopped a moment in the +open door to take in the whole cosey interior, with the pair sitting +on either side of the fireplace. It was that hour when there always +seemed to be a pause in the rush and hurry of the day; the hour when, +the chores being in progress outside, and the supper well under way +inside, there was nothing to do but to wait with knitting or sewing in +hand, or even with folded hands, if one chose. It was the one brief +daily interval of leisure in that busy household.</p> + +<p>Between these two women sitting in the firelight and talking quietly +together there was a marked contrast. Between the Little Madam, with +her tiny, graceful figure, clad in her gown of soft white woollen, +with her nun's coif bringing out by contrast the velvety blackness of +her eyes, sitting by her flax-wheel diligently spinning like another +Penelope, and Thankful, tall and angular, her dark gown of print, +though scrupulously neat, without finish of lace or linen, her hair +twisted in a defiant knot on top of her head, sitting bolt upright +in the straightest of straight-backed chairs, and knitting for dear +life on a pair of stout blue stockings—between these two the distance +seemed wide indeed.</p> + +<p>But in reality they were the warmest and closest of friends, and +always had a great deal to say to each other. Perhaps because they +were both lonely and in some sense apart from others. For Thankful, +despite her unattractive exterior and porcupinish temper, had a +history, having, like most of us, once possessed a youth—a youth of +sunny hopes, with eyes as bright as any that read these pages. During +that glad spring-time she had—following the traditions of both Old +and New England—spun and woven a chestful of household linen; and +when Cyrus Hatton should return from the last voyage he intended to +make to the East Indies it was understood they were to be married. But +Cyrus never came back; his ship, from the time she left Hong-Kong, +was never heard from. She went down, doubtless, with all on board, in +some fierce typhoon; and with the lapse of time the chest of household +linen had grown yellow, and the rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed girl had +merged into the angular, crotchety, but withal tender-hearted woman +with whom we have become partially acquainted in the progress of this +story.</p> + +<p>For all helpless creatures she had an almost infinite compassion, and +to this feeling the Little Madam appealed strongly. For who could be +more helpless than she, living in a sort of twilight with the past a +blank?</p> + +<p>Thankful often said she was "loony," which adjective puzzled Cousin +Kitty.</p> + +<p>"What does she mean, Auntie?" she asked Mrs. Park one day.</p> + +<p>"Country people say, 'crazy as a loon,' you know," replied Mrs. Park, +"and loony is the adjective of loon, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" said Cousin Kitty, "that's begging the question, Auntie. Why +is a loon crazier than a coot, or any other sea-fowl, I beg to know?"</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Park said, "I'm sure I don't know," absently. She was just +then looking over flannels, with a view to making warm petticoats for +the McLouds, and was more interested in that just then than in the +derivation of "loony."</p> + +<p>But Cousin Kitty pondered the question.</p> + +<p>"I have it!" she exclaimed at last. "'Tisn't from loon at all. Loon, +used in that sense, is only the corruption of Luna. Dialects are full +of such corruptions. Luna—the moon—is said to take away people's +senses, you know, especially when they sleep in the moonlight, and +that's where Thankful gets her 'loony,' d'ye see, Auntie?" And Cousin +Kitty felt all the pride of a discoverer in the realm of language, +and Mrs. Park said, absently, "It's very likely." She was still +considering the subject of the warm flannel petticoats.</p> + +<p>The fireside <i>tête-à-tête</i> was broken up by the entrance of Ned and +Dolly, followed by Yarrow. Neither Thankful nor the Little Madam had +seen the latter, as on his arrival by stage he had been conveyed +directly to Cousin Kitty's room. He was duly admired and praised, +to which praise and admiration he responded in true doggish fashion +by prancing, cocking his silken ears, and waving his superb tail. +He took to the Little Madam at once, as was to be expected, and +Thankful secured his undying affection by giving him a huge lump of +brown sugar. Having thus been cordially received into the bosom of +the family, he stretched himself on the rug near the settle, in the +warmest corner of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>The chores were finished, supper was eaten, and the dishes washed, but +instead of going into the sitting-room for an evening of reading and +games, the three lingered in the kitchen. The hearth was swept up, +a fresh relay of wood piled upon the iron dogs, and 'Zekle settled +himself in one corner of the fireplace for his after-supper smoke. +Tobacco-smoke was offensive to Thankful, so he always contrived to sit +so the smoke from his pipe should pass off up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Not long ago I read in the life of the distinguished Thomas Carlyle +that he used to smoke in that way because tobacco-smoke gave Mrs. +Carlyle a headache; and I suspect a good many smokers have found out +that way to be rid of the dead odors of tobacco—those smokers, I +mean, who are so fortunate as to have an open fireplace by which to +smoke.</p> + +<p>"Let's blow soap-bubbles a while," suggested Cousin Kitty. "That is, +if Thankful will let us," she added, smiling upon the autocrat of the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>Thankful graciously assented, and she herself brought out the +huge yellow mince-meat bowl in which to make the suds. Fresh clay +pipes with which to blow the bubbles were to be had in abundance; +for Thankful was always breaking 'Zekle's pipes—accidentally, of +course—by knocking them off the mantle-piece or the jamb by the oven, +where he always left them "clus t' th' edge," as she said. Whether +broken accidentally or not, 'Zekle took the precaution to have a good +store on hand, lest some night, thinking to take his usual smoke, he +might find himself pipeless, and nothing for it but to pull on his +boots again and tramp over to "Jacob's" for a pipe or go without. Out +of this store he presented to each of the three a long pipe of purest +white.</p> + +<p>Presently the kitchen was gay with prismatic bubbles. They floated +in the draught towards the fireplace; they rose up to the ceiling, +breaking against its smoky surface. Yarrow, after watching them a +while, seized one, and gave a whine of disappointment as it vanished +in his grasp. Up and down the kitchen flew the three soap-bubble +blowers, laughing and breathless, trying to see how many bubbles they +could keep afloat at a time. 'Zekle watched the fun with a broad +smile, Thankful's countenance relaxed over her knitting, and the +Little Madam drew her wheel near the table whereon stood the bowl, +so as to be in the thick of the sport. Only the Persian cat looked +on with grave indifference. He had seen too much of life to be taken +in by a soap-bubble. He fell asleep, and dreamed of mice and other +substantial things.</p> + +<p>The storm without increased in violence. Occasionally a strong blast +swept down the chimney, sending tongues of flame out into the room. +The gathering snow upon the windows crept up to the middle of the +sash. The cow-boy coming in from the barn, whither he had been to +give the cows their nightcap of sweet rowan, "guessed there'd be some +diggin' t' do in the mornin'," and, taking his candle, went off to bed +in the open chamber over the wood-room, where the snow already lay in +little drifts upon the floor.</p> + +<p>Still the mad romp went on, still the rainbow-hued bubbles floated up +and burst, while merry shouts within alternated with wild storm-bursts +without.</p> + +<p>Presently, in a lull of both storm and merriment, a faint jingling of +sleigh-bells was heard. They ceased just under the kitchen windows; +they ceased in a confused jangle, as though the horse wearing them had +fallen in the deep snow.</p> + +<p>"I vum 'f there ain't a traveller! Must be druv t' be out 'n this +weather." And 'Zekle, laying aside his pipe, took down the lantern and +proceeded to light the candle. This proved to be a work of time. The +lighter of fat pine first refused to burn, and then the candle-wick +proved obstinate.</p> + +<p>"That's b'cause you alwa's will pinch it out with y'r fingers," said +Thankful, alluding to 'Zekle's habit of wetting his fingers in his +mouth before pinching out the snuff of the blown-out candle.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile a renewed jangling of bells indicated that the horse was +scrambling up. No one, however, except 'Zekle and Thankful, paid any +heed to the sound. Dolly had just succeeded in blowing an enormous +bubble, and a fresh chase ensued around the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Having at last lighted the candle, 'Zekle shut the old tin lantern and +went out. It was a queer old lantern, with holes punched in the tin to +let out the light, such as may be found to-day in country garrets, if +indeed they may not still be in use in primitive districts.</p> + +<p>The big bubble finally burst, and the blowers were standing around the +bowl beginning anew, when the door opened, and 'Zekle came in with +the traveller, who looked more like the popular conception of Santa +Claus than anything else. He was clad in fur from top to toe, to every +hair of which, apparently, a snow-flake clung. He advanced to the +fire, took his stand upon the broad hearth, and shook himself like +a Newfoundland dog, sending a shower of snow into the corner of the +settle where lay the Persian cat, that awoke spitting.</p> + +<p>The three standing around the yellow bowl dipped in their pipes, +giving no heed at first to this by-play, for guests came as naturally +to the old tavern as did the days and nights. But just as they were +about to send off simultaneously three superb bubbles, their attention +was distracted by the Little Madam.</p> + +<p>She had risen from her wheel, and was standing with parted lips, +gazing with all her soul in her eyes. As has been said before +somewhere in the course of this story, and perhaps it has been said +more than once, her eyes ordinarily had a bewildered, questioning +look. She seemed to grope continually in the past. This expression was +now intensified, as though something had struck with extraordinary +force one of the always vibrating chords of her memory. One would have +said that she was about to grasp a definite recollection.</p> + +<p>Dolly and Ned, standing on either side of Cousin Kitty, grasped each +an arm without speaking, and the eyes of the three followed hers and +rested upon the stranger. He had drawn off his driving-gloves, and was +now leisurely laying aside his long fur cloak. As he did so, he talked +with 'Zekle, who was asking questions about the storm and the state +of the roads. He spoke English with a foreign accent. He was tall +and slight, and his hands, which he held to the fire for a moment, +were small, muscular, and patrician. At last he took off his fur cap, +which, drawn closely down, had entirely hidden his face with the +exception of a drooping mustache, which fell over his mouth and was +heavy with frost.</p> + +<p>He then turned to greet the other inmates of the kitchen. As he did +so his eyes fell on the Little Madam, who had now advanced into the +middle of the room, still gazing fixedly at him.</p> + +<p>For a brief second—an eternity it seemed to those who stood by—the +two looked at each other. Over the countenance of the stranger +passed an expression of intense astonishment, of incredulity, of +recognition, of joy, one quickly following the other. He, too, stepped +forward into the room.</p> + +<p>"Anita!" he said, holding out his arms, and with a cry of supernal +gladness the Little Madam flew to their shelter.</p> + +<p>In that supreme moment three more of 'Zekle's pipes, dropping from +nerveless hands, fell to the floor in irremediable smash, while +Yarrow, springing to his feet, gazed doubtfully at the pair, not being +able to decide whether he ought to fly at the stranger's throat, or +circle about them in a welcoming dance.</p> + +<p>Over the little figure lying motionless in his arms the stranger +murmured a few words in a strange tongue, but there was no response. +The recognition, that one glimpse into the closed past, had been too +much for the frail little woman. She lay upon his arm with closed +eyes, pale and sweet as an Easter lily.</p> + +<p>"Is she dead?" he asked, fearfully.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Thankful, recovering her scattered senses, which had +been quite knocked out of her by this astonishing scene. She advanced +promptly, reaching down, in passing, the "camphire" and opodeldoc +bottles from the cupboard over the mantle-piece. "She's only fainted; +fetch her right in here." And she led the way to. Mrs. Park's private +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>That good lady was not a little surprised at the sight of this +unexpected and singular procession. 'Zekle still carried the old tin +lantern in his hand, and Dolly and Ned followed closely in the rear in +a state of fearful yet delightful expectancy. They scented afar off +the coming story.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall know all about it," Ned ventured to whisper to Dolly, as +they stood back from the sofa whereon lay the Little Madam. "Who d'y' +bet he is, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, Ned," said Dolly, tearfully. "P'r'aps she's dead."</p> + +<p>"No she isn't," was Ned's sturdy reply. "Didn't you ever see anybody +faint before? Jerushy Potts fainted away once in meeting-time, an' +fell an' hit her head an awful crack on the cricket, an' didn't know +it—kept right on fainting. Oh, she'll come out all right. But, I say, +I hope he'll tell pretty quick who he is, an' who she is, an' how she +come in that boat an' don't know anything. Don't you, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," Dolly replied, still doubtful, but inclining to the +indulgence of a little curiosity. "But see—her eyes are open!"</p> + +<p>Yes, her eyes were open, and they were moving from one to another +of the anxious faces about her, and each one saw in them a clear +intelligence. After all these years of mental wanderings, the Little +Madam had come to herself once more.</p> + +<p>"The Lord be praised!" ejaculated Thankful, in a choked voice. "The +dear soul 's all right." And the opodeldoc poured in a stream from +the bottle, which, in her agitation, she held at an unsafe angle. But +nobody noticed it. Other eyes besides hers were dim, and Ned caught +himself sniffing, to his great disgust. He winked hard, however, and +fixed his eyes on Anita. He wasn't going to break down if he could +help it. It was well enough for Dolly to be wiping her eyes with her +handkerchief—<i>she</i> was a girl; but boys were made of different stuff.</p> + +<p>Anita, as we may now call her, tried to rise from the sofa. "No, my +dear, you had better rest a while," said Mrs. Park. She lay quietly +for a few moments, with her eyes fixed upon her new-found friend. Her +nun's coif had fallen off, and her rippling black hair lay in great +waves of luminous darkness about her. The two talked together for a +few moments in their own tongue, while Dolly and Ned were consumed +with curiosity. Then she turned to Mrs. Park.</p> + +<p>"Luis will tell you all about me," she said. "I remember now, but Luis +will tell you."</p> + +<p>And Luis did tell—how he and Anita grew up together in one of those +sunny islands that lie midway between North and South America, where +grow the orange and lemon and banana, and other luscious tropical +fruits, where the jewelled humming-bird builds in bowers of orchids +and hanging ferns, and the cicada strikes together his big black wings +till they resound like a blacksmith's anvil.</p> + +<p>(I am not telling you this just in the order in which Luis told it; +that would be impossible. For right in the middle of a sentence, +perhaps, he would turn to Anita and say something in their own +tongue, and she, seeing Dolly's and Ned's curiosity, would ask him to +repeat to them what he had told her. So, as you see, my telling of it +must necessarily be mixed. What he said to her was concerning some +incidents of their childhood, in this way wisely and gently trying to +strengthen her returning memory. And as she listened to these, the +light of happiness deepened in her eyes, and so lovely a color stole +into her cheeks that Cousin Kitty could not refrain from whispering to +Aunt Anna, "Our pale lily is fast turning into a blush rose." Most of +his talk was addressed to Mrs. Park.)</p> + +<p>Their fathers' estates joined, and were in the suburbs of a populous +little city, the estates themselves running far back into the hills, +with sugar plantations and coffee plantations. Luis and Anita used to +wander up among those hills into the tangle of woods where lived the +Imperial parrot, with its plumage of royal purple and green. "And do +you remember, my Anita, the day we found the humming-bird on her nest, +and sat down to watch her, and her little mate flew at my eyes, and we +could not drive him quite away even with a stick, but he would perch +on a twig near by, and every time we stirred so much as a finger he +flew at us—the furious atom! and how his mate came down from her +nest and soothed his ruffled temper with her coaxings.</p> + +<p>"And there was the time we went with Henrique to get the wild bees' +honey, and Henrique climbed up the tree—two hundred feet high it +was, dear madam; you have none such in New England. He walked up +on the strong vines of the parasites that covered its trunk, and +he smoked out the bees, and sent us down great flakes of honey in +his pannier, and the amber sirup he poured into the spathes of the +mountain-palm—like your pea-pods, madam, only bigger, five feet +long—and one of the spathes upset, my Anita, do you remember? and +spilt the honey all over your head and your pretty dress, and how +Dolores—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dolores, my poor Dolores!" interrupted Anita, with a cry of pain. +"She is no more alive—the dreadful earthquake!" and a shudder passed +over her.</p> + +<p>"No, no, my Anita, Dolores lives. She lives to welcome Anita. <i>She</i> is +not dead."</p> + +<p>Dolores was Anita's old black nurse, he explained.</p> + +<p>The houses of these two families, it seems, were close by the sea, the +lovely tropical sea—the treacherous sea, which woos with its beauty +and then destroys. But this they—the two children—did not know. They +only knew that it was beautiful with its varying tints of amethyst and +pearl and heavenly sapphire, and they played and swam in its waters.</p> + +<p>So these two grew up together till they were seventeen, when Luis was +sent to Cuba on business for his father—something about the coffee +plantations and sugar plantations. And while he was away an earthquake +visited this lovely and tranquil island, a fearful earthquake, and in +an instant a part of the populous city, with the homes wherein dwelt +the families of Luis and Anita, sunk without warning, and the sea, the +lovely, treacherous, tropical sea, rolled over them.</p> + +<p>That was what Luis found when he returned. Not a trace of those two +happy homes, only the dimpling, sparkling, babbling sea. He inquired +among the survivors from the earthquake if none of those whom he loved +had escaped. "Not one," was the answer. And so he came away, for he +could not stay on that now desolate island—came to New York, where +his father had had business relations with a certain house, and there +he had remained, working diligently, and accumulating much money +for—nobody, he had thought, but now—and he looked at Anita.</p> + +<p>And how did he chance to arrive here, at Park's Tavern, on this stormy +night? He was on his way to visit a friend of the business house +living in New Bedford—on the way from Boston, by way of Bridgewater, +through which town he had gone to take a friend. And somehow in the +blinding storm he had missed his way, and chance had brought him here +to find his Anita, as one risen from the dead. Chance?—he corrected +himself reverently. Evidently he thought, with the old dramatist,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">"<i>Eternal God that chance did guide.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Much to Ned's and Dolly's disappointment, he paused here. He had not +yet explained the, to them, vital point. How came the Little Madam to +be floating in mid-ocean when Skipper Joe picked her up? That was what +they wanted to know. And Anita, with her keen perceptions, divined +their wish. <i>That</i> she only could explain; Luis knew nothing of that.</p> + +<p>She remembered, she said, one morning after Luis had gone, taking +out their little boat for a row around the island to a favorite +flower-lined cove. Terrified by the sudden earthquake, she tried to +return, and must have rowed near the spot where their old homes had +sunk. The unfamiliar shore must have bewildered her. She remembered +rowing hither and thither, seeking in vain for her lost home. And then +her senses must have fled, and the winds and waves carried her where +they pleased.</p> + +<p>It was late when Luis finished his narrative, and Aunt Anna at once +ordered Ned and Dolly off to bed, though Dolly never looked wider +awake, and Ned protested he wasn't one bit sleepy, and didn't feel as +if he ever should be again.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty, the last to leave the room, re-opened the door after +saying "Good-night," and put back her head.</p> + +<p>"So Ulysses has found his Penelope, after all, Auntie," she said.</p> + +<p>"As we hoped," was the smiling reply.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE WEDDING.</h3> + + +<p>It was on a Monday afternoon in early March. The stage that day had +left at the tavern three big trunks, around which were grouped in +Anita's room the whole feminine portion of the household. These trunks +had been opened, and part of the contents lay upon the floor, looking +as though, having been relieved from the pressure of the covers, they +had boiled over. Above these shining masses of color Anita hovered +like a humming-bird over a bed of honey-laden flowers. This was her +<i>trousseau</i>, forwarded by Luis from New York. She made a rapid little +plunge on this side, a deft little plunge on that, bringing up each +time a drop of sweets in the shape of a silk of pale blue, a ribbon of +pale pink, or a velvet of lavender—those delicate old-fashioned tints +of which we seem to have lost sight in our present carnival of color.</p> + +<p>"What lovely, lovely lace!" exclaimed Cousin Kitty, lifting from its +box the wedding-veil itself. "It's worth its weight in—diamond-dust! +I don't believe the Empress of all the Russias has finer. The Señor +Gonsalva must have a mint of money."</p> + +<p>Just then Anita came up from one of her dives with a jewel-casket, +which, on being opened, displayed such an array of brilliant gems +lying in their velvet beds as almost struck the beholders dumb. Not +quite, however.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what are those?" asked Dolly, hanging over a set of opals, in the +hearts of which, a spark of emerald and ruby flamed like imprisoned +fire. "And oh what splendid, <i>splendid</i> rubies!" Speech could go no +farther, and she contemplated in rapt silence a diamond cross that +sparkled and flashed like distant suns. Of a truth, as Cousin Kitty +said, the Señor Gonsalva must have a mint of money.</p> + +<p>"P'r'aps he's got a diamond mine," Ned contrived to whisper in her ear.</p> + +<p>From another of her sudden plunges Anita emerged with a package +neatly folded and directed to "Miss Makepeace," the contents of which +took that imperturbable lady quite by surprise. On being opened, +there slipped from it a black satin dress pattern of wonderful +texture—"thick as a board," was Thankful's own descriptive term for +it whenever in after-years she talked of it, which was pretty often, +as you may suppose.</p> + +<p>Other surprises followed quickly on the discovery of the black satin, +viz., an India shawl for Mrs. Park, which could <i>almost</i> be drawn +through Anita's ruby bracelet, a pearl necklace, and a locket with +her monogram in seed-pearls on the back, for Cousin Kitty, a similar +one for Dolly, together with a dress pattern of creamy white satin +embroidered with rose-buds for the latter, and one of pale pink satin +for the former. These were presented to the two in their character +as bridesmaids, in which capacity they had consented to serve at the +coming wedding, which was to take place about the middle of April.</p> + +<p>Having found and presented these packages, Anita stood with clasped +hands, wrinkling up her forehead, and apparently much puzzled and +perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my good Ned—" she began, when her countenance suddenly cleared. +She made a plunge into what might be called the north-east corner of +the biggest trunk—it was certainly as big as a moderate state-room +on a Sound steamer, and could consistently claim an interest in the +points of compass—and brought up therefrom a box, which she presented +to Ned with an expression of happy triumph. It contained that one +treasure so unspeakably dear to every boyish heart, viz., a watch—a +gold watch, at that—a watch that would "go," which cannot be said +with truth of every boy's watch—a watch, too, with his monogram in +tiny diamonds on the back—and furthermore, a watch with a gold chain +attached.</p> + +<p>Ned, who had not been able to resist the temptation of being present +at the opening of these trunks, which had excited much neighborly +curiosity when lifted off the stage that day, but who up to that +time had kept somewhat in the background, feeling that it wasn't +quite consistent with manly dignity to exhibit too much interest in +"clothes," now came forward, blushing with delight, and thanked Anita.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's bu—," he stammered, coming, in his confusion, within a +hair's-breadth of the contraband word, and then stopping himself and +beginning anew. "He's a trump, an' it's no end kind of him; but I +guess you told him to, Anita;" and Anita dimpled and laughed, and did +not deny it. And with her own brown little hand she took the old watch +from his pocket—a watch which he had to wind up four times a day to +keep it going, setting it ahead one hour every time it was wound—and +replaced it with the gold one, hooking the chain into his button-hole.</p> + +<p>"Luis is royal in his gifts," said Cousin Kitty afterwards in a +private interview with Aunt Anna. "But ought we to accept them?"</p> + +<p>"Ordinarily I should say not," replied Aunt Anna, who was admiring the +beauties of her India shawl. And then she laughed, adding, "But in the +ordinary course of things such a question isn't often likely to arise. +We may accept these, I think, in the spirit in which they are offered. +It's a sort of song of praise on Luis's part, you see, the giving of +these. It's his way of celebrating the finding of Anita—a pæan of +thanksgiving."</p> + +<p>"A kind of recitative, you might say," added Cousin Kitty, "with my +pearl necklace for high G, and your India shawl for low A. Well, I +must say I'm not sorry that such is your decision, Auntie. For though +I could have parted with these, if necessary"—looking from the pale +pink satin in one hand to the pearl necklace in the other—"I'm very +willing to keep them. But what a wedding it's going to be for the old +tavern! and in what gorgeous raiment shall the bridesmaids shine, eh, +Dotty?" and Dolly, who had been standing by, awaiting with no little +anxiety Aunt Anna's decision, gave the creamy satin and the pearl +necklace which she held in her arms a little hug of congratulation and +possession. <i>Jubilate!</i> they were hers! and she for one was glad that +the Señor Gonsalva's pæan of thanksgiving had taken the form it had.</p> + +<p>But the opening of the trunks was only the beginning of the end. A +busy six weeks ensued. The old tavern was turned topsy-turvy. "It beat +the c'nventions," said 'Zekle.</p> + +<p>In the kitchen the wedding-cake was made in relays, seven loaves at +a time—twenty-eight great fruity loaves in all, with frosting, over +which Thankful exhausted her utmost skill in decoration.</p> + +<p>In Anita's sunny room, amid the fragrance of her mignonette and +the continuous chattering of the white Australian cockatoo, the +wedding-clothes were "created," to use Cousin Kitty's own word for it. +At first there had been talk of summoning a distinguished dress-maker +from Quincy to preside over this department. She had made the gowns +of the daughter of the Senator from that district for her <i>début</i> at +Washington. But Cousin Kitty vetoed this proposition.</p> + +<p>"Let Pella cut them," she said. "Her fits are perfect, and I can tell +her all the rest. I've the greatest knack at those things, Auntie, and +I should so like to create Penelope's wardrobe."</p> + +<p>So Pella, the Byfield dress-maker, whose baptismal name was +Experience, came, and Anita was turned into a dummy, and tried +on gowns from morning till night, while the two cut and fitted, +and pinched in here and let out there, and as each fresh gown was +finished, it was hung in the bedroom opening off the dancing-hall, +which had been devoted to this purpose, and thither the myriad of +callers at the tavern—for news of all these wonderful happenings +there had run like wildfire through the town—were taken to view them.</p> + +<p>With only one exception they pronounced them the most wonderful +array of gowns they had ever set eyes on. Mrs. Davis was that one +exception. She had a fictitious friend somewhere—like Sairey Gamp's +Mrs. Harris—named Matilda Price. This Matilda Price, according to +Mrs. Davis, once had a gown that united in itself all the glories of +Anita's whole wardrobe, hearing of which assertion unbelieving Byfield +cried out with Betsy Prigg, "I don't believe there's no sich a person."</p> + +<p>The bridesmaids' gowns being a sort of side issue only, were to be +made some time, and some time proving to be no time, it is a matter +of no surprise that Pella sat up till three o'clock on the night +preceding the wedding to finish them.</p> + +<p>As to the wedding itself, a strictly private ceremony was talked +of at first; but this intention becoming known, there arose such a +howl of dissent and remonstrance through the length and breadth of +Byfield that it was reconsidered. Anita said she would like to have +all these people who had been so kind to her at her wedding, so three +hundred invitations were issued, which comprised a large part of the +inhabitants of the town, which numbered, all told, only about five +hundred.</p> + +<p>The ceremony was to take place in the dancing-hall, that being the +biggest room in the house—the only one, in fact, into which three +hundred guests could be comfortably put at one time. Indeed, if it had +not been for this big hall, it is more than probable that these three +hundred guests would not have been invited.</p> + +<p>"And I wish we might have a wedding-bell," Cousin Kitty had remarked +when they talked over the arrangements; "but that's past hoping for, +I suppose." But on her explaining what she meant by a wedding-bell—a +bell made of flowers, to ring down upon the bride after the +ceremony—Ned said of course they could have one. "May-flowers enough +in the woods t' make a dozen bells, Cousin Kitty."</p> + +<p>The May-flower comes early in the land of the Pilgrims, coming often, +as did the Pilgrim <i>Mayflower</i> itself, "amidst the storms" and the +frosts of a lingering winter. But this year spring came early. The +heavy snow which had made the Señor Luis Gonsalva a willing prisoner +for a week at the tavern, waiting for the roads to be broken out and +made passable, had fled almost as quickly as it had come, before the +melting power of the spring sun. Everywhere the grass was springing +green in the last of March; the buds on the lilac-bushes at the +south door of the tavern were swelling; and the tiger-lilies and +none-so-pretties were showing above the brown soil. Bluebirds and +robins had made their appearance, and Dolly and Ned were of the +opinion that Nature herself was hastening to get on her bridal robes +to do honor to the coming wedding. The old people said they "shouldn't +wonder" if the grain were waving in the fields, and the apple-trees +were pink with bloom, by the nineteenth of April, as they were on that +famous day in 1775.</p> + +<p>In this general and rapid advance of spring the May-flower was not +a whit behind. The week before the wedding it was in its glory, and +a score or two of boys and girls, enlisted by Ned, were rifling the +woods and fields of this darling of bleak New England.</p> + +<p>This was Dolly's first experience in May-flower gathering, but she +soon learned where to seek for the shy beauties—under the moist +pine-needles and in the shadiest nooks for the pink ones, and in the +open fields and wood borders for the white. With only a slight brush +of the fingers over the loosely-lying, dry, brown oak-leaves what a +wealth of beauty was laid bare!</p> + +<p>They brought these by the armful to Cousin Kitty, who carefully placed +them in shallow troughs of water in one of those grewsome bins in the +cool, dark cellar, to keep until the morning of the wedding, when +they should be woven by myriads of helping fingers into the bell of +wire which 'Zekle himself had fashioned in the wood-room chamber. +These were, indeed, new times for 'Zekle. He never expected to have +been called upon "t' build a weddin'-bell," and after he had finished +it, its use was a mystery to him. Betty's mother, who, as usual, had +been called in with Betty to assist in this avalanche of work so +suddenly precipitated into the old tavern, waggled her head over it +as something foreign if not heathenish, and Mrs. Davis could find no +parallel for it in the experience of Matilda Price; but Thankful was +sure that anything originating with Cousin Kitty and approved by Mrs. +Park for the pleasure of the Little Madam <i>must</i> be all right, to +which irresistible logic Betty's mother at last gave up her doubts.</p> + +<p>Luis arrived on the day but one preceding the wedding, and on the +evening of the day before the wedding there arrived from Boston a +renowned caterer, accompanied by six colored subordinates, and any +number of mysterious packages and baskets. The boys who were now +hanging continuously about the tavern, envying Ned his superior +opportunities, and most of whom were among the invited guests, managed +to get a peep into the dining-room where these mysterious baskets were +being unladened, and carried home wonderful accounts of what they had +seen.</p> + +<p>At last the day and the hour arrived, and the guests were assembled +early in the hall, awaiting the entrance of the bridal party. At the +upper end hung the wedding-bell, filling the room with its fragrance. +Near by stood the minister, a grave and courtly gentleman of the old +school, whose very presence was a benediction.</p> + +<p>The names of the three hundred guests are among the annals of the +past. It will be enough to say that almost every one whom you have met +in the course of this story was there—all but bedridden Matty and +poor palsy-stricken Patty. And yet, strange as it may seem to you, it +is a question if among those three hundred there were any who rejoiced +more heartily over the Little Madam's restoration to happiness than +did these two helpless, hapless creatures, to whom so much of what is +supposed to constitute happiness was denied.</p> + +<p>In the corner farthest away from the place where the bridal party was +to stand, the boys congregated in that gregarious way common to boys. +They occasionally exchanged a remark in a hoarse whisper, and now and +then one would pinch his neighbor or tread on his toes, feeling safe +from the danger of a retaliating blow.</p> + +<p>The girls, on the contrary, had placed themselves as near the spot +where the party was to stand as etiquette allowed, where they smiled +and sparkled, and exchanged whispers, too; and Aunt Debby, looking up +into that corner as she came in at the door near the lower end of the +hall, said, "Bless 'em!" involuntarily and quite loud. She couldn't +help it, they looked as though they were having a so thoroughly good +time.</p> + +<p>Nannie, who came in with Debby, wore her Marie Stuart lace cap—which +Mrs. Park had given her for this very occasion—hind side before, and +even Aunt Debby had failed to get on her somewhat dry and ancient +"front" exactly straight; but her face beamed with good-will, and +she shook all over in that jelly-like way fat people are apt to, as +she exchanged smiles and greetings with each of the three hundred +individually.</p> + +<p>Mr. Emerson was there with his mother, who looked more bizarre in +dress than usual, in a white satin, which she had disinterred from +some one of those chests where she kept her relics of the past. It was +extremely short, displaying a pair of thick blue woollen stockings and +low shoes. Over her shoulders she wore a mantle of pea-green gauze, +which was crossed in front and fastened behind in a sash-like drapery. +As usual, she carried a bag, this time of crimson beads with a purple +fringe; and to her cap she had added a bunch of artificial flowers +so preposterous in size and color that the merry girls in the corner +came near going off into explosions of laughter at the sight of it, +and were only restrained by their respect for her really admirable +qualities.</p> + +<p>But "what a pity," as Cousin Kitty said, "that so excellent a woman +should make such a guy of herself!" Well, to be sure, we must not +expect to find all the virtues and graces in one bundle.</p> + +<p>There chanced to be two guests at this wedding whose presence would +have graced any assembly in the land. The mother of the beautiful +Emily Marshall had come down for a brief rest, after a brilliant +social winter, to drink fresh milk and to recruit on plain country +fare, and she had been bidden to the wedding. She was not "the rose," +but she was the mother of the rose, and her elegant manners and fine +personal presence added not a little to its <i>éclat</i>. The other guest +was Daniel Webster. He was here only for a brief hour <i>en route</i>, +but it was an assembly after his own heart, of kindly, plain, but +intelligent country-folk, and he enjoyed it accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Here they come!" whispered Johnny Tuttle, catching a glimpse of Ned +through the open door, and thinking that even for that wonderful gold +watch he wouldn't have been in his shoes just then.</p> + +<p>For Dolly and Ned were the first to enter, Ned looking very fine in +his black velvet suit and scarlet necktie; and as to Dolly—well, the +girls fairly devoured her with their eyes, and would have declared her +"just too sweet for anything," if they had had the advantages of our +modern manner of expressing ourselves. Both looked slightly conscious +of the three hundred pairs of eyes, more or less, which were fastened +upon them. It <i>was</i> something of an ordeal, it is true, but they +acquitted themselves very well.</p> + +<p>Cousin Kitty and the brown-eyed doctor followed directly, and then +came—ah, everybody held their breath as the tall, dark, handsome man +entered, leading his <i>petite</i> bride in bridal white, the filmy lace of +her veil enveloping her like a silvery mist.</p> + +<p>If the girls in the corner had dared, they would have given vent to +their feelings in one prolonged, sighing "O—h!" As it was, they +only breathed a little more deeply. And the boys ceased from their +pinchings and punchings as the two stopped under the wedding-bell, and +the minister came forward to his place in front of them.</p> + +<p>The marriage-service is always brief—to the lookers-on—and it was +soon over. One incident must not be forgotten. As Anita in her low, +sweet voice began the formula, "I, Anita, take thee, Luis," a sob was +heard—a queer sob, strangled in its birth apparently. It came from +Thankful, who, feeling rather "shook," as she explained afterwards, +with the events of the preceding weeks, had taken the precaution to +shelter herself behind Mr. Webster's ample proportions; but when, just +at that point in the service, she saw Skipper Joe draw the back of his +hand across his eyes, it entirely "upsot" her. She escaped from the +hall at once, but recovered her equanimity in time to preside over the +wedding-cake, arrayed in the glories of her new satin.</p> + +<p>The congratulations followed the service—very informal +congratulations, but very genuine. Out from their corner fluttered +the girls like a covey of gay-plumaged birds, and kissed the bride, +and hovered and cooed around her. And up from their corner came the +boys in somewhat more awkward fashion, and shook hands shamefacedly +with the Little Madam—for to them she would always be that. Then +followed the never-to-be-forgotten banquet, with its pyramids of +ice-cream—ice-cream was not the every-day thing it is now—its +translucent jellies, and luscious fruits from those islands lying +midway between North and South America; and last, but not least, its +thick slices of wedding-cake, of which each boy ate his to the last +crumb, while the girls just tasted theirs, and took the remnant home +to dream over.</p> + +<p>And so went the Little Madam forth from the shelter of the old tavern.</p> + + +<p class="ph2">THE END.</p> + +<p class="ph2">[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.]</p> + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76562 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76562-h/images/cover.jpg b/76562-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4eb9c40 --- /dev/null +++ b/76562-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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